3 hours ago
(This post was last modified: 3 hours ago by SilverArrow. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
It was the last Sunday before Monica’s Sasuma and Sasurji were supposed to return to Jaipur. The rain had been falling non-stop since Friday evening, turning the roads into slippery streams and keeping most people indoors. After lunch, the family sat in the living room of their Noida flat. Monica spoke first, her voice light and cheerful, the same modern, confident tone she had developed since moving to the city.
“Ma, Papa… why don’t we go to the mall this evening? We can do some shopping before you leave. Maybe I buy a few things for the wedding also.”
Sasuma looked at her bahu, surprised but pleased. Sasurji nodded slowly from his chair.
“That is a good idea, beta, only if you are free,” Sasuma said politely. “You have been very busy with office lately. At least we can spend some time outside… together.”
Monica smiled back, warm and affectionate. “Yes, Ma… office this week was hectic, but let’s go today. Why, Rakesh?”
Rakesh, sitting on the sofa with his phone, agreed without much thought. The mall seemed like a good option with the rain outside. It would not be too crowded either.
By the time they reached the mall in the evening, the rain had reduced to a light drizzle. The parking lot on the lower level was half empty. They parked and got out. Just as they were about to head toward the main entrance, Rakesh turned to Monica.
“Mon, you take Ma and Papa upstairs. I’ll join you in ten minutes.”
Monica looked at him, puzzled. “What happened?”
Rakesh lowered his voice a little. “Ustad and Bheem are here. They’re in the nightclub on the top floor. I had lent some money to Ustad when the Skydeck thing happened. He said he’ll return it today. I’ll just go collect it quickly and come up.”
Monica was quiet for a second. Then she nodded simply.
“Okay. Come to the Fashion Bazaar pavilion… we will be there.”
Rakesh walked toward the escalator that led to the upper levels. Monica helped her Sasuma and Sasurji out of the car and they made their way toward the main entrance. They went straight to the large fashion pavilion on the first floor. It had three levels — men’s wear on the ground, kids on the first, and women’s wear plus lingerie and nightwear on the second. Sasuma wanted to look for a nice kurta or jacket for Sasurji first. So they started browsing the men’s section.
Monica stayed with them the whole time, patient and smiling, exactly how a good bahu should behave. She was wearing a deep maroon fitted top with a soft V-neckline that gently followed the shape of her full breasts without being too low. The smooth, slightly stretchy fabric hugged her slim waist before falling neatly over her hips. She had paired it with dark, well-fitted jeans that sat low on her waist and clung to her round ass and thighs in a way that made her figure look both elegant and undeniably attractive. Her long, silky hair was left open, falling in soft waves over her shoulders and back. Light makeup highlighted her eyes and lips, small earrings, and her mangalsutra rested visibly against her chest. The overall look was modern, confident, and subtly sensual. Men around turned their heads, but Monica seemed unaware — or perhaps she was used to it now.
She helped Sasurji choose colours and fabrics with genuine care, holding up options and dbanging them over his shoulder so he could see. Sasuma watched her bahu with quiet approval. This was the Monica she knew — respectful, helpful, the girl who touched her feet every morning and called her “Ma”.
Ten minutes later, Rakesh returned. By that time, Monica had selected a nice Nehru jacket for Sasurji.
“Papaji, you will look nice in this. Let’s pack this one for you.”
Rakesh nodded. “Monica, nice choice. You not getting anything for Ma?”
Monica replied at once, “Of course yes. The women’s section is on the second floor. Ma… come, let’s go. Rakesh, you wait for us here with Papa.”
Monica and Sasuma spent nearly half an hour on the second floor looking at sarees. The store was quiet because of the rain outside. Only a few customers moved between the racks. Sasuma took her time, touching different fabrics, asking Monica’s opinion on colours and borders. Monica stood beside her, patient and smiling, helping her dbang a few options over her shoulder so she could see how they fell. She even held one deep maroon saree up against Sasuma and said softly, “Ma, this colour will look very nice on you. The border is also good.”
After some time, Sasuma looked tired. Her feet were hurting from standing so long. When Rakesh called saying they should come down for dinner, Sasuma looked at Monica. Monica held the maroon saree they had finally selected in her hand and said,
“Ma, you go with Papa and Rakesh. I’ll just pay the bill for this and buy one or two small things for myself. I’ll join you in fifteen minutes.”
Sasuma frowned. “Why will you pay, beti?”
Monica smiled softly, the same affectionate smile she gave every morning. “It’s a small gift from me, Ma. You liked this one. Let me do this much.”
Sasuma hesitated. “No beti, let me gift you something na?”
Monica argued gently, “Ma… no please. You please go and sit aaram se in the restaurant. I can gift this small thing to you.”
Sasuma smiled as her legs were paining. She slowly moved out of the pavilion and tried spotting the restaurant on the first floor. Just then she realised something.
Her shawl.
She had forgotten her light cotton shawl near the saree rack when she was choosing one of the sarees. She had left without it.
She turned back towards the pavilion.
When she reached the same spot where she had left it, the shawl was not there. She turned towards the counter, hoping she might find someone from the store who had seen it. Just as she turned, she saw something.
Quite unexpected.
Very unexpected.
She froze.
Near the far end of the second floor, past the saree racks and toward the lingerie and nightwear section, she saw Monica. But not alone.
Smiling and talking with a man.
Sasuma could recognise the man instantly.
It was that same burly goonda looking guy who had come home to invite Rakesh and Monica for a wedding ceremony.
What the hell is he doing here ?
Monica and that burly man were selecting some intimate dress from the woman's section, casually as if they were together, Monica smiling and teasing him non stop.
Sasuma thought Monica had suddenly met Ustad Miyan in the mall and it was just "hi,hello" conversation.
No, but it was longer. The guy was choosing some dress for Monica. And they were not normal kurti or salwar he was choosing. They were standing right in the middle of the Lingerie section.
Sasuma with surprised tension waited and observed.
Both of them picked few dresses and started walking.
There was a row of trial rooms. The area was quieter, partially hidden by hanging displays. And both of them reached the last trial room.
Sasuma’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to pound so loudly she was afraid they would hear it. What are they upto? Why was he here on the second floor with Monica?
Sasuma stepped sideways quickly, hiding herself between two tall racks of heavy silk sarees. The gap between the racks gave her a narrow but clear view straight toward the trial rooms.
The trial rooms were different. It was a couple trial rooms. Means inside the door, the trial room had a small partition made by a thick curtain.
So couples can go inside together, and one can show the other before choosing one to buy.
Sasuma had no business witnessing whatever was happening inside that room. But the sight held her in place like a physical blow. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the saree rack until her knuckles turned white. Her breath came in shallow, silent gasps. Fear and betrayal began to coil in her stomach.
The front door of the last trial room was not fully closed. Warm golden light spilled out from inside. She could see movement. Monica’s silhouette. And Ustad’s broader frame standing just outside the curtain, speaking in his calm, deep voice.
She waited. Few minutes passed.
She watched as Monica stepped into the open part of the trial room, the inner curtain left deliberately parted just enough. Monica was no longer in her maroon top and jeans. She was wearing something which Ustad Miyan just choose for her.
Monica was wearing a short black nightdress made of the thinnest, most delicate chiffon Sasuma had ever seen on any woman in their family. It ended scandalously high on her thighs — far higher than any respectable married woman would ever consider wearing in public. The fabric was so sheer that even from this distance Sasuma could see the outline of her bra underneath. It meant the night dress she was posing in was transparent and designed in such a way it was meant to show everything inside!!
And wait ? Is that even a normal Bra?
The Bra Monica was wearing was tiny, with thin straps and cups that barely seemed to contain her full, heavy big breasts. The neckline plunged low, exposing the deep valley between them. The smooth fabric clung to every curve, catching on the hard points of her nipples, which were clearly visible even through the thin layers of the night dress and the Bra.
Sasuma literally felt she was just having some nightmare.
This is my son’s wife. The girl who touched my feet this morning and called me “Ma”. The same girl who cooked rajma and chicken for the family and wore modest salwar suits at home. So this is her real avatar ? she is standing here in this shameless thing… showing her body to another man.....
How could she do this to our family?
Monica turned slowly in front of Ustad. So slowly, it appeared straight out from some explicit movie scene. As she moved, the short hem lifted at the back. Sasuma’s stomach dropped with fresh shock. Underneath the nightdress, which was transparent ..highly transparent....Monica wore panties that were almost nonexistent — a tiny black triangle in front and a thin string at the back that disappeared completely between the round, firm cheeks of her ass. The lower curves of Monica’s buttocks were completely bare, smooth dusky skin glowing under the trial room light. Every time Monica shifted her weight, the thin string pulled deeper into the warm cleft, parting the soft flesh slightly. Sasuma could see the way the round globes flexed and settled with each small movement.
Sasuma's hands trembled behind the saree racks....
What kind of underwear is this? Is this girl even in her senses ? In our family we never even imagined such shameless things. These city women… they wear these little strings that disappear between their legs and show everything. And my bahu is one of them now. She is turning and posing like this is normal. So easily. So nonchalantly. As if it means nothing. My son has no idea what kind of girl he has married.
Monica adjusted the hem with her fingers, tugging it down, but the moment she turned again it rode straight back up, brushing the sensitive skin just below her ass cheeks. She let out a small, soft laugh — the same playful, sassy laugh she used at home.
“It feels very short though,” Monica said, her voice carrying clearly through the gap. “When I turn like this, it keeps riding up. I keep feeling like too much is showing….”
Ustad replied in his calm tone.
“That’s how these are made. You know better"
Monica gave another small, soft laugh.
“You make it sound very normal, Ustad Miya.”
“It is normal,” Ustad said. “especially for someone with your figure.”
Sasuma could hear everything because of the silence around...
Normal? This is not normal. This is shameless. This is betrayal of my son. She is discussing how little fabric covers her most private parts with another man. And she sounds comfortable. Almost playful. The girl who calls me Ma is standing half-naked in a public mall, letting this man look at her ass, her thighs, her everything.
Monica turned again, slower this time, showing her back for longer. The thin string vanished completely between her ass cheeks. The round globes of flesh were fully exposed from below. Sasuma could see everything — the way the string divided the smooth flesh, the faint inner pink visible where it pulled the cheeks slightly apart, the way Monica’s body moved with unhurried confidence. The sheer black nightdress clung to her full breasts, the hard nipples pressing visibly against the fabric with every breath.
“I don’t usually wear things that show this much,” Monica said quietly, her voice a little breathier now. “It feels… different. … especially on my… here.”
She adjusted the front lightly with her fingers, the movement making the thin material shift over her breasts.
Ustad’s voice came again, steady.
“dont worry.... this design is not bad ”
Monica let out another small laugh, lighter this time.
“You are saying as if I can walk wearing this in the mall in front of everyone....Ustad Miya"
Sasuma’s throat felt tight with pain. She wanted to step out, to shout, to drag Monica away. But she stayed frozen, hidden, eavesdropping on every word, watching every movement. The fear of making any noise kept her rooted. The betrayal kept her watching, unable to look away.
Ustad joked and winked " Wanna try once?"
Monica teased him
" This is not USA that I can roam naked on the streets, This is India Ustad Miyan...hi..hi...hi "
Ustad pulled another dress..
" Try this one ? This was my first preference!"
Monica joked " I know your preference, you big naughty idiot!!"
Monica went back behind the curtain. Sasuma watched her silhouette as she reached behind herself. The soft sound of the tiny night dress clasp opening was audible even from where Sasuma stood. The straps slid down Monica’s arms. For several long seconds Monica stood wearing just the Bra in the warm light. Sasuma’s eyes widened further in horror. Monica’s full breasts were literally free — heavy, dusky skin, wide dark areolas, stiff nipples glistening slightly. Monica cupped them gently, lifting their weight, her thumbs brushing over the hard tips.
Everything made Sasuma’s stomach turn with disgust. Monica picked up the second piece — a deep red nightdress, even shorter and sheerer. She slipped it on. The fabric was so thin it was almost transparent under the light. It clung to her breasts like wet silk, outlining every curve, every hard nipple in vivid detail. The hem sat even higher on her thighs. When she stepped forward again into the open part, Sasuma could clearly see the dark outline of her nipples through the red material and the tiny black panties underneath — the wet patch clearly visible.
Monica turned slowly in front of Ustad.
“This colour feels warmer,” she said, her voice huskier. “Do you think it suits me better, Ustad Miya?”
Ustad took his time answering. His eyes moved slowly over her body.
“The red looks good on you and it makes everything more visible.”
He had the typical dirty sly smile....
Monica’s breath hitched. She didn’t deny it. Instead she turned again, even slower, letting the nightdress ride up at the back. The lower curves of her ass came into full view again — smooth, round, the thong string buried so deep it looked like it was part of her body. She stayed like that for several seconds, back arched slightly, letting him look.
Letting Sasuma look.
“It still feels really short though,” Monica whispered. “Especially when I turn like this. I keep worrying it will show too much… The string is pressing right between my cheeks… it feels tight every time I move.”
Ustad’s voice was low and steady.
“Ohh Come on this is made for your body type”
Monica let out a soft, shaky laugh that was half moan.
“Ustad Miyan. I don't think I can wear this even at night ...and not of course when we are in the village... What will Bheem's relatives think ?"
“They will be too busy to judge you..Relax and buy this one...” Ustad replied gently.
" Are you sure Ustad Miyan? Won't this be just too much for that small village with so many people around especially men I hardly know"
Ustad grinned "If you wear this, you will inspire other women" and winked
Monica hit him playfully" oh shut up"
Ustad said in a sharp reply" Don't tell me you just posed in these to show me and then not buy.... In my opinion you should buy both"
Sasuma heard every word, she knew her shame was eating her alive.. She always thought Monica was way beyond Rakesh's good boy nature, his meek personality. She heard about how being open and flirty with other men was fashionable in the city amongst modern working girls. Most girls had boyfriends in office or somewhere even after being married. But to see Monica shenagians in public with another man like this broke Sasuma from within. It made her numb with shame, fear and pain for her only son who probably had not done anything wrong. Any bit wrong.
Anyway Sasuma just hoped Monica does not bring more shame to Rakesh and the family. She feared scandals, from the equation Monica was sharing with Ustad she feared the worst- she feared what if Monica oneday just run away with Ustad.. That will kill Rakesh, that poor hapless innocent Rakesh...
Monica stayed there a moment longer, breathing faster, the wet patch on the tiny panties clearly visible even from Sasuma’s hiding spot. Then she went back behind the curtain one last time. She changed slowly. Sasuma watched every second — the red nightdress sliding up and off, Monica standing once more in just the tiny black bra and even tinier wet panties. This time Monica took longer in front of the mirror. She turned sideways, looking at her own reflection.
Sasuma had tears forming at the corner of her eyes .
This is what modern city women do so easily? They wear these shameless micro things, try them on in public trial rooms, show their almost naked bodies to other men, get wet and then walk out as if nothing happened. My bahu has become one of them...... this shameless woman. And I have seen everything.. The pain of this betrayal will stay with me forever. My poor son… he has no idea.
Monica finally changed back into her maroon top and dark jeans. She picked up the red nightdress, looked at Ustad with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and smiled that sassy, slightly shy smile.
“I think I’ll take this one,” she said softly. “It feels bolder. In a good way.”
Ustad nodded once, calm as ever.
“Okay I will go and join Bheem in the night club..”
" Okay have fun.." Monica said while coming out of the trial room
" Yea..you text me in the night once you reach home, take care" Ustad left ....
Monica waited at the queue at the billing counter.
Sasuma quickly started walking towards the restaurant.
Her legs were weak. Her hands were shaking. Her chest felt tight with a pain she had never known.The images were burned into her mind forever: the tiny thong disappearing between her otherwise modest bahu’s round ass cheeks, the sheer fabric clinging to her hard nipples, the swollen pussy lips outlined by wet fabric.
She reached the restaurant where Rakesh, Sasurji were seated. A few minutes later Monica walked in, shopping bag in hand, smiling brightly as if nothing in the world had happened.
She behaved as if nothing had happened.
Rakesh looked up as she sat down and asked with a tired smile, “So what all did you buy, Mon? You took quite some time. We were waiting.”
Monica chuckled lightly — a soft, playful little chuckle
“Arre Rakesh, the trial rooms had such a long queue today because of the rain, na. People were waiting everywhere. I had to stand for so long just to try one or two small things for myself. Then I bought a saree for Ma as a gift… and one or two simple dresses for me. Nothing fancy at all"
Sasurji asked kindly, “Beta, you should have called us. We could have waited or helped you carry things.”
Monica turned to him with the same sweet, affectionate expression
“No no, Papaji, it was fine! I managed everything myself. The queue moved slowly but I was patient. Come, eat more… the chicken is very good today.”
She served Sasuma next, touching her arm lightly and saying, “Ma, you must be tired from standing so long earlier. Here, take this… I know you like the gravy.”
She was sweet and playful during the entire dinner. She laughed at Sasurji’s small jokes, teased Rakesh lightly about looking sleepy, and chatted about the upcoming village wedding as if the last hour had never existed.
Sasuma kept quiet.
She sat there watching how her shameless bahu was now serving her in-laws as if nothing had happened… while she was semi naked with another man even a while ago. The images kept flashing — Monica turning in the transparent black nightdress, the thong string buried between her ass cheeks, her wet panties, the way she had chuckled and joked with Ustad about wearing the red one in the village.
“Ma, Papa… why don’t we go to the mall this evening? We can do some shopping before you leave. Maybe I buy a few things for the wedding also.”
Sasuma looked at her bahu, surprised but pleased. Sasurji nodded slowly from his chair.
“That is a good idea, beta, only if you are free,” Sasuma said politely. “You have been very busy with office lately. At least we can spend some time outside… together.”
Monica smiled back, warm and affectionate. “Yes, Ma… office this week was hectic, but let’s go today. Why, Rakesh?”
Rakesh, sitting on the sofa with his phone, agreed without much thought. The mall seemed like a good option with the rain outside. It would not be too crowded either.
By the time they reached the mall in the evening, the rain had reduced to a light drizzle. The parking lot on the lower level was half empty. They parked and got out. Just as they were about to head toward the main entrance, Rakesh turned to Monica.
“Mon, you take Ma and Papa upstairs. I’ll join you in ten minutes.”
Monica looked at him, puzzled. “What happened?”
Rakesh lowered his voice a little. “Ustad and Bheem are here. They’re in the nightclub on the top floor. I had lent some money to Ustad when the Skydeck thing happened. He said he’ll return it today. I’ll just go collect it quickly and come up.”
Monica was quiet for a second. Then she nodded simply.
“Okay. Come to the Fashion Bazaar pavilion… we will be there.”
Rakesh walked toward the escalator that led to the upper levels. Monica helped her Sasuma and Sasurji out of the car and they made their way toward the main entrance. They went straight to the large fashion pavilion on the first floor. It had three levels — men’s wear on the ground, kids on the first, and women’s wear plus lingerie and nightwear on the second. Sasuma wanted to look for a nice kurta or jacket for Sasurji first. So they started browsing the men’s section.
Monica stayed with them the whole time, patient and smiling, exactly how a good bahu should behave. She was wearing a deep maroon fitted top with a soft V-neckline that gently followed the shape of her full breasts without being too low. The smooth, slightly stretchy fabric hugged her slim waist before falling neatly over her hips. She had paired it with dark, well-fitted jeans that sat low on her waist and clung to her round ass and thighs in a way that made her figure look both elegant and undeniably attractive. Her long, silky hair was left open, falling in soft waves over her shoulders and back. Light makeup highlighted her eyes and lips, small earrings, and her mangalsutra rested visibly against her chest. The overall look was modern, confident, and subtly sensual. Men around turned their heads, but Monica seemed unaware — or perhaps she was used to it now.
She helped Sasurji choose colours and fabrics with genuine care, holding up options and dbanging them over his shoulder so he could see. Sasuma watched her bahu with quiet approval. This was the Monica she knew — respectful, helpful, the girl who touched her feet every morning and called her “Ma”.
Ten minutes later, Rakesh returned. By that time, Monica had selected a nice Nehru jacket for Sasurji.
“Papaji, you will look nice in this. Let’s pack this one for you.”
Rakesh nodded. “Monica, nice choice. You not getting anything for Ma?”
Monica replied at once, “Of course yes. The women’s section is on the second floor. Ma… come, let’s go. Rakesh, you wait for us here with Papa.”
Monica and Sasuma spent nearly half an hour on the second floor looking at sarees. The store was quiet because of the rain outside. Only a few customers moved between the racks. Sasuma took her time, touching different fabrics, asking Monica’s opinion on colours and borders. Monica stood beside her, patient and smiling, helping her dbang a few options over her shoulder so she could see how they fell. She even held one deep maroon saree up against Sasuma and said softly, “Ma, this colour will look very nice on you. The border is also good.”
After some time, Sasuma looked tired. Her feet were hurting from standing so long. When Rakesh called saying they should come down for dinner, Sasuma looked at Monica. Monica held the maroon saree they had finally selected in her hand and said,
“Ma, you go with Papa and Rakesh. I’ll just pay the bill for this and buy one or two small things for myself. I’ll join you in fifteen minutes.”
Sasuma frowned. “Why will you pay, beti?”
Monica smiled softly, the same affectionate smile she gave every morning. “It’s a small gift from me, Ma. You liked this one. Let me do this much.”
Sasuma hesitated. “No beti, let me gift you something na?”
Monica argued gently, “Ma… no please. You please go and sit aaram se in the restaurant. I can gift this small thing to you.”
Sasuma smiled as her legs were paining. She slowly moved out of the pavilion and tried spotting the restaurant on the first floor. Just then she realised something.
Her shawl.
She had forgotten her light cotton shawl near the saree rack when she was choosing one of the sarees. She had left without it.
She turned back towards the pavilion.
When she reached the same spot where she had left it, the shawl was not there. She turned towards the counter, hoping she might find someone from the store who had seen it. Just as she turned, she saw something.
Quite unexpected.
Very unexpected.
She froze.
Near the far end of the second floor, past the saree racks and toward the lingerie and nightwear section, she saw Monica. But not alone.
Smiling and talking with a man.
Sasuma could recognise the man instantly.
It was that same burly goonda looking guy who had come home to invite Rakesh and Monica for a wedding ceremony.
What the hell is he doing here ?
Monica and that burly man were selecting some intimate dress from the woman's section, casually as if they were together, Monica smiling and teasing him non stop.
Sasuma thought Monica had suddenly met Ustad Miyan in the mall and it was just "hi,hello" conversation.
No, but it was longer. The guy was choosing some dress for Monica. And they were not normal kurti or salwar he was choosing. They were standing right in the middle of the Lingerie section.
Sasuma with surprised tension waited and observed.
Both of them picked few dresses and started walking.
There was a row of trial rooms. The area was quieter, partially hidden by hanging displays. And both of them reached the last trial room.
Sasuma’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart began to pound so loudly she was afraid they would hear it. What are they upto? Why was he here on the second floor with Monica?
Sasuma stepped sideways quickly, hiding herself between two tall racks of heavy silk sarees. The gap between the racks gave her a narrow but clear view straight toward the trial rooms.
The trial rooms were different. It was a couple trial rooms. Means inside the door, the trial room had a small partition made by a thick curtain.
So couples can go inside together, and one can show the other before choosing one to buy.
Sasuma had no business witnessing whatever was happening inside that room. But the sight held her in place like a physical blow. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the saree rack until her knuckles turned white. Her breath came in shallow, silent gasps. Fear and betrayal began to coil in her stomach.
The front door of the last trial room was not fully closed. Warm golden light spilled out from inside. She could see movement. Monica’s silhouette. And Ustad’s broader frame standing just outside the curtain, speaking in his calm, deep voice.
She waited. Few minutes passed.
She watched as Monica stepped into the open part of the trial room, the inner curtain left deliberately parted just enough. Monica was no longer in her maroon top and jeans. She was wearing something which Ustad Miyan just choose for her.
Monica was wearing a short black nightdress made of the thinnest, most delicate chiffon Sasuma had ever seen on any woman in their family. It ended scandalously high on her thighs — far higher than any respectable married woman would ever consider wearing in public. The fabric was so sheer that even from this distance Sasuma could see the outline of her bra underneath. It meant the night dress she was posing in was transparent and designed in such a way it was meant to show everything inside!!
And wait ? Is that even a normal Bra?
The Bra Monica was wearing was tiny, with thin straps and cups that barely seemed to contain her full, heavy big breasts. The neckline plunged low, exposing the deep valley between them. The smooth fabric clung to every curve, catching on the hard points of her nipples, which were clearly visible even through the thin layers of the night dress and the Bra.
Sasuma literally felt she was just having some nightmare.
This is my son’s wife. The girl who touched my feet this morning and called me “Ma”. The same girl who cooked rajma and chicken for the family and wore modest salwar suits at home. So this is her real avatar ? she is standing here in this shameless thing… showing her body to another man.....
How could she do this to our family?
Monica turned slowly in front of Ustad. So slowly, it appeared straight out from some explicit movie scene. As she moved, the short hem lifted at the back. Sasuma’s stomach dropped with fresh shock. Underneath the nightdress, which was transparent ..highly transparent....Monica wore panties that were almost nonexistent — a tiny black triangle in front and a thin string at the back that disappeared completely between the round, firm cheeks of her ass. The lower curves of Monica’s buttocks were completely bare, smooth dusky skin glowing under the trial room light. Every time Monica shifted her weight, the thin string pulled deeper into the warm cleft, parting the soft flesh slightly. Sasuma could see the way the round globes flexed and settled with each small movement.
Sasuma's hands trembled behind the saree racks....
What kind of underwear is this? Is this girl even in her senses ? In our family we never even imagined such shameless things. These city women… they wear these little strings that disappear between their legs and show everything. And my bahu is one of them now. She is turning and posing like this is normal. So easily. So nonchalantly. As if it means nothing. My son has no idea what kind of girl he has married.
Monica adjusted the hem with her fingers, tugging it down, but the moment she turned again it rode straight back up, brushing the sensitive skin just below her ass cheeks. She let out a small, soft laugh — the same playful, sassy laugh she used at home.
“It feels very short though,” Monica said, her voice carrying clearly through the gap. “When I turn like this, it keeps riding up. I keep feeling like too much is showing….”
Ustad replied in his calm tone.
“That’s how these are made. You know better"
Monica gave another small, soft laugh.
“You make it sound very normal, Ustad Miya.”
“It is normal,” Ustad said. “especially for someone with your figure.”
Sasuma could hear everything because of the silence around...
Normal? This is not normal. This is shameless. This is betrayal of my son. She is discussing how little fabric covers her most private parts with another man. And she sounds comfortable. Almost playful. The girl who calls me Ma is standing half-naked in a public mall, letting this man look at her ass, her thighs, her everything.
Monica turned again, slower this time, showing her back for longer. The thin string vanished completely between her ass cheeks. The round globes of flesh were fully exposed from below. Sasuma could see everything — the way the string divided the smooth flesh, the faint inner pink visible where it pulled the cheeks slightly apart, the way Monica’s body moved with unhurried confidence. The sheer black nightdress clung to her full breasts, the hard nipples pressing visibly against the fabric with every breath.
“I don’t usually wear things that show this much,” Monica said quietly, her voice a little breathier now. “It feels… different. … especially on my… here.”
She adjusted the front lightly with her fingers, the movement making the thin material shift over her breasts.
Ustad’s voice came again, steady.
“dont worry.... this design is not bad ”
Monica let out another small laugh, lighter this time.
“You are saying as if I can walk wearing this in the mall in front of everyone....Ustad Miya"
Sasuma’s throat felt tight with pain. She wanted to step out, to shout, to drag Monica away. But she stayed frozen, hidden, eavesdropping on every word, watching every movement. The fear of making any noise kept her rooted. The betrayal kept her watching, unable to look away.
Ustad joked and winked " Wanna try once?"
Monica teased him
" This is not USA that I can roam naked on the streets, This is India Ustad Miyan...hi..hi...hi "
Ustad pulled another dress..
" Try this one ? This was my first preference!"
Monica joked " I know your preference, you big naughty idiot!!"
Monica went back behind the curtain. Sasuma watched her silhouette as she reached behind herself. The soft sound of the tiny night dress clasp opening was audible even from where Sasuma stood. The straps slid down Monica’s arms. For several long seconds Monica stood wearing just the Bra in the warm light. Sasuma’s eyes widened further in horror. Monica’s full breasts were literally free — heavy, dusky skin, wide dark areolas, stiff nipples glistening slightly. Monica cupped them gently, lifting their weight, her thumbs brushing over the hard tips.
Everything made Sasuma’s stomach turn with disgust. Monica picked up the second piece — a deep red nightdress, even shorter and sheerer. She slipped it on. The fabric was so thin it was almost transparent under the light. It clung to her breasts like wet silk, outlining every curve, every hard nipple in vivid detail. The hem sat even higher on her thighs. When she stepped forward again into the open part, Sasuma could clearly see the dark outline of her nipples through the red material and the tiny black panties underneath — the wet patch clearly visible.
Monica turned slowly in front of Ustad.
“This colour feels warmer,” she said, her voice huskier. “Do you think it suits me better, Ustad Miya?”
Ustad took his time answering. His eyes moved slowly over her body.
“The red looks good on you and it makes everything more visible.”
He had the typical dirty sly smile....
Monica’s breath hitched. She didn’t deny it. Instead she turned again, even slower, letting the nightdress ride up at the back. The lower curves of her ass came into full view again — smooth, round, the thong string buried so deep it looked like it was part of her body. She stayed like that for several seconds, back arched slightly, letting him look.
Letting Sasuma look.
“It still feels really short though,” Monica whispered. “Especially when I turn like this. I keep worrying it will show too much… The string is pressing right between my cheeks… it feels tight every time I move.”
Ustad’s voice was low and steady.
“Ohh Come on this is made for your body type”
Monica let out a soft, shaky laugh that was half moan.
“Ustad Miyan. I don't think I can wear this even at night ...and not of course when we are in the village... What will Bheem's relatives think ?"
“They will be too busy to judge you..Relax and buy this one...” Ustad replied gently.
" Are you sure Ustad Miyan? Won't this be just too much for that small village with so many people around especially men I hardly know"
Ustad grinned "If you wear this, you will inspire other women" and winked
Monica hit him playfully" oh shut up"
Ustad said in a sharp reply" Don't tell me you just posed in these to show me and then not buy.... In my opinion you should buy both"
Sasuma heard every word, she knew her shame was eating her alive.. She always thought Monica was way beyond Rakesh's good boy nature, his meek personality. She heard about how being open and flirty with other men was fashionable in the city amongst modern working girls. Most girls had boyfriends in office or somewhere even after being married. But to see Monica shenagians in public with another man like this broke Sasuma from within. It made her numb with shame, fear and pain for her only son who probably had not done anything wrong. Any bit wrong.
Anyway Sasuma just hoped Monica does not bring more shame to Rakesh and the family. She feared scandals, from the equation Monica was sharing with Ustad she feared the worst- she feared what if Monica oneday just run away with Ustad.. That will kill Rakesh, that poor hapless innocent Rakesh...
Monica stayed there a moment longer, breathing faster, the wet patch on the tiny panties clearly visible even from Sasuma’s hiding spot. Then she went back behind the curtain one last time. She changed slowly. Sasuma watched every second — the red nightdress sliding up and off, Monica standing once more in just the tiny black bra and even tinier wet panties. This time Monica took longer in front of the mirror. She turned sideways, looking at her own reflection.
Sasuma had tears forming at the corner of her eyes .
This is what modern city women do so easily? They wear these shameless micro things, try them on in public trial rooms, show their almost naked bodies to other men, get wet and then walk out as if nothing happened. My bahu has become one of them...... this shameless woman. And I have seen everything.. The pain of this betrayal will stay with me forever. My poor son… he has no idea.
Monica finally changed back into her maroon top and dark jeans. She picked up the red nightdress, looked at Ustad with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and smiled that sassy, slightly shy smile.
“I think I’ll take this one,” she said softly. “It feels bolder. In a good way.”
Ustad nodded once, calm as ever.
“Okay I will go and join Bheem in the night club..”
" Okay have fun.." Monica said while coming out of the trial room
" Yea..you text me in the night once you reach home, take care" Ustad left ....
Monica waited at the queue at the billing counter.
Sasuma quickly started walking towards the restaurant.
Her legs were weak. Her hands were shaking. Her chest felt tight with a pain she had never known.The images were burned into her mind forever: the tiny thong disappearing between her otherwise modest bahu’s round ass cheeks, the sheer fabric clinging to her hard nipples, the swollen pussy lips outlined by wet fabric.
She reached the restaurant where Rakesh, Sasurji were seated. A few minutes later Monica walked in, shopping bag in hand, smiling brightly as if nothing in the world had happened.
She behaved as if nothing had happened.
Rakesh looked up as she sat down and asked with a tired smile, “So what all did you buy, Mon? You took quite some time. We were waiting.”
Monica chuckled lightly — a soft, playful little chuckle
“Arre Rakesh, the trial rooms had such a long queue today because of the rain, na. People were waiting everywhere. I had to stand for so long just to try one or two small things for myself. Then I bought a saree for Ma as a gift… and one or two simple dresses for me. Nothing fancy at all"
Sasurji asked kindly, “Beta, you should have called us. We could have waited or helped you carry things.”
Monica turned to him with the same sweet, affectionate expression
“No no, Papaji, it was fine! I managed everything myself. The queue moved slowly but I was patient. Come, eat more… the chicken is very good today.”
She served Sasuma next, touching her arm lightly and saying, “Ma, you must be tired from standing so long earlier. Here, take this… I know you like the gravy.”
She was sweet and playful during the entire dinner. She laughed at Sasurji’s small jokes, teased Rakesh lightly about looking sleepy, and chatted about the upcoming village wedding as if the last hour had never existed.
Sasuma kept quiet.
She sat there watching how her shameless bahu was now serving her in-laws as if nothing had happened… while she was semi naked with another man even a while ago. The images kept flashing — Monica turning in the transparent black nightdress, the thong string buried between her ass cheeks, her wet panties, the way she had chuckled and joked with Ustad about wearing the red one in the village.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)