Adultery Seduction of My Wife Padma (UPDATED 30-DEC-25)

[sharath841]

[img=372x559]file:///C:/Users/lenovo/Desktop/pads%201.png[/img]






That afternoon, Padma stepped out of the lift into the apartment lobby, carrying a small shopping bag.
She had dressed casually but looked particularly graceful without trying to. She wore a lightweight chocolate-brown saree with a subtle muted-gold border, paired with a simple matching short-sleeved blouse with delicate detailing around the neckline and sleeves. Her long dark hair was tied into a loose bun, with a few strands naturally falling around her face.
Her makeup was understated—soft kajal around her eyes, a small maroon-brown bindi, and warm terracotta-brown lipstick that complemented the saree. Her mangalsutra rested neatly against the fabric, accompanied by small gold earrings. A small tan handbag hung from her shoulder, and she wore simple low block heels.
She checked something on her phone while walking toward the entrance.https://ibb.co/p69rL3rM
Two men standing near the lift suddenly noticed her.
One of them stepped forward.
? Man 1: “Padma?”
She looked up.
There was polite uncertainty in her eyes.
? Padma: “Yes?”
The two men exchanged a smile.
? Man 1: “You don’t remember us?”
Padma studied their faces.
Nothing immediately clicked.
? Padma: “I’m sorry…”
The other man smiled.
? Man 2: “How could we forget? We gave a ride to a beautiful woman like you that rainy evening.”
Padma’s expression changed.
The broken-down car.
The rain.
The motorcycle.
She looked at them more carefully.
? Padma: “Oh… you two.”
? Man 1: “Now you remember.”
Padma gave a small, guarded smile.
? Padma: “Yes. It was a long time ago.”
She adjusted the strap of her handbag.
Something about their attention made her uncomfortable.
? Padma: “I should go.”
She walked toward the entrance.
Neither man stopped her.
But as Padma disappeared down the corridor, the two men exchanged a brief look.
She had no idea that the brief encounter would soon bring an old chapter of her life back into Mohan’s hands.
By the time Mohan stepped through the door that evening, Padma had already peeled out of her day clothes.
She sat on the sofa in a thin cotton nightie that clung to her tits and sat high on her thighs. One strap kept slipping off her shoulder. She was scrolling her phone, legs folded under her, the fabric riding up so her panties almost showed.
When the lock clicked, she looked up.
? Padma: “You’re home, baby…”
? Mohan: “Mmm. How was your day, sweetheart?”
? Padma: “Quiet. Just me and this empty house.”
He dropped his bag, sat close, and let his hand rest on her bare thigh. For a few minutes they talked about nothing — traffic, dinner, the leaky tap. Neither mentioned Rajan. Neither mentioned the afternoon.
Padma didn’t tell him about the two men near the lift who had looked at her like they already knew how she tasted.
Mohan didn’t ask.
The apartment almost felt normal again.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
A message from Rajan.
? Rajan:
“Open the old apartment WhatsApp group.”
Mohan’s jaw tightened.
Padma noticed.
? Padma: “Rajan again?”
He nodded.
Another ping.
? Rajan:
“Don’t look at today. Scroll back. Way back.”
Mohan opened WhatsApp. The old group was buried under years of chats. He tapped it.
Padma shifted closer, her nightie riding higher. Her warm thigh pressed against his.
? Padma: “What is it?”
? Mohan: “He wants me to look at the old group.”
He started scrolling backward.
First it was boring apartment shit — maintenance, parking, water cuts, the lift.
Then the tone changed.
A photo appeared.
Padma stopped breathing.
It was her.
Walking down the corridor in a tight kurti, ass swaying, completely unaware someone was shooting her from behind.
Mohan scrolled.
Another photo.
Then another.
Different days.





[img=372x559]file:///C:/Users/lenovo/Desktop/pads%202.png[/img]





Different angles.
Her walking to the lift.
.

Padma didn’t tell him about the two men near the lift who had looked at her like they already knew how she tasted.
Mohan didn’t ask.

Walking down the corridor in a tight kurti, ass swaying, completely unaware someone was shooting her from behind.
Mohan scrolled.
Another photo.
Then another.
Different days.
Old pics of her :
https://ibb.co/rKbRNd3H
https://ibb.co/QjD1n1Ss

Standing at the entrance with her handbag.
The way her saree clung to her hips after rain.
The shape of her breasts when she bent to pick something up.
Padma stared at the screen, lips slightly parted.
? Padma: “Mohan…”
He didn’t answer.
She leaned in and started reading the comments under the pictures.
The men hadn’t just been watching her.
They had been talking about her like meat.
[img=373x559]file:///C:/Users/lenovo/Desktop/padbu.png[/img]




“Look at that fat ass in the corridor .. How would her ass smell ? 
Another I want to put my face on her ass!! 
Another .. what a bombass is that I want to bite and grab it 
“Those heavy tits bouncing when she walks…”
Man  1 : “I’d bend that married bitch over right there by the lift…and screw her holes ”
Man2 : How would give expression and moan while screwing her!! 
“Wonder if her husband even fucks her properly…”
Another this is not just for fucking .. this one is slowly made love like slow kissing.. slow biting slow grabbing and slow pumping she should sing not moan!!!
“That wet saree on the rainy night… nipples poking, pussy probably dripping…”
Padma’s breathing changed. Horror mixed with something hotter and dirtier she didn’t want to admit.
? Padma: “These… these are from here? From our building?”
? Mohan: “Yes.”
She looked at him, eyes wide.
? Padma: “How long have they been doing this?”
Mohan swallowed.
? Mohan: “I don’t know.”
She kept scrolling, thumb trembling.
Then she froze.
The rainy evening photo.
Her heart dropped and her cunt clenched at the same time.
The motorcycle.
Her soaked saree stuck to her body.
Those same two men.
She turned to Mohan, voice shaking.
? Padma: “Those two men…”
? Mohan: “What?”
? Padma: “I saw them today. Near the lift. They called me by my name.”
Mohan’s head snapped toward her.
? Mohan: “What did they say?”
? Padma: “One of them said they gave me a ride that rainy evening. They remembered everything. The way my saree was stuck to my tits… they were looking at me like they already owned me.”
Mohan looked from the photo to his wife.
? Mohan: “You met them today?”
She nodded, voice dropping.
? Padma: “I didn’t recognize them at first. Then they reminded me. I didn’t know they had been photographing me… talking about my body like that…”
Mohan kept scrolling.
More photos.
More filthy comments.
Padma’s face changed with every one. Shame, fear, and a dark heat she couldn’t hide.
She had no idea that ordinary moments — walking home, carrying her bag, standing in the corridor — had been turned into jerk-off material for the men in her building.
She suddenly pulled the phone closer and read another thread.
Her face fell.
? Padma: “They’re talking about me like I’m just a pair of tits and a wet cunt walking around…”
Her voice broke.
Mohan locked the phone.
? Mohan: “Enough. Don’t read anymore.”
Padma shook her head, eyes wet.
? Padma: “No. I want to know how they see me.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, but her nipples were hard under the thin nightie.
? Padma: “I was just walking here. Going home. Going downstairs. And they were staring at my ass, my breasts, imagining bending me over…”
Mohan had no answer.
Padma looked at the old photo of herself again.
? Padma: “I thought this was my home.”
Silence.
Mohan slowly put the phone down.
? Mohan: “Padma…”
She wiped her eyes but couldn’t hide how shaken — and how wet — she was.
? Padma: “And today those same men were standing there… looking at me like they already know what I look like under my clothes.”
She glanced toward the apartment door.
The familiar corridor outside suddenly felt like it had eyes.
Then the phone vibrated again.
Neither of them wanted to look.
Mohan picked it up anyway.
Another message from Rajan.
? Rajan:
“Now you understand why the past still matters.”
Mohan stared at the screen.
Padma looked at him, breathing fast, nightie slipping off one shoulder, thighs pressed together.
Neither of them spoke.
The old group had been sitting quietly in Mohan’s phone for years.
And now it had crawled back into their bedroom — dripping with everything those men had said about her body.
https://ibb.co/p69rL3rM

https://ibb.co/TDbWXTJ3 

The way her saree clung to her hips after rain.[img=372x559]file:///C:/Users/lenovo/Desktop/pads%201.png[/img] The shape of her breasts when she bent to pick something up.
Padma stared at the screen, lips slightly parted.
? Padma: “Mohan…”
He didn’t answer.
She leaned in and started reading the comments under the pictures.
The men hadn’t just been watching her.
They had been talking about her like meat.
“Look at that fat ass in the corridor…”
“Those heavy tits bouncing when she walks…”
“I’d bend that married bitch over right there by the lift…”
“Wonder if her husband even fucks her properly…”
“That wet saree on the rainy night… nipples poking, pussy probably dripping…”
Padma’s breathing changed. Horror mixed with something hotter and dirtier she didn’t want to admit.
? Padma: “These… these are from here? From our building?”
? Mohan: “Yes.”
She looked at him, eyes wide.
? Padma: “How long have they been doing this?”
Mohan swallowed.
? Mohan: “I don’t know.”
She kept scrolling, thumb trembling.
Then she froze.
The rainy evening photo.
Her heart dropped and her cunt clenched at the same time.
The motorcycle.
Her soaked saree stuck to her body.
Those same two men.
She turned to Mohan, voice shaking.
? Padma: “Those two men…”
? Mohan: “What?”
? Padma: “I saw them today. Near the lift. They called me by my name.”
Mohan’s head snapped toward her.
? Mohan: “What did they say?”
? Padma: “One of them said they gave me a ride that rainy evening. They remembered everything. The way my saree was stuck to my tits… they were looking at me like they already owned me.”
Mohan looked from the photo to his wife.
? Mohan: “You met them today?”
She nodded, voice dropping.
? Padma: “I didn’t recognize them at first. Then they reminded me. I didn’t know they had been photographing me… talking about my body like that…”
Mohan kept scrolling.
More photos.
More filthy comments.
Padma’s face changed with every one. Shame, fear, and a dark heat she couldn’t hide.
She had no idea that ordinary moments — walking home, carrying her bag, standing in the corridor — had been turned into jerk-off material for the men in her building.
She suddenly pulled the phone closer and read another thread.
Her face fell.
? Padma: “They’re talking about me like I’m just a pair of tits and a wet cunt walking around…”
Her voice broke.
Mohan locked the phone.
? Mohan: “Enough. Don’t read anymore.”
Padma shook her head, eyes wet.
? Padma: “No. I want to know how they see me.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, but her nipples were hard under the thin nightie.
? Padma: “I was just walking here. Going home. Going downstairs. And they were staring at my ass, my breasts, imagining bending me over…”
Mohan had no answer.
Padma looked at the old photo of herself again.
? Padma: “I thought this was my home.”
Silence.
Mohan slowly put the phone down.
? Mohan: “Padma…”
She wiped her eyes but couldn’t hide how shaken — and how wet — she was.
? Padma: “And today those same men were standing there… looking at me like they already know what I look like under my clothes.”
She glanced toward the apartment door.
The familiar corridor outside suddenly felt like it had eyes.
Then the phone vibrated again.
Neither of them wanted to look.
Mohan picked it up anyway.
Another message from Rajan.
? Rajan:
“Now you understand why the past still matters.”
Mohan stared at the screen.
Padma looked at him, breathing fast, nightie slipping off one shoulder, thighs pressed together.
Neither of them spoke.
The old group had been sitting quietly in Mohan’s phone for years.
And now it had crawled back into their bedroom — dripping with everything those men had said about her body.
At night Padma didn’t get sleep she started crying and she went to bathroom and started crying with tears Why it’s happening to me.. why people treat me like a thing… on the other hand Mohan also not sleeping blaming himself and she washes her face and comes to bed and tries to sleep after an hour she gets the sleep.