Misc. Erotica The Wind (COMPLETED)- By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

The Wind

By Novelist Casanova 

I am Sudha. Thirty-six years old. Mother of three sons. Wife of my husband Rajesh.
I stand five feet five inches tall with measurements of 36-26-38. My breasts are heavy and full in a 36C Layered Coverage bra, my waist is narrow, and my hips are wide and round. My face is soft yet sharp at the cheekbones, with large dark eyes, full lips, and a small beauty mark near the corner of my mouth. My hair is long, thick, and wavy, usually tied in a loose bun when I work in the kitchen. When I walk the pallu of my saree shifts across my breasts and the low-below-navel petticoat pulls tight over my hips and the curve of my buttocks.
I always wear a saree with a fitted blouse, a low-below-navel petticoat underneath, the Layered Coverage bra, and Hipster Panties. At night I change into a loose nighty with only the Hipster Panties beneath it so the shape of my breasts and the line of my hips show when I move under the fan.
My husband owns a soap company in Bangalore. The company had been doing well for years. The orders came regularly, the packing machine ran without trouble, and the two men he hired handled most of the day-to-day work. Money was never tight. He left the house early and came back late, but when he returned his shirt still smelled of soap and his hands were clean. I stayed at home with the boys. Manish was twelve. Rakesh was nine. Rahul was still in lower kindergarten. We lived in a rented two-bedroom flat on the second floor of a building in Jayanagar. The walls were thin. When the boys fought I could hear every word. When my husband came home he would sit close to me on the sofa, sometimes sliding his palm under my saree while the boys were still awake in the next room, his fingers moving slowly over the soft inside of my thigh until I had to push his hand away and whisper that the children were listening.
For nearly eight years we managed like that. The company kept growing. My husband never spoke much about money. He simply brought home whatever was needed and left the rest with me. I used to count the cash at night after the boys slept, separating the notes into envelopes. He never interfered. He trusted me with the household the same way he trusted himself with the factory.
Then one evening he came home earlier than usual. His shirt was still fresh but his eyes were already on the way my blouse pulled across my breasts. He sat beside me on the sofa while I folded the boys’ uniforms and rested his hand high on my thigh under the pallu, thumb brushing the edge of my low-below-navel petticoat.
“I saw a house today,” he said, fingers pressing lightly against the soft flesh of my inner thigh. “Independent house. Ground floor only. Three bedrooms. A small open space at the back where the boys can play cricket. The owner is shifting to Coimbatore. The broker says if we decide this week he will reduce the price.”
I stopped folding. “How much?” I asked.
He told me the figure. It was well within what the company earned in a few months. I looked at the pile of college uniforms on my lap. The sleeves were already short on Manish’s arms.
“Will the boys have their own rooms?” I asked.
“They will share,” he said, sliding his hand higher until his fingertips touched the side of my panties through the petticoat. “Manish, Rakesh and Rahul can stay together in one room. The big bedroom will be only for us. No children. Just you and me. Whenever we want. I want to see you without the saree every night, just the nighty and panties, the way you sleep now.”
His thumb moved once against the soft inside of my thigh. I felt the familiar heat gather low in my belly. Outside, the building’s water pump started with its usual loud rattle. Through the window I could see the neighbour’s drying clothes. I thought of the flat’s narrow balcony where I stood every evening waiting for his bike. I thought of the three boys sleeping in one room, their legs tangled because the mattresses were pushed together, and of the second room that was never fully ours.
“If the bedroom is only for us,” I said, my voice lower, “then we should see the house.”
My husband smiled the way he did when he wanted something and knew he would get it. He leaned closer, his mouth near my ear, breath warm against the side of my neck.
“I already paid the token,” he said. “Tomorrow the broker will come with the papers. I wanted to tell you first. Tonight, after the boys sleep, I want you without the saree. Just the nighty lifted and the panties pulled aside so I can touch you properly.”
That night after the boys slept I lay awake listening to the ceiling fan. My husband’s breathing was steady beside me, one arm already across my waist under the sheet, his palm resting on the heavy weight of my breast through the nighty. I kept thinking of the new house—the three bedrooms, the open space at the back, the bigger kitchen, and the one room that would belong only to us. I imagined Manish, Rakesh and Rahul running without hitting the walls. I imagined the door of our bedroom closing and staying closed, my saree, blouse, and low-below-navel petticoat removed, only the nighty and panties left. Somewhere between those thoughts I also felt a small tightness in my chest, the kind that comes when something you have wanted for a long time is suddenly close enough to touch. I turned on my side and placed my hand on my husband’s chest. He did not wake, but his fingers tightened once on the soft curve of my hip the way they always did when he was half asleep and still wanting the body he already knew so well.
The next morning the broker came. He was a thin man with a gold chain and a file full of photocopies. He sat on our sofa, drank the coffee I gave him, and explained the documents one by one. My husband signed where he was told. I stood near the kitchen doorway with my pallu pulled tight across my shoulder, the blouse stretched over my breasts, the low-below-navel petticoat sitting low on my hips, and watched. When the broker left, my husband looked at me and smiled the same smile from the night before.
“By next month,” he said, “we will be in our own house. And the bedroom will lock from inside. I want you there every night the way you are now—nighty and panties only, so I can lift the nighty and pull the panties aside whenever I want.”
I nodded. The boys were already arguing in the bedroom about who would get the bigger bed when they shared the room. I went inside to settle them, my bare feet quiet on the cool floor of the flat we would soon leave, already thinking of the door that would close only for us and of the nighty and panties that would be all that remained between my husband’s hands and my body.
The move happened at the end of the month. Two men from the company and a small tempo brought our things. My husband stayed at the factory that morning and arrived only after the beds and the almirah were already inside. I had changed into a fitted T-shirt and denim pants so I could move easily. The T-shirt stretched across my heavy breasts and the denim pants sat low on my hips, tight over my thighs and buttocks. I stood in the empty hall directing the men while they carried the boxes and the mattresses. Both of them kept looking at me. One of them paused while lifting the almirah and let his eyes move from my breasts down to the way the denim pulled across my hips. The other one kept glancing at my thighs whenever I bent to shift a carton. I pulled the T-shirt down once and kept my face calm, but I felt their eyes on me the whole time.
The three boys ran from one room to the other. They claimed the larger bedroom at the back and pushed their mattresses together, arguing about who would sleep near the window. Our bedroom was at the front, with a solid door that locked from inside and a window that looked onto the narrow lane. By evening the men had finished and left. The house smelled of soap from the new packing boxes and the fresh paint on the walls.
After the boys ate I sent them to their room. I went into our bedroom, closed the door, and removed the T-shirt, the denim pants, my bra, and my panties. I stepped into the bathroom and took a shower, letting the water run over my breasts, my waist, and my hips until the day’s dust was gone. When I came out I dried myself, put on a fresh pair of panties, and pulled a loose nighty over my head. The nighty fell softly over my breasts and hips. I tied my hair and stepped back into the hall. The boys fell asleep quickly. My husband locked our bedroom door from inside and turned off the light. He looked at me standing near the bed in the nighty.
“This room is only for us,” he said. “No one else. Whenever we want.”
I nodded. The new mattress was firm under my hand when I touched it. Outside the window the lane was quiet. For the first time in years I felt the house belonged to us completely. The boys were asleep. The door was locked. I thought everything would stay like this.


My husband locked the door and pulled me onto the new bed. He caught the hem of the nighty with both hands and lifted the nighty slowly, dragging the cloth up over my stomach, then over my breasts, until the nighty was bunched above my breasts and my breasts were fully bare. He looked at my breasts for a moment, then hooked his fingers into my panties and pulled the panties down my thighs, past my knees, and off my feet. I opened my legs. He positioned himself between my legs and pushed his cock into my pussy in one slow, deep stroke. While his cock stayed buried inside my pussy I started speaking.
“The two men from the company kept looking at me today,” I said. “While they were carrying the boxes and arranging the furniture.”
He stayed still, his cock thick and unmoving inside my pussy. His breathing changed.
“Tell me exactly what they saw,” he said. “Start from the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
The question sent heat straight through my belly. I wrapped my legs around his waist. “I was in a fitted T-shirt and denim pants. The T-shirt was tight across my breasts. Every time I reached up to point where a box should go, the cloth pulled and they could see the full shape of my breasts. One of the men stopped halfway with the almirah. He just stood there and stared at my breasts for a long time.”
My husband drew his cock back and thrust his cock into my pussy harder. His chest pressed against my bare breasts. “How long did he stare?” he asked. “Did he look at anything else?”
My voice came out thinner. I lifted my hips to meet the next stroke of his cock. “Long enough that I noticed. He looked at my breasts first, then down at my waist, then at my hips. The other man was worse. Every time I bent to shift a carton the denim pants pulled tight between my thighs and over my buttocks. He kept glancing. He didn’t even try to hide it.”
Each answer made him grab my hips tighter. His cock drove deeper into my pussy with every word. I felt my pussy getting wetter around his cock. He asked again, voice lower and rougher. “Did either of them say anything to you? Or to each other?”
“They didn’t speak to me,” I said, my thighs trembling now. “But I heard one of them mutter something when I turned around. I couldn’t catch the words. The one who licked his lip did it when I bent fully. He was looking straight at the way the denim stretched between my legs.”
My husband groaned. He fucked my pussy harder, short heavy strokes that kept his cock buried deep inside my pussy. “Tell me again,” he said. “About the denim. About how it looked when you bent. Did they see the shape of everything?”
“Yes,” I answered, voice shaking. “When I bent the pants pulled so tight you could see the full curve of my hips and the line between my thighs. Both of them watched. The whole afternoon. One of them kept adjusting himself when he thought I wasn’t looking.”
The more I answered the thicker his cock felt inside my pussy. My own excitement rose with every question until I was meeting every thrust of his cock. He grabbed my legs and kept my legs open, staying deep, moving in steady, grinding strokes while he kept asking. “What else? Did they look at your face? Or only at your body?”
“Mostly at my body,” I said. “At my breasts under the T-shirt and at my hips and thighs in the denim. They barely looked at my face.”
He thrust his cock once more, hard, and his body tightened. His cock pulsed inside my pussy. He came inside my pussy in long, heavy spurts, still asking in a rough voice against my neck what else they had seen. I kept answering until the last pulse of his cock finished. He remained buried afterward, breathing hard, one hand on my breast, the nighty still bunched above my breasts, his cock slowly softening inside my pussy.
“This room is only for us,” he said. “But I liked hearing every detail.”
I nodded, my legs still open around him. The new mattress was firm under my back. Outside the window the lane was quiet. For that night everything felt exactly as we had wanted.


Only the first day and night felt right. After that the house changed.
For the next week everything went wrong and I could not understand why. My husband left for the factory each morning looking normal and returned each evening with his face tight. Orders kept getting cancelled. Buyers who had dealt with the company for years suddenly said the packing was wrong or the soap smelled different. He checked the batches himself and found nothing. At night he sat in the hall with the lights off, staring at the floor. When he came to bed he no longer reached for me the way he had on the first night.
The boys stopped sleeping properly. They woke two or three times every night, crying or calling out. Sometimes the youngest walked into our room and stood beside the bed without speaking until I led him back. I started keeping a small lamp burning in the corridor because the dark between the rooms felt heavier than it should. Doors closed by themselves. The ceiling fan in the hall turned slowly even when the switch was off. I felt uneasy the moment I stepped inside after going out, a cold weight across my shoulders and under my breasts that did not lift until morning.
One night near the end of the week my husband lifted the nighty above my breasts and pulled my panties down. He pushed his cock into my pussy, but his strokes stayed short and restless. His eyes kept moving toward the ceiling. After a few minutes he stopped, his cock still inside my pussy.
“Another three orders cancelled today,” he said. “Same reason. I don’t know what is happening.”
I lay under him with my legs open. “Rajesh,” I said, “something feels wrong in this house. The boys are not sleeping. I feel cold even when the fan is off. People in the lane are saying things about the family who lived here before.”
He pulled his cock out without finishing. “It is only business trouble,” he said. “Competitors. Do not listen to lane gossip. There is nothing wrong with the house.”
He turned onto his side. I pulled my panties back up and the nighty down over my breasts. I stayed awake listening to the boys shift and murmur in their room, trying to understand why the happiness of the first night had disappeared so completely.


My husband had always wanted the boys to become basketball players. He bought them proper shoes and a ring for the open space at the back of the house. Every evening after he returned from the factory he made them practice. The three of them ran and shot until the light faded. Within a few weeks they were selected for the inter-district competitions. The finals were in Mysore.
On the morning of the trip my husband loaded the bags into the car. The boys climbed in with their kits. He looked at me standing in the doorway in my saree.
“We will be back tomorrow night,” he said. “Lock the doors. Do not open for anyone.”
I nodded. The car left. The house became quiet.
I finished the morning work and sat in the hall. Around ten o’clock I felt something behind me. Arms came around my waist and pulled me back against a chest that was not there. The hold was firm, like hugging. A mouth pressed against the side of my neck and kissed slowly, then moved to the place just below my ear. I stood still. Heat gathered low in my belly and between my thighs. My breasts felt heavier inside the blouse. The kissing continued, soft and steady, while the invisible arms stayed around my waist.
I tried to step away. The hold loosened but the warmth remained on my neck and across my breasts. By noon I was fully wet. My panties clung between my thighs. Every time I moved I felt the same mouth return, kissing the curve of my shoulder, the top of my breasts above the blouse, and my waist just above the low-below-navel petticoat. No one was in the house. The doors were locked. Yet the hugging and the kissing did not stop.
I sat on the sofa with my legs pressed together, breathing through my mouth. My nipples were hard against the bra. My pussy throbbed. The feeling stayed with me through the afternoon, rising and falling but never leaving. I kept looking at the empty hall and at the locked bedroom door, and I could not make the heat go away.


The feeling grew stronger after noon. Invisible hands settled on my waist and began to guide me. I walked without deciding to walk. My feet carried me from the hall into the bedroom. The door closed behind me. I stood beside the bed, breathing slowly, the heat between my thighs steady and deep.
My hands moved on their own. I unpinned the saree. The silk slipped from my shoulder and fell to the floor. I unhooked the blouse and let it drop. The low-below-navel petticoat loosened at my hips and slid down my thighs. I reached behind and opened the bra. My breasts came free, heavy and bare, nipples already hard. Last I pushed the panties down my legs and stepped out of them. I was naked. The air touched my breasts, my waist, my hips, my thighs, and my pussy.
Arms came around me from behind and pulled me fully against a body that had no weight yet felt complete. The embrace closed over my breasts and my waist. A mouth returned to my neck, then to the top of my breasts, kissing slowly. I leaned back into the hold. My eyes half-closed. Everything felt distant and close at the same time. The hugging tightened until my bare back and my buttocks were pressed fully into the invisible chest and hips. Hands moved over my breasts, cupping them, thumbs brushing my hard nipples. Another hand slid down my stomach and rested between my thighs, cupping my pussy without entering.
I did not resist. Warmth spread through my belly and up into my breasts. My legs softened. I let the embrace hold all of me, naked, while the kissing continued along my neck and the curve of my shoulder. Time moved like water. I stayed inside the hug, breathing through my mouth, my pussy wet and open against the hand that rested there, enjoying the weightless pressure of being completely held.


The invisible arms guided me onto the bed. I lay on my back, naked, legs already parting. Weight settled over me, full and warm, pressing my breasts flat and pinning my hips to the mattress. A cock pushed against my pussy, thick and hard, and slid inside in one long stroke. I gasped. My pussy stretched around it and clenched at once.
The cock began to move, slow at first, then deeper, filling me completely with every thrust. My hands rose and gripped the shoulders that were not there. My legs wrapped around the hips above me. Each stroke dragged against the wet walls of my pussy and pressed hard against the deepest part of me. My breasts bounced under the weight. My nipples stayed hard. Heat flooded my belly and spread up my chest until I could not think of anything except the cock moving inside my pussy.
I moaned without trying to stop the sound. My hips lifted to meet every thrust. The fucking grew harder. The cock drove into me again and again, wet and relentless, while invisible hands grabbed my thighs and kept them spread wide. I was completely horny, completely open, unable to resist or even want to resist. My pussy tightened and fluttered around the cock. Pleasure built fast and sharp. I came with a broken cry, my whole body shaking, my pussy pulsing hard while the cock stayed buried deep.
The thrusts did not stop. They grew heavier. The cock swelled inside me. I felt it pulse, then flood. Thick spurts of cum poured into my pussy, filling me, leaking around the cock as it kept moving through the mess. I held on, legs locked, breasts crushed against the invisible chest, taking every drop while my own orgasm still trembled through me. The weight stayed on top of me long after the cock softened, keeping me pinned and full, my pussy still twitching around the spent cock inside it.


I woke in the evening with a sharp breath. The room was dim. My nighty was still bunched above my breasts. My panties were on the floor. Both of my hands were between my thighs, fingers resting on my pussy. The pussy was wet and open, and a slow leak of cum slid onto the sheet beneath me. For a moment I lay still, heart beating hard, trying to understand what had happened. It had felt completely real. The weight on my breasts, the cock moving inside my pussy, the cum filling me—all of it stayed in my body even after my eyes opened.
Outside I heard the car stop. Doors opened. The boys’ voices carried up the lane. I sat up quickly, pulled the nighty down over my breasts, and stepped into my panties. The panties clung at once against my still-wet pussy. I tied my hair with shaking hands and walked to the front door.
My husband stood there with the boys behind him, all of them smiling, kits in their hands.
“We won,” he said. “Finals. They played well.”
I smiled and stepped aside. “Come in. You must be hungry.”
The boys rushed past me toward their room, talking over each other. My husband looked at me once, at the nighty and at my face, then carried the bags inside. I closed the door. My pussy still throbbed under the panties. Cum continued to leak slowly. I followed them into the hall and began asking about the match, about the journey, about what they wanted to eat. My voice stayed steady.
I did not tell my husband anything. Not about the morning, not about the hands that had undressed me, not about the cock that had fucked my pussy and come inside me. I always told him everything. That night I kept my mouth closed and simply welcomed them home.


The next morning I woke to a mouth on my lips. The kiss was deep and slow, pressing hard, tongue moving against mine. I kissed back without opening my eyes. Heat rushed straight to my pussy. My panties grew wet at once, then soaked, clinging between my thighs while the kissing continued. Invisible arms stayed around my waist under the sheet. I moaned into the mouth and lifted my hips once, already horny, already open. When the kiss finally eased I opened my eyes. No one was there. The feeling of being followed remained, close behind my shoulders and along my back.
I got out of bed with my panties wet and my nipples hard under the nighty. In the bathroom I brushed my teeth, then sat to pee. The same presence stayed near me. When I stood I removed the nighty and let it fall. I pushed the soaked panties down my thighs and stepped out of them. My pussy was swollen and wet. I turned on the shower and stepped under the water, naked.
Arms came around me from the front the moment the water hit my breasts. The hug was full, pulling my naked breasts and my stomach against a naked chest and hips that had no weight yet felt complete. A hard cock pressed against my lower belly. A mouth returned to my lips and kissed while hands cupped my breasts and rolled my hard nipples. One hand slid down and rested over my pussy, fingers spreading the wetness without entering. I leaned into the embrace, water running over my breasts and between my thighs, too horny to step away. My legs softened. I stood under the spray with my eyes closed, letting the naked invisible body hold me completely from the front while my pussy throbbed against the hand that stayed there.


After the shower I dried myself and put on fresh panties and a clean nighty. The panties settled against my still-sensitive pussy. The nighty fell over my breasts and hips. Even with the clothes on I felt eyes on me. The watching stayed close, moving when I moved, resting on my breasts, my waist, and the place between my thighs. It made me horny again. My nipples hardened under the nighty. A slow wetness returned inside the fresh panties.
I walked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for my husband and the boys. The moment I reached the counter, arms came around my waist from behind. The hug pulled me back against a naked body. A hard cock pressed firmly against my buttocks through the nighty and panties. The cock stayed there, thick and warm, while the arms held me. I continued reaching for the vessels and the milk, but my hands trembled. Every small step I took, the body followed, the cock rubbing against me, the hug never loosening. Heat gathered quickly between my thighs. My pussy grew wet against the fresh panties while I stood at the stove, trying to keep my breathing quiet so no one in the house would hear.


We sat at the dining table for breakfast. My husband and the boys talked about the match and the next practice. I kept my face calm and served the food. Under the table my left hand moved without my control. It slid beneath my nighty, hooked into my panties, and pulled them down my thighs. My panties dropped to my ankles. I stepped out of them quietly. My pussy was already wet and naked under my nighty.
The very next moment something entered underneath my nighty. A mouth pressed against my feet, then kissed up my knees, then along my thighs. The kisses moved to my inner thighs, slow and wet, spreading them wider under the table. Then the mouth reached my pussy and began to eat. The tongue licked through my wetness, circled my clit, and pushed inside. I gripped the edge of the table with my right hand. My nipples hardened hard against my nighty. Heat flooded my belly. My hips shifted once, small and helpless, as the tongue worked deeper.
I struggled to keep my breathing even. My husband asked about the milk. The boys argued over the last piece of bread. None of them looked at me. My pussy clenched and fluttered around the tongue. Pleasure built fast between my thighs. I bit the inside of my cheek and came quietly, thighs trembling under my nighty, pussy pulsing while the mouth stayed on me and licked through the orgasm. Cum leaked onto the chair. I kept my eyes on my plate and answered when spoken to, voice steady, body still shaking, until my husband and the boys finished and stood to leave.


Meanwhile my husband’s work was not going smoothly. More orders were cancelled without clear reason. Buyers who had stayed with the company for years stopped calling. He returned later each evening, quieter, sitting with papers he did not open. At night he no longer reached for me under my nighty.
The boys could not concentrate on their studies. This was unusual. All three of them had always been smart. They finished homework quickly and scored well without struggle. Now they sat with open books and stared at the same page. They forgot simple sums. They woke tired and argued over small things. My husband had always been sharp with the business. The sudden losses and the boys’ sudden inability to focus did not match anything we had known before. I watched both and could not understand what had changed inside the house.


As far as I was concerned, something kept me extremely horny the whole day. From the moment I opened my eyes, a deep aching heat lived low in my belly and throbbed between my thighs. My pussy stayed wet and swollen, pulsing with every step. Something made me stop wearing my panties at home. I left my panties untouched in the drawer. Under my nighty my pussy remained naked and open, my nighty dragging across my clit and making me gasp whenever I moved.
In the afternoons, after my husband and the boys left, something took my hands. I lifted my nighty slowly over my head, my nighty sliding across my hard nipples, and let my nighty fall. I stood naked in the bedroom, my breasts heavy, my pussy already dripping. Then I was on the bed. Warm weight covered me completely. A thick cock pushed into my pussy in one passionate stroke and began to fuck me with long, hungry thrusts that reached the deepest part of me. I opened my legs wide and wrapped them tight, pulling the cock deeper. My breasts pressed and bounced against the invisible chest. My nipples stayed painfully hard. I moaned without shame, voice breaking, hips rising desperately to meet every stroke. The cock drove into me again and again, relentless and loving at once. I came hard, crying out, my pussy clenching and fluttering wildly around the cock as pleasure tore through my whole body. The cock swelled inside me and flooded my pussy with thick cum, pulse after pulse, while I held on and took every drop, still trembling, still wanting. I stayed pinned beneath the weight, legs locked, my pussy full and leaking, until the presence slowly eased.
I woke in the evening as if from a dream, naked on the bed, my pussy still dripping and sensitive, just as the car stopped outside and my husband and the boys returned from business and college. I pulled my nighty back on with shaking hands, wiped the wetness from between my thighs, and went to the door with a calm face.


In the evenings, between 5 PM and 10 PM, that thing did not come. I was normal. I wore my nighty and my panties. I cooked, served food, and sat with my husband and the boys. After dinner I switched on the television. I watched the mega serials on Sun TV, the long episodes with the loud background music and the women in heavy sarees arguing in drawing rooms. I followed every scene and noticed the sarees the actresses wore—the border work, the way the pallu was pinned, the matching blouses, the jewellery that caught the light when they turned. Sometimes I studied how the petticoat sat at the waist or how the saree pleats fell when they walked. Between serials I checked the boys’ college bags, folded the washed clothes, wiped the dining table, and spoke to my husband about the next day’s meals and the electricity bill. My body stayed quiet. My pussy did not throb. No invisible hands touched my breasts or my waist. No cock pressed against me. I moved through those hours the way I always had.
Later I went to the boys’ room. I made them change, wiped their faces and feet, straightened their mattresses, and pulled the sheets smooth. I sat with them until their eyes closed and their breathing evened. Then I turned off their light and walked back to our bedroom. My husband was already on the bed. I lay beside him and we talked for a while—about the factory, about the boys’ practice, about nothing important. His answers grew shorter. Soon his eyes closed. I stayed awake a little longer, listening to him breathe, feeling ordinary again, wondering why the hours after sunset belonged only to us while the rest of the day did not.
They were not happy. My husband had stared at the table even while the serial played. The boys had looked tired and argued over nothing. Their books had stayed closed. The unhappiness in the house did not lift.


After my husband fell asleep around 10 PM I closed my eyes and began to drift. Almost at once I felt a quiet insistence at my hips. My hands moved without my knowledge. They slid under my nighty, hooked into my panties, and drew them down my thighs and off my feet. My panties dropped beside the bed. My pussy was naked beneath my nighty.
Weight settled over me. A naked body covered mine. A mouth found my lips and kissed me slowly, then moved to my neck and the tops of my breasts. Hands cupped my breasts through my nighty and rolled my nipples until they hardened. The kissing and touching grew warmer. Heat spread through my belly. My legs parted on their own. A cock pressed against my pussy and pushed inside in one smooth stroke. I moaned softly so I would not wake my husband. The cock began to move, long and deep, fucking me with steady passion. I wrapped my legs around the hips above me and lifted to meet every thrust. My pussy grew wetter. Pleasure built quickly. I came with a quiet gasp, my pussy clenching hard around the cock while it continued to drive into me. The cock swelled and released, filling my pussy with cum in thick pulses. I took all of it, still trembling, still open.
When the weight eased I remained on my back, my nighty bunched above my breasts, my pussy full and leaking, completely satisfied. I fell asleep at once, like a happily fucked woman.


I woke to kisses on my lips. The mouth pressed and moved slowly, waking me fully. I kissed back for a moment, already feeling heat return between my thighs. My nighty was still bunched above my breasts. My panties lay on the floor where I had dropped them. Cum had dried on my inner thighs and around my pussy.
I sat up, reached for my panties, and pulled them on. They settled against my sensitive pussy. I smoothed my nighty down over my breasts and stood. I walked to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, then sat on the toilet and did my business. Today I did not feel his hands inside the bathroom. When I finished I cleaned myself and turned on the shower. I removed my nighty and my panties and stepped under the water, naked. I washed quickly, still feeling the leftover heat between my thighs, then stepped out.
I dried myself, put on fresh panties, and pulled a clean nighty over my head. My nipples were already hard under my nighty. I felt watched and wanted even after I left the bathroom.


After I came out of the bathroom I wrapped a thin cotton towel around my wet hair the way we do at home, twisting it at the back so the water would not drip onto my nighty. I went to the portico and sat down to draw the kolam (rangoli). The morning was quiet. I worked slowly with the rice flour, my nighty spread around my folded legs, my panties sitting normally underneath.
A man knocked on the gate. I wiped a strand of hair aside with the back of my hand and looked up. He opened the gate himself and walked in. He stopped about fifteen feet from me, inside the compound, near where I was sitting.
“I am the new milk delivery,” he said. “If it is okay I can leave one litre packet at the gate every morning from tomorrow.”
I stood up to answer. As I rose, my panties had wedged between my ass crack from sitting. I reached under my nighty with one hand and pulled them back into place while I adjusted the hem with the other. Before I could speak, arms came around my waist from behind in a firm hug. At the same moment a sudden strong wind rushed across the portico. It caught the front hem of my nighty and flung my nighty upward in one hard gust. My nighty ballooned and stayed lifted high above my waist, held there by the continuous wind so that my pink panties, my thighs, and the lower curve of my hips were completely exposed in a clear panty peek. The milk man stared openly. His eyes travelled slowly from my knees up my thighs and locked on the pink panties stretched over my pussy. I grabbed at my lifted nighty with both hands and pulled downward with all my strength, but the wind pushed back harder, keeping my nighty raised and fluttering. My arms strained. My nighty would not come down.
While I fought the wind the invisible hand slid inside my pink panties. Fingers spread and grabbed my pussy firmly, squeezing and teasing the wetness, then slowly took the hand out. My panties stayed on. The wind finally dropped and my nighty fell back into place. For those long seconds the milk man had seen everything the lifted nighty showed. His trousers tightened visibly at the front. He did not look away. His mouth was slightly open.
“Deliver one litre from tomorrow,” I said, voice shaking. “Now leave.”
I turned to go inside. As I walked away another gust of wind caught my nighty from behind and lifted it high, revealing my ass fully in the pink panties. The milk man stared at the round shape of my ass and the way the panties sat between my ass crack. He could not believe his luck. I pulled my nighty down and hurried through the door, leaving the kolam (rangoli) unfinished.


I ran inside and closed the door. My heart was still beating fast. I went straight to the kitchen, washed my hands, and began preparing breakfast. I heated the milk, made dosas, and set the chutney on the table. My nighty clung a little from the morning air, and my pink panties were back in place under it. I kept my face calm.
My husband and the boys came to the dining table. I served them and sat with them. We ate together. They talked about college and the factory. I answered when they asked me something. No one noticed anything different. After they finished, my husband left for the factory and the boys left for college. I cleared the plates, wiped the table, and stood alone in the quiet house again.


After my husband and the boys left I began the daily chores. I swept the hall, wiped the kitchen counter, and sorted the washed clothes. The house was quiet. My pink panties sat under my nighty, and at first everything felt ordinary. Then the heat returned between my thighs without warning. My pussy grew wet. I did not know why. In all these years of marriage and housework this had never happened to me during ordinary chores.
The memory of the milk man kept returning. I saw the wind lifting my nighty again in my mind, the pink panties fully exposed, his eyes travelling up my thighs and locking on the place over my pussy. The thought made me feel naughty. My body wanted to show him more. Something inside me pushed the idea further. I imagined turning back instead of running, letting the wind hold my nighty high longer, letting him see the full shape of my ass in the pink panties. The wanting grew sharper. I pictured his face close to mine, the ugly milk man leaning in, and something made me want to kiss him. The thought should have disgusted me. Instead my pussy clenched and more wetness soaked through my pink panties until they clung completely between my thighs and along my ass crack.
I kept sweeping. Each step rubbed the wet panties against my pussy. The heat stayed. I could not understand what was happening to me.


I went to the bathroom and took a shower. Water ran over my breasts and between my thighs. The leftover wetness from my pink panties washed away, but the heat in my pussy did not leave. After I dried myself I put on fresh Dark Blue Panties. My Dark Blue Panties sat low on my hips and covered my pussy. I fastened my white bra over my breasts. My white bra cups held my breasts fully. Then I tied my white petticoat low below my navel the way I always did.
Something guided my hands when I took my white chiffon saree. Flowers were printed all over my white chiffon saree. The border and the matching blouse were purple. I dbangd my white chiffon saree slowly. I pinned the pallu lower than usual so more of my purple blouse and the upper curve of my breasts showed. I tucked the pleats tighter at the waist so my white chiffon saree pulled across my hips and the round of my ass. I knew the way I wore my white chiffon saree would draw men’s eyes. I was fully aware. Yet I did not stop. My hands kept adjusting until my white chiffon saree sat sexily on my body.
I stood in front of the mirror. My white chiffon saree clung lightly over my breasts and hips. The purple border framed the shape of my waist. I adjusted the pallu of my white chiffon saree again and smoothed my purple blouse over my breasts. My Dark Blue Panties and my white bra stayed hidden underneath my white petticoat and my white chiffon saree, but I could feel my Dark Blue Panties against my pussy and my white bra against my breasts. Looking at myself made the heat return stronger. My pussy grew wet again inside my Dark Blue Panties. I was already extremely horny. A deep ache settled between my thighs. I wanted a man to fuck me so badly that my legs felt weak. The face that came to me was the ugly milk man’s. I imagined his cock pushing into my pussy while I still wore my white chiffon saree and purple blouse. The thought made my Dark Blue Panties soak through before I even left the room.
I picked up my handbag and checked what I was carrying. Inside were my house keys, my car keys, a small purse with cash and coins, my mobile phone, a folded handkerchief, a comb, a tiny mirror, a packet of bindis, two safety pins, and a spare hair clip. I also took the kattapai, the sturdy cloth shopping bag we use for groceries, and hooked the handles over my wrist along with my handbag.
While I locked the front door and walked toward my car, shame rose in me. I was loyal to my husband. I had never looked at another man this way in all our years together. The thoughts about the ugly milk man, about wanting his cock inside my pussy, made my face burn. I gripped my car keys tighter and tried to push the images away, but the wetness in my Dark Blue Panties remained as I reached the car.




To Be Continued..!