01-08-2026, 07:45 PM
(This post was last modified: 01-08-2026, 07:45 PM by SilverArrow. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Monica lay on her back on the narrow cot, still naked from the waist up. She had wiped off the cum with the crumpled top, but the faint sticky feeling remained. Ustad lay beside her, one arm folded under his head, the other resting loosely near her ass. His trousers were back on, though not fully fastened.
He reached for the packet of cigarettes on the small wooden stool, lit one, and took a slow drag before passing it to her. The smoke mixed with the leftover smell of sex and sweat in the sealed room.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she said finally, voice still rough. “I actually let you… finish in my mouth”
Ustad took the cigarette back, smoked once, and returned it to her!
“You didn’t ‘let’ me,” he said calmly. “You kept going.”
Monica gave a short, humourless breath of a laugh.
“That’s not the point. I’m lying here naked with my husband’s best friend, tasting you, and he’s ten feet away thinking God knows what. I feel sick about it..I feel like a monster!”
“Monster ?” Ustad muttered “ This does not make you a monster Monica, you just did what every woman actually deserve!”
“Don’t turn that around Ustad, We did not do this right!” Monica said throwing the cigarette stub
“Does he ever stand up for anything, Monica? Really stand up?” Ustad asked
She frowned.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Everything.” Ustad explained “ He watched me put sindoor on you and held the bowl. He carried the bags while Taiji ordered him around. That’s who he is. A man who doesn’t fight for what’s his.”
Monica shook her head, “That’s not fair. He’s not like you. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t… take.”
“Ok and you think that’s how a man should be?”
Monica’s jaw tightened. She took out another cigarette, lit it and then spoke quieter.
“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s not a coward. He’s just… different.”
“Different” Ustad repeated. “Okay if you say so…”
“ Ustad I don’t want my marriage on the brink, I mean it!” Monica said with a serious face…
Ustad laughed!
“ Why are you laughing ?” Monica scoffed
Ustad sat up straight and asked “ Has he ever celebrated one of your promotions? Really celebrated it? Or does he just nod and go back to whatever he’s doing while you keep working twice as hard as half the men around you?”
Monica was silent for a few seconds. The cigarette burned lower.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” Ustad’s voice remained agitated. “Your in-laws. Do they care about your job? Your career? Or do they only care that you’re the bahu who shows up looking proper and cooks food for them? Rakesh never pushes back on any of it. He never makes space for what you actually want”
Monica turned her head toward him, eyes narrowed.
“You’re twisting things, Ustad!! ”
“I’m saying you finally did something for yourself,” Ustad replied. “Even if it was messy. Even if you feel guilty right now. You’ve been the responsible caring one for years. The one who adjusts. The one who smiles and manages. When was the last time anyone adjusted for you?”
Monica looked away again. She finished the cigarette and crushed it out in the small metal ashtray on the stool. Smoke still hung in the air between them.
“I hate that you’re saying these things,” she muttered. “And I hate that some of it sounds true.”
Ustad shifted closer so her bare shoulder touched his chest.
“Just stop carrying all of it alone… I can just be a friend that’s it..”
Monica was quiet for a long time. The only sound was their breathing and the faint creak of the old timber house settling in the cold.
Finally she moved. She turned onto her side, still fully naked and rested her head on Ustad’s shoulder. Her huge breasts pressed softly against his hairy chest.
“Can I trust you Ustad ?” she whispered, already half-asleep
Ustad’s hand came up and he locked his huge face on her lips.. They smooched really hard this time like passionate lovers till they got really tired…
“ I meant can I trust you as a friend Ustad?” Monica clarified after the long smooch…
Ustad grunted “ Yea.. help me build my betting business.. Monica… together we can build a successful business… I need that support from you sweetie”
Monica smiled “ I will be there… not many men aspire this big Ustad”
Rakesh woke with a violent start.
The cold mountain air bit at his face. For a second he did not know where he was. Then the memory of the previous night crashed over him in a single sick wave — the muffled creaking of the cot, the wet sounds, Monica’s broken moans, Ustad’s low grunts. His head spun. The sleeping pills and supplements from the night before still clouded his thoughts. He sat up on the edge of the cot, bare feet on the freezing floorboards
Was it real?*
Or did I imagine everything?*
He stood, legs unsteady, and walked out into the courtyard. The master bedroom door was shut tight. No sound came from inside. He waited. One hour passed. Then another. The sun climbed higher. Still the door did not open. Finally he turned away and went toward the kitchen to eat something .
Ustad stirred first. He turned onto his side and found Monica still half-asleep beside him, naked from the waist up, the thin sheet tangled around her hips. Her heavy breasts lay soft and full against the mattress, nipples already faintly tight from the cool air.
He leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Good morning, sweetie.”
Monica’s eyes opened. A small, sleepy smile curved her lips.
“Good morning…”
Ustad brushed a strand of hair from her face. “We should get up. Tauji and Taiji will be waiting.”
Monica’s arm slid around his neck. She pulled him closer and rested her face against the broad curve of his shoulder.
“Five more minutes, Ustad…” she coaxed sweetly, her voice raspy. “I just want to stay like this a little longer. Let me sleep on your shoulder.”
Ustad’s hand settled on the bare skin of her waist. He looked down. Her nipples were fully hard now, dark and tight. The soft weight of her breasts shifted with every slow breath.
“Look at these,” he said, voice low and rough with morning hunger. “Your nipples are so tight and erect. Those tits look even bigger in the morning light."
Monica made a small face, half embarrassed, half amused.
“Don’t start pls”
Ustad did not listen. He climbed over her, settled his weight between her thighs, and lowered his mouth to her boobs like a man who had been waiting all morning. He took one full breast in both hands, pushed it up, and latched onto the stiff nipple with open, wet hunger.
Monica’s back arched sharply off the mattress.
“Ustad—”
He sucked harder, tongue working the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. The wet *schlurp* of his mouth filled the quiet room. He switched sides without warning, burying his face in the other breast, sucking deep and loud while his free hand roughly kneaded the soft flesh he had just left.
Monica’s hands flew up and gripped his hair. Her hips shifted under him. A moan rose in her throat — too loud for the thin walls.
Ustad reached for the crumpled top lying near the pillow, wadded it into a rough ball, and pressed it firmly over her mouth. Monica’s eyes widened, but she did not fight him. She only arched higher, offering her breasts more fully while the cloth muffled every desperate sound that tried to escape.
He stayed there for a long time — sucking, biting, licking the wide dark areolas until both nipples were swollen and shiny with spit. Only when her breathing had turned into short, broken gasps against the cloth did he finally lift his head.
Ustad sat back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and watched her for a moment with dark satisfaction.
“Get dressed,” he said. “Before I start again.”
Monica sat up slowly, still dazed. She pulled the thin grey top over her head, then wrapped a thick shawl tightly around her shoulders and across her tits, hiding every curve.
When they finally opened the bedroom door, the main hall was already full.
Tauji and Taiji sat near the low table. Several cousins and distant relatives occupied the remaining seats. Rakesh stood near the wall, face pale, eyes fixed on the doorway.
Monica stepped out first. The shawl covered her breasts, but the soft grey sweatpants clung to the full curve of her ass and the long line of her thighs. In a house where women usually appeared in sarees or loose salwars, the modern shape of her body was impossible to ignore.
Tauji’s gaze dropped immediately.
He had been watching her since the moment she arrived the day before. Now, with the morning light on her and the fitted pants outlining every soft, heavy curve of her huge ass, the hunger in his eyes sharpened. He tracked the sway of her ass as she walked across the room, then the way the fabric stretched when she sat. His “bahu” was a far finer prize than he had first realised.
Rakesh’s heart hammered so hard he felt sick. He stared at Monica’s face, searching for any sign of the previous night. She met his eyes only briefly, then looked away and accepted a cup of tea from Taiji with a polite smile.
After breakfast Ustad was called to the far side of the courtyard by one of the cousins. The moment he disappeared, Rakesh followed Monica back into the master bedroom. She was already seated on the edge of the cot, laptop open on her thighs, checking mail.
He closed the door behind him harder than necessary.
“I heard you last night.”
Monica looked up slowly. Her expression was calm, almost concerned.
“Heard what?”
“You and Ustad. The sounds. The moaning. Don’t lie to me, Monica. I know what I heard.”
She closed the laptop and set it aside. When she spoke her voice was soft, steady, and completely certain.
“Rakesh… you were half-asleep and full of those pills I gave you. Nothing happened. Ustad slept on the floor at first. There was a centipede — a big one. I told him to get on the bed so he wouldn’t get bitten. We talked for a few minutes and then we both fell asleep. That’s all.”
Rakesh’s hands curled into fists.
“I heard you. I heard the bed. I heard—”
“You heard the wind and the old timber creaking,” Monica interrupted gently. “And whatever your mind invented because you were already anxious. Look at yourself. You look sick. Your eyes are red. You’re shaking.” She stood, crossed the small space, and laid a cool hand against his cheek. “Please. Take the medicine properly today. You’re scaring yourself over nothing.”
Rakesh stared at her. The certainty in her voice, the soft concern, the complete lack of guilt on her face — it all felt real. Doubt began to eat at the edges of his memory. Maybe the pills *had* twisted everything. Maybe the sounds had been ordinary night noises turned ugly by fear.
He swallowed hard.
“…Okay,” he said finally, voice thin. “Maybe… maybe I imagined it.”
“ ofcourse Rakesh, you just imagined it.. nothing happened between us!”
Monica gave him a small, reassuring smile and guided him toward the door.
“Go sit with everyone. I’ll come in a minute. And please eat something. You look terrible.”
Rakesh nodded once and left.
Monica closed the door softly behind him. For a long moment she stood alone in the quiet room, one hand still resting on the wood. Then she exhaled, slow and controlled, and returned to the laptop as if nothing in the world had ever been wrong.
He reached for the packet of cigarettes on the small wooden stool, lit one, and took a slow drag before passing it to her. The smoke mixed with the leftover smell of sex and sweat in the sealed room.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she said finally, voice still rough. “I actually let you… finish in my mouth”
Ustad took the cigarette back, smoked once, and returned it to her!
“You didn’t ‘let’ me,” he said calmly. “You kept going.”
Monica gave a short, humourless breath of a laugh.
“That’s not the point. I’m lying here naked with my husband’s best friend, tasting you, and he’s ten feet away thinking God knows what. I feel sick about it..I feel like a monster!”
“Monster ?” Ustad muttered “ This does not make you a monster Monica, you just did what every woman actually deserve!”
“Don’t turn that around Ustad, We did not do this right!” Monica said throwing the cigarette stub
“Does he ever stand up for anything, Monica? Really stand up?” Ustad asked
She frowned.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Everything.” Ustad explained “ He watched me put sindoor on you and held the bowl. He carried the bags while Taiji ordered him around. That’s who he is. A man who doesn’t fight for what’s his.”
Monica shook her head, “That’s not fair. He’s not like you. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t… take.”
“Ok and you think that’s how a man should be?”
Monica’s jaw tightened. She took out another cigarette, lit it and then spoke quieter.
“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s not a coward. He’s just… different.”
“Different” Ustad repeated. “Okay if you say so…”
“ Ustad I don’t want my marriage on the brink, I mean it!” Monica said with a serious face…
Ustad laughed!
“ Why are you laughing ?” Monica scoffed
Ustad sat up straight and asked “ Has he ever celebrated one of your promotions? Really celebrated it? Or does he just nod and go back to whatever he’s doing while you keep working twice as hard as half the men around you?”
Monica was silent for a few seconds. The cigarette burned lower.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” Ustad’s voice remained agitated. “Your in-laws. Do they care about your job? Your career? Or do they only care that you’re the bahu who shows up looking proper and cooks food for them? Rakesh never pushes back on any of it. He never makes space for what you actually want”
Monica turned her head toward him, eyes narrowed.
“You’re twisting things, Ustad!! ”
“I’m saying you finally did something for yourself,” Ustad replied. “Even if it was messy. Even if you feel guilty right now. You’ve been the responsible caring one for years. The one who adjusts. The one who smiles and manages. When was the last time anyone adjusted for you?”
Monica looked away again. She finished the cigarette and crushed it out in the small metal ashtray on the stool. Smoke still hung in the air between them.
“I hate that you’re saying these things,” she muttered. “And I hate that some of it sounds true.”
Ustad shifted closer so her bare shoulder touched his chest.
“Just stop carrying all of it alone… I can just be a friend that’s it..”
Monica was quiet for a long time. The only sound was their breathing and the faint creak of the old timber house settling in the cold.
Finally she moved. She turned onto her side, still fully naked and rested her head on Ustad’s shoulder. Her huge breasts pressed softly against his hairy chest.
“Can I trust you Ustad ?” she whispered, already half-asleep
Ustad’s hand came up and he locked his huge face on her lips.. They smooched really hard this time like passionate lovers till they got really tired…
“ I meant can I trust you as a friend Ustad?” Monica clarified after the long smooch…
Ustad grunted “ Yea.. help me build my betting business.. Monica… together we can build a successful business… I need that support from you sweetie”
Monica smiled “ I will be there… not many men aspire this big Ustad”
Rakesh woke with a violent start.
The cold mountain air bit at his face. For a second he did not know where he was. Then the memory of the previous night crashed over him in a single sick wave — the muffled creaking of the cot, the wet sounds, Monica’s broken moans, Ustad’s low grunts. His head spun. The sleeping pills and supplements from the night before still clouded his thoughts. He sat up on the edge of the cot, bare feet on the freezing floorboards
Was it real?*
Or did I imagine everything?*
He stood, legs unsteady, and walked out into the courtyard. The master bedroom door was shut tight. No sound came from inside. He waited. One hour passed. Then another. The sun climbed higher. Still the door did not open. Finally he turned away and went toward the kitchen to eat something .
Ustad stirred first. He turned onto his side and found Monica still half-asleep beside him, naked from the waist up, the thin sheet tangled around her hips. Her heavy breasts lay soft and full against the mattress, nipples already faintly tight from the cool air.
He leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Good morning, sweetie.”
Monica’s eyes opened. A small, sleepy smile curved her lips.
“Good morning…”
Ustad brushed a strand of hair from her face. “We should get up. Tauji and Taiji will be waiting.”
Monica’s arm slid around his neck. She pulled him closer and rested her face against the broad curve of his shoulder.
“Five more minutes, Ustad…” she coaxed sweetly, her voice raspy. “I just want to stay like this a little longer. Let me sleep on your shoulder.”
Ustad’s hand settled on the bare skin of her waist. He looked down. Her nipples were fully hard now, dark and tight. The soft weight of her breasts shifted with every slow breath.
“Look at these,” he said, voice low and rough with morning hunger. “Your nipples are so tight and erect. Those tits look even bigger in the morning light."
Monica made a small face, half embarrassed, half amused.
“Don’t start pls”
Ustad did not listen. He climbed over her, settled his weight between her thighs, and lowered his mouth to her boobs like a man who had been waiting all morning. He took one full breast in both hands, pushed it up, and latched onto the stiff nipple with open, wet hunger.
Monica’s back arched sharply off the mattress.
“Ustad—”
He sucked harder, tongue working the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. The wet *schlurp* of his mouth filled the quiet room. He switched sides without warning, burying his face in the other breast, sucking deep and loud while his free hand roughly kneaded the soft flesh he had just left.
Monica’s hands flew up and gripped his hair. Her hips shifted under him. A moan rose in her throat — too loud for the thin walls.
Ustad reached for the crumpled top lying near the pillow, wadded it into a rough ball, and pressed it firmly over her mouth. Monica’s eyes widened, but she did not fight him. She only arched higher, offering her breasts more fully while the cloth muffled every desperate sound that tried to escape.
He stayed there for a long time — sucking, biting, licking the wide dark areolas until both nipples were swollen and shiny with spit. Only when her breathing had turned into short, broken gasps against the cloth did he finally lift his head.
Ustad sat back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and watched her for a moment with dark satisfaction.
“Get dressed,” he said. “Before I start again.”
Monica sat up slowly, still dazed. She pulled the thin grey top over her head, then wrapped a thick shawl tightly around her shoulders and across her tits, hiding every curve.
When they finally opened the bedroom door, the main hall was already full.
Tauji and Taiji sat near the low table. Several cousins and distant relatives occupied the remaining seats. Rakesh stood near the wall, face pale, eyes fixed on the doorway.
Monica stepped out first. The shawl covered her breasts, but the soft grey sweatpants clung to the full curve of her ass and the long line of her thighs. In a house where women usually appeared in sarees or loose salwars, the modern shape of her body was impossible to ignore.
Tauji’s gaze dropped immediately.
He had been watching her since the moment she arrived the day before. Now, with the morning light on her and the fitted pants outlining every soft, heavy curve of her huge ass, the hunger in his eyes sharpened. He tracked the sway of her ass as she walked across the room, then the way the fabric stretched when she sat. His “bahu” was a far finer prize than he had first realised.
Rakesh’s heart hammered so hard he felt sick. He stared at Monica’s face, searching for any sign of the previous night. She met his eyes only briefly, then looked away and accepted a cup of tea from Taiji with a polite smile.
After breakfast Ustad was called to the far side of the courtyard by one of the cousins. The moment he disappeared, Rakesh followed Monica back into the master bedroom. She was already seated on the edge of the cot, laptop open on her thighs, checking mail.
He closed the door behind him harder than necessary.
“I heard you last night.”
Monica looked up slowly. Her expression was calm, almost concerned.
“Heard what?”
“You and Ustad. The sounds. The moaning. Don’t lie to me, Monica. I know what I heard.”
She closed the laptop and set it aside. When she spoke her voice was soft, steady, and completely certain.
“Rakesh… you were half-asleep and full of those pills I gave you. Nothing happened. Ustad slept on the floor at first. There was a centipede — a big one. I told him to get on the bed so he wouldn’t get bitten. We talked for a few minutes and then we both fell asleep. That’s all.”
Rakesh’s hands curled into fists.
“I heard you. I heard the bed. I heard—”
“You heard the wind and the old timber creaking,” Monica interrupted gently. “And whatever your mind invented because you were already anxious. Look at yourself. You look sick. Your eyes are red. You’re shaking.” She stood, crossed the small space, and laid a cool hand against his cheek. “Please. Take the medicine properly today. You’re scaring yourself over nothing.”
Rakesh stared at her. The certainty in her voice, the soft concern, the complete lack of guilt on her face — it all felt real. Doubt began to eat at the edges of his memory. Maybe the pills *had* twisted everything. Maybe the sounds had been ordinary night noises turned ugly by fear.
He swallowed hard.
“…Okay,” he said finally, voice thin. “Maybe… maybe I imagined it.”
“ ofcourse Rakesh, you just imagined it.. nothing happened between us!”
Monica gave him a small, reassuring smile and guided him toward the door.
“Go sit with everyone. I’ll come in a minute. And please eat something. You look terrible.”
Rakesh nodded once and left.
Monica closed the door softly behind him. For a long moment she stood alone in the quiet room, one hand still resting on the wood. Then she exhaled, slow and controlled, and returned to the laptop as if nothing in the world had ever been wrong.
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