31-07-2026, 11:01 PM
I was so tired after getting fucked the night before. My body still carried the deep, pleasant ache between my legs and the heavy satisfaction of having given my husband everything he had asked for. I had fallen asleep on my tummy, one arm bent under the pillow, face turned to the side. The bedsheet had slipped down during the night and now covered only the lower half of my back, leaving my bare ass fully exposed to the mild morning air.
Early grey light was already filtering through the curtains when I first felt his hands. My husband was awake before me. His palms settled on my ass cheeks with slow, careful pressure. He cupped them, felt their weight, then squeezed gently, watching my ass cheeks rise between his fingers. He spread them a little and let them fall back, then repeated the movement, as if he had all the time in the world. I stayed in half-sleep, too exhausted to open my eyes fully, but every touch registered clearly on my skin.
He was speaking on the phone in a low voice so he would not wake me completely.
“Yes, Mesthri… moulding today at nine, correct?”
The Mesthri’s voice came through the speaker, slightly rough from the early hour.
“Yes sir. Everything is ready on site. Labour is already standing. The centering is checked. Only the jalli lorry is pending. We are waiting for it near the gate. Once it comes we can start pouring.”
“Good. Check the levels once more before I reach. I will be there in five minutes. Don’t start anything until I come. I want to see the alignment myself.”
“Okay sir. We will wait. Everything else is in place.”
My husband hung up and placed the phone on the side table.
He kept one hand on my ass the entire time he spoke. His fingers occasionally brushed the soft inner curve where my cheeks met. When he spread them a little wider, cool air touched my asshole. A wave of shyness moved through me even in half-sleep. He was looking at it. The pad of his finger traced the tight ring once, very lightly. I remembered his request for anal — the quiet conversation we had months ago, and the promise I had given him for the day after our new six-floor house construction on the same street was completed. Only a couple of months remained. The thought made me feel shy and warm at the same time. My tired body still responded with a small, involuntary clench.
He leaned down until his mouth was near my ear. His breath was warm against my skin.
“Sleep, Sudha. You gave me everything last night. Your mouth, your pussy, your whole body. Take rest today. I have to go for the moulding.”
He kissed my bare shoulder, lingering there for a few seconds. Then he moved lower. I felt his lips press against the left ass cheek, soft and warm, then the right. He kissed each one slowly, as if tasting the skin. His hands returned to spread my cheeks open carefully, holding them apart so that my asshole was fully exposed to him. The next moment his tongue touched me there — soft, wet, deliberate. He tasted my asshole with slow, circling movements, pressing gently, licking the tight ring as if it already belonged to him.
“Mmm… ahh…”
A small, surprised sound left my mouth before I could stop it. My body tensed for a moment, thighs pressing into the mattress, then relaxed again under his hands. The wetness of his tongue stayed cool on my skin even after he pulled back.
He patted one ass cheek gently with his palm and spoke in a low, affectionate voice.
“Sleep. I’ll come back once the moulding starts properly.”
I turned my face a little on the pillow, still half-asleep, and spoke without opening my eyes fully.
“Wait… I will make breakfast quickly.”
My hand reached out, found my yellow panties on the side of the bed, and began pulling them up my legs. My yellow panties slid over my thighs. My husband stopped me with a firm but gentle hand on my wrist.
“No. It’s okay. I have to be there early to see if everything starts well. The jalli lorry will come soon. You rest. You already gave me more than enough last night.”
He kissed the back of my head once, adjusted the bedsheet so that it covered my lower body properly, and stepped away. I heard him move around the room — picking up his keys, checking his wallet — then the soft sound of the bedroom door closing. A few minutes later the main door shut, and the distant noise of his car starting reached me through the window.
I stayed on my tummy for a short while after he left, my yellow panties still only halfway up my thighs, the mild wetness from his tongue still cool on my asshole. Then I pushed myself up. I pulled my yellow panties all the way up over my hips, smoothed them into place, and reached for my white nighty. I slipped my white nighty over my head and let it fall loosely down my body, covering my breasts and settling over my yellow panties.
I walked to the bathroom. Inside I brushed my teeth, washed my face with cool water, and freshened up properly. The mild ache between my legs and the lingering coolness on my asshole reminded me of everything that had happened since the previous night, but I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the morning.
When I came out, I went straight to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast for our sons. It was Sunday, so there was no college. Outside, beyond the open main door, I could hear them already playing inside the gate — their voices rising and falling as they ran around the small compound, laughing and calling to each other. I heated the stove, made soft idlis and a simple coconut chutney, and kept everything ready on the dining table.
The ordinary Sunday morning settled around me again. My white nighty moved softly with every step. My yellow panties sat comfortably underneath. The house smelled of fresh idlis and the mild sweetness of the agarbathi still burning near the puja shelf. Outside, my sons continued playing inside the gate, their happy noise filling the quiet colony air while I waited for them to come in and eat.
I was relaxing on the balcony with a steel tumbler of filter coffee, still wearing my white nighty and yellow panties. The Sunday morning air was mild and carried the distant smell of someone frying something in the next street. Below me, inside the gate, my three sons were playing freely — running across the small compound, shouting each other’s names, kicking a plastic ball against the boundary wall. I leaned on the railing with one hip, sipping slowly, watching them with a soft smile while the leftover ache between my legs and the cool memory of my husband’s tongue on my asshole still lingered quietly in my body.
From the neighbouring balcony, our neighbour stepped out. He was a middle-aged man my husband strongly disliked. His wife hated me just as much. The moment his eyes found me he stopped, smiled too widely, and raised his hand.
“Good morning, Sudha!”
I gave him a small, polite nod, nothing more.
“Good morning.”
He leaned both forearms on his railing and continued, already looking at me more than necessary.
“I saw Ram leave very early today. House construction, no? Moulding is happening?”
“Yes,” I answered, keeping my voice even and calm. “Moulding is starting this morning. He has gone to the site to supervise.”
While the words left my mouth, his eyes were already travelling over me without shame. My white nighty was loose and simple, yet the morning light showed everything clearly — the heavy round shape of my breasts, the way my white nighty rested on them, the soft curve of my stomach, and the full outline of my hips and thighs where the hem of my white nighty ended just above my knees. His gaze dropped lower, lingering on the bare skin of my legs and then returning again and again to my chest. Under his white dhoti the clear outline of a hard boner began to rise and push forward. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to hide it against the railing, but the tent only became more obvious.
Behind him, his wife stepped out onto the same balcony. She stood just behind his shoulder, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her face was tight with jealousy and anger. She had seen the way her husband was staring. She had seen the boner under his dhoti. Her eyes moved from his face to my body and back again, burning with dislike. Last time she had disrespected me openly in front of the other women in the colony. I had not forgotten. This was my quiet way of punishing her.
I felt the familiar thrill move through me, sharper now because she was watching.
So I teased him more. I tempted him deliberately to make her angrier.
I turned my body fully toward their balcony, resting both elbows on the railing, and shifted my weight slowly from one hip to the other. The movement made my white nighty pull tight across my heavy breasts, showing their full round shape and the mild outline of my nipples for several long seconds before my white nighty loosened again. I lifted the steel tumbler of coffee to my lips very slowly, the action raising my chest higher and holding it there. I knew exactly what both of them were seeing. His eyes darkened. The boner under his dhoti twitched and grew thicker. Behind him, his wife’s jaw tightened. Her fingers dug into her own arms.
I answered his next question about the construction in the same calm, polite voice, still watching my sons play below, still taking small sips of coffee. Every few seconds I adjusted my standing position just enough to make my white nighty shift again over my breasts and hips. Each time his stare grew hungrier and the tent in his dhoti became more shameless. Each time his wife’s face burned hotter with helpless anger.
Watching his wife’s face burn with jealousy and anger made me deeply happy inside. Every tight line around her mouth, every hard stare she threw at me, felt like quiet payment for the way she had disrespected me last time. I kept my expression polite and calm, but inside I was smiling.
The neighbour cleared his throat. His voice came out thicker than before.
“Sudha… won’t you invite me for a coffee at least? We are neighbours after all.”
He was horny. The tent under his white dhoti had not gone down even a little. I looked first at his wife — held her eyes for a full second so she would understand exactly what I was about to do — then looked back at him and gave a small, sweet smile.
“Okay. Come. Both of you.”
His wife’s face changed at once. Complete jealousy flooded her features. She grabbed his arm from behind and began begging in a low, urgent voice.
“Don’t go. Please. Stay here. Why do you need coffee there? I will make it for you.”
He pushed her hand off his arm without even looking at her.
“I am going. You stay if you want.”
He turned and left their balcony. His wife stood frozen for a second, then nervously followed him down the stairs. I watched from my railing as they opened their gate and crossed the short distance to ours. My sons were still playing inside the compound. The neighbour smiled at them, ruffled the youngest one’s hair, and said a quick good morning. Then he walked up the steps and entered my house. His wife followed two paces behind, her face tight and anxious.
I closed the balcony door and turned to them in the living room.
“Please sit. I will heat the coffee.”
They sat on the sofa. I went into the kitchen, still in my white nighty and yellow panties. I lit the stove and placed the filter coffee decoction on to warm. A few moments later I heard the sofa creak. The neighbour stood up and walked into the kitchen. His wife remained seated in the living room, but her eyes never left us. She could see everything through the open kitchen doorway.
He came and stood close to me near the stove. His breathing was already heavier. I turned slightly toward him, letting my white nighty brush against his arm, and spoke in a soft, normal voice about the coffee while my body did the real talking. I reached up to take the steel tumblers from the shelf, the movement lifting my chest and making my white nighty pull tight across my heavy breasts. I knew his eyes were fixed there. I leaned forward a little more than needed to check the flame, giving him a clear view of the round shape of my breasts and the mild outline of my nipples under my white nighty. When I straightened, I shifted my weight onto one hip so that the hem of my white nighty rose a little on that side, showing more of my thigh.
He swallowed hard. The boner under his white dhoti was fully hard now and clearly visible. Behind him, in the living room, his wife was watching every single movement. Her eyes were shiny. She was almost crying from jealousy and helplessness.
I poured the hot coffee slowly into two tumblers, my movements unhurried and deliberate, letting him stand there and suffer while his wife sat a few feet away and suffered even more. I belonged to my husband. They both knew it. And still I made them feel it with every small, teasing motion of my body inside my own kitchen.
He took the steel tumbler of coffee from my hand and sipped it slowly. His eyes closed for a second.
“This is very good, Sudha. Really good. Your husband is a lucky man.”
I smiled politely and answered in a calm voice.
“He loves my coffee. He loves my cooking also. That is why I make it every day.”
The neighbour looked at me over the rim of the tumbler, his gaze dropping once more to my heavy breasts under my white nighty. The boner under his white dhoti was still fully hard. He spoke again, voice lower and thicker.
“If you were my wife I would not leave this kitchen at all.”
I laughed softly — a clear, deliberate laugh that carried into the living room. I wanted his wife to hear it. I wanted her to feel every word. The sound of my laughter was my way of punishing her further for the disrespect she had shown me earlier.
I turned toward the upper shelf as if I had just remembered something.
“Can you help me for a moment? That small vessel is too high for me.”
He put the tumbler down at once and came closer. Without waiting he placed his hands on my waist and lifted me up easily. My white nighty rode up a little with the movement. I reached for the small steel vessel, took it, and then he began lowering me.
While he lowered me his hands slid down from my waist. Both palms grabbed my ass cheeks firmly over my white nighty and yellow panties. He did not stop there. He pulled me hard against his body, crushing my heavy breasts against his chest, and locked me in a full, tight embrace. The hard boner under his white dhoti pressed thick and hot against my stomach. He was going crazy. His breathing turned rough. One of his hands squeezed my ass cheek tighter while the other slid up my back, holding me in place so I could not step away. He buried his face near my neck and spoke in a thick, shaky whisper.
“Sudha… you smell so good… I can’t think properly…”
His chest pressed harder against mine. Suddenly he spoke again, voice even lower, almost disbelieving.
“You are not wearing a bra…?”
I felt my face grow warm. I blushed, but I still answered clearly enough for his wife to hear from the living room.
“No… I am not.”
The moment the words left my mouth his body tensed against me. The boner under his white dhoti jerked harder against my stomach. He let out a rough breath and squeezed my ass cheeks even tighter.
“And… your panties?” he asked, his voice almost breaking. “What colour are you wearing right now?”
I stayed in the embrace on purpose, resting my arms loosely around his shoulders, hugging him back just enough to make the moment clearer for his wife. This was the lesson I wanted her to learn. I answered slowly, deliberately, teasing him and punishing her at the same time.
“Yellow,” I said softly against his ear. “I am wearing yellow panties.”
“My God, Sudha…” he muttered, pressing his boner harder against me. “Yellow panties and no bra… you are going to make me lose my mind…”
“Your coffee is still getting cold,” I said in the same calm, controlled voice while his body burned against mine.
“I don’t care about the coffee,” he muttered, almost shaking. “Just stay like this for a minute… please…”
His hands kept moving on my ass cheeks, squeezing, pulling me tighter through my white nighty and yellow panties, as if he could somehow push himself inside me if he held on long enough. I let him have those few extra seconds, fully aware that his wife was seeing and hearing every shameless detail — that I was not wearing a bra, that I was wearing yellow panties, and that I was allowing her husband to hold me like this.
From the living room his wife saw and heard everything. Jealousy and anger exploded on her face. She jumped up, rushed into the kitchen, and grabbed her husband’s arm.
“Enough! Come out!”
She pulled him hard out of the embrace and pushed him toward the main door.
“I did nothing!” he protested, still looking back at me with hungry, frustrated eyes. “I only helped her take the vessel!”
She shoved him out of the house and closed the door behind him. Then she turned and came back to me. Her eyes were wet. She bent down and touched my feet with both hands.
“I am sorry, Sudha. I am very sorry for disrespecting you last time. Please forgive me.”
I looked down at her for a long moment. Then I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. The sound filled the kitchen.
“If you ever disrespect me again,” I said in a cold, clear voice, “I will make your husband my slave. Do you understand?”
Her face crumpled. She held her cheek and began begging at once.
“No… please… I am sorry… I will never do it again… please don’t… I am sorry…”
I pointed to the door.
“Go home.”
She stood up quickly, still holding her burning cheek, and almost ran out of the house. I watched her leave, then closed the door quietly.
When it comes to revenge, I am a boss at it.
Early grey light was already filtering through the curtains when I first felt his hands. My husband was awake before me. His palms settled on my ass cheeks with slow, careful pressure. He cupped them, felt their weight, then squeezed gently, watching my ass cheeks rise between his fingers. He spread them a little and let them fall back, then repeated the movement, as if he had all the time in the world. I stayed in half-sleep, too exhausted to open my eyes fully, but every touch registered clearly on my skin.
He was speaking on the phone in a low voice so he would not wake me completely.
“Yes, Mesthri… moulding today at nine, correct?”
The Mesthri’s voice came through the speaker, slightly rough from the early hour.
“Yes sir. Everything is ready on site. Labour is already standing. The centering is checked. Only the jalli lorry is pending. We are waiting for it near the gate. Once it comes we can start pouring.”
“Good. Check the levels once more before I reach. I will be there in five minutes. Don’t start anything until I come. I want to see the alignment myself.”
“Okay sir. We will wait. Everything else is in place.”
My husband hung up and placed the phone on the side table.
He kept one hand on my ass the entire time he spoke. His fingers occasionally brushed the soft inner curve where my cheeks met. When he spread them a little wider, cool air touched my asshole. A wave of shyness moved through me even in half-sleep. He was looking at it. The pad of his finger traced the tight ring once, very lightly. I remembered his request for anal — the quiet conversation we had months ago, and the promise I had given him for the day after our new six-floor house construction on the same street was completed. Only a couple of months remained. The thought made me feel shy and warm at the same time. My tired body still responded with a small, involuntary clench.
He leaned down until his mouth was near my ear. His breath was warm against my skin.
“Sleep, Sudha. You gave me everything last night. Your mouth, your pussy, your whole body. Take rest today. I have to go for the moulding.”
He kissed my bare shoulder, lingering there for a few seconds. Then he moved lower. I felt his lips press against the left ass cheek, soft and warm, then the right. He kissed each one slowly, as if tasting the skin. His hands returned to spread my cheeks open carefully, holding them apart so that my asshole was fully exposed to him. The next moment his tongue touched me there — soft, wet, deliberate. He tasted my asshole with slow, circling movements, pressing gently, licking the tight ring as if it already belonged to him.
“Mmm… ahh…”
A small, surprised sound left my mouth before I could stop it. My body tensed for a moment, thighs pressing into the mattress, then relaxed again under his hands. The wetness of his tongue stayed cool on my skin even after he pulled back.
He patted one ass cheek gently with his palm and spoke in a low, affectionate voice.
“Sleep. I’ll come back once the moulding starts properly.”
I turned my face a little on the pillow, still half-asleep, and spoke without opening my eyes fully.
“Wait… I will make breakfast quickly.”
My hand reached out, found my yellow panties on the side of the bed, and began pulling them up my legs. My yellow panties slid over my thighs. My husband stopped me with a firm but gentle hand on my wrist.
“No. It’s okay. I have to be there early to see if everything starts well. The jalli lorry will come soon. You rest. You already gave me more than enough last night.”
He kissed the back of my head once, adjusted the bedsheet so that it covered my lower body properly, and stepped away. I heard him move around the room — picking up his keys, checking his wallet — then the soft sound of the bedroom door closing. A few minutes later the main door shut, and the distant noise of his car starting reached me through the window.
I stayed on my tummy for a short while after he left, my yellow panties still only halfway up my thighs, the mild wetness from his tongue still cool on my asshole. Then I pushed myself up. I pulled my yellow panties all the way up over my hips, smoothed them into place, and reached for my white nighty. I slipped my white nighty over my head and let it fall loosely down my body, covering my breasts and settling over my yellow panties.
I walked to the bathroom. Inside I brushed my teeth, washed my face with cool water, and freshened up properly. The mild ache between my legs and the lingering coolness on my asshole reminded me of everything that had happened since the previous night, but I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the morning.
When I came out, I went straight to the kitchen and began preparing breakfast for our sons. It was Sunday, so there was no college. Outside, beyond the open main door, I could hear them already playing inside the gate — their voices rising and falling as they ran around the small compound, laughing and calling to each other. I heated the stove, made soft idlis and a simple coconut chutney, and kept everything ready on the dining table.
The ordinary Sunday morning settled around me again. My white nighty moved softly with every step. My yellow panties sat comfortably underneath. The house smelled of fresh idlis and the mild sweetness of the agarbathi still burning near the puja shelf. Outside, my sons continued playing inside the gate, their happy noise filling the quiet colony air while I waited for them to come in and eat.
I was relaxing on the balcony with a steel tumbler of filter coffee, still wearing my white nighty and yellow panties. The Sunday morning air was mild and carried the distant smell of someone frying something in the next street. Below me, inside the gate, my three sons were playing freely — running across the small compound, shouting each other’s names, kicking a plastic ball against the boundary wall. I leaned on the railing with one hip, sipping slowly, watching them with a soft smile while the leftover ache between my legs and the cool memory of my husband’s tongue on my asshole still lingered quietly in my body.
From the neighbouring balcony, our neighbour stepped out. He was a middle-aged man my husband strongly disliked. His wife hated me just as much. The moment his eyes found me he stopped, smiled too widely, and raised his hand.
“Good morning, Sudha!”
I gave him a small, polite nod, nothing more.
“Good morning.”
He leaned both forearms on his railing and continued, already looking at me more than necessary.
“I saw Ram leave very early today. House construction, no? Moulding is happening?”
“Yes,” I answered, keeping my voice even and calm. “Moulding is starting this morning. He has gone to the site to supervise.”
While the words left my mouth, his eyes were already travelling over me without shame. My white nighty was loose and simple, yet the morning light showed everything clearly — the heavy round shape of my breasts, the way my white nighty rested on them, the soft curve of my stomach, and the full outline of my hips and thighs where the hem of my white nighty ended just above my knees. His gaze dropped lower, lingering on the bare skin of my legs and then returning again and again to my chest. Under his white dhoti the clear outline of a hard boner began to rise and push forward. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to hide it against the railing, but the tent only became more obvious.
Behind him, his wife stepped out onto the same balcony. She stood just behind his shoulder, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her face was tight with jealousy and anger. She had seen the way her husband was staring. She had seen the boner under his dhoti. Her eyes moved from his face to my body and back again, burning with dislike. Last time she had disrespected me openly in front of the other women in the colony. I had not forgotten. This was my quiet way of punishing her.
I felt the familiar thrill move through me, sharper now because she was watching.
So I teased him more. I tempted him deliberately to make her angrier.
I turned my body fully toward their balcony, resting both elbows on the railing, and shifted my weight slowly from one hip to the other. The movement made my white nighty pull tight across my heavy breasts, showing their full round shape and the mild outline of my nipples for several long seconds before my white nighty loosened again. I lifted the steel tumbler of coffee to my lips very slowly, the action raising my chest higher and holding it there. I knew exactly what both of them were seeing. His eyes darkened. The boner under his dhoti twitched and grew thicker. Behind him, his wife’s jaw tightened. Her fingers dug into her own arms.
I answered his next question about the construction in the same calm, polite voice, still watching my sons play below, still taking small sips of coffee. Every few seconds I adjusted my standing position just enough to make my white nighty shift again over my breasts and hips. Each time his stare grew hungrier and the tent in his dhoti became more shameless. Each time his wife’s face burned hotter with helpless anger.
Watching his wife’s face burn with jealousy and anger made me deeply happy inside. Every tight line around her mouth, every hard stare she threw at me, felt like quiet payment for the way she had disrespected me last time. I kept my expression polite and calm, but inside I was smiling.
The neighbour cleared his throat. His voice came out thicker than before.
“Sudha… won’t you invite me for a coffee at least? We are neighbours after all.”
He was horny. The tent under his white dhoti had not gone down even a little. I looked first at his wife — held her eyes for a full second so she would understand exactly what I was about to do — then looked back at him and gave a small, sweet smile.
“Okay. Come. Both of you.”
His wife’s face changed at once. Complete jealousy flooded her features. She grabbed his arm from behind and began begging in a low, urgent voice.
“Don’t go. Please. Stay here. Why do you need coffee there? I will make it for you.”
He pushed her hand off his arm without even looking at her.
“I am going. You stay if you want.”
He turned and left their balcony. His wife stood frozen for a second, then nervously followed him down the stairs. I watched from my railing as they opened their gate and crossed the short distance to ours. My sons were still playing inside the compound. The neighbour smiled at them, ruffled the youngest one’s hair, and said a quick good morning. Then he walked up the steps and entered my house. His wife followed two paces behind, her face tight and anxious.
I closed the balcony door and turned to them in the living room.
“Please sit. I will heat the coffee.”
They sat on the sofa. I went into the kitchen, still in my white nighty and yellow panties. I lit the stove and placed the filter coffee decoction on to warm. A few moments later I heard the sofa creak. The neighbour stood up and walked into the kitchen. His wife remained seated in the living room, but her eyes never left us. She could see everything through the open kitchen doorway.
He came and stood close to me near the stove. His breathing was already heavier. I turned slightly toward him, letting my white nighty brush against his arm, and spoke in a soft, normal voice about the coffee while my body did the real talking. I reached up to take the steel tumblers from the shelf, the movement lifting my chest and making my white nighty pull tight across my heavy breasts. I knew his eyes were fixed there. I leaned forward a little more than needed to check the flame, giving him a clear view of the round shape of my breasts and the mild outline of my nipples under my white nighty. When I straightened, I shifted my weight onto one hip so that the hem of my white nighty rose a little on that side, showing more of my thigh.
He swallowed hard. The boner under his white dhoti was fully hard now and clearly visible. Behind him, in the living room, his wife was watching every single movement. Her eyes were shiny. She was almost crying from jealousy and helplessness.
I poured the hot coffee slowly into two tumblers, my movements unhurried and deliberate, letting him stand there and suffer while his wife sat a few feet away and suffered even more. I belonged to my husband. They both knew it. And still I made them feel it with every small, teasing motion of my body inside my own kitchen.
He took the steel tumbler of coffee from my hand and sipped it slowly. His eyes closed for a second.
“This is very good, Sudha. Really good. Your husband is a lucky man.”
I smiled politely and answered in a calm voice.
“He loves my coffee. He loves my cooking also. That is why I make it every day.”
The neighbour looked at me over the rim of the tumbler, his gaze dropping once more to my heavy breasts under my white nighty. The boner under his white dhoti was still fully hard. He spoke again, voice lower and thicker.
“If you were my wife I would not leave this kitchen at all.”
I laughed softly — a clear, deliberate laugh that carried into the living room. I wanted his wife to hear it. I wanted her to feel every word. The sound of my laughter was my way of punishing her further for the disrespect she had shown me earlier.
I turned toward the upper shelf as if I had just remembered something.
“Can you help me for a moment? That small vessel is too high for me.”
He put the tumbler down at once and came closer. Without waiting he placed his hands on my waist and lifted me up easily. My white nighty rode up a little with the movement. I reached for the small steel vessel, took it, and then he began lowering me.
While he lowered me his hands slid down from my waist. Both palms grabbed my ass cheeks firmly over my white nighty and yellow panties. He did not stop there. He pulled me hard against his body, crushing my heavy breasts against his chest, and locked me in a full, tight embrace. The hard boner under his white dhoti pressed thick and hot against my stomach. He was going crazy. His breathing turned rough. One of his hands squeezed my ass cheek tighter while the other slid up my back, holding me in place so I could not step away. He buried his face near my neck and spoke in a thick, shaky whisper.
“Sudha… you smell so good… I can’t think properly…”
His chest pressed harder against mine. Suddenly he spoke again, voice even lower, almost disbelieving.
“You are not wearing a bra…?”
I felt my face grow warm. I blushed, but I still answered clearly enough for his wife to hear from the living room.
“No… I am not.”
The moment the words left my mouth his body tensed against me. The boner under his white dhoti jerked harder against my stomach. He let out a rough breath and squeezed my ass cheeks even tighter.
“And… your panties?” he asked, his voice almost breaking. “What colour are you wearing right now?”
I stayed in the embrace on purpose, resting my arms loosely around his shoulders, hugging him back just enough to make the moment clearer for his wife. This was the lesson I wanted her to learn. I answered slowly, deliberately, teasing him and punishing her at the same time.
“Yellow,” I said softly against his ear. “I am wearing yellow panties.”
“My God, Sudha…” he muttered, pressing his boner harder against me. “Yellow panties and no bra… you are going to make me lose my mind…”
“Your coffee is still getting cold,” I said in the same calm, controlled voice while his body burned against mine.
“I don’t care about the coffee,” he muttered, almost shaking. “Just stay like this for a minute… please…”
His hands kept moving on my ass cheeks, squeezing, pulling me tighter through my white nighty and yellow panties, as if he could somehow push himself inside me if he held on long enough. I let him have those few extra seconds, fully aware that his wife was seeing and hearing every shameless detail — that I was not wearing a bra, that I was wearing yellow panties, and that I was allowing her husband to hold me like this.
From the living room his wife saw and heard everything. Jealousy and anger exploded on her face. She jumped up, rushed into the kitchen, and grabbed her husband’s arm.
“Enough! Come out!”
She pulled him hard out of the embrace and pushed him toward the main door.
“I did nothing!” he protested, still looking back at me with hungry, frustrated eyes. “I only helped her take the vessel!”
She shoved him out of the house and closed the door behind him. Then she turned and came back to me. Her eyes were wet. She bent down and touched my feet with both hands.
“I am sorry, Sudha. I am very sorry for disrespecting you last time. Please forgive me.”
I looked down at her for a long moment. Then I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. The sound filled the kitchen.
“If you ever disrespect me again,” I said in a cold, clear voice, “I will make your husband my slave. Do you understand?”
Her face crumpled. She held her cheek and began begging at once.
“No… please… I am sorry… I will never do it again… please don’t… I am sorry…”
I pointed to the door.
“Go home.”
She stood up quickly, still holding her burning cheek, and almost ran out of the house. I watched her leave, then closed the door quietly.
When it comes to revenge, I am a boss at it.
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