11-07-2026, 09:19 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-07-2026, 09:19 AM by SilverArrow. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Four days later, the taxi waited downstairs in the Noida morning light. Sasuma stood in the living room, suitcase packed, but her heart felt like it was rotting inside her chest. Every night since the mall, the same images burned behind her eyes: Monica turning slowly in that scandalously sheer red nightdress, the tiny black thong string vanishing completely between the round, firm cheeks of her ass, the wet patch darkening the minuscule fabric over her swollen pussy lips, her hard nipples pushing visibly through the transparent material while she laughed and posed for that burly man.
“Ma, Papa… safe journey. Call the moment you reach Jaipur. Don’t worry about anything here.”
Sasuma hugged her stiffly. Monica’s full, soft breasts pressed against her for a second. The scent of Monica’s light perfume mixed with something else — something warm and alive — and Sasuma felt nausea rise in her throat.
“Take care of Rakesh, beta,” she said, voice low and heavy. “Be… good.”
Monica didn’t flinch. Just smiled brighter. “Of course, Ma. You both rest well.”
Rakesh touched his father’s feet, ever the obedient son. The taxi pulled away.
Back inside the flat, Monica and Rakesh had to pack quickly . They are leaving for the marriage tomorrow and there is hardly much time.
" Let me know what all I will pack for you, Rak!!"
" Nothing much, get few ethnic for me, I don't know what do people in their villages wear for weddings though!"
She walked to the bedroom, hips swaying, and spread her clothes across the big bed.
First the traditional wear. The heavy maroon silk lehenga with intricate gold zari for the main wedding function. She held the matching choli blouse against her chest in front of the mirror. The neckline plunged low enough to show the soft upper swells of her full, heavy breasts. The back was cut almost to her waist. She packed few lehengas and a really pretty red bridal saree with matching blouse and petticoat.
Then the modern hot dresses. She can't be wearing lehengas and saree all the time. It will get very uncomfortable.
A tight little black number with thin straps that would barely contain her breasts and end high on her thighs. Two short designer kurtis with deep side slits that would flash skin all the way to her hip when she walked or sat. Tight jeans and cropped tops that showed a sliver of toned midriff.
Rakesh walked in. “All packed, Mon? You took quite some time.”
Monica turned “Arre Rakesh, it’s a wedding! I need proper traditional wear for the functions and some nice modern dresses for the evenings. You know how I like to look good.”
She walked over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry… I’ll save the best for you too.”
He smiled, oblivious. “Okay okay. I Know that”
The overnight luxury AC bus left Delhi the next evening.
Morning brought the hills.
The bus stopped at a small stand near the base of the mountains. The air was cool, fresh, scented with pine, wet earth and wildflowers. Rolling green hills stretched in every direction, mist clinging to the valleys. It felt like another world.
Bhim and Ustad were waiting with a sturdy jeep. Bhim waved both arms, grinning. “Rakesh bhai! Monica bhabhi! Welcome to our beautiful village "
Ustad stood a little behind him, burly and calm, eyes moving slowly over Monica as she stepped down from the bus and stretched her arms above her head. The movement lifted her kurti, flashing a strip of smooth midriff. The leggings stretched obscenely tight over her round ass and toned thighs. Several local men unloading goods turned to stare openly at the city beauty.
Bhim started the jeep “Hope the journey was comfortable.!!”
Rakesh nodded
They drove up the winding road to Bhim’s house — a traditional two-story village home made of wood with a big flower-filled courtyard, string lights, and the rich smell of cooking floating in the air.
The house brimmed with people -Bhim’s sturdy farmer father, warm smiling mother, shy pretty younger sister, several young male cousins, aunts and uncles.
Monica turned few heads the moment she stepped into the courtyard. In her fitted black kurti and skin-tight grey leggings, her full breasts, narrow waist and round ass stood out sharply against the simple village clothes.
When she bent to touch the elders’ feet — — the kurti’s neckline dipped, showing the soft valley between her breasts, and the leggings pulled so tight over her ass that every curve was visible.
“Hay hay, kitni sundar biwi hai!” one aunt exclaimed. “Rakesh beta, you are a very lucky man”
Rakesh smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
Monica straightened with a playful, sassy laugh. “Thank you, Aunty. But handling this city girl is not so easy for him!” She winked, and several of the men chuckled. Rakesh blushed faintly.
Bhim introduced everyone — parents, cousins, the priest, neighbors. The young cousins kept stealing glances at Monica’s chest and the way her ass moved when she walked.
By afternoon, as the mist began to drift down from the higher ridges like a living veil, Bheem pulled them aside with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Enough of this crowded house. I’ve arranged something better for you and Monica bhabhi. A quiet old haveli tucked right into the foothills — proper British-era heritage.Ustad has already shifted his things there to help with the wedding work. Anita Devi runs it like her own home —she’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”
Monica chuckled "Sounds Fun Bheem Saab, Thanks for taking so much pain for much!"
Bheem smiled "Come on You guys are my guest, Do call me If you face any issues"
The short drive away from the village felt like slipping into another world. The jeep climbed a narrow, twisting track where tall deodar pines leaned in close, their needles brushing the windows.The road grew quieter, rounding a final bend, the haveli emerged from the trees like a beautiful, half-forgotten dream.
It rose from the hillside in faded colonial elegance —Tall French windows lined the long veranda, their glass catching the weak sunlight and reflecting the swirling mist. A single curl of woodsmoke rose from a chimney. The place felt alive and watchful, wrapped in a deep, isolated silence broken only by the whisper of wind through the pines and the distant call of a bird. Monica’s breath caught. It was eerie and romantic all at once;
They stepped out onto soft ground carpeted with fallen needles.. Anita Devi appeared at the carved main door, a sturdy woman in her early forties with a no-nonsense face and kind eyes, wiping her hands on her cotton saree pallu.
“Arre, welcome. Bheem told me you were coming. This is old family property"
Rakesh smiled " Namaste Anita Ji"
The woman smiled and said " It took years in the courts to get back this property. Some wings are still sleeping, but this part is awake for guests. I think you guys will like this place” Her voice was direct, yet she smiled warmly as she took in Monica’s modern look and the confident sway of her ass.
Inside, the haveli embraced them with cool, polished quiet.. Faded pre-independence oil paintings lined the walls — stern British officers and elegant Indian nobility whose painted eyes seemed to follow Monica as she walked, lingering on the way her kurti hugged the full curves of her breasts and the round swell of her ass.
Anita Devi led them up the groaning staircase to the first floor. “Your room is here. Next to your friend Ustad. Other rooms are empty for now. Just ring the bell whenever you want and I will be there..”
She left them with a nod, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
The room was spacious with Two massive French windows stood open to a private balcony that framed a sweeping view of rolling green hills dissolving into soft white mist. A huge four-poster bed dominated the space, its carved posts dark with age, the thick mattress covered in heavy wool blankets that smelled faintly of cedar and old lavender. An old brass lantern on the writing desk cast a warm, flickering glow that made the motes of dust dance. On the walls, more oil paintings watched — one of a British officer on horseback, another a moonlit garden scene that seemed to shift when the light moved.
“Rak… this place is perfect. The paintings are already judging us. And that bed looks like it has a hundred stories.”
She walked to the French windows, the cool mountain breeze lifting her hair
“It really does feel haunted at night. In the best, spookiest way, is it not Rakesh ?"
Rakesh smiled "All thanks to my burly betting friends"
Monica laughed.
That night, after a simple dinner served by Anita in the main hall, they returned to their room. The haveli had gone beautifully quiet.
Cold air drifted in through the slightly open French windows. Monica closed the door — it didn’t latch properly — and turned to Rakesh with dark, excited eyes.
“This place is doing something to me, Rak,” she said softly, already pulling her kurti over her head. Her full, heavy breasts spilled free, chocolate colored nipples already stiff from the chill. She let the kurti fall, then peeled off her leggings and tiny black thong, standing completely naked in the middle of the old room. The paintings watched. The floor was cold under her bare feet. She turned slowly, showing Rakesh the round, firm curves of her ass, the smooth milky skin of her back, the soft dark triangle between her thighs.
Rakesh’s cock hardened instantly. The eerie silence, the creaking bed, the feeling that the haveli itself was breathing — it made everything hotter. He pulled her onto the big four-poster bed. The old frame groaned loudly as their weight settled. Monica laughed breathlessly. “Even the bed is moaning like it’s haunted…”
They fucked with raw, hungry energy. Monica on her back first, legs spread wide, Rakesh thrusting deep into her already wet pussy while the bed creaked rhythmically beneath them. She moaned louder than usual, the sound echoing off the high ceiling and thin walls. “Fuck… Rak… this bed… feels like someone’s listening…”
Rakesh gripped her ass, spanking her lightly, lost in the strange, kinky atmosphere. She came hard, back arching, pussy clenching around him, a sharp cry escaping her lips that definitely carried through the thin partition to the next room.
After fucking, she didn’t move to get dressed. She simply rolled off him, pulled the heavy blanket over her naked body, and snuggled close, still feeling his warm cum slowly leaking from her freshly fucked pussy. “Good Night, Rak…” she murmured, already half-asleep. “Hope you loved it…”
Rakesh chuckled sleepily, arm around her. “Yea Monica”
Morning arrived cold and misty. Pale golden light filtered through the French windows. Rakesh woke early, pulled on clothes, and stepped onto the balcony with his phone for office calls, the mountain air sharp against his face.
Monica stayed in bed, gloriously naked under the thick blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her laptop rested on her lap. She was checking emails, one bare leg occasionally slipping out from under the covers. Her full breasts were hidden but the shape of them was obvious — heavy, soft, nipples stiff from the morning chill and rubbing against the wool.
A soft tap on the door. It opened without waiting for an answer from inside.
Monica forgot this, Anita Devi had mentioned that because the haveli was really old the lock though is there but it won't work most of the time. She was not wrong.
Ustad stepped inside, filling the doorway with his broad, burly frame.
“Morning. Do you guys want to go for a quick trek up the mountains?”
Monica looked up from her laptop, completely bare underneath the blanket. She wasn’t flustered.
She casually tugged the blanket a little higher over her breasts, but the movement only made it clearer she was naked underneath— the fabric dbangd over her full curves, the faint outline of hard nipples pressing against the wool, the way it clung to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. Anyone looking could tell she had slept naked and was still naked now.
She met Ustad’s eyes with a small, shy-but-naughty smile. “I won’t mind… Rakesh coming?”
Rakesh stepped in from the balcony just then, phone in hand. He took in the scene instantly — Ustad standing there, Monica in bed under the blanket, her clothes from last night (kurti, leggings, Bra, tiny thong) still scattered on the old wooden floor like evidence of their passionate fucking.
He knew his wife was naked under that blanket. However, the previous night’s intense sex and the ghostly, isolated vibe of the haveli had left him in an oddly open, reckless mood. He didn’t protest. As long as the blanket stayed in place… it was fine.
“Yeah,” he said, voice a little rough. “Hope the trek’s not too hectic.”
Ustad’s gaze flicked to the floor, to the discarded clothes and Monica's sexy undergarments lying right on top. A slow, dirty smile curved his mouth. “No… easy path. Not much hectic ”
Then, voice low and amused, almost to himself: “Looks like you guys had a good time last night.”
Monica’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled with wicked delight. She shifted under the blanket and said
“This place really had a different vibe, Ustad Miya…” she said, voice soft and teasing. “Could not help it.”
Ustad crossed the room and sat on the very edge of the bed, only inches from her naked body. The mattress dipped under his weight. The blanket shifted against Monica’s bare skin. She could feel the solid heat of his thigh so close to her own bare leg. His musky, masculine scent mixed with the smell of old wood, cold mountain air, and the faint trace of last night’s sex still lingering in the sheets. Her nipples tightened unapologetically against the blanket.
Rakesh didn’t say anything about Ustad sitting so close to his naked wife. Instead he went to the bedside table, boiled water with the electric kettle Anita had provided, and made three cups of strong, hot coffee. The rich, bitter aroma filled the room. He handed one to Ustad, one to Monica — and when he passed her the cup, the blanket slipped. For a clear second her full left breast was exposed — heavy, dusky, chocolate colored stuff nipples were visible and glistening slightly. Luckily Ustad miyan was looking at the other side when this happened which gave Monica some time to pull up the blanket. Rakesh’s eyes widened, he swallowed and sat on the old chair by the desk, coffee in hand, watching.
The three chatted for a while, the tension thick and electric.
Ustad described the trek in his deep, calm voice. “Short climb through pine forest, then a clearing with a view straight down into the valley. Very quiet. No one goes there this early.” His eyes kept inadvertently drifting to the blanket, to the way it molded over Monica’s breasts, to the bare shoulder and collarbone she hadn’t bothered to cover completely
“Good place to… relax. Breathe.”
Monica sipped her coffee, the hot liquid sliding down her throat while cold air kissed her exposed skin.
She let her voice drop into that playful, slightly husky tone she used with him. “Sounds perfect, Ustad Miya. I like… such places.” She shifted again, deliberately this time, and the blanket rode up her thighs under the covers. Her bare, freshly fucked pussy was now only inches from where Ustad’s hand rested on the mattress.
Rakesh cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. “As long as no ghosts follow us on the trek.”
Ustad chuckled
“Only friendly ones in this haveli.” His gaze flicked to Monica’s almost-exposed breasts, then back to her eyes. “And they seem to like you.”
Ustad finished his coffee and stood up slowly. “I’ll wait downstairs. Anita ji is making fresh parathas. We can leave after breakfast.”
The door clicked shut behind him, She looked at Rakesh, who was still staring at her from the chair, his coffee cup forgotten in his hand.
“He came unannounced, Rak,” she said, voice a mix of defensive and playful, cheeks still flushed. “What was I supposed to do? Throw the blanket off and give him a full show? ‘Oh hello Ustad Miya, here’s my naked body, hope you like the view’?” She rolled her eyes dramatically, but the spark in her eyes and the way her thighs pressed together under the blanket betrayed exactly how much the whole situation had excited her.
Rakesh blinked, then a slow, sporting grin spread across his face. He set the cup down and leaned back, shaking his head with a warm chuckle. “I don't know what sort of man this Ustad Miyan is...just walked inside the room without notice!!"
Monica said " Not his fault entirely.. these doors open on its own..he may have just pushed the door lightly"
Rakesh stood up, walked over, and sat on the edge of the bed where Ustad had been moments ago. His hand rested casually on the blanket near her bare thigh. “Besides, the way those huge boobs of yours were making their presence known under there… I think Ustad Miya got quite an impression. They were practically waving hello through the wool.”
Monica burst into a bright, relieved laughter, the sound echoing softly in the old room and breaking the thick tension. She playfully swatted his arm. “Arre shut up! You’re the one who didn’t even flinch when he sat so close. Admit it — you liked seeing your hot wife like this, didn’t you?”
Rakesh laughed too, the sound easy and warm, reaching out to trace the edge of the blanket with one finger, not pulling it up but playing along the soft curve of her exposed breast. “ This haunted haveli is turning my proper city wife into a naked exhibitionist it seems..” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then lower, brushing his lips teasingly near her stiff nipple without quite touching it.
“Just don’t blame me if I start enjoying it too much.” Monica replied
“Too late, Rak. Now hurry and go — I will get dressed and come down”
Rakesh grinned before going "Mon, there are other people around, at least wear a Bra before you go down"
Monica giggled " Oh ..come on ..there is something called comfort Mr. husband....you now want me to wear a fucking Bra inside the haveli, ohk I will see .you hurry up and go and save some parathas for me ..I am starving!!"
“Ma, Papa… safe journey. Call the moment you reach Jaipur. Don’t worry about anything here.”
Sasuma hugged her stiffly. Monica’s full, soft breasts pressed against her for a second. The scent of Monica’s light perfume mixed with something else — something warm and alive — and Sasuma felt nausea rise in her throat.
“Take care of Rakesh, beta,” she said, voice low and heavy. “Be… good.”
Monica didn’t flinch. Just smiled brighter. “Of course, Ma. You both rest well.”
Rakesh touched his father’s feet, ever the obedient son. The taxi pulled away.
Back inside the flat, Monica and Rakesh had to pack quickly . They are leaving for the marriage tomorrow and there is hardly much time.
" Let me know what all I will pack for you, Rak!!"
" Nothing much, get few ethnic for me, I don't know what do people in their villages wear for weddings though!"
She walked to the bedroom, hips swaying, and spread her clothes across the big bed.
First the traditional wear. The heavy maroon silk lehenga with intricate gold zari for the main wedding function. She held the matching choli blouse against her chest in front of the mirror. The neckline plunged low enough to show the soft upper swells of her full, heavy breasts. The back was cut almost to her waist. She packed few lehengas and a really pretty red bridal saree with matching blouse and petticoat.
Then the modern hot dresses. She can't be wearing lehengas and saree all the time. It will get very uncomfortable.
A tight little black number with thin straps that would barely contain her breasts and end high on her thighs. Two short designer kurtis with deep side slits that would flash skin all the way to her hip when she walked or sat. Tight jeans and cropped tops that showed a sliver of toned midriff.
Rakesh walked in. “All packed, Mon? You took quite some time.”
Monica turned “Arre Rakesh, it’s a wedding! I need proper traditional wear for the functions and some nice modern dresses for the evenings. You know how I like to look good.”
She walked over and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry… I’ll save the best for you too.”
He smiled, oblivious. “Okay okay. I Know that”
The overnight luxury AC bus left Delhi the next evening.
Morning brought the hills.
The bus stopped at a small stand near the base of the mountains. The air was cool, fresh, scented with pine, wet earth and wildflowers. Rolling green hills stretched in every direction, mist clinging to the valleys. It felt like another world.
Bhim and Ustad were waiting with a sturdy jeep. Bhim waved both arms, grinning. “Rakesh bhai! Monica bhabhi! Welcome to our beautiful village "
Ustad stood a little behind him, burly and calm, eyes moving slowly over Monica as she stepped down from the bus and stretched her arms above her head. The movement lifted her kurti, flashing a strip of smooth midriff. The leggings stretched obscenely tight over her round ass and toned thighs. Several local men unloading goods turned to stare openly at the city beauty.
Bhim started the jeep “Hope the journey was comfortable.!!”
Rakesh nodded
They drove up the winding road to Bhim’s house — a traditional two-story village home made of wood with a big flower-filled courtyard, string lights, and the rich smell of cooking floating in the air.
The house brimmed with people -Bhim’s sturdy farmer father, warm smiling mother, shy pretty younger sister, several young male cousins, aunts and uncles.
Monica turned few heads the moment she stepped into the courtyard. In her fitted black kurti and skin-tight grey leggings, her full breasts, narrow waist and round ass stood out sharply against the simple village clothes.
When she bent to touch the elders’ feet — — the kurti’s neckline dipped, showing the soft valley between her breasts, and the leggings pulled so tight over her ass that every curve was visible.
“Hay hay, kitni sundar biwi hai!” one aunt exclaimed. “Rakesh beta, you are a very lucky man”
Rakesh smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
Monica straightened with a playful, sassy laugh. “Thank you, Aunty. But handling this city girl is not so easy for him!” She winked, and several of the men chuckled. Rakesh blushed faintly.
Bhim introduced everyone — parents, cousins, the priest, neighbors. The young cousins kept stealing glances at Monica’s chest and the way her ass moved when she walked.
By afternoon, as the mist began to drift down from the higher ridges like a living veil, Bheem pulled them aside with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Enough of this crowded house. I’ve arranged something better for you and Monica bhabhi. A quiet old haveli tucked right into the foothills — proper British-era heritage.Ustad has already shifted his things there to help with the wedding work. Anita Devi runs it like her own home —she’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”
Monica chuckled "Sounds Fun Bheem Saab, Thanks for taking so much pain for much!"
Bheem smiled "Come on You guys are my guest, Do call me If you face any issues"
The short drive away from the village felt like slipping into another world. The jeep climbed a narrow, twisting track where tall deodar pines leaned in close, their needles brushing the windows.The road grew quieter, rounding a final bend, the haveli emerged from the trees like a beautiful, half-forgotten dream.
It rose from the hillside in faded colonial elegance —Tall French windows lined the long veranda, their glass catching the weak sunlight and reflecting the swirling mist. A single curl of woodsmoke rose from a chimney. The place felt alive and watchful, wrapped in a deep, isolated silence broken only by the whisper of wind through the pines and the distant call of a bird. Monica’s breath caught. It was eerie and romantic all at once;
They stepped out onto soft ground carpeted with fallen needles.. Anita Devi appeared at the carved main door, a sturdy woman in her early forties with a no-nonsense face and kind eyes, wiping her hands on her cotton saree pallu.
“Arre, welcome. Bheem told me you were coming. This is old family property"
Rakesh smiled " Namaste Anita Ji"
The woman smiled and said " It took years in the courts to get back this property. Some wings are still sleeping, but this part is awake for guests. I think you guys will like this place” Her voice was direct, yet she smiled warmly as she took in Monica’s modern look and the confident sway of her ass.
Inside, the haveli embraced them with cool, polished quiet.. Faded pre-independence oil paintings lined the walls — stern British officers and elegant Indian nobility whose painted eyes seemed to follow Monica as she walked, lingering on the way her kurti hugged the full curves of her breasts and the round swell of her ass.
Anita Devi led them up the groaning staircase to the first floor. “Your room is here. Next to your friend Ustad. Other rooms are empty for now. Just ring the bell whenever you want and I will be there..”
She left them with a nod, her footsteps fading down the corridor.
The room was spacious with Two massive French windows stood open to a private balcony that framed a sweeping view of rolling green hills dissolving into soft white mist. A huge four-poster bed dominated the space, its carved posts dark with age, the thick mattress covered in heavy wool blankets that smelled faintly of cedar and old lavender. An old brass lantern on the writing desk cast a warm, flickering glow that made the motes of dust dance. On the walls, more oil paintings watched — one of a British officer on horseback, another a moonlit garden scene that seemed to shift when the light moved.
“Rak… this place is perfect. The paintings are already judging us. And that bed looks like it has a hundred stories.”
She walked to the French windows, the cool mountain breeze lifting her hair
“It really does feel haunted at night. In the best, spookiest way, is it not Rakesh ?"
Rakesh smiled "All thanks to my burly betting friends"
Monica laughed.
That night, after a simple dinner served by Anita in the main hall, they returned to their room. The haveli had gone beautifully quiet.
Cold air drifted in through the slightly open French windows. Monica closed the door — it didn’t latch properly — and turned to Rakesh with dark, excited eyes.
“This place is doing something to me, Rak,” she said softly, already pulling her kurti over her head. Her full, heavy breasts spilled free, chocolate colored nipples already stiff from the chill. She let the kurti fall, then peeled off her leggings and tiny black thong, standing completely naked in the middle of the old room. The paintings watched. The floor was cold under her bare feet. She turned slowly, showing Rakesh the round, firm curves of her ass, the smooth milky skin of her back, the soft dark triangle between her thighs.
Rakesh’s cock hardened instantly. The eerie silence, the creaking bed, the feeling that the haveli itself was breathing — it made everything hotter. He pulled her onto the big four-poster bed. The old frame groaned loudly as their weight settled. Monica laughed breathlessly. “Even the bed is moaning like it’s haunted…”
They fucked with raw, hungry energy. Monica on her back first, legs spread wide, Rakesh thrusting deep into her already wet pussy while the bed creaked rhythmically beneath them. She moaned louder than usual, the sound echoing off the high ceiling and thin walls. “Fuck… Rak… this bed… feels like someone’s listening…”
Rakesh gripped her ass, spanking her lightly, lost in the strange, kinky atmosphere. She came hard, back arching, pussy clenching around him, a sharp cry escaping her lips that definitely carried through the thin partition to the next room.
After fucking, she didn’t move to get dressed. She simply rolled off him, pulled the heavy blanket over her naked body, and snuggled close, still feeling his warm cum slowly leaking from her freshly fucked pussy. “Good Night, Rak…” she murmured, already half-asleep. “Hope you loved it…”
Rakesh chuckled sleepily, arm around her. “Yea Monica”
Morning arrived cold and misty. Pale golden light filtered through the French windows. Rakesh woke early, pulled on clothes, and stepped onto the balcony with his phone for office calls, the mountain air sharp against his face.
Monica stayed in bed, gloriously naked under the thick blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Her laptop rested on her lap. She was checking emails, one bare leg occasionally slipping out from under the covers. Her full breasts were hidden but the shape of them was obvious — heavy, soft, nipples stiff from the morning chill and rubbing against the wool.
A soft tap on the door. It opened without waiting for an answer from inside.
Monica forgot this, Anita Devi had mentioned that because the haveli was really old the lock though is there but it won't work most of the time. She was not wrong.
Ustad stepped inside, filling the doorway with his broad, burly frame.
“Morning. Do you guys want to go for a quick trek up the mountains?”
Monica looked up from her laptop, completely bare underneath the blanket. She wasn’t flustered.
She casually tugged the blanket a little higher over her breasts, but the movement only made it clearer she was naked underneath— the fabric dbangd over her full curves, the faint outline of hard nipples pressing against the wool, the way it clung to the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. Anyone looking could tell she had slept naked and was still naked now.
She met Ustad’s eyes with a small, shy-but-naughty smile. “I won’t mind… Rakesh coming?”
Rakesh stepped in from the balcony just then, phone in hand. He took in the scene instantly — Ustad standing there, Monica in bed under the blanket, her clothes from last night (kurti, leggings, Bra, tiny thong) still scattered on the old wooden floor like evidence of their passionate fucking.
He knew his wife was naked under that blanket. However, the previous night’s intense sex and the ghostly, isolated vibe of the haveli had left him in an oddly open, reckless mood. He didn’t protest. As long as the blanket stayed in place… it was fine.
“Yeah,” he said, voice a little rough. “Hope the trek’s not too hectic.”
Ustad’s gaze flicked to the floor, to the discarded clothes and Monica's sexy undergarments lying right on top. A slow, dirty smile curved his mouth. “No… easy path. Not much hectic ”
Then, voice low and amused, almost to himself: “Looks like you guys had a good time last night.”
Monica’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled with wicked delight. She shifted under the blanket and said
“This place really had a different vibe, Ustad Miya…” she said, voice soft and teasing. “Could not help it.”
Ustad crossed the room and sat on the very edge of the bed, only inches from her naked body. The mattress dipped under his weight. The blanket shifted against Monica’s bare skin. She could feel the solid heat of his thigh so close to her own bare leg. His musky, masculine scent mixed with the smell of old wood, cold mountain air, and the faint trace of last night’s sex still lingering in the sheets. Her nipples tightened unapologetically against the blanket.
Rakesh didn’t say anything about Ustad sitting so close to his naked wife. Instead he went to the bedside table, boiled water with the electric kettle Anita had provided, and made three cups of strong, hot coffee. The rich, bitter aroma filled the room. He handed one to Ustad, one to Monica — and when he passed her the cup, the blanket slipped. For a clear second her full left breast was exposed — heavy, dusky, chocolate colored stuff nipples were visible and glistening slightly. Luckily Ustad miyan was looking at the other side when this happened which gave Monica some time to pull up the blanket. Rakesh’s eyes widened, he swallowed and sat on the old chair by the desk, coffee in hand, watching.
The three chatted for a while, the tension thick and electric.
Ustad described the trek in his deep, calm voice. “Short climb through pine forest, then a clearing with a view straight down into the valley. Very quiet. No one goes there this early.” His eyes kept inadvertently drifting to the blanket, to the way it molded over Monica’s breasts, to the bare shoulder and collarbone she hadn’t bothered to cover completely
“Good place to… relax. Breathe.”
Monica sipped her coffee, the hot liquid sliding down her throat while cold air kissed her exposed skin.
She let her voice drop into that playful, slightly husky tone she used with him. “Sounds perfect, Ustad Miya. I like… such places.” She shifted again, deliberately this time, and the blanket rode up her thighs under the covers. Her bare, freshly fucked pussy was now only inches from where Ustad’s hand rested on the mattress.
Rakesh cleared his throat, trying to sound normal. “As long as no ghosts follow us on the trek.”
Ustad chuckled
“Only friendly ones in this haveli.” His gaze flicked to Monica’s almost-exposed breasts, then back to her eyes. “And they seem to like you.”
Ustad finished his coffee and stood up slowly. “I’ll wait downstairs. Anita ji is making fresh parathas. We can leave after breakfast.”
The door clicked shut behind him, She looked at Rakesh, who was still staring at her from the chair, his coffee cup forgotten in his hand.
“He came unannounced, Rak,” she said, voice a mix of defensive and playful, cheeks still flushed. “What was I supposed to do? Throw the blanket off and give him a full show? ‘Oh hello Ustad Miya, here’s my naked body, hope you like the view’?” She rolled her eyes dramatically, but the spark in her eyes and the way her thighs pressed together under the blanket betrayed exactly how much the whole situation had excited her.
Rakesh blinked, then a slow, sporting grin spread across his face. He set the cup down and leaned back, shaking his head with a warm chuckle. “I don't know what sort of man this Ustad Miyan is...just walked inside the room without notice!!"
Monica said " Not his fault entirely.. these doors open on its own..he may have just pushed the door lightly"
Rakesh stood up, walked over, and sat on the edge of the bed where Ustad had been moments ago. His hand rested casually on the blanket near her bare thigh. “Besides, the way those huge boobs of yours were making their presence known under there… I think Ustad Miya got quite an impression. They were practically waving hello through the wool.”
Monica burst into a bright, relieved laughter, the sound echoing softly in the old room and breaking the thick tension. She playfully swatted his arm. “Arre shut up! You’re the one who didn’t even flinch when he sat so close. Admit it — you liked seeing your hot wife like this, didn’t you?”
Rakesh laughed too, the sound easy and warm, reaching out to trace the edge of the blanket with one finger, not pulling it up but playing along the soft curve of her exposed breast. “ This haunted haveli is turning my proper city wife into a naked exhibitionist it seems..” He leaned in and kissed her forehead, then lower, brushing his lips teasingly near her stiff nipple without quite touching it.
“Just don’t blame me if I start enjoying it too much.” Monica replied
“Too late, Rak. Now hurry and go — I will get dressed and come down”
Rakesh grinned before going "Mon, there are other people around, at least wear a Bra before you go down"
Monica giggled " Oh ..come on ..there is something called comfort Mr. husband....you now want me to wear a fucking Bra inside the haveli, ohk I will see .you hurry up and go and save some parathas for me ..I am starving!!"
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