Adultery Soumya's milfy adventures with Sharath

[Vik56]

against the tile wall.

*"Pathetic,"* Sharath's voice purred in her mind, slick as the soap sliding down her thighs. *"Fifteen years married and the man still cums like that?"*

Her fingers twisted harder. *"Two minutes,"* she hissed back at the phantom between her legs. *"Two fucking minutes and he's done!"* The memory of Suresh's stunned face—mouth slack, eyes glazed—flashed behind her eyelids.

Sharath's laugh echoed, dark and rich. "Should've let me finish what I started, aunty. My cock doesn't *soften* after two pumps."

Soumya's breath hitched as she imagined him pressing her against this very wall, his thick thighs spreading hers wider than her salwar ever allowed. "Would've fucked you proper," his voice growled, syncing with the rhythmic pulse of her fingers. "Made you scream loud enough to crack these tiles."

The shower rod rattled as she gripped it, her knees buckling. *"He—he doesn't even *look* at me!"* she accused the steam, voice cracking. A droplet splashed her parted lips—salty, like the tears she refused to acknowledge.

*"I looked,"* Sharath murmured, his imaginary tongue tracing her ear in the steam-filled bathroom. *"Looked at every inch of you while your husband stared at the ceiling like a dead fish."* Soumya's fingers dug into her thighs, nails leaving half-moon indents. *"He's useless,"* she hissed aloud, the words swallowed by the shower spray. *"Useless hands, useless cock, useless—"*

*"Say it,"* Sharath's voice purred, pressing closer in her mind, his phantom fingers replacing hers between her legs. *"Say what you really want, aunty."*

Soumya's hips jerked forward. *"I want—"* Her teeth sank into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. *"I want someone who *sees* me!"* The admission tore from her throat raw and jagged. *"Not just my body—my *hunger*!"*

Sharath's chuckle vibrated through her skull. *"And what else?"* His imaginary hands circled her wrists, pinning them to the tile as his teeth grazed her shoulder—right where the mangalsutra used to rest. *"Say it."*

*"I want to come!"* she snarled, the words ricocheting off the tiles. *"Not his pathetic grunting and rolling over! I want *hours*—want to scream until my throat bleeds, want marks that last a week, want—"* Her breath hitched as phantom fingers slid inside her. *"Want to be *ruined*."*

Sharath's laughter dripped like honey down her spine. *"Poor aunty. Married fifteen years and still a virgin where it counts."* His fingers twisted deeper, syncing with the pulse of the shower spray. *"Tell me—does he even know what your orgasm looks like?"* Soumya's hips stuttered against the tile, her breath coming in ragged gasps as Sharath's phantom mouth latched onto her nipple through the soaked salwar.

*"Does he know you bite your lower lip like this?"* A sharp nip sent electricity arcing to her clit. *"That your thighs shake for twenty seconds after you come?"* Soumya's knees buckled, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the slippery tiles. The water turned icy but she barely noticed—not when Sharath's voice purred *"Look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers like some cheap gym whore."*

Her toes curled against the grout lines. *"I'm not—"*

*"Aren't you?"* His chuckle vibrated through her pelvis. *"Moaning for a boy half your husband's age? Letting him taste you while Suresh eats his sad chapati?"* The image of her husband hunched over his plate—oblivious, always oblivious—flashed behind her eyelids. Sharath's fingers crooked sharply. *"Bet he's never made you squirt."*

Soumya's back arched off the wall with a choked cry. Pleasure detonated up her spine—sharper than she'd ever felt with Suresh, so intense her vision whited out at the edges. The shower spray turned icy against her overheated skin as Sharath's phantom voice snarled in her ear: *"That's right, aunty. Come for me like the cheap little bitch you are."*

Her thighs trembled violently, the orgasm rolling through her in waves as Sharath's imaginary fingers didn't let up. *"Look at you,"* he mocked, his voice thick with contempt. *"Moaning like a stray bitch in heat while your husband chews his dal like a cow."* Soumya's fingernails scbangd against the tiles, her hips jerking uncontrollably against the phantom touch. *"Pathetic husband, pathetic life—no wonder you spread your legs for the first man who looks at you."*

The cruelty should've sobered her. Instead, it sent another pulse of wet heat between her thighs. Sharath's laugh was dark and rich as her juices dripped down her legs. *"Useless old man can't even make you wet, can he?"* His phantom teeth sank into her shoulder. *"Fifteen years and he never once tasted you like this."*

Soumya gasped as a second orgasm ripped through her—shorter but sharper, leaving her legs shaking. The water ran cold now, but her skin still burned where Sharath's voice licked at her conscience. *"Bet he doesn't even know you can come twice,"* he purred. *"Too busy counting his paise to notice his wife's a starving slut."*

Her knees gave out. Soumya slid down the tiles, her salwar tangled around