Misc. Erotica The Astrologer and My Wife (COMPLETED)- By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

The astrologer picked up my wife’s white bra from the table.

He held it with both hands for a moment, looking at the cups, then slowly brought the white bra close to his face. I watched, stunned, as he sniffed the inside of the white bra cups.
He sniffed once.
Then again, longer.
My wife sat opposite him with her eyes down, her full breasts now sitting freely under the pink blouse. The young man at the door stared at the white bra in the astrologer’s hands, openly horny.
The astrologer kept the white bra near his nose and spoke as if he was still reading the stars.
“Yes. The block is here. The heat of the body has sat inside this white bra. This is why the boy’s papers are not opening. The mother’s chest is carrying the lock.”
He sniffed the white bra again, pressing his nose into one cup.
“This smell is not ordinary. It is sitting heavy. Until this is examined fully, the remedy cannot start.”
My wife’s face burned with shame. She did not lift her eyes.
I sat there watching an ugly old man sniff my wife’s white bra in front of me and call it a reading. Anger rose in my throat. The young assistant at the door swallowed hard, enjoying every second of it.
The astrologer finally lowered the white bra, but he did not give it back.
He kept it in front of him, as if it now belonged to the so-called remedy.


Then the astrologer picked up my wife’s black panties.
My wife’s body stiffened at once. She looked at the black panties in his hands and then quickly looked down, her fingers tightening on her lap. Shame spread across her face. She shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable, as if she wanted to snatch them back but could not.
He opened the black panties slowly and brought the inner part close to his nose.
He sniffed.
Then he sniffed again, deeper, pressing his nose into the centre of the black panties.
A small sound of embarrassment left my wife’s throat. She turned her face away. Her ears had gone red. She pulled the pallu of her pink chiffon saree a little closer, though it could not hide what was already happening.
“Swami…” she whispered, unable to say more.
The astrologer kept the black panties against his nose and spoke as if this too was only part of the reading.
“The bigger block is here. The heat of the mother’s lower body has sat inside these black panties. This is stronger than the white bra. This is why the boy’s result is locked. Until this is examined, the path will not open.”
He sniffed the black panties once more, slowly, openly.
I sat there watching him and a hard mix of anger and jealousy rose in my chest.
Those black panties belonged to my wife. I was the only man who had the right to touch them, smell them, pull them down. And now this ugly old man was sniffing them in front of me, talking about blocks and stars, while my wife sat embarrassed and helpless in her pink chiffon saree and pink blouse, with nothing underneath.
The young man at the door was breathing faster, his eyes fixed on the black panties and then on my wife’s lap.

The astrologer finally lowered the black panties, but he did not give them back either.
He placed them beside the white bra, as if both now belonged to him.
My wife remained seated, uncomfortable, ashamed, and unable to lift her face.
I remained seated too, angry and jealous, burning inside, still unable to believe I was watching this happen.


The astrologer did not speak for a while.
He sat there thinking, taking his own time, with my wife’s black panties still in his hands. Then he lifted them again. This time he did not hide what he was doing. He pressed his nose first to the pussy area of the black panties and sniffed slowly. Then he turned the black panties and sniffed the asshole area as well, longer, as if he was reading something there.
My wife sat frozen, embarrassed and frightened. I sat beside her, angry, my hands tight on my knees.
At last he lowered the black panties and looked at her.
“There is only one remedy left,” he said. “If you offer yourself to me for one night, I can make your son pass.”
The words hit the room like a blow.
My wife stared at him, shocked.
“Swami… what are you saying?”
Anger burst through my chest.
“This is enough. We are leaving.”
The astrologer did not look at me. He kept his eyes on my wife and continued in the same calm voice.
“That is the only option I have. The block is sitting on your body. The white bra and black panties have already shown it. Prayer will not open this. Money will not open this. If you want your son to pass this time, you have to offer yourself to me for one night.”
My wife shook her head, tears already coming.
“No… there must be some other way.”
“There is no other way,” he said. “And no other astrologer will help you. They will take your money, give you a stone, give you a puja, and send you home. The boy will still fail. I am the only one who can remove this lock. If you walk out now, the result will remain as it is. If you want him to pass, this is the remedy.”
He had cornered her with the one thing she could not fight — our son.
My wife sat there crying, looking at the white bra and black panties on the table, then at me, then at him. The desperation of the whole week came back onto her face. The sleepless nights. The coffee at midnight. The shame in front of her friends. The same sentence she had kept repeating in the house.
“He has to pass this time.”
At last her voice came out small and broken.
“If that is the only way… if it will make my son pass… then I will do it.”
I stared at her, unable to speak.
The young man at the door shifted, openly excited.
The astrologer nodded slowly, as if he had been waiting for exactly that answer.
My wife had agreed.
Not because she wanted him.
Because she was desperate to make our son pass.