<![CDATA[Xossipy - English Sex Stories]]> https://xossipy.com/ Sat, 17 Oct 2026 04:37:55 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[An Unfaithful Indian Girlfriend]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75652.html Fri, 16 Oct 2026 13:07:15 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75652.html
"Good morning, Jaan. Ready to go to the office?" Rahul greeted over the phone as he searched for his bike key, somewhere amongst his office files.

"Good morning, Jaanu. Packing my lunch now, Uber will be here soon. You ready?" Komal replied.

"Yeah, searching for my keys...got it!!" he said, feeling relieved as he found the keys.

"So...are you going to be free early today?" Komal asked, hopefully.

"Doubtful! I have a client meeting today," he replied.

"As expected," she uttered meekly, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry Jaan, I have to go now, it's getting late," Rahul hung up the phone as he started his bike ready to hit the road.

"Bye," she muttered.

Rahul worked in a well-known MNC as a marketing executive. He was a very conservative guy and had a positive view of everything. His girlfriend Komal was a bank teller in a well-known bank here in Kolkata. Rahul and Komal had been a couple for the past five years. They were classmates back in their post-graduate years and their relationship started from the 2nd semester when Rahul proposed Komal in front of the entire class.

In the first two years, their relationship bloomed fast and wild, their love growing stronger with each day passing. For Rahul this was his 1st relationship whereas for Komal he was her 2nd. Komal broke up with her previous lover when she was in her 2nd semester after meeting Rahul. Rahul lost his virginity to Komal at the age of 26, and Komal lost it to her previous lover at the age of 23. For Komal, Rahul was her 2nd. The romance between the couple was spicy and they would always look for chances to make out, whether it be in the bathroom, the cafeteria, the empty classroom, the staircase, etc.

Sex was over the top for both of the lovebirds in the initial years of their relationship. Rahul would always look for chances to get his hands inside her panty and feel her sexy trimmed pussy. Komal, on the other hand, never left any opportunity to give Rahul a handjob or blowjob whenever she got the chance.

Their relationship was romantic for all of college. By the end of their final semester, both of them got their well-deserved placement and life seemed sorted out for the couple.

"Madam, should I start the trip?" asked the Uber driver, pulling down his seat belt and looking at Komal through the rearview mirror.

"Yes Bhaiya," she replied, looking outside the window, still frustrated after her conversation with Rahul.

While on her way to the office, Komal wondered how all the romance and fun had disappeared from her relationship. Even though Rahul was still the same caring and loving boyfriend he was 4 years back, the spice in her relationship was no longer alive. She still loved him with all her heart, but she knew that something had gone missing. Rahul had become a very busy person and he hardly gave her time. They no longer went out for movies, no romantic dates, no clubbing, no long drives ...nothing. Even the conversation over the phone now was limited to yes/no, ok, and hmmm, and WhatsApp texting had replaced long calls. She could not remember the last time she held his dick in her hands, or he played with her boobs. Now whatever spice they had left in the relationship was limited to sharing nudes over WhatsApp.

Komal knew something was missing and that she had an unattended need inside her.

Komal was a typical Indian beauty who would turn 29 next month. Her skin color was light brown with a beautiful curvy figure. She did not prefer to work out but had a naturally shaped figure. She was 36-29-38, 5'6'' with a medium length bob haircut. The most attractive part of her body was her perfect heart-shaped ass that made heads turn. There was no doubt Komal had her fair share of men trying to impress her over the years, but she would always turn them down because of her relationship. Even so, Komal had been to some "friendly" dates, unknown to Rahul, with few of her colleagues and handsome customers from her bank who would occasionally ask her out. This was her way of expressing her lively personality. She believed she loved Rahul, and so these outings and texting over the phone with other men seemed harmless. Truth be told, she liked men ogling her, texting her, and begging her for dates. It made her feel happy, relevant, sexy, and proud. But all of this was unknown to Rahul, even if she had to lie to him.

Komal had been transferred to a new branch in the city last month, and she was still accommodating to the new environment. As soon as she joined the branch, all eyes were on the "new sexy thing," the nickname given to her by her new colleagues. Among these colleagues was Ajit, the Assistant Operations Manager. The ladies in the branch warned Komal about Ajit and told her to watch out for the branch Casanova.

Ajit was a 32-year-old man who hailed from Jharkhand. He stood at 5'11'' with stylish facial hair, a bulky man with broad shoulders. The best thing about Ajit was that he was a smooth talker and knew his way around women. He had this mysterious aura about him and women dug that.

He also had a weakness for women and never failed in impressing any girl he sets his eye upon. At this time, his eyes were set on Komal. In addition to her sexy figure, her innocence and hard-to-get attitude attracted Ajit from the day he first saw her. Komal was not unaware of Ajit's intention as she caught him blankly staring at her quite sometimes, and she was also aware that even though her lady colleagues did warn her about him, they were also drooling for him. She thought that maybe these ladies wanted her out of their way, as she was the new heartthrob of the branch and the most beautiful and classy lady there.

---------------

"Good morning, Komal," Ajit greeted, trying to find a way to start a conversation.

"Morning," Komal replied with a smile.

"So how is the day going? Comfortable in the new branch?" he asked, slowly entering Komal's office cabin.

"Yeah...I am trying to pick up whatever I can," she replied with a little uncertainty in her voice.

"Ok good...so if you need anything just let me know...my cabin is just next to yours," he told her trying to let her know that he is there as a friend and is the go-to guy for her.

"Sure," Komal replied with a smile.

Ajit realized that it is going to be hard to get close to this girl. "The first impression is the last impression, dude," he told himself as his mind started racing, trying to continue the conversation. So he asked, "Have you introduced yourself to your new colleagues?"

Komal looked up and replied, "No... not all of them." She knew Ajit was trying hard to impress her.

"Hmmm fine...let me do the honor. Come on, pick your ass up from the chair and come," Ajit said with excitement.

Komal was surprised to hear the word "ass" all of a sudden. That was Ajit testing the waters. Typical playboy. She followed him as he gently introduced her to every member of the branch.

Even though he was a playboy by nature he never actually made any advance towards any of his lady colleagues. He was aware of the consequences, should any complaint come against him. But he knew the moment he set his eyes on Komal that this time he wouldn't be able to resist. He must tap this ass.

"So now everyone knows you. Don't worry, you will remember their names gradually," Ajit assured her after introducing her to every individual in the branch.

"Here take my phone number. Call me in case you need any help," he added.

"Ok sure, thanks," Komal accepted his business card with a smile and they both went back to their cabins.

After returning from the office that day Komal could not shake the thought of Ajit from her mind. She was not able to understand if he was a playboy trying his luck or if he was a genuine gentleman. Either way she was happy to have some attention. "This will be fun," she thought.

She checked her phone and saw a WhatsApp message from Rahul.

Rahul: Hey Jaan how was your day?

Komal: It was nice. How was yours?

Rahul: Busy... I think I have cracked a big deal. I might be on for a promotion in the coming months. The client today was happy with the idea I pitched.

Komal: Hmm good for you.

Rahul: You're not happy.

Komal: Of course I am happy. But I am tired, Jaanu, I am going to sleep now. Good night.

Rahul: Night Jaan.

"Not a single call the entire day, no text, and now he comes and discusses his great achievement," she thought to herself.

---------------

Days went on and Komal's frustration kept on growing. It had been 6 months since Komal joined this branch and now she had some good friends there. She was now familiar with most of the male colleagues in the branch and some of them even started exchanging text messages with her. But the thing that bothered her was that Ajit had hardly made any advances towards her, even though he would often ask her about her well being.

"Komal, madam, the Branch Manager has called you," said the office boy.

Komal was unaware as to why the Boss had called her. Soon she got the answer as a furious branch manager started yelling upon her for a wrong transaction. It was a mistake that could cause her half of her salary for the month. Komal came back to her office cabin with teary eyes and felt quite stressed. She called Rahul to get some motivation, but he declined her call. She felt terrible and didn't know what to do.

"Oye madam, what happened? Why the teary eyes?" asked Ajit.

"Nothing," Komal replied, wiping her tears.

"Don't worry you can tell me...I saw you coming out of the Branch Manager's cabin". He tried to console her as he forwarded his handkerchief to wipe off her tears.

Komal told him the issue, and Ajit began laughing.

"Hahaha that's it...Oh, man! Oh, man! Oh, man. What is the customer's name whose transaction has been misplaced and with whose account?"

Komal gave him the details.

"Ok. Now stop crying — a pretty girl like you is not supposed to cry. Give me 5 minutes." As he said this, he went straight to the Branch Manager's room.

Komal was scared and confused thinking about what he is up to. What might they be discussing inside the Branch Manager's room? It had been 5 minutes already and she thought of checking on them, when Ajit walked out of the manager's room and came straight to her and said, "Ok, Komal darling, the problem is sorted. Now go home and relax."

"What? How? What did you do?" Komal said, a broad smile appearing on her face.

Ajit saw her excitement and tried to cheer her up a little more. "Just went in, picked him up by his collar, and warned him not to disturb you again."

"Hahaha," Komal laughed, imagining what it would have looked like.

"Finally, you laugh. Don't worry, I will handle this. I have requested the manager to let me sort it out. He understood," Ajit consoled her.

"Thank you so much, Ajit." She knew she was grateful and just wanted to hug him. Instead she pulled out her phone and started booking an Uber.

Ajit noticed this and asked "Hey, why are you getting an Uber?"

"How will I get home?" she replied as she ran her fingers through the app.

"I thought your boyfriend picks you up every day," Ajit asked her, trying to make it sound not like a question.

Komal stopped searching and replied, "I wished he did."

Ajit instantly read her face and saw a window of opportunity. "Where do you stay?" he asked.

Komal replied, "Park Street."

"Oh that's great. I can drop you there. It will be on my way home," Ajit insisted trying, to hide his excitement.

Komal thought for a while and finally said, "Ok."

That night she just could not stop feeling grateful for Ajit. He was a courageous gentleman, to be able to go up to the branch manager and make him understand. She checked her WhatsApp and saw messages lined up from Rahul. She was just about to reply when a new message popped up. She jumped up at once in her bed. It was a WhatsApp from Ajit.

Ajit: Hey you ok now?

Komal: Yeah, I am fine thanks to you.

Ajit: That's a good girl...had your dinner?

Komal: Yeah..did you?

Ajit: No I was just finishing my 2nd glass of whiskey.

Komal: Drinking?

Ajit: Yeah...why? Do you mind?

Komal: No I don't...just asked.

Ajit: You want one (winky face and a wine glass emoji).

Komal: Hmm I don't mind (winky face).

Ajit: Ooohooo now you are talking...we will try it someday soon, then.

Komal: Hmmm. We will see, but don't get any ideas now.

And just then a message from Rahul popped up.

Rahul: Hey Jaan you asleep...not replying?

Komal: Hmmm about to sleep I am feeling tired... good night.

After she had lied to Rahul, Komal changed her Whatsapp online last seen settings to invisible, so Rahul wouldn't know that she was still online. Excited, she resumed her chat with Ajit.

---------------

Komal was in a hurry to prepare for work the next morning, as she slept late last night post chatting with Ajit. Ajit could be here any moment now, as he had decided that from now on he would be her permanent Uber. As promised, Ajit was there in time with a smile.

"Good morning dear...looking good," Ajit greeted.

"Morning," Komal replied with a smile as she boarded his SUV.

In the next few months Komal and Ajit became good friends. Ajit would always pick her up from the office and drop her home after. He would make sure to always compliment her on her looks though. They would often chat during late nights on WhatsApp and mostly discuss relationships and love. Komal started to feel that her unattended need was being fulfilled. Both of them would occasionally go out during lunch breaks to nearby restaurants for lunch or usually grab some fast food while coming back home. Komal felt quite happy with her newfound friend.

She introduced Ajit to Rahul once, when Rahul came to her office for some bank account related issue of his (Rahul had an account in the same bank where Komal worked). Though Rahul felt something fishy about the so called "friendship," he trusted Komal to make the right choices.

Also, Komal gave Rahul a good reason not to doubt her, saying, "Ajit has a good knowledge of the banking sector do's and don'ts, and it is important for a girl like me to have a knowledgeable friend/tutor like him". She made him believe Ajit was just a stepping stone and that she had him under control.

---------------

"Oh yeah... yeahhhhh Komal... mmmmm... ," exhaled Ajit as he masturbated to Komal, a big load of cum spurting out his dick for the second time that day. Cleaning himself off, he left the bathroom and returned to his office cabin.

Ajit had become quite frustrated only masturbating to Komal and was quickly running out of patience. In his Casanova career, it never took him so long to fuck someone he so badly desired. He realized it was time to progress his game forward.

While Komal was attending to a customer her cell phone buzzed. It was a WhatsApp text from Ajit. Once the customer left, Komal checked the message and giggled. It was a non-veg joke about dicks. Seeing Komal laugh in her cabin, Ajit knew he had just gotten the green signal for his next phase.

Komal: Nice joke

Ajit: Just trying to minimize the stress of our branch, "sexy thing".

Komal: Sexy thing??

Ajit: Yes you, the gorgeous sexy thing...I know you know that's your nickname.

Komal: Says who "the Casanova".

Ajit: Oh ho!! So now we're going to play the nickname games huh...you want more of those jokes I got plenty in stock. (winky face)

Komal: I have customers now.

Ajit: Ok sorry.

Komal: But you can send me them later tonight (winky face)

Ajit: Ooooo naughty huh!!

Komal: By the way, Rahul will pick me up from the office today so you can leave.

Ajit: No problem.

Komal had almost forgotten what it was like to be on a date with her boyfriend because it had been so long. After work, the two of them went to a small fast food counter near her room and the date ended within an hour with Rahul dropping Komal home. She could see Rahul's displeasure whenever she would mention Ajit in between their conversation. Even she realized she could not discuss anything about her day without mentioning Ajit's name. Ajit had become an integral part of her daily life now.

At night, Komal impatiently checked her WhatsApp while lying in bed. No messages from Ajit yet.

Komal was confused. She couldn't understand why she was so impatient for Ajit to text her. She asked herself if she was no longer in love with Rahul. No, she told herself, she loves Rahul. Then, what was it that was making her so impatient for Ajit? She struggled for an answer when a message popped up.

Ajit: Hey dear...done with dinner.

Komal: Yep...what about you?

Ajit: Yes...is your boyfriend asleep?

Komal: Yeah...I guess!! Why?

Ajit: Well I thought you had a date tonight.

Komal: Yes we had it and he dropped me home after that.

Ajit: WHAT..? What is a date if you don't spend the night together (shocked emoji)

Komal: A harmless date.

Ajit: Hmmm, I would never understand that...anyways ready for a joke?

Komal: Ok

Ajit: Answer this "What is pink, goes in hard and dry and comes out soft and wet?"

Komal did not have to try hard to answer this riddle. She laughed, imagining a dick, and replied.

Komal: Private part of a man I guess (giggle emoji)

Ajit: You mean a dick

Komal: Hmm I guess

Ajit: Wrong. It's bubble gum. You dirty mind

Komal: Hahahahah

And Komal could not stop laughing. They shared non-veg jokes over WhatsApp all night and discussed random topics before going to sleep at about 3 AM.

With time passing by Komal and Ajit's friendship grew much stronger. The WhatsApp conversations between them were no longer limited to normal chat. They would discuss about intimate personal things, sex, porn, just about everything. Ajit gradually saw that side of Komal which she usually would not feel free to share with anyone. Komal on the other hand found in Ajit the ideal boyfriend which she always longed for. She was still in love with Rahul and knew she would marry him someday, but Ajit was her remedy for an unromantic and frustrated love life. And all this was not unnoticed by their other co-workers. Colleagues started seeing them as a couple and discussion about their growing closeness spread like wildfire.

The news even reached Rahul, who was furious. He asked Komal to stay away from Ajit, who he believed was only planning on getting in her pants. He knew how naïve Komal could be and how easy it was to sweep her off her feet. In a way this was true, as Ajit was leaving no stone unturned by gifting her flowers and complimenting her beauty often. Meanwhile, Komal was impressed with Ajit's way of handling situations, the way he talked, his personality, his style, and most importantly, his unfaltering attraction towards her.

10 months had passed since Komal joined the branch, and with it came the end of the financial year. The bank made a good profit last year and so the Branch Manager planned on throwing a party at one of the well known pubs in the city. So he asked all the employees to leave the office early and report to the venue by 7 PM for a wild night. Ajit knew the time had finally come to make his move.

"Hey, going to the party?" Ajit asked Komal, trying to find out if she had any other plans.

"I don't know...I don't think Rahul would be happy to hear that," Komal replied, hesitating.

"Well...don't tell him then!" Ajit replied, trying to hide his annoyance.

"What if he knows?" she said, still hesitant.

Ajit could see his plans blowing away in the wind. He had to come up with something soon and so he argued, "Oh come on, Komal! He is your boyfriend, not your husband or anything. Besides, this is your life." He sighed. "Anyways, it's up to you. If you won't go, then I don't think I will be going too".

"Ok, let me see what can be done," Komal replied, still unsure what she would say to Rahul.

Komal spent the entire day thinking of a plan on how she should tell Rahul about the party. "It's an office success party. And I am a part of that success," her inner voice said. But then she thought, "Rahul never seeks my permission to go to his office parties. So why should I? Besides it's not like I am going with a specific someone. The entire office will be there". And so she finally decided... she would lie to Rahul!

She made up her mind and the plan was set. She called Rahul. Ring, ring!

"Little busy," Rahul picked up the phone and replied before she could say anything.

Komal decided to address the point straight on. "Will you be free early today?"

"Doubtful babe," he said.

"Listen...you remember Rashmi right? My college friend," she said, rolling the dice.

"Yes why," Rahul replied, still busy with his work.

"You see, Rashimi has organized a small get-together today at her home for some of us old friends. I am thinking of going there. Will stay there tonight..will it be okay?" Komal said in one breath.

"Yeah sure. I will call you later. Bye," Rahul replied sounding unbothered.

"Ok bye...love you!!" Komal replied, hiding her excitement.

"Phew!" Komal exclaimed. That was easy. She called Rashmi immediately and disclosed to her the plan, to which Rashmi obliged. So the plan was set and Komal rushed straight to Ajit's office cabin.

"Mr. Ajit! When will you pick me up?" she said, sounding excited.

"Oh ho ho! So he finally allowed you...great," Ajit said, as he too got excited."Get ready for a wild party then!"

"But you need to drop me in my room before 12," Komal said, keeping in mind that her room owner will be closing the gates by midnight.

"No worries ma'am... be ready by 7 PM. I will pick you up then," he replied, sounding assuring.

---------------

At 6 PM, Komal still could not make up her mind on what she should wear to the party. Finally, she decided she would wear the skin-tight black V-neck sheath dress which Rahul gifted her on her last birthday. While showering, Komal could not help but see this party as more of a date with Ajit. A shiver ran through her body and she felt excited. She stepped out of the shower and stood naked in front of the mirror, admiring her curves. She was glad she visited the parlor 2 days back and had her hair and eyebrows done. Still standing in front of the mirror, she slowly slid into her red tanga panties and her red push up bra. Feeling a tingling sensation in her stomach, she smiled. This night was gonna be wild.

It was exactly 6.56 PM when Ajit sent a missed call from outside her room. Komal came out in the next 5 minutes.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my...look at you!!" an awestruck Ajit with eyes wide open said.

Komal looked stunning in the tight black dress with high stilettos and it did justice to her heavenly curves.

"You're looking good yourself," she replied, trying not to show just how impressed she was with the handsome man in front of her.

"I know, I always look good," Ajit replied, trying to sound cool. "Now, let's go... we're late!"

They reached the pub. Ajit parked his car at the utmost end of the parking area as the area was almost full. He held Komal's hand as they entered the mall where the pub was located. While moving up the escalator, Ajit could not keep his eyes off Komal's beautiful heart-shaped ass. He wished desperately that he could dip his face deep into that ass crack of hers, and he tried to control his inhibition as he almost had a hard-on now.

As they entered the pub, they could see their other colleagues already enjoying the party in a secluded corner of the pub booked exclusively for the team. Komal and Ajit went in and greeted their co-workers. Komal sat down with the other lady workers, whereas Ajit went straight to where the guys were sitting and snatched up a glass of whiskey.

The party was on and everyone was enjoying the night. Occasionally Komal would look towards Ajit only to find him staring back at her. However, they both kept their distance so the co-workers would not make up any new stories. Komal had ordered a cocktail for herself and was slowly sipping it as she chatted with the other ladies.

"Hey look at Ajit, searching for his darling friend," one of the ladies said as all the other girls giggled.

Komal smiled, while her face turned red of embarrassment. "Oh please!"

"Oh I don't mind...you guys look good as a couple. Think about what his dick looks like," said another lady. All the other girls again giggled and Komal joined in this time.

"Come on guys...it's not what you think! We are just good friends," Komal said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Friends with benefits, ha!" All the other ladies burst out laughing.

Just then, Ajit walked over to the table. "Hi girls," he said. "Mind if I steal this beautiful lady from you?"

"Oh, she is all yours," said all the ladies in a chorus.

Ajit took Komal's hand and guided her to the nearest bar stool.

"Two whiskeys, 30mL please," Ajit said pointing at the bartender.

"Two? I am not getting drunk!" Komal said, trying to sound assertive.

"Did you forget? I told you once we will drink together someday, and well, today is the day. Don't worry, you won't get drunk. Even if you do I am here to drop you home safely," Ajit said while holding her hand.

And so the night began. Komal and Ajit started drinking glass after glass until it was 9 PM when the DJ began his show. Slowly, all the coworkers made their way to the dance floor.

"Come on...let's have some fun," Ajit said, inviting her to the dance floor.

"They would make up stories again," Komal replied, pointing towards their colleagues.

"Ahh, don't worry Komal. Look at them, they all are drunk and see they are dancing with each other," Ajit replied, sounding desperate to get her to the dance floor.

Komal noticed that all the co-workers were dancing together, getting touchy and feely with each other. Then suddenly her phone rang. It was Rahul. Good thing Komal had earlier dropped a message to Rahul saying she might not be available, as she was helping Rashmi in the kitchen. Ajit saw the phone ringing, immediately took it from Komal's hand, and switched it off.

"Hey! What was that all about?" Komal asked, shocked, as she got up from her seat.

"Enjoy the night Komal. Come on, let's go," Ajit said as he pulled her to the dance floor.

It was too crowded. "Hey Ajit! Let me warn you, I am a very poor dancer," said Komal, as she tried to wiggle her body to the beat.

"Don't worry, I will guide you," said Ajit, holding her by her waist.

They kept on dancing to the different songs played by the DJ all while laughing and holding each other. Komal was already feeling a little tipsy after all the drinking, and dancing on the dance floor only made it worse. But she knew the night had just started and was not ready to give up yet. She told Ajit that she wanted to try some shots. They went to the bar counter and ordered four tequila shots. They took two shots each and laughed. Komal understood Ajit was a hardcore drinker, as he seemed completely sober even after having to drink the entire night. She wanted to get him drunk too.

"Hey, I dare you to drink 10 shots in one go," she challenged Ajit.

"Dare me? Ok, but what am I getting in return?" replied Ajit.

"Whatever you say," Komal replied, trying to sound a little naughty.

Ajit got the cue and understood he had to make a move. "I'll need two kisses from you on each of my cheeks. One when I complete nine shots and the other after I do ten."

"Hmm...okay. But you can't pause in the middle," a confident Komal replied.

And so the table was set. Ten tequila shots were placed on the bar counter and Ajit was ready to go. He had been nicknamed the "Tank" back in his college days for his unmatchable drinking capacity, so he knew this was a piece of cake.

Ajit quickly downed the first nine shots. He looked towards Komal, leaning his face forward towards her and pointing at his right cheek with his finger. Without any hesitation, Komal planted the first kiss. Ajit's blood rushed from his head to his groin, and the touch of her lips gave Ajit an immediate hard-on.

Time to go for the last shot. Without wasting any time Ajit gulped the tenth shot and closed his eyes for the second kiss, pointing towards his left cheek. Komal leaned forward, but just as she was about to put her lips on his cheek, the playboy made his move and turned his face so that his lips touched hers. Komal jumped back but it was too late; she had already planted the kiss on his lips. She mockingly started hitting Ajit, who was laughing his heart out.

"You..." Komal said, mockingly hitting Ajit on the shoulder.

"Haha, sorry. That was fun. Now let's go dance," Ajit said, still smiling on his triumph.

They resumed their dancing, only this time Ajit was not holding back. He held Komal by her waist and pulled her close enough such that her stomach was touching just above his private area. They kept dancing until they felt tired, and finally she leaned her head against Ajit's broad chest. Ajit had already opened two of his shirt buttons to let off some heat, and Komal could smell the manly aroma emitting from Ajit's body, which was all covered in sweat by now.

While still holding Komal in a strong embrace, Ajit moved his hands up and down Komal's back, making sure not to touch her ass. Komal too felt a sudden urge in her body and a heat was building up in her private areas. She slowly moved her hands towards Ajit's chest and started exploring his hairy chest. This was enough for Ajit to get him a hard-on again. Only this time, it was not only him who felt his tool harden but Komal as well, as it pushed against her stomach. Komal looked at her watch and whispered in Ajit's ear.

"Hey... let's go. It's late."

"It's 10:30 only. You will be in your room by 12, don't worry," Ajit said, still holding her tightly as they continued their dancing.

"No, let's go," Komal replied, breaking the embrace.

Ajit was not ready to go, as he was just starting to have some fun. But he had to listen. So they bid farewell to the others and left the pub. Komal paced ahead of him towards the car, giving Ajit an uneasy feeling. He felt that Komal might have not liked what happened on the dance floor.

It was already dark outside and most of the cars in the parking area had left. The area where Ajit had his car parked was now completely dark as the bulb in that area was switched off. He sat in the car and opened the door for Komal. They did not say anything to each other. Just when Ajit was about to start the car, he could feel Komal staring at him.

He turned his head and that's when Komal jumped from her seat and started to wildly smooch Ajit. She nibbled on his lips while caressing his hair. Ajit had no time to think about what was happening and went along with her. Ajit broke the kiss and went for her neck, gently kissing it, biting her chin. He then again locked his lips with hers and this time they got their tongues involved. They both knew this was passion...pure, wild passion.

Finally after kissing and exchanging saliva for more than 10 minutes, Komal opened her mouth and said, "Let's go for a drive."

"Now? Won't you be late?" Ajit said, looking at his watch.

"Yes, now. Don't worry, I have time," replied Komal, trying to control her heavy breathing.

"Ok," Ajit replied with a smirk on his face. He was excited about what was to come.

And so they drove towards the empty highway.

It was 11:15 PM and the road was almost empty. Ajit drove his SUV to the nearest highway which he knew would be empty by now. He was thinking of a plan of how and where to stop the car so that they could resume their play when suddenly he felt Komal's hand rubbing against his chest.

"Ajit, promise me you won't discuss this with anyone," she said, looking towards him.

"What? Of course I won't," he replied, adding, "Can I touch your boobs?"

Without wasting any time, Komal reached for her boobs and pulled them out above her dress. Ajit immediately exhaled as he looked in awe at the beauty in front of him. He could not make out the color of her nipples in the darkness of the car, but he desperately wanted to know what they looked like soon. He reached straight for the left boob with his left hand and started playing with it, while his other hand stayed on the wheel, steering. By this time his dick was erect. Komal was still playing with his hairy chest, moaning as Ajit pinched her nipples.

"I would love to bite those nipples," Ajit said, driving the car and staring at her boobs simultaneously.

"Play with them Ajit...!" Komal moaned, breathing heavily.

By now, Komal had loosened all the buttons on Ajit's shirt, revealing his hairy chest completely. She grabbed his left hand and placed it back onto the steering wheel. Then, still sitting on her seat, she leaned her face over to Ajit's chest, sniffing and licking it. His manly aroma was making her moist down in her pussy. She slowly brought her hands down his stomach and unhooked Ajit's belt.

Ajit knew what was coming. Excitement ran through his body from head to toe. "Wait, Komal. I think I should park the car somewhere," said Ajit.

"No, don't you dare... Keep driving," Komal replied, still busy licking his chest. She unzipped his pants, slowly sliding her right hand beneath his underwear and pulling out the monster hiding inside. As soon as she held his dick in her hand, she exhaled deeply. It was so big she was not able to wrap her fingers around it. She immediately reached for his phone and turned on the flashlight to check out the monster.

She was awestruck. She knew his reputation was not a lie after all. She smirked, as she realized that she was about to tame the monster. Komal could not help but compare this monster with Rahul's. Rahul too had a fairly large dick and he would always keep it shaved and clean, just like a baby penis. But this monster here was hairy. It had hair protruding out of the underwear below the shaft and was dark brown with a reddish circumcised head. Komal's mouth began watering at the sight of this monster and she knew she had to taste it.

She began stroking his shaft using her right hand. Meanwhile, Ajit again took his left hand and placed his middle finger inside Komal's mouth, which she sucked upon wildly as she stroked his dick. Ajit's dick was hard and ready now. Komal leaned down and placed a kiss on his shaft and licked the precum off the tip of his dick. She then got up and locked her lips onto his cock, looking up into his eyes with an expression of ecstasy. In a flash, she slid the rest of his dick inside her mouth.

Oh finally, the blowjob I've been waiting so long for, thought Ajit as he jerked at Komal's sudden movement.

Komal licked his dick from top to bottom, her tongue leaving no part of it untouched. The pungent smell from his sweaty shaft was turning her on, and she felt like chewing it up and biting it.

Meanwhile, Ajit couldn't bear it any longer and he used his left hand to hold her hair, con-trolling her movements. He moved her head up and down his dick quickly, slowing the pace as he wished. He pulled her head up to place a kiss on her lips before putting her mouth back to work, all while he was still driving. Komal cooperated, showing off her blowjob skills.

"Ugh!!" choked Komal, as Ajit pressed her head deep onto his cock.

Komal was deepthroating Ajit's cock now. She gagged two times but continued the movement. Her mouth was full of saliva now and Ajit's dick was completely drenched in it. Ajit pulled her head up, smooching her and licking up her saliva before he pushed her head down again.

She had been sucking his dick for more than twelve minutes now, and now Ajit let Komal control the pace again. She would swallow his six-inch long dick entirely in one go and then again come up again, swiftly licking the circumcised head. She would again lick down the shaft, gripping the shaft of Ajit's dick with her right hand, before taking it inside her mouth again. Soon, Ajit felt a tingling in his balls. It was time...he was about to let it out...he was going to COME.

"Komal babe, I am coming ...aahhhh," he said, breathing heavily.

"Mmm... do it," she managed to say with his dick in her mouth.

Ajit pushed the brakes on the car just before he ejected a thick load of sperm inside Komal's mouth. Komal swallowed as much as she could and let the remainder fall down onto his pants. She got up and gave Ajit a long kiss on the lips. Then she slid his dick under his underpants, zipped up his pants, and redid his shirt buttons.

"Liked it," Komal said, smiling, as she placed her boobs inside her bra.

"Man, you are a pro," Ajit replied, still breathing heavily.

"Hmmm... Now come on, drop me home," she said.

"Yes ma'am", replied Ajit, starting the car.

And so they drove back home. Ajit dropped her home at 11:57 pm, as promised. They gave each other a farewell kiss and pledged to keep this memorable night a secret.

Komal took her shower and went straight to the bed.

She switched her phone on and checked for messages from Rahul. There were none. But immediately, messages came in from Ajit.

Ajit: Hey, thanks for tonight...that was one of the best moments I've ever experienced.

Komal: You're welcome and thanks to you too... It was one of the best moments for me as well.

Ajit: Thanking me...Why? You were the star today... I did nothing... I just laid back and enjoyed (Wink emoji)...maybe next time I can return the favor.

Komal: Hmmm let me think about it (devil emoji and winky emoji)

Ajit: Now rest you did good (winks)...Good night!

Komal: Good night.

Komal laid back on her bed and recalled the night's events. She smiled. The taste of Ajit's sperm was still fresh in her tongue. She could still smell his manly aroma and the odor from his dick. This made her wet and she slid her hand inside her panty touching her moist pussy as if asking it to be patient. She had tamed the playboy. The Casanova was hers to use now.

She again opened her What
sApp and dropped a message to Rahul.

Komal: Hey Jaanu...sorry couldn't pick up your call earlier. I was busy cooking with Rashmi. We had lots of fun tonight. Hope to see you tomorrow. Good night! Love you!]]>
"Good morning, Jaan. Ready to go to the office?" Rahul greeted over the phone as he searched for his bike key, somewhere amongst his office files.

"Good morning, Jaanu. Packing my lunch now, Uber will be here soon. You ready?" Komal replied.

"Yeah, searching for my keys...got it!!" he said, feeling relieved as he found the keys.

"So...are you going to be free early today?" Komal asked, hopefully.

"Doubtful! I have a client meeting today," he replied.

"As expected," she uttered meekly, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry Jaan, I have to go now, it's getting late," Rahul hung up the phone as he started his bike ready to hit the road.

"Bye," she muttered.

Rahul worked in a well-known MNC as a marketing executive. He was a very conservative guy and had a positive view of everything. His girlfriend Komal was a bank teller in a well-known bank here in Kolkata. Rahul and Komal had been a couple for the past five years. They were classmates back in their post-graduate years and their relationship started from the 2nd semester when Rahul proposed Komal in front of the entire class.

In the first two years, their relationship bloomed fast and wild, their love growing stronger with each day passing. For Rahul this was his 1st relationship whereas for Komal he was her 2nd. Komal broke up with her previous lover when she was in her 2nd semester after meeting Rahul. Rahul lost his virginity to Komal at the age of 26, and Komal lost it to her previous lover at the age of 23. For Komal, Rahul was her 2nd. The romance between the couple was spicy and they would always look for chances to make out, whether it be in the bathroom, the cafeteria, the empty classroom, the staircase, etc.

Sex was over the top for both of the lovebirds in the initial years of their relationship. Rahul would always look for chances to get his hands inside her panty and feel her sexy trimmed pussy. Komal, on the other hand, never left any opportunity to give Rahul a handjob or blowjob whenever she got the chance.

Their relationship was romantic for all of college. By the end of their final semester, both of them got their well-deserved placement and life seemed sorted out for the couple.

"Madam, should I start the trip?" asked the Uber driver, pulling down his seat belt and looking at Komal through the rearview mirror.

"Yes Bhaiya," she replied, looking outside the window, still frustrated after her conversation with Rahul.

While on her way to the office, Komal wondered how all the romance and fun had disappeared from her relationship. Even though Rahul was still the same caring and loving boyfriend he was 4 years back, the spice in her relationship was no longer alive. She still loved him with all her heart, but she knew that something had gone missing. Rahul had become a very busy person and he hardly gave her time. They no longer went out for movies, no romantic dates, no clubbing, no long drives ...nothing. Even the conversation over the phone now was limited to yes/no, ok, and hmmm, and WhatsApp texting had replaced long calls. She could not remember the last time she held his dick in her hands, or he played with her boobs. Now whatever spice they had left in the relationship was limited to sharing nudes over WhatsApp.

Komal knew something was missing and that she had an unattended need inside her.

Komal was a typical Indian beauty who would turn 29 next month. Her skin color was light brown with a beautiful curvy figure. She did not prefer to work out but had a naturally shaped figure. She was 36-29-38, 5'6'' with a medium length bob haircut. The most attractive part of her body was her perfect heart-shaped ass that made heads turn. There was no doubt Komal had her fair share of men trying to impress her over the years, but she would always turn them down because of her relationship. Even so, Komal had been to some "friendly" dates, unknown to Rahul, with few of her colleagues and handsome customers from her bank who would occasionally ask her out. This was her way of expressing her lively personality. She believed she loved Rahul, and so these outings and texting over the phone with other men seemed harmless. Truth be told, she liked men ogling her, texting her, and begging her for dates. It made her feel happy, relevant, sexy, and proud. But all of this was unknown to Rahul, even if she had to lie to him.

Komal had been transferred to a new branch in the city last month, and she was still accommodating to the new environment. As soon as she joined the branch, all eyes were on the "new sexy thing," the nickname given to her by her new colleagues. Among these colleagues was Ajit, the Assistant Operations Manager. The ladies in the branch warned Komal about Ajit and told her to watch out for the branch Casanova.

Ajit was a 32-year-old man who hailed from Jharkhand. He stood at 5'11'' with stylish facial hair, a bulky man with broad shoulders. The best thing about Ajit was that he was a smooth talker and knew his way around women. He had this mysterious aura about him and women dug that.

He also had a weakness for women and never failed in impressing any girl he sets his eye upon. At this time, his eyes were set on Komal. In addition to her sexy figure, her innocence and hard-to-get attitude attracted Ajit from the day he first saw her. Komal was not unaware of Ajit's intention as she caught him blankly staring at her quite sometimes, and she was also aware that even though her lady colleagues did warn her about him, they were also drooling for him. She thought that maybe these ladies wanted her out of their way, as she was the new heartthrob of the branch and the most beautiful and classy lady there.

---------------

"Good morning, Komal," Ajit greeted, trying to find a way to start a conversation.

"Morning," Komal replied with a smile.

"So how is the day going? Comfortable in the new branch?" he asked, slowly entering Komal's office cabin.

"Yeah...I am trying to pick up whatever I can," she replied with a little uncertainty in her voice.

"Ok good...so if you need anything just let me know...my cabin is just next to yours," he told her trying to let her know that he is there as a friend and is the go-to guy for her.

"Sure," Komal replied with a smile.

Ajit realized that it is going to be hard to get close to this girl. "The first impression is the last impression, dude," he told himself as his mind started racing, trying to continue the conversation. So he asked, "Have you introduced yourself to your new colleagues?"

Komal looked up and replied, "No... not all of them." She knew Ajit was trying hard to impress her.

"Hmmm fine...let me do the honor. Come on, pick your ass up from the chair and come," Ajit said with excitement.

Komal was surprised to hear the word "ass" all of a sudden. That was Ajit testing the waters. Typical playboy. She followed him as he gently introduced her to every member of the branch.

Even though he was a playboy by nature he never actually made any advance towards any of his lady colleagues. He was aware of the consequences, should any complaint come against him. But he knew the moment he set his eyes on Komal that this time he wouldn't be able to resist. He must tap this ass.

"So now everyone knows you. Don't worry, you will remember their names gradually," Ajit assured her after introducing her to every individual in the branch.

"Here take my phone number. Call me in case you need any help," he added.

"Ok sure, thanks," Komal accepted his business card with a smile and they both went back to their cabins.

After returning from the office that day Komal could not shake the thought of Ajit from her mind. She was not able to understand if he was a playboy trying his luck or if he was a genuine gentleman. Either way she was happy to have some attention. "This will be fun," she thought.

She checked her phone and saw a WhatsApp message from Rahul.

Rahul: Hey Jaan how was your day?

Komal: It was nice. How was yours?

Rahul: Busy... I think I have cracked a big deal. I might be on for a promotion in the coming months. The client today was happy with the idea I pitched.

Komal: Hmm good for you.

Rahul: You're not happy.

Komal: Of course I am happy. But I am tired, Jaanu, I am going to sleep now. Good night.

Rahul: Night Jaan.

"Not a single call the entire day, no text, and now he comes and discusses his great achievement," she thought to herself.

---------------

Days went on and Komal's frustration kept on growing. It had been 6 months since Komal joined this branch and now she had some good friends there. She was now familiar with most of the male colleagues in the branch and some of them even started exchanging text messages with her. But the thing that bothered her was that Ajit had hardly made any advances towards her, even though he would often ask her about her well being.

"Komal, madam, the Branch Manager has called you," said the office boy.

Komal was unaware as to why the Boss had called her. Soon she got the answer as a furious branch manager started yelling upon her for a wrong transaction. It was a mistake that could cause her half of her salary for the month. Komal came back to her office cabin with teary eyes and felt quite stressed. She called Rahul to get some motivation, but he declined her call. She felt terrible and didn't know what to do.

"Oye madam, what happened? Why the teary eyes?" asked Ajit.

"Nothing," Komal replied, wiping her tears.

"Don't worry you can tell me...I saw you coming out of the Branch Manager's cabin". He tried to console her as he forwarded his handkerchief to wipe off her tears.

Komal told him the issue, and Ajit began laughing.

"Hahaha that's it...Oh, man! Oh, man! Oh, man. What is the customer's name whose transaction has been misplaced and with whose account?"

Komal gave him the details.

"Ok. Now stop crying — a pretty girl like you is not supposed to cry. Give me 5 minutes." As he said this, he went straight to the Branch Manager's room.

Komal was scared and confused thinking about what he is up to. What might they be discussing inside the Branch Manager's room? It had been 5 minutes already and she thought of checking on them, when Ajit walked out of the manager's room and came straight to her and said, "Ok, Komal darling, the problem is sorted. Now go home and relax."

"What? How? What did you do?" Komal said, a broad smile appearing on her face.

Ajit saw her excitement and tried to cheer her up a little more. "Just went in, picked him up by his collar, and warned him not to disturb you again."

"Hahaha," Komal laughed, imagining what it would have looked like.

"Finally, you laugh. Don't worry, I will handle this. I have requested the manager to let me sort it out. He understood," Ajit consoled her.

"Thank you so much, Ajit." She knew she was grateful and just wanted to hug him. Instead she pulled out her phone and started booking an Uber.

Ajit noticed this and asked "Hey, why are you getting an Uber?"

"How will I get home?" she replied as she ran her fingers through the app.

"I thought your boyfriend picks you up every day," Ajit asked her, trying to make it sound not like a question.

Komal stopped searching and replied, "I wished he did."

Ajit instantly read her face and saw a window of opportunity. "Where do you stay?" he asked.

Komal replied, "Park Street."

"Oh that's great. I can drop you there. It will be on my way home," Ajit insisted trying, to hide his excitement.

Komal thought for a while and finally said, "Ok."

That night she just could not stop feeling grateful for Ajit. He was a courageous gentleman, to be able to go up to the branch manager and make him understand. She checked her WhatsApp and saw messages lined up from Rahul. She was just about to reply when a new message popped up. She jumped up at once in her bed. It was a WhatsApp from Ajit.

Ajit: Hey you ok now?

Komal: Yeah, I am fine thanks to you.

Ajit: That's a good girl...had your dinner?

Komal: Yeah..did you?

Ajit: No I was just finishing my 2nd glass of whiskey.

Komal: Drinking?

Ajit: Yeah...why? Do you mind?

Komal: No I don't...just asked.

Ajit: You want one (winky face and a wine glass emoji).

Komal: Hmm I don't mind (winky face).

Ajit: Ooohooo now you are talking...we will try it someday soon, then.

Komal: Hmmm. We will see, but don't get any ideas now.

And just then a message from Rahul popped up.

Rahul: Hey Jaan you asleep...not replying?

Komal: Hmmm about to sleep I am feeling tired... good night.

After she had lied to Rahul, Komal changed her Whatsapp online last seen settings to invisible, so Rahul wouldn't know that she was still online. Excited, she resumed her chat with Ajit.

---------------

Komal was in a hurry to prepare for work the next morning, as she slept late last night post chatting with Ajit. Ajit could be here any moment now, as he had decided that from now on he would be her permanent Uber. As promised, Ajit was there in time with a smile.

"Good morning dear...looking good," Ajit greeted.

"Morning," Komal replied with a smile as she boarded his SUV.

In the next few months Komal and Ajit became good friends. Ajit would always pick her up from the office and drop her home after. He would make sure to always compliment her on her looks though. They would often chat during late nights on WhatsApp and mostly discuss relationships and love. Komal started to feel that her unattended need was being fulfilled. Both of them would occasionally go out during lunch breaks to nearby restaurants for lunch or usually grab some fast food while coming back home. Komal felt quite happy with her newfound friend.

She introduced Ajit to Rahul once, when Rahul came to her office for some bank account related issue of his (Rahul had an account in the same bank where Komal worked). Though Rahul felt something fishy about the so called "friendship," he trusted Komal to make the right choices.

Also, Komal gave Rahul a good reason not to doubt her, saying, "Ajit has a good knowledge of the banking sector do's and don'ts, and it is important for a girl like me to have a knowledgeable friend/tutor like him". She made him believe Ajit was just a stepping stone and that she had him under control.

---------------

"Oh yeah... yeahhhhh Komal... mmmmm... ," exhaled Ajit as he masturbated to Komal, a big load of cum spurting out his dick for the second time that day. Cleaning himself off, he left the bathroom and returned to his office cabin.

Ajit had become quite frustrated only masturbating to Komal and was quickly running out of patience. In his Casanova career, it never took him so long to fuck someone he so badly desired. He realized it was time to progress his game forward.

While Komal was attending to a customer her cell phone buzzed. It was a WhatsApp text from Ajit. Once the customer left, Komal checked the message and giggled. It was a non-veg joke about dicks. Seeing Komal laugh in her cabin, Ajit knew he had just gotten the green signal for his next phase.

Komal: Nice joke

Ajit: Just trying to minimize the stress of our branch, "sexy thing".

Komal: Sexy thing??

Ajit: Yes you, the gorgeous sexy thing...I know you know that's your nickname.

Komal: Says who "the Casanova".

Ajit: Oh ho!! So now we're going to play the nickname games huh...you want more of those jokes I got plenty in stock. (winky face)

Komal: I have customers now.

Ajit: Ok sorry.

Komal: But you can send me them later tonight (winky face)

Ajit: Ooooo naughty huh!!

Komal: By the way, Rahul will pick me up from the office today so you can leave.

Ajit: No problem.

Komal had almost forgotten what it was like to be on a date with her boyfriend because it had been so long. After work, the two of them went to a small fast food counter near her room and the date ended within an hour with Rahul dropping Komal home. She could see Rahul's displeasure whenever she would mention Ajit in between their conversation. Even she realized she could not discuss anything about her day without mentioning Ajit's name. Ajit had become an integral part of her daily life now.

At night, Komal impatiently checked her WhatsApp while lying in bed. No messages from Ajit yet.

Komal was confused. She couldn't understand why she was so impatient for Ajit to text her. She asked herself if she was no longer in love with Rahul. No, she told herself, she loves Rahul. Then, what was it that was making her so impatient for Ajit? She struggled for an answer when a message popped up.

Ajit: Hey dear...done with dinner.

Komal: Yep...what about you?

Ajit: Yes...is your boyfriend asleep?

Komal: Yeah...I guess!! Why?

Ajit: Well I thought you had a date tonight.

Komal: Yes we had it and he dropped me home after that.

Ajit: WHAT..? What is a date if you don't spend the night together (shocked emoji)

Komal: A harmless date.

Ajit: Hmmm, I would never understand that...anyways ready for a joke?

Komal: Ok

Ajit: Answer this "What is pink, goes in hard and dry and comes out soft and wet?"

Komal did not have to try hard to answer this riddle. She laughed, imagining a dick, and replied.

Komal: Private part of a man I guess (giggle emoji)

Ajit: You mean a dick

Komal: Hmm I guess

Ajit: Wrong. It's bubble gum. You dirty mind

Komal: Hahahahah

And Komal could not stop laughing. They shared non-veg jokes over WhatsApp all night and discussed random topics before going to sleep at about 3 AM.

With time passing by Komal and Ajit's friendship grew much stronger. The WhatsApp conversations between them were no longer limited to normal chat. They would discuss about intimate personal things, sex, porn, just about everything. Ajit gradually saw that side of Komal which she usually would not feel free to share with anyone. Komal on the other hand found in Ajit the ideal boyfriend which she always longed for. She was still in love with Rahul and knew she would marry him someday, but Ajit was her remedy for an unromantic and frustrated love life. And all this was not unnoticed by their other co-workers. Colleagues started seeing them as a couple and discussion about their growing closeness spread like wildfire.

The news even reached Rahul, who was furious. He asked Komal to stay away from Ajit, who he believed was only planning on getting in her pants. He knew how naïve Komal could be and how easy it was to sweep her off her feet. In a way this was true, as Ajit was leaving no stone unturned by gifting her flowers and complimenting her beauty often. Meanwhile, Komal was impressed with Ajit's way of handling situations, the way he talked, his personality, his style, and most importantly, his unfaltering attraction towards her.

10 months had passed since Komal joined the branch, and with it came the end of the financial year. The bank made a good profit last year and so the Branch Manager planned on throwing a party at one of the well known pubs in the city. So he asked all the employees to leave the office early and report to the venue by 7 PM for a wild night. Ajit knew the time had finally come to make his move.

"Hey, going to the party?" Ajit asked Komal, trying to find out if she had any other plans.

"I don't know...I don't think Rahul would be happy to hear that," Komal replied, hesitating.

"Well...don't tell him then!" Ajit replied, trying to hide his annoyance.

"What if he knows?" she said, still hesitant.

Ajit could see his plans blowing away in the wind. He had to come up with something soon and so he argued, "Oh come on, Komal! He is your boyfriend, not your husband or anything. Besides, this is your life." He sighed. "Anyways, it's up to you. If you won't go, then I don't think I will be going too".

"Ok, let me see what can be done," Komal replied, still unsure what she would say to Rahul.

Komal spent the entire day thinking of a plan on how she should tell Rahul about the party. "It's an office success party. And I am a part of that success," her inner voice said. But then she thought, "Rahul never seeks my permission to go to his office parties. So why should I? Besides it's not like I am going with a specific someone. The entire office will be there". And so she finally decided... she would lie to Rahul!

She made up her mind and the plan was set. She called Rahul. Ring, ring!

"Little busy," Rahul picked up the phone and replied before she could say anything.

Komal decided to address the point straight on. "Will you be free early today?"

"Doubtful babe," he said.

"Listen...you remember Rashmi right? My college friend," she said, rolling the dice.

"Yes why," Rahul replied, still busy with his work.

"You see, Rashimi has organized a small get-together today at her home for some of us old friends. I am thinking of going there. Will stay there tonight..will it be okay?" Komal said in one breath.

"Yeah sure. I will call you later. Bye," Rahul replied sounding unbothered.

"Ok bye...love you!!" Komal replied, hiding her excitement.

"Phew!" Komal exclaimed. That was easy. She called Rashmi immediately and disclosed to her the plan, to which Rashmi obliged. So the plan was set and Komal rushed straight to Ajit's office cabin.

"Mr. Ajit! When will you pick me up?" she said, sounding excited.

"Oh ho ho! So he finally allowed you...great," Ajit said, as he too got excited."Get ready for a wild party then!"

"But you need to drop me in my room before 12," Komal said, keeping in mind that her room owner will be closing the gates by midnight.

"No worries ma'am... be ready by 7 PM. I will pick you up then," he replied, sounding assuring.

---------------

At 6 PM, Komal still could not make up her mind on what she should wear to the party. Finally, she decided she would wear the skin-tight black V-neck sheath dress which Rahul gifted her on her last birthday. While showering, Komal could not help but see this party as more of a date with Ajit. A shiver ran through her body and she felt excited. She stepped out of the shower and stood naked in front of the mirror, admiring her curves. She was glad she visited the parlor 2 days back and had her hair and eyebrows done. Still standing in front of the mirror, she slowly slid into her red tanga panties and her red push up bra. Feeling a tingling sensation in her stomach, she smiled. This night was gonna be wild.

It was exactly 6.56 PM when Ajit sent a missed call from outside her room. Komal came out in the next 5 minutes.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my...look at you!!" an awestruck Ajit with eyes wide open said.

Komal looked stunning in the tight black dress with high stilettos and it did justice to her heavenly curves.

"You're looking good yourself," she replied, trying not to show just how impressed she was with the handsome man in front of her.

"I know, I always look good," Ajit replied, trying to sound cool. "Now, let's go... we're late!"

They reached the pub. Ajit parked his car at the utmost end of the parking area as the area was almost full. He held Komal's hand as they entered the mall where the pub was located. While moving up the escalator, Ajit could not keep his eyes off Komal's beautiful heart-shaped ass. He wished desperately that he could dip his face deep into that ass crack of hers, and he tried to control his inhibition as he almost had a hard-on now.

As they entered the pub, they could see their other colleagues already enjoying the party in a secluded corner of the pub booked exclusively for the team. Komal and Ajit went in and greeted their co-workers. Komal sat down with the other lady workers, whereas Ajit went straight to where the guys were sitting and snatched up a glass of whiskey.

The party was on and everyone was enjoying the night. Occasionally Komal would look towards Ajit only to find him staring back at her. However, they both kept their distance so the co-workers would not make up any new stories. Komal had ordered a cocktail for herself and was slowly sipping it as she chatted with the other ladies.

"Hey look at Ajit, searching for his darling friend," one of the ladies said as all the other girls giggled.

Komal smiled, while her face turned red of embarrassment. "Oh please!"

"Oh I don't mind...you guys look good as a couple. Think about what his dick looks like," said another lady. All the other girls again giggled and Komal joined in this time.

"Come on guys...it's not what you think! We are just good friends," Komal said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Friends with benefits, ha!" All the other ladies burst out laughing.

Just then, Ajit walked over to the table. "Hi girls," he said. "Mind if I steal this beautiful lady from you?"

"Oh, she is all yours," said all the ladies in a chorus.

Ajit took Komal's hand and guided her to the nearest bar stool.

"Two whiskeys, 30mL please," Ajit said pointing at the bartender.

"Two? I am not getting drunk!" Komal said, trying to sound assertive.

"Did you forget? I told you once we will drink together someday, and well, today is the day. Don't worry, you won't get drunk. Even if you do I am here to drop you home safely," Ajit said while holding her hand.

And so the night began. Komal and Ajit started drinking glass after glass until it was 9 PM when the DJ began his show. Slowly, all the coworkers made their way to the dance floor.

"Come on...let's have some fun," Ajit said, inviting her to the dance floor.

"They would make up stories again," Komal replied, pointing towards their colleagues.

"Ahh, don't worry Komal. Look at them, they all are drunk and see they are dancing with each other," Ajit replied, sounding desperate to get her to the dance floor.

Komal noticed that all the co-workers were dancing together, getting touchy and feely with each other. Then suddenly her phone rang. It was Rahul. Good thing Komal had earlier dropped a message to Rahul saying she might not be available, as she was helping Rashmi in the kitchen. Ajit saw the phone ringing, immediately took it from Komal's hand, and switched it off.

"Hey! What was that all about?" Komal asked, shocked, as she got up from her seat.

"Enjoy the night Komal. Come on, let's go," Ajit said as he pulled her to the dance floor.

It was too crowded. "Hey Ajit! Let me warn you, I am a very poor dancer," said Komal, as she tried to wiggle her body to the beat.

"Don't worry, I will guide you," said Ajit, holding her by her waist.

They kept on dancing to the different songs played by the DJ all while laughing and holding each other. Komal was already feeling a little tipsy after all the drinking, and dancing on the dance floor only made it worse. But she knew the night had just started and was not ready to give up yet. She told Ajit that she wanted to try some shots. They went to the bar counter and ordered four tequila shots. They took two shots each and laughed. Komal understood Ajit was a hardcore drinker, as he seemed completely sober even after having to drink the entire night. She wanted to get him drunk too.

"Hey, I dare you to drink 10 shots in one go," she challenged Ajit.

"Dare me? Ok, but what am I getting in return?" replied Ajit.

"Whatever you say," Komal replied, trying to sound a little naughty.

Ajit got the cue and understood he had to make a move. "I'll need two kisses from you on each of my cheeks. One when I complete nine shots and the other after I do ten."

"Hmm...okay. But you can't pause in the middle," a confident Komal replied.

And so the table was set. Ten tequila shots were placed on the bar counter and Ajit was ready to go. He had been nicknamed the "Tank" back in his college days for his unmatchable drinking capacity, so he knew this was a piece of cake.

Ajit quickly downed the first nine shots. He looked towards Komal, leaning his face forward towards her and pointing at his right cheek with his finger. Without any hesitation, Komal planted the first kiss. Ajit's blood rushed from his head to his groin, and the touch of her lips gave Ajit an immediate hard-on.

Time to go for the last shot. Without wasting any time Ajit gulped the tenth shot and closed his eyes for the second kiss, pointing towards his left cheek. Komal leaned forward, but just as she was about to put her lips on his cheek, the playboy made his move and turned his face so that his lips touched hers. Komal jumped back but it was too late; she had already planted the kiss on his lips. She mockingly started hitting Ajit, who was laughing his heart out.

"You..." Komal said, mockingly hitting Ajit on the shoulder.

"Haha, sorry. That was fun. Now let's go dance," Ajit said, still smiling on his triumph.

They resumed their dancing, only this time Ajit was not holding back. He held Komal by her waist and pulled her close enough such that her stomach was touching just above his private area. They kept dancing until they felt tired, and finally she leaned her head against Ajit's broad chest. Ajit had already opened two of his shirt buttons to let off some heat, and Komal could smell the manly aroma emitting from Ajit's body, which was all covered in sweat by now.

While still holding Komal in a strong embrace, Ajit moved his hands up and down Komal's back, making sure not to touch her ass. Komal too felt a sudden urge in her body and a heat was building up in her private areas. She slowly moved her hands towards Ajit's chest and started exploring his hairy chest. This was enough for Ajit to get him a hard-on again. Only this time, it was not only him who felt his tool harden but Komal as well, as it pushed against her stomach. Komal looked at her watch and whispered in Ajit's ear.

"Hey... let's go. It's late."

"It's 10:30 only. You will be in your room by 12, don't worry," Ajit said, still holding her tightly as they continued their dancing.

"No, let's go," Komal replied, breaking the embrace.

Ajit was not ready to go, as he was just starting to have some fun. But he had to listen. So they bid farewell to the others and left the pub. Komal paced ahead of him towards the car, giving Ajit an uneasy feeling. He felt that Komal might have not liked what happened on the dance floor.

It was already dark outside and most of the cars in the parking area had left. The area where Ajit had his car parked was now completely dark as the bulb in that area was switched off. He sat in the car and opened the door for Komal. They did not say anything to each other. Just when Ajit was about to start the car, he could feel Komal staring at him.

He turned his head and that's when Komal jumped from her seat and started to wildly smooch Ajit. She nibbled on his lips while caressing his hair. Ajit had no time to think about what was happening and went along with her. Ajit broke the kiss and went for her neck, gently kissing it, biting her chin. He then again locked his lips with hers and this time they got their tongues involved. They both knew this was passion...pure, wild passion.

Finally after kissing and exchanging saliva for more than 10 minutes, Komal opened her mouth and said, "Let's go for a drive."

"Now? Won't you be late?" Ajit said, looking at his watch.

"Yes, now. Don't worry, I have time," replied Komal, trying to control her heavy breathing.

"Ok," Ajit replied with a smirk on his face. He was excited about what was to come.

And so they drove towards the empty highway.

It was 11:15 PM and the road was almost empty. Ajit drove his SUV to the nearest highway which he knew would be empty by now. He was thinking of a plan of how and where to stop the car so that they could resume their play when suddenly he felt Komal's hand rubbing against his chest.

"Ajit, promise me you won't discuss this with anyone," she said, looking towards him.

"What? Of course I won't," he replied, adding, "Can I touch your boobs?"

Without wasting any time, Komal reached for her boobs and pulled them out above her dress. Ajit immediately exhaled as he looked in awe at the beauty in front of him. He could not make out the color of her nipples in the darkness of the car, but he desperately wanted to know what they looked like soon. He reached straight for the left boob with his left hand and started playing with it, while his other hand stayed on the wheel, steering. By this time his dick was erect. Komal was still playing with his hairy chest, moaning as Ajit pinched her nipples.

"I would love to bite those nipples," Ajit said, driving the car and staring at her boobs simultaneously.

"Play with them Ajit...!" Komal moaned, breathing heavily.

By now, Komal had loosened all the buttons on Ajit's shirt, revealing his hairy chest completely. She grabbed his left hand and placed it back onto the steering wheel. Then, still sitting on her seat, she leaned her face over to Ajit's chest, sniffing and licking it. His manly aroma was making her moist down in her pussy. She slowly brought her hands down his stomach and unhooked Ajit's belt.

Ajit knew what was coming. Excitement ran through his body from head to toe. "Wait, Komal. I think I should park the car somewhere," said Ajit.

"No, don't you dare... Keep driving," Komal replied, still busy licking his chest. She unzipped his pants, slowly sliding her right hand beneath his underwear and pulling out the monster hiding inside. As soon as she held his dick in her hand, she exhaled deeply. It was so big she was not able to wrap her fingers around it. She immediately reached for his phone and turned on the flashlight to check out the monster.

She was awestruck. She knew his reputation was not a lie after all. She smirked, as she realized that she was about to tame the monster. Komal could not help but compare this monster with Rahul's. Rahul too had a fairly large dick and he would always keep it shaved and clean, just like a baby penis. But this monster here was hairy. It had hair protruding out of the underwear below the shaft and was dark brown with a reddish circumcised head. Komal's mouth began watering at the sight of this monster and she knew she had to taste it.

She began stroking his shaft using her right hand. Meanwhile, Ajit again took his left hand and placed his middle finger inside Komal's mouth, which she sucked upon wildly as she stroked his dick. Ajit's dick was hard and ready now. Komal leaned down and placed a kiss on his shaft and licked the precum off the tip of his dick. She then got up and locked her lips onto his cock, looking up into his eyes with an expression of ecstasy. In a flash, she slid the rest of his dick inside her mouth.

Oh finally, the blowjob I've been waiting so long for, thought Ajit as he jerked at Komal's sudden movement.

Komal licked his dick from top to bottom, her tongue leaving no part of it untouched. The pungent smell from his sweaty shaft was turning her on, and she felt like chewing it up and biting it.

Meanwhile, Ajit couldn't bear it any longer and he used his left hand to hold her hair, con-trolling her movements. He moved her head up and down his dick quickly, slowing the pace as he wished. He pulled her head up to place a kiss on her lips before putting her mouth back to work, all while he was still driving. Komal cooperated, showing off her blowjob skills.

"Ugh!!" choked Komal, as Ajit pressed her head deep onto his cock.

Komal was deepthroating Ajit's cock now. She gagged two times but continued the movement. Her mouth was full of saliva now and Ajit's dick was completely drenched in it. Ajit pulled her head up, smooching her and licking up her saliva before he pushed her head down again.

She had been sucking his dick for more than twelve minutes now, and now Ajit let Komal control the pace again. She would swallow his six-inch long dick entirely in one go and then again come up again, swiftly licking the circumcised head. She would again lick down the shaft, gripping the shaft of Ajit's dick with her right hand, before taking it inside her mouth again. Soon, Ajit felt a tingling in his balls. It was time...he was about to let it out...he was going to COME.

"Komal babe, I am coming ...aahhhh," he said, breathing heavily.

"Mmm... do it," she managed to say with his dick in her mouth.

Ajit pushed the brakes on the car just before he ejected a thick load of sperm inside Komal's mouth. Komal swallowed as much as she could and let the remainder fall down onto his pants. She got up and gave Ajit a long kiss on the lips. Then she slid his dick under his underpants, zipped up his pants, and redid his shirt buttons.

"Liked it," Komal said, smiling, as she placed her boobs inside her bra.

"Man, you are a pro," Ajit replied, still breathing heavily.

"Hmmm... Now come on, drop me home," she said.

"Yes ma'am", replied Ajit, starting the car.

And so they drove back home. Ajit dropped her home at 11:57 pm, as promised. They gave each other a farewell kiss and pledged to keep this memorable night a secret.

Komal took her shower and went straight to the bed.

She switched her phone on and checked for messages from Rahul. There were none. But immediately, messages came in from Ajit.

Ajit: Hey, thanks for tonight...that was one of the best moments I've ever experienced.

Komal: You're welcome and thanks to you too... It was one of the best moments for me as well.

Ajit: Thanking me...Why? You were the star today... I did nothing... I just laid back and enjoyed (Wink emoji)...maybe next time I can return the favor.

Komal: Hmmm let me think about it (devil emoji and winky emoji)

Ajit: Now rest you did good (winks)...Good night!

Komal: Good night.

Komal laid back on her bed and recalled the night's events. She smiled. The taste of Ajit's sperm was still fresh in her tongue. She could still smell his manly aroma and the odor from his dick. This made her wet and she slid her hand inside her panty touching her moist pussy as if asking it to be patient. She had tamed the playboy. The Casanova was hers to use now.

She again opened her What
sApp and dropped a message to Rahul.

Komal: Hey Jaanu...sorry couldn't pick up your call earlier. I was busy cooking with Rashmi. We had lots of fun tonight. Hope to see you tomorrow. Good night! Love you!]]> <![CDATA[Shubha beauty]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75616.html Mon, 12 Oct 2026 19:57:55 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75616.html
Story by Sivamurugan 85

1. A New Beginning

Subha was twenty-eight years old. She was a beautiful young woman with a charming face, expressive eyes, and a naturally graceful appearance. Her long, dark hair fell well below her shoulders, adding to her beauty. Her eyes were especially attractive, revealing her emotions even when she tried to hide them. Her smile could brighten the mood of anyone around her, and her gentle way of speaking made people feel comfortable in her presence.

She was not someone who depended on expensive clothes or heavy makeup to look beautiful. Even in a simple saree, she carried herself with an elegance that attracted attention. Her fair complexion, well-defined features, and confident yet modest personality made her stand out wherever she went.

But Subha was more than just a pretty face. She was mature, thoughtful, and deeply attached to her family. She respected her parents and believed that marriage was a lifelong commitment. Although she had her own thoughts about love and relationships, she knew that her parents would eventually begin searching for a suitable groom.

Her father had a small business, and her mother was a homemaker. They had been looking for a good alliance for their daughter for some time.

One Sunday morning, Subha was helping her mother in the kitchen when her father called her.

Subha's Father: "Subha, come here for a minute. Your mother and I want to talk to you about something important. We've been thinking about your marriage for quite some time. You're twenty-eight now, and we don't want to rush you into anything, but we feel it's time to start looking seriously. We've received a proposal from a respectable family. The boy is thirty-three years old, and he owns a textile shop. From what we've heard, he's hardworking and responsible. His name is Sakthi. Before we take things any further, we want to know what you think about meeting him."

Subha stopped what she was doing and looked at her father.

Subha: "Appa, I know you've both been thinking about my marriage. I'm not against getting married, and I don't want to disappoint you either. But marriage is a big decision. I don't want us to say yes just because the family is good or because the boy has his own business. I want to meet him, talk to him, and understand what kind of person he is. If he respects me and if we feel comfortable with each other, then I'm willing to consider it. Please don't make a decision on my behalf before I get a chance to know him."

Her mother smiled and came closer.

Subha's Mother: "That's exactly what we want, dear. We aren't going to force you into anything. His family also seems to believe in doing things properly. First, they'll come and meet us. You can talk to Sakthi in front of the family, and if both of you like each other, we can discuss the next step. Your happiness matters more to us than anything else. We want you to have a husband who takes care of you, respects your feelings, and stands beside you throughout your life."

Subha nodded, although a small wave of nervousness passed through her heart.

She had no idea that the man she was about to meet would change not only her future but also the life of someone from her past.

2. Meet Sakthi

Sakthi was thirty-three years old and owned a textile shop in the town. Through years of hard work, he had established a reasonably successful business. He dealt in sarees, dress materials, men's clothing, and other textile products. His shop was doing well, and he had earned a good reputation among his customers.

He was a practical man who believed in hard work and family responsibilities. He was neither excessively talkative nor unfriendly. He preferred to think carefully before making important decisions.

His parents had been asking him to get married for quite some time.

One evening, while Sakthi was checking the accounts in his shop, his father walked in.

Sakthi's Father: "Sakthi, how long are you planning to keep postponing your marriage? You've worked hard to build your business, and we're proud of what you've achieved. But life isn't only about running a shop and making money. You need someone to share your happiness and difficulties with. We've spoken to a family about their daughter. Her name is Subha, and she's twenty-eight. Her parents seem like good people, and they have brought her up well. We haven't promised them anything yet. We simply want you to meet her and see whether you both get along."

Sakthi closed the account book and leaned back in his chair.

Sakthi: "Appa, I'm not avoiding marriage. You know how much time I spend at the shop. Sometimes I open in the morning and don't get home until late at night. I want to make sure that whoever comes into my life understands my responsibilities. I don't expect a wife to agree with everything I say, but I do want us to understand and respect each other. If Subha and her family are comfortable with me, I'm willing to meet them. Let's speak to them first and see how things go."

His father was pleased with the answer.

Sakthi's Father: "That's all we wanted to hear. Her family has agreed to come next Sunday. We'll arrange everything at home. You don't have to pretend to be someone else or try to impress them with your money. Just be yourself, speak honestly, and give the girl a chance to express her thoughts. If this alliance is meant to work, it should begin with mutual respect."

Sakthi smiled and returned to his accounts.

For him, the proposal was a new chapter in life.

For Subha, it was an uncertain step into the future.

Neither of them knew how much the past would matter.

3. The Day of the Bride-Seeing Ceremony

The following Sunday, Subha's house was filled with activity from the morning.

Her mother had prepared sweets and snacks. Her father had arranged the seating in the living room, and relatives had arrived to help welcome the groom's family.

Subha stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom.

She wore a beautiful deep-maroon silk saree with a traditional golden border. The saree complemented her figure and gave her a graceful, mature appearance. A matching blouse fitted neatly at the shoulders and sleeves. Her long black hair had been combed carefully and left partly loose, with a few strands framing her face. Small gold earrings, a delicate chain, and a tiny bindi completed her look.

Her eyes were naturally expressive, and the light makeup around them made them look even more striking. A soft smile appeared on her lips whenever she looked at herself in the mirror, but it disappeared as soon as she remembered that a family was coming to assess her as a potential bride.

Her mother entered the room and looked at her daughter with affection.

Subha's Mother: "Subha, you look lovely today. I know you're nervous, and that's completely natural. Remember, you're not going there for an examination. You're meeting another family, just as they're coming to meet us. Don't worry about whether they'll like your appearance or whether you should say something impressive. Speak naturally, and don't hide your opinions. If Sakthi is a good man, he'll appreciate you for who you are, not just for how you look. Now come downstairs. They've arrived."

Subha took a deep breath and followed her mother.

A few minutes later, Sakthi entered the house with his parents.

He wore a neatly pressed light-blue shirt and dark trousers. His appearance was simple and well-groomed. After exchanging greetings, the families settled down in the living room.

Sakthi's mother was the first to speak.

Sakthi's Mother: "We've heard a lot of good things about your family, and we're happy that we've finally had the opportunity to meet you in person. Our son runs his own textile business, so most of his time goes into managing the shop. He's a responsible person, and we're now hoping to find someone who can become a good life partner for him. We don't believe that marriage should be decided only by looking at a person's salary, property, or family background. Character and understanding matter just as much. We would like the children to meet and speak a little before either family makes a decision."

Subha's father nodded appreciatively.

Subha's Father: "We feel the same way. Our daughter has grown up with a lot of affection, and naturally, we want her to be happy after marriage. We aren't looking for a family simply because they have money or a business. We want a son-in-law who understands that a wife has feelings, expectations, and opinions of her own. At the same time, we know that no marriage is perfect from the beginning. Both people need patience and understanding. If Sakthi and Subha are comfortable with each other, we will be happy to take this proposal forward."

After some general conversation, Subha was invited to sit with Sakthi at a comfortable distance while their parents continued talking nearby.

For a few moments, neither of them knew what to say.

Finally, Sakthi smiled.

Sakthi: "Subha, I know this situation can feel a little awkward. We're sitting here because our parents think we might be suitable for each other, but we're the ones who will have to live together if this marriage happens. So I'd rather speak honestly than try to impress you. I own a textile shop, and my work can be demanding. There are days when I have to stay late or deal with unexpected problems. I want to know what you're expecting from marriage. You don't have to give me an answer that you think I'll like. Tell me what you really feel."

Subha looked at him with a little more confidence.

Subha: "I'm glad you said that, Sakthi. I also think we should speak honestly. I understand that running a business takes time and effort. I wouldn't expect you to stop working or give up your responsibilities after marriage. But I would want us to make time for each other, even if it's only a little time every day. I believe a wife should support her husband, but I also believe a husband should support his wife. I don't want a marriage where two people live under the same roof but never understand what the other person is going through. I want friendship, trust, and respect between us."

Sakthi listened carefully.

Sakthi: "That's a fair expectation, Subha. I can't promise that every day will be easy, because business has its own problems. But I can promise that I'll try to make time for my family. I don't want my wife to feel that the shop is the only thing that matters to me. I also believe that misunderstandings should be discussed instead of allowing them to grow. If something bothers you, I would prefer that you tell me directly. And if I make a mistake, I hope you'll give me a chance to understand it and correct it."

Subha smiled slightly.

Subha: "That sounds reasonable. I don't expect anyone to be perfect. I only hope that we can speak openly without being afraid of each other's reactions. I may not agree with you about everything, and there may be times when you don't agree with me. But if we can sit down and talk, I think we can handle most problems. After all, we're not just choosing someone to attend family functions with. We're choosing the person who will be beside us through the ordinary days of life."

Their conversation continued for several minutes.

Although neither of them felt an immediate romantic attraction, they found it easy to speak to each other. Sakthi appreciated Subha's maturity, while Subha felt that he was more thoughtful than she had initially expected.

Eventually, their parents asked them to join the family again.

4. The Families Make Their Decision

After Subha and Sakthi returned to the living room, the elders began discussing the proposal more seriously.

Sakthi's Father: "We've had a good conversation today, and we're happy with what we've seen. Our son is willing to move forward with this alliance, provided Subha is also comfortable. We believe that both families have similar expectations about marriage. If your daughter agrees, we'd like to discuss the engagement and wedding arrangements. We don't want to delay matters unnecessarily, but we also don't want to rush without giving the children a chance to think."

Subha's father turned towards his daughter.

Subha's Father: "Subha, you've spoken to Sakthi, and you've had the opportunity to understand a little about him. We won't ask you to agree just because we're happy with the proposal. Tell us honestly whether you feel comfortable taking this forward. Whatever you say, we'll listen to you."

Subha looked at her parents, then at Sakthi.

Subha: "Appa, Amma, I think Sakthi is a sensible person. I liked the way he spoke about marriage, and I feel that we can understand each other if we both make an effort. I'm willing to go ahead with this alliance. I know that meeting someone once doesn't tell us everything about them, but I feel comfortable enough to take the next step."

A broad smile appeared on both families' faces.

Sakthi's mother immediately offered sweets to Subha.

Sakthi's Mother: "We're very happy to hear that, Subha. From today, please think of us as your own family. We know that there will be many new things for you to get used to after marriage, and we'll do our best to make you feel comfortable. We want you to come into our home with happiness, not fear. Let us discuss an engagement date that works for both families."

The elders began discussing auspicious dates, the engagement arrangements, and the possible wedding month.

The bride-seeing ceremony had ended successfully.

The arranged marriage was moving forward.

But somewhere far away, a man who knew nothing about this proposal was about to receive a phone call that would change his life in an entirely different way.

His name was Vishal.

5. Sakthi Calls His Best Friend

Vishal was twenty-nine years old and had been Sakthi's close friend for several years. Their friendship was built on trust, jokes, and countless conversations about work and life.

However, Vishal was currently abroad on a work-related assignment. He had left India before Sakthi's bride-seeing ceremony, and his schedule was packed with professional responsibilities.

He knew that Sakthi's parents were looking for a bride for him, but he had no idea who the girl was. Sakthi had not told him Subha's name, and Vishal had never seen her photograph.

That evening, after the families had agreed to proceed with the alliance, Sakthi called Vishal.

Vishal answered after a few rings.

Vishal: "Hey, Sakthi! What's going on, man? I was just about to call you. I've been caught up with work for the past few days, and I barely get any free time here. Tell me, how are things back home? Is the shop doing well? And what's happening with your marriage plans? Last time we spoke, you said your parents were arranging a bride-seeing ceremony. Don't tell me you've already found someone and are preparing to get married without even giving me a chance to tease you properly!"

Sakthi laughed at his friend's enthusiasm.

Sakthi: "You haven't changed at all, Vishal. Even when you're on the other side of the world, your first priority is finding a reason to tease me. Yes, the bride-seeing ceremony took place today, and things went well. The girl's name is Subha. She's twenty-eight, and her family seems good. We had a chance to speak, and I liked her attitude towards marriage. She's sensible, speaks clearly, and seems to understand the importance of mutual respect. Our families have agreed to move forward with the alliance, so the engagement will probably happen soon. If everything goes according to plan, the wedding may be arranged within the next few months."

Vishal sat up in his chair.

Vishal: "Wait a minute! You're telling me that you met a girl today, spoke to her for a little while, and now the families are already discussing the engagement? That's fast, even by arranged-marriage standards! But seriously, I'm happy for you, da. You've spent years building your business, and you've always said you wanted a partner who would understand your responsibilities. If you've found someone you feel comfortable with, I hope everything works out well. At least send me an invitation in advance. I don't want to find out about your wedding from somebody else's social media post!"

Sakthi: "Of course I'll invite you, you idiot! You're one of my closest friends. How can I get married without you being there? But there's one small problem. You're abroad, and you keep saying your work schedule is unpredictable. I don't know whether you'll be able to return when the wedding date is fixed. If you can't come, I'll never let you forget that you missed my wedding. I'll bring it up every time we speak for the next ten years!"

Vishal laughed loudly.

Vishal: "Listen carefully. I might be busy, but I'll do everything I can to attend your wedding. You're not just an ordinary friend to me. We've shared too many memories for me to miss such an important day. Once you have the date, tell me immediately. I'll speak to my office and see what arrangements I can make. And one more thing, I want to meet this mysterious Subha before you get married. At the very least, I should get to see the woman who's finally convinced my friend to settle down!"

Sakthi smiled, looking at the family members who were still discussing the engagement arrangements in the next room.

Sakthi: "You'll meet her when you come here for the wedding. There's no need to worry about anything now. I'm happy with how things have gone, and our families are happy too. For the moment, I just want to finish the engagement arrangements and concentrate on the shop. Once the wedding date is confirmed, you'll be the first person I call. Now tell me about your work. When are you coming back to India? You've been away for so long that we've almost forgotten what you look like!"

Vishal: "I'm hoping to finish this assignment soon, but I can't promise an exact date yet. There's still some work pending, and the company wants me to stay until everything is completed. I'll keep you updated. Don't worry about me, though. You focus on your marriage preparations. And Sakthi, I'm genuinely happy for you. I hope this new chapter brings you all the happiness you've been waiting for. When I return, we'll celebrate properly, and you can tell me every detail about how you met Subha and how the whole arrangement came together."

The two friends continued talking for a few more minutes before ending the call.

Sakthi returned to his family, unaware that his best friend's cheerful congratulations carried a hidden irony.

Vishal, meanwhile, returned to his work abroad.

He had no idea who Subha was.

He had no idea that the woman Sakthi was preparing to marry was the same woman he had once loved.

And he had absolutely no idea that, on the day of the wedding, he would be standing face-to-face with the woman he had never truly forgotten.

6. The Engagement

A few weeks later, both families gathered at a marriage hall for the engagement ceremony.

Subha wore a rich green silk saree with a gold border. Her long hair was decorated with jasmine flowers, and a delicate gold necklace rested against her neck. Her expressive eyes and warm smile drew the attention of the relatives who came to congratulate her.

Sakthi wore a cream-coloured shirt and a traditional veshti. He looked happy and confident as he sat beside Subha on the decorated stage.

The elders exchanged gifts, the rings were brought forward, and the engagement ceremony began.

Subha's father addressed the gathering.

Subha's Father: "Today is a very happy day for our family. We're pleased that our daughter Subha and Sakthi have agreed to begin this new chapter together. Marriage is not simply about two people exchanging rings in front of their relatives. It's about two people promising to stand beside each other when life is easy and when it becomes difficult. We pray that they will always treat each other with love, patience, and respect. On behalf of our family, I thank everyone who has come here to bless the couple."

Sakthi's father followed.

Sakthi's Father: "We're equally happy to welcome Subha into our family. From the day we first spoke to her parents, we felt that this alliance had the potential to become a good relationship between two families. Today, we're taking another important step towards their marriage. We hope that our children will build a life filled with happiness, understanding, and trust. We ask all of you to bless them and pray that their future together will be bright."

The rings were exchanged amid applause.

Subha and Sakthi smiled for the photographs as their relatives congratulated them.

After the ceremony, Sakthi found a quiet moment to speak to his fiancée.

Sakthi: "Subha, now that the engagement is over, everything suddenly feels more real. Until today, marriage was something our parents were discussing and arranging. But now, when I look at you sitting beside me, I realise that we're actually preparing to begin a life together. I know we still have a lot to learn about each other, and I don't want either of us to feel pressured to become a perfect husband or wife overnight. I want us to take our time, talk openly, and gradually build a relationship that makes both of us happy."

Subha: "I feel the same way, Sakthi. I'm happy that the engagement went well, and I'm looking forward to our wedding. At the same time, I know that marriage brings new responsibilities. We may have different habits, different expectations, and different ways of looking at things. I hope that we'll give each other enough time to adjust. I don't want us to pretend that everything is perfect just because we're engaged. I'd rather we remain honest with each other and learn how to become good partners as time goes by."

Sakthi nodded with a smile.

Neither of them noticed the shadow that their future was about to cast over their happiness.

7. The Wedding Day

The wedding day arrived sooner than everyone expected.

The marriage hall was beautifully decorated with flowers, traditional lamps, and colourful fabrics. Relatives moved from one place to another, photographers arranged their cameras, and the sound of the wedding music filled the hall.

Subha sat in the bridal room, dressed in a stunning traditional wedding saree. The rich silk fabric, intricate gold jewellery, and flowers woven into her long hair made her look radiant. Her face carried a mixture of happiness and nervousness as the women around her helped with the final arrangements.

Every detail of her appearance seemed to reflect the importance of the day. Her eyes were bright, her smile was gentle, and the traditional bridal decorations enhanced her natural beauty without taking away her simplicity.

Outside, Sakthi was welcoming relatives and checking the wedding arrangements.

Vishal's flight had landed earlier that morning. After completing the necessary formalities and travelling to the marriage hall, he arrived just as the preparations were reaching their busiest stage.

He was dressed in a dark formal suit, carrying a small travel bag. He had been looking forward to seeing Sakthi, congratulating him in person, and meeting the bride for the first time.

As he entered the hall, Sakthi spotted him immediately.

Sakthi: "Vishal! You actually made it, da! I honestly thought your work would keep you there until the last minute. I'm so happy you've come. You've arrived just in time, because the wedding ceremony will begin shortly. Come inside. I've been waiting to introduce you to everyone. You know how much your friendship means to me, and having you here today makes this occasion even more special. Come, let me take you closer to the stage so you can meet my family and my bride."

Vishal grinned and shook his friend's hand.

Vishal: "How could I miss your wedding, da? I had to rearrange my work, but I managed to get permission and catch the flight. I've been waiting for this day ever since you told me about the engagement. So, where is the famous Subha? You've spoken so much about how sensible and understanding she is, but you haven't even shown me a photograph. At this point, I'm beginning to suspect that you're deliberately keeping her hidden just so you can surprise me on the wedding day!"

Sakthi laughed and placed a hand on Vishal's shoulder.

Sakthi: "There's no big mystery, you fool! Everything happened so quickly, and between running the shop and arranging the wedding, I never got around to sending you her photograph. Anyway, you'll see her in a moment. She's getting ready in the bridal room, and the family will bring her to the stage shortly. Just wait here with me. Once the ceremony begins, I'll introduce you properly. Today is going to be one of the happiest days of my life, and I'm glad my best friend is standing beside me."

Vishal nodded and looked towards the decorated stage.

A few minutes later, the wedding music grew louder.

The relatives began moving towards their seats.

The bridal procession started.

And then Vishal saw her.

A woman in a magnificent wedding saree was walking towards the stage, surrounded by relatives. Her long hair was adorned with flowers, and her face carried the same beauty that had remained in his memories for years.

Vishal's smile disappeared.

His eyes widened.

His body became completely still.

For a moment, the sounds of the wedding hall seemed to fade away.

It was Subha.

The woman he had once loved.

The woman he had never expected to see again.

The woman who was now walking towards his best friend, dressed as his bride.

Vishal stared at her in disbelief, unable to understand how fate had brought them together in such a cruel and unexpected way.

Vishal (thinking): "Subha...? No, this can't be happening. Of all the people in the world, how could it be her? Sakthi's bride is Subha? The same Subha I loved? The same woman I thought I would never see again? Why didn't I know? Why didn't anyone tell me her name? How am I supposed to stand here and watch the woman I once loved marry my best friend?"

Subha reached the stage.

She looked up and noticed Vishal standing beside Sakthi.

For one brief moment, her eyes met his.

Her smile faded.

Recognition flashed across her face.

She stopped walking.

Sakthi, unaware of the storm that had suddenly erupted between the two people standing before him, turned towards his friend with a proud smile.

Sakthi: "Vishal, come here! I want you to meet my bride properly. This is Subha, the woman I've told you about. Subha, this is Vishal, my closest friend. He's been away abroad for work, and he travelled all the way back to India to attend our wedding. He's like a brother to me, and I'm really happy that he's here to share this important day with us."

Vishal could not answer.

He looked at Subha, then at Sakthi.

His best friend was standing beside the woman he had once loved, preparing to marry her.

Subha's hands trembled slightly as she tried to maintain her composure.

Neither of them spoke.

And Sakthi, still smiling, had no idea that the biggest secret of his wedding had just been revealed.

TO BE CONTINUED...]]>
Story by Sivamurugan 85

1. A New Beginning

Subha was twenty-eight years old. She was a beautiful young woman with a charming face, expressive eyes, and a naturally graceful appearance. Her long, dark hair fell well below her shoulders, adding to her beauty. Her eyes were especially attractive, revealing her emotions even when she tried to hide them. Her smile could brighten the mood of anyone around her, and her gentle way of speaking made people feel comfortable in her presence.

She was not someone who depended on expensive clothes or heavy makeup to look beautiful. Even in a simple saree, she carried herself with an elegance that attracted attention. Her fair complexion, well-defined features, and confident yet modest personality made her stand out wherever she went.

But Subha was more than just a pretty face. She was mature, thoughtful, and deeply attached to her family. She respected her parents and believed that marriage was a lifelong commitment. Although she had her own thoughts about love and relationships, she knew that her parents would eventually begin searching for a suitable groom.

Her father had a small business, and her mother was a homemaker. They had been looking for a good alliance for their daughter for some time.

One Sunday morning, Subha was helping her mother in the kitchen when her father called her.

Subha's Father: "Subha, come here for a minute. Your mother and I want to talk to you about something important. We've been thinking about your marriage for quite some time. You're twenty-eight now, and we don't want to rush you into anything, but we feel it's time to start looking seriously. We've received a proposal from a respectable family. The boy is thirty-three years old, and he owns a textile shop. From what we've heard, he's hardworking and responsible. His name is Sakthi. Before we take things any further, we want to know what you think about meeting him."

Subha stopped what she was doing and looked at her father.

Subha: "Appa, I know you've both been thinking about my marriage. I'm not against getting married, and I don't want to disappoint you either. But marriage is a big decision. I don't want us to say yes just because the family is good or because the boy has his own business. I want to meet him, talk to him, and understand what kind of person he is. If he respects me and if we feel comfortable with each other, then I'm willing to consider it. Please don't make a decision on my behalf before I get a chance to know him."

Her mother smiled and came closer.

Subha's Mother: "That's exactly what we want, dear. We aren't going to force you into anything. His family also seems to believe in doing things properly. First, they'll come and meet us. You can talk to Sakthi in front of the family, and if both of you like each other, we can discuss the next step. Your happiness matters more to us than anything else. We want you to have a husband who takes care of you, respects your feelings, and stands beside you throughout your life."

Subha nodded, although a small wave of nervousness passed through her heart.

She had no idea that the man she was about to meet would change not only her future but also the life of someone from her past.

2. Meet Sakthi

Sakthi was thirty-three years old and owned a textile shop in the town. Through years of hard work, he had established a reasonably successful business. He dealt in sarees, dress materials, men's clothing, and other textile products. His shop was doing well, and he had earned a good reputation among his customers.

He was a practical man who believed in hard work and family responsibilities. He was neither excessively talkative nor unfriendly. He preferred to think carefully before making important decisions.

His parents had been asking him to get married for quite some time.

One evening, while Sakthi was checking the accounts in his shop, his father walked in.

Sakthi's Father: "Sakthi, how long are you planning to keep postponing your marriage? You've worked hard to build your business, and we're proud of what you've achieved. But life isn't only about running a shop and making money. You need someone to share your happiness and difficulties with. We've spoken to a family about their daughter. Her name is Subha, and she's twenty-eight. Her parents seem like good people, and they have brought her up well. We haven't promised them anything yet. We simply want you to meet her and see whether you both get along."

Sakthi closed the account book and leaned back in his chair.

Sakthi: "Appa, I'm not avoiding marriage. You know how much time I spend at the shop. Sometimes I open in the morning and don't get home until late at night. I want to make sure that whoever comes into my life understands my responsibilities. I don't expect a wife to agree with everything I say, but I do want us to understand and respect each other. If Subha and her family are comfortable with me, I'm willing to meet them. Let's speak to them first and see how things go."

His father was pleased with the answer.

Sakthi's Father: "That's all we wanted to hear. Her family has agreed to come next Sunday. We'll arrange everything at home. You don't have to pretend to be someone else or try to impress them with your money. Just be yourself, speak honestly, and give the girl a chance to express her thoughts. If this alliance is meant to work, it should begin with mutual respect."

Sakthi smiled and returned to his accounts.

For him, the proposal was a new chapter in life.

For Subha, it was an uncertain step into the future.

Neither of them knew how much the past would matter.

3. The Day of the Bride-Seeing Ceremony

The following Sunday, Subha's house was filled with activity from the morning.

Her mother had prepared sweets and snacks. Her father had arranged the seating in the living room, and relatives had arrived to help welcome the groom's family.

Subha stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom.

She wore a beautiful deep-maroon silk saree with a traditional golden border. The saree complemented her figure and gave her a graceful, mature appearance. A matching blouse fitted neatly at the shoulders and sleeves. Her long black hair had been combed carefully and left partly loose, with a few strands framing her face. Small gold earrings, a delicate chain, and a tiny bindi completed her look.

Her eyes were naturally expressive, and the light makeup around them made them look even more striking. A soft smile appeared on her lips whenever she looked at herself in the mirror, but it disappeared as soon as she remembered that a family was coming to assess her as a potential bride.

Her mother entered the room and looked at her daughter with affection.

Subha's Mother: "Subha, you look lovely today. I know you're nervous, and that's completely natural. Remember, you're not going there for an examination. You're meeting another family, just as they're coming to meet us. Don't worry about whether they'll like your appearance or whether you should say something impressive. Speak naturally, and don't hide your opinions. If Sakthi is a good man, he'll appreciate you for who you are, not just for how you look. Now come downstairs. They've arrived."

Subha took a deep breath and followed her mother.

A few minutes later, Sakthi entered the house with his parents.

He wore a neatly pressed light-blue shirt and dark trousers. His appearance was simple and well-groomed. After exchanging greetings, the families settled down in the living room.

Sakthi's mother was the first to speak.

Sakthi's Mother: "We've heard a lot of good things about your family, and we're happy that we've finally had the opportunity to meet you in person. Our son runs his own textile business, so most of his time goes into managing the shop. He's a responsible person, and we're now hoping to find someone who can become a good life partner for him. We don't believe that marriage should be decided only by looking at a person's salary, property, or family background. Character and understanding matter just as much. We would like the children to meet and speak a little before either family makes a decision."

Subha's father nodded appreciatively.

Subha's Father: "We feel the same way. Our daughter has grown up with a lot of affection, and naturally, we want her to be happy after marriage. We aren't looking for a family simply because they have money or a business. We want a son-in-law who understands that a wife has feelings, expectations, and opinions of her own. At the same time, we know that no marriage is perfect from the beginning. Both people need patience and understanding. If Sakthi and Subha are comfortable with each other, we will be happy to take this proposal forward."

After some general conversation, Subha was invited to sit with Sakthi at a comfortable distance while their parents continued talking nearby.

For a few moments, neither of them knew what to say.

Finally, Sakthi smiled.

Sakthi: "Subha, I know this situation can feel a little awkward. We're sitting here because our parents think we might be suitable for each other, but we're the ones who will have to live together if this marriage happens. So I'd rather speak honestly than try to impress you. I own a textile shop, and my work can be demanding. There are days when I have to stay late or deal with unexpected problems. I want to know what you're expecting from marriage. You don't have to give me an answer that you think I'll like. Tell me what you really feel."

Subha looked at him with a little more confidence.

Subha: "I'm glad you said that, Sakthi. I also think we should speak honestly. I understand that running a business takes time and effort. I wouldn't expect you to stop working or give up your responsibilities after marriage. But I would want us to make time for each other, even if it's only a little time every day. I believe a wife should support her husband, but I also believe a husband should support his wife. I don't want a marriage where two people live under the same roof but never understand what the other person is going through. I want friendship, trust, and respect between us."

Sakthi listened carefully.

Sakthi: "That's a fair expectation, Subha. I can't promise that every day will be easy, because business has its own problems. But I can promise that I'll try to make time for my family. I don't want my wife to feel that the shop is the only thing that matters to me. I also believe that misunderstandings should be discussed instead of allowing them to grow. If something bothers you, I would prefer that you tell me directly. And if I make a mistake, I hope you'll give me a chance to understand it and correct it."

Subha smiled slightly.

Subha: "That sounds reasonable. I don't expect anyone to be perfect. I only hope that we can speak openly without being afraid of each other's reactions. I may not agree with you about everything, and there may be times when you don't agree with me. But if we can sit down and talk, I think we can handle most problems. After all, we're not just choosing someone to attend family functions with. We're choosing the person who will be beside us through the ordinary days of life."

Their conversation continued for several minutes.

Although neither of them felt an immediate romantic attraction, they found it easy to speak to each other. Sakthi appreciated Subha's maturity, while Subha felt that he was more thoughtful than she had initially expected.

Eventually, their parents asked them to join the family again.

4. The Families Make Their Decision

After Subha and Sakthi returned to the living room, the elders began discussing the proposal more seriously.

Sakthi's Father: "We've had a good conversation today, and we're happy with what we've seen. Our son is willing to move forward with this alliance, provided Subha is also comfortable. We believe that both families have similar expectations about marriage. If your daughter agrees, we'd like to discuss the engagement and wedding arrangements. We don't want to delay matters unnecessarily, but we also don't want to rush without giving the children a chance to think."

Subha's father turned towards his daughter.

Subha's Father: "Subha, you've spoken to Sakthi, and you've had the opportunity to understand a little about him. We won't ask you to agree just because we're happy with the proposal. Tell us honestly whether you feel comfortable taking this forward. Whatever you say, we'll listen to you."

Subha looked at her parents, then at Sakthi.

Subha: "Appa, Amma, I think Sakthi is a sensible person. I liked the way he spoke about marriage, and I feel that we can understand each other if we both make an effort. I'm willing to go ahead with this alliance. I know that meeting someone once doesn't tell us everything about them, but I feel comfortable enough to take the next step."

A broad smile appeared on both families' faces.

Sakthi's mother immediately offered sweets to Subha.

Sakthi's Mother: "We're very happy to hear that, Subha. From today, please think of us as your own family. We know that there will be many new things for you to get used to after marriage, and we'll do our best to make you feel comfortable. We want you to come into our home with happiness, not fear. Let us discuss an engagement date that works for both families."

The elders began discussing auspicious dates, the engagement arrangements, and the possible wedding month.

The bride-seeing ceremony had ended successfully.

The arranged marriage was moving forward.

But somewhere far away, a man who knew nothing about this proposal was about to receive a phone call that would change his life in an entirely different way.

His name was Vishal.

5. Sakthi Calls His Best Friend

Vishal was twenty-nine years old and had been Sakthi's close friend for several years. Their friendship was built on trust, jokes, and countless conversations about work and life.

However, Vishal was currently abroad on a work-related assignment. He had left India before Sakthi's bride-seeing ceremony, and his schedule was packed with professional responsibilities.

He knew that Sakthi's parents were looking for a bride for him, but he had no idea who the girl was. Sakthi had not told him Subha's name, and Vishal had never seen her photograph.

That evening, after the families had agreed to proceed with the alliance, Sakthi called Vishal.

Vishal answered after a few rings.

Vishal: "Hey, Sakthi! What's going on, man? I was just about to call you. I've been caught up with work for the past few days, and I barely get any free time here. Tell me, how are things back home? Is the shop doing well? And what's happening with your marriage plans? Last time we spoke, you said your parents were arranging a bride-seeing ceremony. Don't tell me you've already found someone and are preparing to get married without even giving me a chance to tease you properly!"

Sakthi laughed at his friend's enthusiasm.

Sakthi: "You haven't changed at all, Vishal. Even when you're on the other side of the world, your first priority is finding a reason to tease me. Yes, the bride-seeing ceremony took place today, and things went well. The girl's name is Subha. She's twenty-eight, and her family seems good. We had a chance to speak, and I liked her attitude towards marriage. She's sensible, speaks clearly, and seems to understand the importance of mutual respect. Our families have agreed to move forward with the alliance, so the engagement will probably happen soon. If everything goes according to plan, the wedding may be arranged within the next few months."

Vishal sat up in his chair.

Vishal: "Wait a minute! You're telling me that you met a girl today, spoke to her for a little while, and now the families are already discussing the engagement? That's fast, even by arranged-marriage standards! But seriously, I'm happy for you, da. You've spent years building your business, and you've always said you wanted a partner who would understand your responsibilities. If you've found someone you feel comfortable with, I hope everything works out well. At least send me an invitation in advance. I don't want to find out about your wedding from somebody else's social media post!"

Sakthi: "Of course I'll invite you, you idiot! You're one of my closest friends. How can I get married without you being there? But there's one small problem. You're abroad, and you keep saying your work schedule is unpredictable. I don't know whether you'll be able to return when the wedding date is fixed. If you can't come, I'll never let you forget that you missed my wedding. I'll bring it up every time we speak for the next ten years!"

Vishal laughed loudly.

Vishal: "Listen carefully. I might be busy, but I'll do everything I can to attend your wedding. You're not just an ordinary friend to me. We've shared too many memories for me to miss such an important day. Once you have the date, tell me immediately. I'll speak to my office and see what arrangements I can make. And one more thing, I want to meet this mysterious Subha before you get married. At the very least, I should get to see the woman who's finally convinced my friend to settle down!"

Sakthi smiled, looking at the family members who were still discussing the engagement arrangements in the next room.

Sakthi: "You'll meet her when you come here for the wedding. There's no need to worry about anything now. I'm happy with how things have gone, and our families are happy too. For the moment, I just want to finish the engagement arrangements and concentrate on the shop. Once the wedding date is confirmed, you'll be the first person I call. Now tell me about your work. When are you coming back to India? You've been away for so long that we've almost forgotten what you look like!"

Vishal: "I'm hoping to finish this assignment soon, but I can't promise an exact date yet. There's still some work pending, and the company wants me to stay until everything is completed. I'll keep you updated. Don't worry about me, though. You focus on your marriage preparations. And Sakthi, I'm genuinely happy for you. I hope this new chapter brings you all the happiness you've been waiting for. When I return, we'll celebrate properly, and you can tell me every detail about how you met Subha and how the whole arrangement came together."

The two friends continued talking for a few more minutes before ending the call.

Sakthi returned to his family, unaware that his best friend's cheerful congratulations carried a hidden irony.

Vishal, meanwhile, returned to his work abroad.

He had no idea who Subha was.

He had no idea that the woman Sakthi was preparing to marry was the same woman he had once loved.

And he had absolutely no idea that, on the day of the wedding, he would be standing face-to-face with the woman he had never truly forgotten.

6. The Engagement

A few weeks later, both families gathered at a marriage hall for the engagement ceremony.

Subha wore a rich green silk saree with a gold border. Her long hair was decorated with jasmine flowers, and a delicate gold necklace rested against her neck. Her expressive eyes and warm smile drew the attention of the relatives who came to congratulate her.

Sakthi wore a cream-coloured shirt and a traditional veshti. He looked happy and confident as he sat beside Subha on the decorated stage.

The elders exchanged gifts, the rings were brought forward, and the engagement ceremony began.

Subha's father addressed the gathering.

Subha's Father: "Today is a very happy day for our family. We're pleased that our daughter Subha and Sakthi have agreed to begin this new chapter together. Marriage is not simply about two people exchanging rings in front of their relatives. It's about two people promising to stand beside each other when life is easy and when it becomes difficult. We pray that they will always treat each other with love, patience, and respect. On behalf of our family, I thank everyone who has come here to bless the couple."

Sakthi's father followed.

Sakthi's Father: "We're equally happy to welcome Subha into our family. From the day we first spoke to her parents, we felt that this alliance had the potential to become a good relationship between two families. Today, we're taking another important step towards their marriage. We hope that our children will build a life filled with happiness, understanding, and trust. We ask all of you to bless them and pray that their future together will be bright."

The rings were exchanged amid applause.

Subha and Sakthi smiled for the photographs as their relatives congratulated them.

After the ceremony, Sakthi found a quiet moment to speak to his fiancée.

Sakthi: "Subha, now that the engagement is over, everything suddenly feels more real. Until today, marriage was something our parents were discussing and arranging. But now, when I look at you sitting beside me, I realise that we're actually preparing to begin a life together. I know we still have a lot to learn about each other, and I don't want either of us to feel pressured to become a perfect husband or wife overnight. I want us to take our time, talk openly, and gradually build a relationship that makes both of us happy."

Subha: "I feel the same way, Sakthi. I'm happy that the engagement went well, and I'm looking forward to our wedding. At the same time, I know that marriage brings new responsibilities. We may have different habits, different expectations, and different ways of looking at things. I hope that we'll give each other enough time to adjust. I don't want us to pretend that everything is perfect just because we're engaged. I'd rather we remain honest with each other and learn how to become good partners as time goes by."

Sakthi nodded with a smile.

Neither of them noticed the shadow that their future was about to cast over their happiness.

7. The Wedding Day

The wedding day arrived sooner than everyone expected.

The marriage hall was beautifully decorated with flowers, traditional lamps, and colourful fabrics. Relatives moved from one place to another, photographers arranged their cameras, and the sound of the wedding music filled the hall.

Subha sat in the bridal room, dressed in a stunning traditional wedding saree. The rich silk fabric, intricate gold jewellery, and flowers woven into her long hair made her look radiant. Her face carried a mixture of happiness and nervousness as the women around her helped with the final arrangements.

Every detail of her appearance seemed to reflect the importance of the day. Her eyes were bright, her smile was gentle, and the traditional bridal decorations enhanced her natural beauty without taking away her simplicity.

Outside, Sakthi was welcoming relatives and checking the wedding arrangements.

Vishal's flight had landed earlier that morning. After completing the necessary formalities and travelling to the marriage hall, he arrived just as the preparations were reaching their busiest stage.

He was dressed in a dark formal suit, carrying a small travel bag. He had been looking forward to seeing Sakthi, congratulating him in person, and meeting the bride for the first time.

As he entered the hall, Sakthi spotted him immediately.

Sakthi: "Vishal! You actually made it, da! I honestly thought your work would keep you there until the last minute. I'm so happy you've come. You've arrived just in time, because the wedding ceremony will begin shortly. Come inside. I've been waiting to introduce you to everyone. You know how much your friendship means to me, and having you here today makes this occasion even more special. Come, let me take you closer to the stage so you can meet my family and my bride."

Vishal grinned and shook his friend's hand.

Vishal: "How could I miss your wedding, da? I had to rearrange my work, but I managed to get permission and catch the flight. I've been waiting for this day ever since you told me about the engagement. So, where is the famous Subha? You've spoken so much about how sensible and understanding she is, but you haven't even shown me a photograph. At this point, I'm beginning to suspect that you're deliberately keeping her hidden just so you can surprise me on the wedding day!"

Sakthi laughed and placed a hand on Vishal's shoulder.

Sakthi: "There's no big mystery, you fool! Everything happened so quickly, and between running the shop and arranging the wedding, I never got around to sending you her photograph. Anyway, you'll see her in a moment. She's getting ready in the bridal room, and the family will bring her to the stage shortly. Just wait here with me. Once the ceremony begins, I'll introduce you properly. Today is going to be one of the happiest days of my life, and I'm glad my best friend is standing beside me."

Vishal nodded and looked towards the decorated stage.

A few minutes later, the wedding music grew louder.

The relatives began moving towards their seats.

The bridal procession started.

And then Vishal saw her.

A woman in a magnificent wedding saree was walking towards the stage, surrounded by relatives. Her long hair was adorned with flowers, and her face carried the same beauty that had remained in his memories for years.

Vishal's smile disappeared.

His eyes widened.

His body became completely still.

For a moment, the sounds of the wedding hall seemed to fade away.

It was Subha.

The woman he had once loved.

The woman he had never expected to see again.

The woman who was now walking towards his best friend, dressed as his bride.

Vishal stared at her in disbelief, unable to understand how fate had brought them together in such a cruel and unexpected way.

Vishal (thinking): "Subha...? No, this can't be happening. Of all the people in the world, how could it be her? Sakthi's bride is Subha? The same Subha I loved? The same woman I thought I would never see again? Why didn't I know? Why didn't anyone tell me her name? How am I supposed to stand here and watch the woman I once loved marry my best friend?"

Subha reached the stage.

She looked up and noticed Vishal standing beside Sakthi.

For one brief moment, her eyes met his.

Her smile faded.

Recognition flashed across her face.

She stopped walking.

Sakthi, unaware of the storm that had suddenly erupted between the two people standing before him, turned towards his friend with a proud smile.

Sakthi: "Vishal, come here! I want you to meet my bride properly. This is Subha, the woman I've told you about. Subha, this is Vishal, my closest friend. He's been away abroad for work, and he travelled all the way back to India to attend our wedding. He's like a brother to me, and I'm really happy that he's here to share this important day with us."

Vishal could not answer.

He looked at Subha, then at Sakthi.

His best friend was standing beside the woman he had once loved, preparing to marry her.

Subha's hands trembled slightly as she tried to maintain her composure.

Neither of them spoke.

And Sakthi, still smiling, had no idea that the biggest secret of his wedding had just been revealed.

TO BE CONTINUED...]]> <![CDATA[Incestuous Blood]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75615.html Mon, 12 Oct 2026 19:29:12 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75615.html My name is Trisha Shetty. I am twenty-seven years old and my career is at its peak. Supporting roles have turned into the ones people talk about. Awards have started coming. I live in Chennai, Tamil Nadu.
One evening my manager called. Industrialist Veerappan wanted to meet me. He was forty-seven, one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, married young, and had one son, Brody, who was my age. He was looking for a bride for his son.
I went to his large residence. Veerappan was extremely tall, heavily built, and carried a solid presence. He spoke directly about his son’s marriage and asked about my work and my thoughts on family. I answered carefully. When I left, his presence stayed in my mind longer than I expected.
I was conflicted. Marriage had never been something I actively wanted. Sex was not the centre of my life. Yet Veerappan’s family offered money, fame, name, image, contacts and respect—security most people never touched. I also wanted to continue acting. I asked for time to speak with Brody.
At the second meeting Brody was polite but careful. Veerappan told me my career could continue after marriage. Still I hesitated.
I discussed everything with my parents. They were excited and insisted I accept. They said responsibility would come one day anyway. I asked for more time and conveyed it to Veerappan.
Finally I accepted. The scale of what the family offered was too large to ignore. I believed that even if difficulties came, Veerappan would not abandon me. I told my parents and then Veerappan. My only condition was that if any problem arose in the future, he must stand by me. He gave his word.
Veerappan’s family came formally to our house. The elders spoke the usual words of blessing. I began calling him Mama and his wife Atthai. Marriage preparations started at once. News channels and social media discussed the match. We shopped for jewellery and clothes. On the wedding day Brody tied the thaali around my neck. I became the daughter-in-law of Veerappan’s family. Elders blessed us. I thanked Mama and Atthai.
On the first night nothing happened between Brody and me. We simply slept. Sex had never been the most important thing for me.
The next days I returned to shooting. Brody left the country for a few weeks. I was busy and suspected nothing.
When my shooting ended and Brody returned, I suggested a honeymoon. He refused and scolded me. I cried and felt the first suspicion. A few days later I tried to come close to him. He pushed me away, shouted, and slapped me. I cried until I was empty and fell asleep exhausted.
The next morning I pretended everything was normal at breakfast. Atthai noticed I looked dull. I said it was only tiredness. In the afternoon I found Mama in the garden and confronted him about the two incidents. He asked me to sit and be patient, then told me the truth: Brody is gay.
The words struck me like a physical blow. Tears fell without control. Mama reminded me of his promise and said he would always stand by me. I told him I needed time to process it and left the garden.
Alone in my room I sat with the shock and anger. He had known before the marriage and still let it happen. Yet I could not simply leave. What would I tell my parents? What reason would I give the public? The family’s image would be damaged. The one solid thing I held was Mama’s promise. I decided to stay and use that promise as my protection. Physical needs were the least of my concerns right now. Security mattered more. I finally slept.
The next morning I went to Mama in the garden. I told him my disappointment and anger. He accepted the mistake. I reminded him of his promise and made three demands: I would stay forever under the protection of the family as DIL, I wanted a few assets in my name as compensation, and the entire matter must remain secret between us. He agreed to all three without hesitation. When he asked about a second marriage I told him that for the next few years I had no such thought. I was the daughter-in-law of this family and that was where I would stay.
Life slowly returned to a steady rhythm. I adjusted. The anger did not disappear completely, yet my respect for Mama grew because he had kept his word. When my parents called I told them I was living happily. This was my personal life and I chose what to share. Brody later apologised and said he would stand beside me at functions. Mama began showing steady care—asking about my work, making sure I was comfortable. I had wanted that kind of steady affection and protection. Now I was receiving it.
One evening the family decided to go on a tour for a few weeks. Mama stayed back for business. They asked me to join, but I had an advertisement shooting and declined. Only Mama and I remained in the large house. Neither of us knew then what the coming days would bring.
We lived quietly for several days. One morning I went to bathe and did not lock the door. Mama entered without knocking. I jerked and cried out. He apologised at once. I accepted it as an accident. As he turned to leave I knew he had seen my bare body. At the same moment I noticed the clear hardness at the front of his trousers. The sight stunned me. I forced the thought away. He is my father-in-law. It was only an accident. My own lack of intimacy must be making me imagine things. I finished bathing as if nothing had happened.
I returned to my usual routine and continued to treat Mama exactly as my father-in-law. I spoke to him normally. Yet the memory of his body stayed somewhere under the surface.
The next morning I heard weights from the gym. Mama was wearing only shorts, his upper body bare and covered in sweat. Even at forty-seven he looked solid. I stopped and said he still looked very fit. He asked if I thought forty-seven was already old. I answered lightly that it was not old, but not young either. We both smiled. My eyes moved over his chest and shoulders. A slow warmth spread through me. I knew it was wrong, yet the long absence of physical closeness made the feeling stronger. I let the thought stay for a few seconds, then forced myself to move away.
That night we sat opposite each other at dinner. Mama told me that Atthai is lesbian and has been that way for many years. They had physical relations only once, for formality, and Brody was born from that. He said he had managed here and there with other women, but he also lived with a long lack of real intimacy—the same way I did. I was surprised that he spoke so openly about my situation. We finished the meal in silence.
In my room his words kept returning. I felt sadness for the life he had described. The idea came quietly, then grew stronger. Both of us were living without physical closeness. I could not continue like this. If we turned toward each other, the need that troubled us both could be answered. I sat with the thought until it settled into a decision. I would allow myself to move closer to him.
The next morning I woke early and began cleaning the living room wearing only my bra and panty. Mama walked out wearing only a brief. The thick shape of his cock was clearly visible. Our eyes met. Today was the day.
He came behind me under the pretence of helping. His chest touched my back. Then I felt the hard length of his cock rub slowly against my panty. A soft groan left my mouth. He turned me around and kissed me deeply. I kissed him back. He pulled the brief down, unhooked my bra, and pushed my panty down until I stood naked. He laid me on the floor, positioned himself, and with one strong thrust pushed his thick cock inside me.
“Look at me,” he said. “Your Mama is going to take you now.”
“Yes, Mama… take your daughter-in-law.”
He moved with long, deep strokes. “You are so tight for your Mama. This pussy belongs to your father-in-law now.”
“Yes, Mama… fuck your DIL… use me…”
He kept his eyes locked on mine. “Tell me who is inside you.”
“My Mama… my father-in-law is inside me… your cock is so big, Mama… don’t stop…”
I came hard, then again. He buried himself fully and released thick ropes of cum deep inside me. He stayed inside and kissed my mouth, then my forehead. The first complete act between father-in-law and daughter-in-law had taken place.
I stayed on his lap afterward. We agreed the relationship would continue exactly as father-in-law and daughter-in-law. We went to the bathroom. Under the water he lifted one of my legs and entered me again.
“Hold on to your Mama.”
“My Mama… my father-in-law is fucking his DIL… your cock feels so good inside me, Mama… harder…”
“This pussy belongs to your father-in-law. Say it.”
“Yes, Mama… this pussy is yours… only for my FIL…”
I came again. He flooded me a second time.
Still naked we cooked a simple meal and fed each other. On the sofa he laid me back and entered me once more in missionary.
“Look at your Mama while he fucks you.”
“Yes, Mama… fuck your daughter-in-law… I love feeling my FIL so deep…”
“You were made to take your father-in-law’s cock.”
“It feels perfect, Mama… so thick… so deep… don’t stop fucking your DIL…”
I came. He released a third load inside me.
That night in the bedroom he entered me for the fourth time in missionary.
“Mama…!”
“Your father-in-law is inside you again. This is where you belong—under your Mama.”
“Yes… yes, Mama… fuck me… love me like this… your DIL is only for you…”
“You are my daughter-in-law… and I will keep filling you like this.”
“I’m yours, Mama… keep going… fill your DIL again…”
I came hard. He drove deep and pumped a fourth load into me. We stayed joined and fell asleep in that position.
In the following weeks we continued whenever we could. I missed my period. A home test came positive. I was carrying Mama’s child. He said he would stay beside me no matter what. We both knew the pregnancy had to stay hidden until we found a way out of the present situation.
From that day the thrill changed. Every time we touched, the knowledge that his child was already growing inside me made the danger sharper. What if someone found us now? What if they realised I was pregnant with my father-in-law’s baby while still wearing Brody’s thaali? The thought should have terrified me. Instead it sank lower, between my legs, and stayed there.
The family cancelled the rest of their tour and came back early. Our private time was broken. Mama told me we would find time whenever we could. I wore loose clothes and carefully managed the early symptoms. Outwardly everything returned to normal. Inside, my mind never stopped circling the same question: what if we are caught while I am already carrying him?
One afternoon I was alone in the kitchen. Mama came in and we kissed deeply. Footsteps approached. He dropped under the table. Atthai entered and began ordinary conversation. While I answered her, Mama lifted my dress, pulled my panties down, and began licking me boldly. My eyes widened. Atthai noticed my face and asked what was wrong. I said it was a stomach cramp. She advised warm water and continued talking. Mama licked with steady strokes, circling my clit and pushing deeper. I struggled to speak. The thought flashed through me—his tongue is on the same place where his child is already growing—and my thighs trembled. Atthai decided to bring a tablet and left.
The moment she was gone I looked down. “Mama… your DIL’s pussy is in your mouth… right under Atthai’s nose… don’t stop… and I’m already pregnant with your baby…”
“This is your father-in-law tasting his daughter-in-law. Stay quiet and come for Mama.”
I came hard, my juices spilling onto his tongue. He slid out, satisfied. I told him it was too risky. He said the risk was the thrill, especially now. We kissed again. Footsteps returned. We stepped apart. Atthai gave me the tablets, noticed Mama, and asked why he was there. He said he had heard discomfort in my voice and stepped in to check. She accepted the explanation. We all left the kitchen. No doubt remained. My heart was still racing—not only from the orgasm, but from how close we had come to discovery while I carried his child.
Mama decided I should visit his office. He introduced me to everyone as his daughter-in-law. They greeted me with respect. He introduced me to his young female PA, then stepped out to take a call. The PA looked at me and said she hoped I was getting properly satisfied by my father-in-law. I asked how she knew. She said she knew his personal life; he had appointed her not only for work but also for physical needs. He had never forced her, treated her with respect, paid her well, and always used protection because she did not want children. She saw me as support, not competition, and was happy he was more satisfied. I thanked her. She said she had agreed only because of his gentle and caring nature.
I spoke with other employees. Their praise for Mama’s fairness and respect deepened my admiration. I went to his room, hugged him, and thanked him for treating the PA with care. He said everyone is human and women are not toys; they have feelings and deserve dignity. He kissed my head and said he loved me. I answered that I loved him too. For a moment the pregnancy sat between us like a shared secret, heavier and sweeter than before. We returned home.
I began visiting the office more often and slowly learned the business. One morning I entered his cabin to say good morning. He asked me to come closer and we kissed. A knock sounded. I dropped under the desk. An employee entered and began reporting. I remembered the kitchen risk and decided to return it. I unzipped Mama, took his thick cock fully into my mouth in one motion, and began sucking and stroking. His voice grew strained. The employee asked if he was all right. Mama said he was fine and told him to continue. I kept working him deeply. Every time the man spoke, the same thought burned through me: if he looks down now, he will see the pregnant daughter-in-law of this house on her knees for her father-in-law. The employee asked again. Mama told him to summarise. The man finished and left.
The moment we were alone Mama gripped my hair and forced his cock deep into my throat.
“Take it. Your Mama is going to punish his DIL for being so bold.”
I gagged. Tears ran. He thrust into my throat again and again.
“This is what happens when my daughter-in-law takes risks. Suck your father-in-law’s cock properly. Drink everything your Mama gives you.”
He held me there until he groaned and flooded my mouth with thick cum, making sure I swallowed every drop. He released me. I coughed and wiped my tears. I asked why he had become so rough. He said it was punishment for the risk I had taken. I laughed and reminded him of the kitchen. He smirked and said his DIL only receives the risks. Then his hand rested lightly on my still-flat stomach. “Especially now.” I stood, cleaned my mouth, and walked to the door. He gave my ass a firm playful slap. I sighed, laughed, bit my lip, and left, the thrill of the near-discovery still pulsing between my legs.
Even after that we still had not had full sex again since the family returned. One afternoon I went to Mama’s room with a business doubt. He asked me to sit on his lap. I did. I asked my questions; he pinched my cheek affectionately and answered. The closeness turned into a deep kiss. We began undressing—I pulled my saree loose, he removed his shirt—when the door lock turned. Mama pointed to the wardrobe. I grabbed the saree and slipped inside just as Atthai entered. She saw him shirtless. He said his back was itching and he had removed the shirt to apply powder. She pointed to the powder. He asked why she had come. She said it was her room and she could come whenever she wished. He turned the conversation aside. She took some documents and left. Mama opened the wardrobe and told me to go because too many people were moving around. I asked when we could properly be together again. He said soon and guided me out. I returned to my room unsatisfied, one hand resting on my belly, wondering how long we could keep this hidden.
The wait continued. Mama was still taking care of his needs with his PA. I could not bear it any longer. One night I checked that Brody was asleep, then walked out in only my bra and panty. Mama was awake under the night lamp. He asked why I had come. I said I wanted him. He confirmed Atthai was sleeping, wrapped a towel around himself, and led me upstairs to an unused room.
We undressed. Mama laid me down and entered me in one long thrust.
“Look at me. Your Mama is going to take his daughter-in-law properly tonight.”
“Yes, Mama… I need you inside me.”
He moved with deep, steady strokes. “This pussy belongs to your father-in-law. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels so good, Mama… your cock is so deep… fuck your DIL…”
“You waited for your Mama like a good girl. Now take every inch. This is how a father-in-law loves his daughter-in-law.”
“Yes… yes, Mama… love me like this… keep fucking me…”
I came hard. He continued. I suddenly noticed his younger sister watching from the doorway and told him. He said not to worry and kept thrusting. The knowledge that she was watching while his child grew inside me made every stroke feel sharper.
“Then fuck me harder, Mama… show her how you take your DIL… while I’m already carrying your baby…”
I came again. He pulled out and sprayed thick cum across my stomach. We rose, cleaned ourselves, and stepped out. The sister said she had seen everything and would tell the family. Mama cut her off: what we were doing was between consenting adults and I had his full protection. She stared in shock. I told her I had Mama beside me. She turned and walked downstairs, defeated. Mama and I returned to our rooms, bodies satisfied, the night’s risk already a shared private victory. Later, lying alone, I kept thinking: she saw us. She knows. And I am pregnant. The thought should have kept me awake with fear. Instead it kept me wet.
After the night we were seen by Mama’s sister, our boldness grew. We still stayed careful, but the risks we took became more frequent. The secret no longer felt as fragile as before, yet the pregnancy made every risk feel larger.
One new desire settled in me. I wanted Mama to fuck me while the thaali Brody had tied around my neck hung between my breasts. I wanted to feel it swing with every thrust and hear Mama speak as if I were cheating. I waited for the right night.
That night came.
I woke, confirmed Brody was asleep, and slipped out wearing only my bra and panty. The gold thaali rested clearly against my skin. I climbed the stairs. Mama was walking slowly along the upstairs corridor. He stopped when he saw me. His eyes moved from my face down to the thaali hanging between my breasts. Something dark and hungry lit in his gaze.
“Trisha,” he said quietly.
I did not answer with words. I simply looked at him. He understood. We stepped into one of the rarely used rooms and locked the door. Clothes came off quickly. Mama turned me around, bent me forward over the edge of the bed, and positioned himself behind me.
“On your knees for your Mama,” he ordered.
I lowered myself. He rubbed the thick head of his cock along my wet folds, then pushed in with one long, deep thrust. I cried out as he filled me completely. The thaali swung forward and tapped lightly against my skin.
He began to fuck me in a steady, powerful doggy rhythm. Each stroke drove deep. The thaali swung harder with every impact of his hips.
“Look at this,” he growled, gripping my waist. “My daughter-in-law came to her father-in-law wearing the thaali another man tied. You’re cheating on your husband with your own Mama… and you’re already pregnant with my child.”
“Yes, Mama…” I moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “I’m cheating… I’m letting my father-in-law fuck me while I still wear Brody’s thaali… and I’m carrying your baby…”
He thrust harder. The wet sound of our bodies filled the room. The thaali kept swinging between my breasts.
“This tight pussy belongs to your Mama now,” he said, voice thick with lust. “Say it while that thaali moves.”
“This pussy is my Mama’s… my FIL is fucking his DIL… I’m cheating and I love it… and I’m pregnant with your child…” My words broke into moans as he drove deeper.
He leaned over my back, one hand sliding around to rub my clit while the other held my hip. “You’re a dirty daughter-in-law… coming upstairs half-naked with your husband’s thaali just so your Mama can use you while you carry his baby.”
“I am, Mama… use me… fuck your cheating pregnant DIL harder…”
Pleasure built fast. The combination of the deep strokes, the swinging thaali, the filthy incest-and-cheating words, and the knowledge of the pregnancy pushed me higher. I came hard, my walls clamping around him, a loud cry leaving my throat. Mama did not slow down. He kept fucking me through the orgasm, speaking against my ear.
“That’s it… cum on your father-in-law’s cock while you wear another man’s thaali and carry my child. You’re mine tonight.”
“I’m yours, Mama… keep fucking me… I love cheating with you…”
He continued the deep doggy rhythm for a long time, alternating between hard, punishing thrusts and slower, grinding ones that made the thaali sway gently. Every time he spoke, he mixed affection with ownership and the sharp edge of incest.
“My sweet DIL… my dirty girl… taking her Mama’s cock so well…”
“Yes, Mama… I love you… I love being your daughter-in-law… fuck me…”
When he finally neared the edge he pulled out suddenly. Thick ropes of cum sprayed across my lower back and the curve of my ass. He groaned through the release, one hand still gripping my hip.
We stayed like that for a few moments, breathing hard. Then he turned me around and looked at the thaali still hanging against my skin.
“Wear it more often when you come to me,” he said. “I like fucking my daughter-in-law while she wears the proof of her marriage. The cheating makes the incest sweeter… especially now.”
I nodded, still catching my breath. “I will, Mama.”
He pulled me onto the bed and drew me against his chest, his arm wrapping firmly around me. “No one comes up here. Sleep with me tonight.”
I settled against him, the thaali resting between us. His body was warm and solid. We were lovers in the quiet of the night, yet the truth of what we were—father-in-law and daughter-in-law, and the child already growing—remained the centre of everything. Wrapped in that forbidden closeness, we both drifted into sleep.
Mama no longer wanted to keep our relationship hidden forever. Both of us were simply waiting for the next proper time we could be alone. The pregnancy made the waiting feel heavier. Every day I wondered how long before the body began to show, how long before someone asked questions.
That time arrived when almost the entire family decided to go on a two-day tour. Only Brody, Mama and I stayed behind. The moment the others left, Mama and I both understood these two days belonged to us.
That evening the three of us sat together for dinner. Conversation stayed ordinary. When the meal ended Mama looked at me across the table and gave a small, deliberate wink.
“Trisha, bring some dessert upstairs later. I will be working in the first-floor room.”
My cheeks warmed. “Okay, Mama,” I answered softly.
He rose first and went upstairs. I waited a few minutes, then noticed Brody was still in the living room. I walked to the bathroom, removed every piece of clothing, and left the garments in the basket. Completely naked, I climbed the stairs and entered the room. My hand brushed over my lower belly once before I closed the door.
Mama was already waiting, equally naked. The moment the door closed he pulled me against him and kissed me deeply. His tongue claimed my mouth. Heat flooded me at once.
“Mama… I can’t wait,” I whispered against his lips. “Please… take me now.”
He guided me onto the bed, spread my legs, and covered my body with his. His thick cock pressed against my entrance. With one firm thrust he sank all the way inside me. Our eyes locked.
“Look at your Mama,” he said, beginning a deep, steady rhythm. “Your father-in-law is inside you again… and you’re already carrying his child.”
“Yes, Mama… I feel you so deep… fuck your DIL…” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He moved with long, powerful strokes, never breaking eye contact. “This pussy belongs to your Mama. Tell me how much you need it.”
“I need it, Mama… I need my father-in-law’s cock… love me… fuck me…” My voice rose with every thrust. Pleasure built quickly.
“My sweet daughter-in-law… taking her Mama so perfectly…” he murmured, thrusting harder. “You were made for this.”
“I was made for you, Mama… keep going… don’t stop fucking your DIL…”
I came hard, my walls tightening around him, a loud cry leaving my throat. He continued without slowing, speaking low and dirty between deep strokes.
“That’s it… cum on your father-in-law’s cock. You’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Mama… only yours… fuck me deeper…”
Outside, Brody had noticed my long absence and decided to check upstairs. As he climbed the stairs he heard the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. He moved toward the room and looked through the open gap of the window. He saw his father on top of me, thrusting deeply, our bodies locked together. Shock, confusion and disbelief froze him in place.
I turned my head slightly and saw him standing there. A fresh wave of heat and boldness washed over me. I did not tell Mama. Instead I moaned louder, lifted my hips to meet every thrust, and spoke more clearly.
“Mama… your cock feels so good… I love when my father-in-law fucks me like this… harder, Mama… claim your DIL… while I’m pregnant with your baby…”
Mama, unaware we were being watched, kept driving into me with the same intense rhythm, his eyes still on mine.
“My DIL… my woman… take every inch your Mama gives you.”
“Yes… yes… I’m taking it… I love you, Mama… keep fucking me…”
I came again, even harder, my nails digging into his back. The knowledge that Brody was watching while I carried his father’s child filled me with a dark, complete satisfaction. Mama’s thrusts grew more urgent. He buried himself to the hilt, groaned deeply, and released thick pulses of cum straight into my pussy, flooding me completely.
He stayed inside me afterward, breathing hard. I held him close. Neither of us spoke of the watcher. We simply shifted onto our sides, still joined, and fell asleep tangled together, his arm around me, both of us fully satisfied. Even in sleep the thought stayed with me: Brody saw. He knows. And I am pregnant.
We woke at the same time the next morning. Mama turned toward me, eyes still heavy with sleep, and gave a soft smile.
“Good morning, Trisha.”
“Good morning, Mama.”
Before I could say anything more he shifted over me, spread my legs, and pushed his thick cock inside in one smooth thrust. The sudden fullness made me gasp.
“Mama… so early…?”
He began moving with deep, steady strokes, eyes locked on mine. “Your Mama needs his daughter-in-law first thing in the morning.”
I moaned and wrapped my legs around him. “Then take me… fuck your DIL… I love feeling you so deep…”
“This pussy belongs to your father-in-law,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Say it.”
“It belongs to my Mama… only to my FIL… keep fucking me…”
Pleasure rose quickly. I came with a trembling cry, clinging to his shoulders. He followed soon after, burying himself fully and releasing thick pulses of cum deep inside me with a low groan.
We stayed joined for a few moments, then rose. Downstairs the house felt empty; Brody was nowhere to be seen. Neither of us commented on it. We bathed, dressed, and sat across from each other at breakfast, eating in comfortable silence. My mind kept returning to the same place: he saw us yesterday. What if he speaks? What if someone notices the early changes in my body before we are free?
After the meal Mama took my hand and led me to the small gym room. He pushed me gently against the wall, lifted my saree up around my waist, and freed his cock from his dhoti. In one motion he entered me again, holding my thighs as he fucked me upright against the wall. This time we spoke very little. Our mouths stayed locked in deep, continuous kisses while his hips drove into me. The only sounds were the wet rhythm of our bodies and my muffled moans against his lips. He came hard, flooding me once more, then held me there until our breathing slowed. We cleaned up quietly and went to attend to some office work.
In the afternoon we ate lunch together. The moment the plates were cleared Mama guided me to the sofa. Again he did not undress me completely. He simply lifted my saree, opened his dhoti, and sank into me in the missionary position. We kissed the entire time—slow, deep, unbroken kisses—while he thrust with steady power. I came silently against his mouth. He followed, releasing another heavy load inside me. Afterward we cleaned ourselves and returned to work. Every quiet moment between us carried the same undercurrent: we are still not free, and I am already pregnant.
Night came. We finished dinner, and Mama stood without a word, took my hand, and led me boldly to his own room. This time we removed every piece of clothing. He turned me around, bent me forward, and entered me from behind in a strong doggy rhythm.
“Mama…!” I cried out as he filled me completely.
He gripped my hips and thrust deep. “Your father-in-law is taking his DIL again. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels perfect, Mama… so thick… so deep… fuck me harder…”
His hands slid forward and cupped my breasts, squeezing them as he pounded into me. “These are your Mama’s now. Everything of yours belongs to your FIL.”
“Yes… yes, Mama… I’m yours… grab them… fuck your daughter-in-law…” My moans turned into loud, open screams of pleasure. He kept the powerful rhythm, fingers teasing my nipples while his cock drove in and out.
After a long while he pulled out, turned me onto my back, and entered me again in missionary. Our eyes met. The talking resumed, thicker with lust and affection.
“Look at me while your Mama fucks you,” he said.
“I’m looking, Mama… I love you… I love being your DIL… keep going…”
“My sweet girl… my daughter-in-law… taking every inch so well…”
“Fill me, Mama… I want it… I want my father-in-law’s cum…”
He thrust deeper, faster. I came hard, shaking under him. A few strokes later he groaned loudly, jerked, and poured another thick load of cum straight into my pussy, holding himself deep until the last pulse faded.
When he finally eased out I started to rise, thinking of returning to my own room. Mama caught my wrist and pulled me back down against his chest.
“No more hiding, Trisha,” he said quietly but firmly. “I don’t want to keep this secret any longer. For the past two days I have finished inside you again and again. You are already carrying my child. There is no reason left to hide.”
I looked into his eyes. The words settled inside me as right and inevitable. The constant low-level fear of discovery that had lived in me since the positive test finally found an answer. I nodded.
“Yes, Mama. You are right.”
He drew me fully into his arms. I rested my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. Wrapped together, still marked by everything we had done that day, we fell asleep.
The next day Atthai and the rest of the family returned. Atthai walked into Mama’s bedroom and stopped dead. She saw us both naked, my body still under his arm. A sharp shout left her throat.
Mama and I woke at once. I grabbed the bedsheet and pulled it up over myself, not knowing what to say or do. Mama simply stood up and stretched as if the morning were ordinary.
The sound of Atthai’s cry brought everyone rushing upstairs. One by one they filled the doorway and stared at the scene. Shock showed on every face.
A few hours later the entire household gathered in the main hall—Atthai, Brody, the other relatives, Mama and me. The air was heavy.
Atthai stepped forward, fury on her face, and raised her hand to strike me. I caught her wrist firmly and looked straight into her eyes.
“You have no right,” I said, my voice steady. “Everyone here knows the truth about you. You are lesbian. You have never been a wife to him in any real sense.”
The words landed hard. Atthai’s hand fell. She could not answer. The confidence drained from her face.
Mama then turned to Brody. “And you,” he said calmly. “You are gay. That is the truth we all lived with in silence for years.”
Brody lowered his gaze. No one else in the hall spoke. The confrontations left the room in complete silence. One by one they stood and left until only Mama and I remained.
The following days were spent in lawyers’ offices. Mama signed the divorce papers and made the separation from Atthai official. He arranged a fair settlement of assets for his former wife and for Brody, then required them to leave the house. The same week I also signed my own divorce papers, ending the marriage with Brody.
Even during those days of legal paperwork the old thrill did not completely disappear. Every time we were alone in the large house, the knowledge that I was still legally Brody’s wife and already pregnant with Mama’s child kept a faint edge of danger alive. We both felt it. We both used it.
Two weeks later, in front of our close relatives, Mama and I married each other. The ceremony was simple but complete. What had begun as father-in-law and daughter-in-law became, in the eyes of everyone, husband and wife.
From that moment I no longer called him Mama. He was no longer my father-in-law. He was my husband. I began addressing him the way a wife should.
We returned to the large house that was now fully ours. The rooms felt different without the old tensions. There were no more secrets to guard, no more careful timing, no more fear of discovery. The constant low hum of “what if we are caught” that had lived inside me since the day of the positive test finally fell silent.
All contact with his former wife and with Brody was cut. The past stayed behind us. Ahead of us was only the life we had chosen.
I carried the pregnancy to term. When the time came, I gave birth to healthy twins—a boy and a girl. Because we were now legally and openly husband and wife, we could keep them with us without any pretence or hidden arrangements. The children became part of our daily life from the very beginning.
With their birth, the long and complicated chapter that had started with a marriage proposal, hidden truths, secret nights, and stolen moments finally came to a close. We were no longer father-in-law and daughter-in-law living under borrowed time. We were simply husband and wife, raising the family we had chosen to build together.
And so the first part of our story ends.]]> My name is Trisha Shetty. I am twenty-seven years old and my career is at its peak. Supporting roles have turned into the ones people talk about. Awards have started coming. I live in Chennai, Tamil Nadu.
One evening my manager called. Industrialist Veerappan wanted to meet me. He was forty-seven, one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, married young, and had one son, Brody, who was my age. He was looking for a bride for his son.
I went to his large residence. Veerappan was extremely tall, heavily built, and carried a solid presence. He spoke directly about his son’s marriage and asked about my work and my thoughts on family. I answered carefully. When I left, his presence stayed in my mind longer than I expected.
I was conflicted. Marriage had never been something I actively wanted. Sex was not the centre of my life. Yet Veerappan’s family offered money, fame, name, image, contacts and respect—security most people never touched. I also wanted to continue acting. I asked for time to speak with Brody.
At the second meeting Brody was polite but careful. Veerappan told me my career could continue after marriage. Still I hesitated.
I discussed everything with my parents. They were excited and insisted I accept. They said responsibility would come one day anyway. I asked for more time and conveyed it to Veerappan.
Finally I accepted. The scale of what the family offered was too large to ignore. I believed that even if difficulties came, Veerappan would not abandon me. I told my parents and then Veerappan. My only condition was that if any problem arose in the future, he must stand by me. He gave his word.
Veerappan’s family came formally to our house. The elders spoke the usual words of blessing. I began calling him Mama and his wife Atthai. Marriage preparations started at once. News channels and social media discussed the match. We shopped for jewellery and clothes. On the wedding day Brody tied the thaali around my neck. I became the daughter-in-law of Veerappan’s family. Elders blessed us. I thanked Mama and Atthai.
On the first night nothing happened between Brody and me. We simply slept. Sex had never been the most important thing for me.
The next days I returned to shooting. Brody left the country for a few weeks. I was busy and suspected nothing.
When my shooting ended and Brody returned, I suggested a honeymoon. He refused and scolded me. I cried and felt the first suspicion. A few days later I tried to come close to him. He pushed me away, shouted, and slapped me. I cried until I was empty and fell asleep exhausted.
The next morning I pretended everything was normal at breakfast. Atthai noticed I looked dull. I said it was only tiredness. In the afternoon I found Mama in the garden and confronted him about the two incidents. He asked me to sit and be patient, then told me the truth: Brody is gay.
The words struck me like a physical blow. Tears fell without control. Mama reminded me of his promise and said he would always stand by me. I told him I needed time to process it and left the garden.
Alone in my room I sat with the shock and anger. He had known before the marriage and still let it happen. Yet I could not simply leave. What would I tell my parents? What reason would I give the public? The family’s image would be damaged. The one solid thing I held was Mama’s promise. I decided to stay and use that promise as my protection. Physical needs were the least of my concerns right now. Security mattered more. I finally slept.
The next morning I went to Mama in the garden. I told him my disappointment and anger. He accepted the mistake. I reminded him of his promise and made three demands: I would stay forever under the protection of the family as DIL, I wanted a few assets in my name as compensation, and the entire matter must remain secret between us. He agreed to all three without hesitation. When he asked about a second marriage I told him that for the next few years I had no such thought. I was the daughter-in-law of this family and that was where I would stay.
Life slowly returned to a steady rhythm. I adjusted. The anger did not disappear completely, yet my respect for Mama grew because he had kept his word. When my parents called I told them I was living happily. This was my personal life and I chose what to share. Brody later apologised and said he would stand beside me at functions. Mama began showing steady care—asking about my work, making sure I was comfortable. I had wanted that kind of steady affection and protection. Now I was receiving it.
One evening the family decided to go on a tour for a few weeks. Mama stayed back for business. They asked me to join, but I had an advertisement shooting and declined. Only Mama and I remained in the large house. Neither of us knew then what the coming days would bring.
We lived quietly for several days. One morning I went to bathe and did not lock the door. Mama entered without knocking. I jerked and cried out. He apologised at once. I accepted it as an accident. As he turned to leave I knew he had seen my bare body. At the same moment I noticed the clear hardness at the front of his trousers. The sight stunned me. I forced the thought away. He is my father-in-law. It was only an accident. My own lack of intimacy must be making me imagine things. I finished bathing as if nothing had happened.
I returned to my usual routine and continued to treat Mama exactly as my father-in-law. I spoke to him normally. Yet the memory of his body stayed somewhere under the surface.
The next morning I heard weights from the gym. Mama was wearing only shorts, his upper body bare and covered in sweat. Even at forty-seven he looked solid. I stopped and said he still looked very fit. He asked if I thought forty-seven was already old. I answered lightly that it was not old, but not young either. We both smiled. My eyes moved over his chest and shoulders. A slow warmth spread through me. I knew it was wrong, yet the long absence of physical closeness made the feeling stronger. I let the thought stay for a few seconds, then forced myself to move away.
That night we sat opposite each other at dinner. Mama told me that Atthai is lesbian and has been that way for many years. They had physical relations only once, for formality, and Brody was born from that. He said he had managed here and there with other women, but he also lived with a long lack of real intimacy—the same way I did. I was surprised that he spoke so openly about my situation. We finished the meal in silence.
In my room his words kept returning. I felt sadness for the life he had described. The idea came quietly, then grew stronger. Both of us were living without physical closeness. I could not continue like this. If we turned toward each other, the need that troubled us both could be answered. I sat with the thought until it settled into a decision. I would allow myself to move closer to him.
The next morning I woke early and began cleaning the living room wearing only my bra and panty. Mama walked out wearing only a brief. The thick shape of his cock was clearly visible. Our eyes met. Today was the day.
He came behind me under the pretence of helping. His chest touched my back. Then I felt the hard length of his cock rub slowly against my panty. A soft groan left my mouth. He turned me around and kissed me deeply. I kissed him back. He pulled the brief down, unhooked my bra, and pushed my panty down until I stood naked. He laid me on the floor, positioned himself, and with one strong thrust pushed his thick cock inside me.
“Look at me,” he said. “Your Mama is going to take you now.”
“Yes, Mama… take your daughter-in-law.”
He moved with long, deep strokes. “You are so tight for your Mama. This pussy belongs to your father-in-law now.”
“Yes, Mama… fuck your DIL… use me…”
He kept his eyes locked on mine. “Tell me who is inside you.”
“My Mama… my father-in-law is inside me… your cock is so big, Mama… don’t stop…”
I came hard, then again. He buried himself fully and released thick ropes of cum deep inside me. He stayed inside and kissed my mouth, then my forehead. The first complete act between father-in-law and daughter-in-law had taken place.
I stayed on his lap afterward. We agreed the relationship would continue exactly as father-in-law and daughter-in-law. We went to the bathroom. Under the water he lifted one of my legs and entered me again.
“Hold on to your Mama.”
“My Mama… my father-in-law is fucking his DIL… your cock feels so good inside me, Mama… harder…”
“This pussy belongs to your father-in-law. Say it.”
“Yes, Mama… this pussy is yours… only for my FIL…”
I came again. He flooded me a second time.
Still naked we cooked a simple meal and fed each other. On the sofa he laid me back and entered me once more in missionary.
“Look at your Mama while he fucks you.”
“Yes, Mama… fuck your daughter-in-law… I love feeling my FIL so deep…”
“You were made to take your father-in-law’s cock.”
“It feels perfect, Mama… so thick… so deep… don’t stop fucking your DIL…”
I came. He released a third load inside me.
That night in the bedroom he entered me for the fourth time in missionary.
“Mama…!”
“Your father-in-law is inside you again. This is where you belong—under your Mama.”
“Yes… yes, Mama… fuck me… love me like this… your DIL is only for you…”
“You are my daughter-in-law… and I will keep filling you like this.”
“I’m yours, Mama… keep going… fill your DIL again…”
I came hard. He drove deep and pumped a fourth load into me. We stayed joined and fell asleep in that position.
In the following weeks we continued whenever we could. I missed my period. A home test came positive. I was carrying Mama’s child. He said he would stay beside me no matter what. We both knew the pregnancy had to stay hidden until we found a way out of the present situation.
From that day the thrill changed. Every time we touched, the knowledge that his child was already growing inside me made the danger sharper. What if someone found us now? What if they realised I was pregnant with my father-in-law’s baby while still wearing Brody’s thaali? The thought should have terrified me. Instead it sank lower, between my legs, and stayed there.
The family cancelled the rest of their tour and came back early. Our private time was broken. Mama told me we would find time whenever we could. I wore loose clothes and carefully managed the early symptoms. Outwardly everything returned to normal. Inside, my mind never stopped circling the same question: what if we are caught while I am already carrying him?
One afternoon I was alone in the kitchen. Mama came in and we kissed deeply. Footsteps approached. He dropped under the table. Atthai entered and began ordinary conversation. While I answered her, Mama lifted my dress, pulled my panties down, and began licking me boldly. My eyes widened. Atthai noticed my face and asked what was wrong. I said it was a stomach cramp. She advised warm water and continued talking. Mama licked with steady strokes, circling my clit and pushing deeper. I struggled to speak. The thought flashed through me—his tongue is on the same place where his child is already growing—and my thighs trembled. Atthai decided to bring a tablet and left.
The moment she was gone I looked down. “Mama… your DIL’s pussy is in your mouth… right under Atthai’s nose… don’t stop… and I’m already pregnant with your baby…”
“This is your father-in-law tasting his daughter-in-law. Stay quiet and come for Mama.”
I came hard, my juices spilling onto his tongue. He slid out, satisfied. I told him it was too risky. He said the risk was the thrill, especially now. We kissed again. Footsteps returned. We stepped apart. Atthai gave me the tablets, noticed Mama, and asked why he was there. He said he had heard discomfort in my voice and stepped in to check. She accepted the explanation. We all left the kitchen. No doubt remained. My heart was still racing—not only from the orgasm, but from how close we had come to discovery while I carried his child.
Mama decided I should visit his office. He introduced me to everyone as his daughter-in-law. They greeted me with respect. He introduced me to his young female PA, then stepped out to take a call. The PA looked at me and said she hoped I was getting properly satisfied by my father-in-law. I asked how she knew. She said she knew his personal life; he had appointed her not only for work but also for physical needs. He had never forced her, treated her with respect, paid her well, and always used protection because she did not want children. She saw me as support, not competition, and was happy he was more satisfied. I thanked her. She said she had agreed only because of his gentle and caring nature.
I spoke with other employees. Their praise for Mama’s fairness and respect deepened my admiration. I went to his room, hugged him, and thanked him for treating the PA with care. He said everyone is human and women are not toys; they have feelings and deserve dignity. He kissed my head and said he loved me. I answered that I loved him too. For a moment the pregnancy sat between us like a shared secret, heavier and sweeter than before. We returned home.
I began visiting the office more often and slowly learned the business. One morning I entered his cabin to say good morning. He asked me to come closer and we kissed. A knock sounded. I dropped under the desk. An employee entered and began reporting. I remembered the kitchen risk and decided to return it. I unzipped Mama, took his thick cock fully into my mouth in one motion, and began sucking and stroking. His voice grew strained. The employee asked if he was all right. Mama said he was fine and told him to continue. I kept working him deeply. Every time the man spoke, the same thought burned through me: if he looks down now, he will see the pregnant daughter-in-law of this house on her knees for her father-in-law. The employee asked again. Mama told him to summarise. The man finished and left.
The moment we were alone Mama gripped my hair and forced his cock deep into my throat.
“Take it. Your Mama is going to punish his DIL for being so bold.”
I gagged. Tears ran. He thrust into my throat again and again.
“This is what happens when my daughter-in-law takes risks. Suck your father-in-law’s cock properly. Drink everything your Mama gives you.”
He held me there until he groaned and flooded my mouth with thick cum, making sure I swallowed every drop. He released me. I coughed and wiped my tears. I asked why he had become so rough. He said it was punishment for the risk I had taken. I laughed and reminded him of the kitchen. He smirked and said his DIL only receives the risks. Then his hand rested lightly on my still-flat stomach. “Especially now.” I stood, cleaned my mouth, and walked to the door. He gave my ass a firm playful slap. I sighed, laughed, bit my lip, and left, the thrill of the near-discovery still pulsing between my legs.
Even after that we still had not had full sex again since the family returned. One afternoon I went to Mama’s room with a business doubt. He asked me to sit on his lap. I did. I asked my questions; he pinched my cheek affectionately and answered. The closeness turned into a deep kiss. We began undressing—I pulled my saree loose, he removed his shirt—when the door lock turned. Mama pointed to the wardrobe. I grabbed the saree and slipped inside just as Atthai entered. She saw him shirtless. He said his back was itching and he had removed the shirt to apply powder. She pointed to the powder. He asked why she had come. She said it was her room and she could come whenever she wished. He turned the conversation aside. She took some documents and left. Mama opened the wardrobe and told me to go because too many people were moving around. I asked when we could properly be together again. He said soon and guided me out. I returned to my room unsatisfied, one hand resting on my belly, wondering how long we could keep this hidden.
The wait continued. Mama was still taking care of his needs with his PA. I could not bear it any longer. One night I checked that Brody was asleep, then walked out in only my bra and panty. Mama was awake under the night lamp. He asked why I had come. I said I wanted him. He confirmed Atthai was sleeping, wrapped a towel around himself, and led me upstairs to an unused room.
We undressed. Mama laid me down and entered me in one long thrust.
“Look at me. Your Mama is going to take his daughter-in-law properly tonight.”
“Yes, Mama… I need you inside me.”
He moved with deep, steady strokes. “This pussy belongs to your father-in-law. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels so good, Mama… your cock is so deep… fuck your DIL…”
“You waited for your Mama like a good girl. Now take every inch. This is how a father-in-law loves his daughter-in-law.”
“Yes… yes, Mama… love me like this… keep fucking me…”
I came hard. He continued. I suddenly noticed his younger sister watching from the doorway and told him. He said not to worry and kept thrusting. The knowledge that she was watching while his child grew inside me made every stroke feel sharper.
“Then fuck me harder, Mama… show her how you take your DIL… while I’m already carrying your baby…”
I came again. He pulled out and sprayed thick cum across my stomach. We rose, cleaned ourselves, and stepped out. The sister said she had seen everything and would tell the family. Mama cut her off: what we were doing was between consenting adults and I had his full protection. She stared in shock. I told her I had Mama beside me. She turned and walked downstairs, defeated. Mama and I returned to our rooms, bodies satisfied, the night’s risk already a shared private victory. Later, lying alone, I kept thinking: she saw us. She knows. And I am pregnant. The thought should have kept me awake with fear. Instead it kept me wet.
After the night we were seen by Mama’s sister, our boldness grew. We still stayed careful, but the risks we took became more frequent. The secret no longer felt as fragile as before, yet the pregnancy made every risk feel larger.
One new desire settled in me. I wanted Mama to fuck me while the thaali Brody had tied around my neck hung between my breasts. I wanted to feel it swing with every thrust and hear Mama speak as if I were cheating. I waited for the right night.
That night came.
I woke, confirmed Brody was asleep, and slipped out wearing only my bra and panty. The gold thaali rested clearly against my skin. I climbed the stairs. Mama was walking slowly along the upstairs corridor. He stopped when he saw me. His eyes moved from my face down to the thaali hanging between my breasts. Something dark and hungry lit in his gaze.
“Trisha,” he said quietly.
I did not answer with words. I simply looked at him. He understood. We stepped into one of the rarely used rooms and locked the door. Clothes came off quickly. Mama turned me around, bent me forward over the edge of the bed, and positioned himself behind me.
“On your knees for your Mama,” he ordered.
I lowered myself. He rubbed the thick head of his cock along my wet folds, then pushed in with one long, deep thrust. I cried out as he filled me completely. The thaali swung forward and tapped lightly against my skin.
He began to fuck me in a steady, powerful doggy rhythm. Each stroke drove deep. The thaali swung harder with every impact of his hips.
“Look at this,” he growled, gripping my waist. “My daughter-in-law came to her father-in-law wearing the thaali another man tied. You’re cheating on your husband with your own Mama… and you’re already pregnant with my child.”
“Yes, Mama…” I moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “I’m cheating… I’m letting my father-in-law fuck me while I still wear Brody’s thaali… and I’m carrying your baby…”
He thrust harder. The wet sound of our bodies filled the room. The thaali kept swinging between my breasts.
“This tight pussy belongs to your Mama now,” he said, voice thick with lust. “Say it while that thaali moves.”
“This pussy is my Mama’s… my FIL is fucking his DIL… I’m cheating and I love it… and I’m pregnant with your child…” My words broke into moans as he drove deeper.
He leaned over my back, one hand sliding around to rub my clit while the other held my hip. “You’re a dirty daughter-in-law… coming upstairs half-naked with your husband’s thaali just so your Mama can use you while you carry his baby.”
“I am, Mama… use me… fuck your cheating pregnant DIL harder…”
Pleasure built fast. The combination of the deep strokes, the swinging thaali, the filthy incest-and-cheating words, and the knowledge of the pregnancy pushed me higher. I came hard, my walls clamping around him, a loud cry leaving my throat. Mama did not slow down. He kept fucking me through the orgasm, speaking against my ear.
“That’s it… cum on your father-in-law’s cock while you wear another man’s thaali and carry my child. You’re mine tonight.”
“I’m yours, Mama… keep fucking me… I love cheating with you…”
He continued the deep doggy rhythm for a long time, alternating between hard, punishing thrusts and slower, grinding ones that made the thaali sway gently. Every time he spoke, he mixed affection with ownership and the sharp edge of incest.
“My sweet DIL… my dirty girl… taking her Mama’s cock so well…”
“Yes, Mama… I love you… I love being your daughter-in-law… fuck me…”
When he finally neared the edge he pulled out suddenly. Thick ropes of cum sprayed across my lower back and the curve of my ass. He groaned through the release, one hand still gripping my hip.
We stayed like that for a few moments, breathing hard. Then he turned me around and looked at the thaali still hanging against my skin.
“Wear it more often when you come to me,” he said. “I like fucking my daughter-in-law while she wears the proof of her marriage. The cheating makes the incest sweeter… especially now.”
I nodded, still catching my breath. “I will, Mama.”
He pulled me onto the bed and drew me against his chest, his arm wrapping firmly around me. “No one comes up here. Sleep with me tonight.”
I settled against him, the thaali resting between us. His body was warm and solid. We were lovers in the quiet of the night, yet the truth of what we were—father-in-law and daughter-in-law, and the child already growing—remained the centre of everything. Wrapped in that forbidden closeness, we both drifted into sleep.
Mama no longer wanted to keep our relationship hidden forever. Both of us were simply waiting for the next proper time we could be alone. The pregnancy made the waiting feel heavier. Every day I wondered how long before the body began to show, how long before someone asked questions.
That time arrived when almost the entire family decided to go on a two-day tour. Only Brody, Mama and I stayed behind. The moment the others left, Mama and I both understood these two days belonged to us.
That evening the three of us sat together for dinner. Conversation stayed ordinary. When the meal ended Mama looked at me across the table and gave a small, deliberate wink.
“Trisha, bring some dessert upstairs later. I will be working in the first-floor room.”
My cheeks warmed. “Okay, Mama,” I answered softly.
He rose first and went upstairs. I waited a few minutes, then noticed Brody was still in the living room. I walked to the bathroom, removed every piece of clothing, and left the garments in the basket. Completely naked, I climbed the stairs and entered the room. My hand brushed over my lower belly once before I closed the door.
Mama was already waiting, equally naked. The moment the door closed he pulled me against him and kissed me deeply. His tongue claimed my mouth. Heat flooded me at once.
“Mama… I can’t wait,” I whispered against his lips. “Please… take me now.”
He guided me onto the bed, spread my legs, and covered my body with his. His thick cock pressed against my entrance. With one firm thrust he sank all the way inside me. Our eyes locked.
“Look at your Mama,” he said, beginning a deep, steady rhythm. “Your father-in-law is inside you again… and you’re already carrying his child.”
“Yes, Mama… I feel you so deep… fuck your DIL…” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He moved with long, powerful strokes, never breaking eye contact. “This pussy belongs to your Mama. Tell me how much you need it.”
“I need it, Mama… I need my father-in-law’s cock… love me… fuck me…” My voice rose with every thrust. Pleasure built quickly.
“My sweet daughter-in-law… taking her Mama so perfectly…” he murmured, thrusting harder. “You were made for this.”
“I was made for you, Mama… keep going… don’t stop fucking your DIL…”
I came hard, my walls tightening around him, a loud cry leaving my throat. He continued without slowing, speaking low and dirty between deep strokes.
“That’s it… cum on your father-in-law’s cock. You’re mine.”
“I’m yours, Mama… only yours… fuck me deeper…”
Outside, Brody had noticed my long absence and decided to check upstairs. As he climbed the stairs he heard the unmistakable sounds of pleasure. He moved toward the room and looked through the open gap of the window. He saw his father on top of me, thrusting deeply, our bodies locked together. Shock, confusion and disbelief froze him in place.
I turned my head slightly and saw him standing there. A fresh wave of heat and boldness washed over me. I did not tell Mama. Instead I moaned louder, lifted my hips to meet every thrust, and spoke more clearly.
“Mama… your cock feels so good… I love when my father-in-law fucks me like this… harder, Mama… claim your DIL… while I’m pregnant with your baby…”
Mama, unaware we were being watched, kept driving into me with the same intense rhythm, his eyes still on mine.
“My DIL… my woman… take every inch your Mama gives you.”
“Yes… yes… I’m taking it… I love you, Mama… keep fucking me…”
I came again, even harder, my nails digging into his back. The knowledge that Brody was watching while I carried his father’s child filled me with a dark, complete satisfaction. Mama’s thrusts grew more urgent. He buried himself to the hilt, groaned deeply, and released thick pulses of cum straight into my pussy, flooding me completely.
He stayed inside me afterward, breathing hard. I held him close. Neither of us spoke of the watcher. We simply shifted onto our sides, still joined, and fell asleep tangled together, his arm around me, both of us fully satisfied. Even in sleep the thought stayed with me: Brody saw. He knows. And I am pregnant.
We woke at the same time the next morning. Mama turned toward me, eyes still heavy with sleep, and gave a soft smile.
“Good morning, Trisha.”
“Good morning, Mama.”
Before I could say anything more he shifted over me, spread my legs, and pushed his thick cock inside in one smooth thrust. The sudden fullness made me gasp.
“Mama… so early…?”
He began moving with deep, steady strokes, eyes locked on mine. “Your Mama needs his daughter-in-law first thing in the morning.”
I moaned and wrapped my legs around him. “Then take me… fuck your DIL… I love feeling you so deep…”
“This pussy belongs to your father-in-law,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Say it.”
“It belongs to my Mama… only to my FIL… keep fucking me…”
Pleasure rose quickly. I came with a trembling cry, clinging to his shoulders. He followed soon after, burying himself fully and releasing thick pulses of cum deep inside me with a low groan.
We stayed joined for a few moments, then rose. Downstairs the house felt empty; Brody was nowhere to be seen. Neither of us commented on it. We bathed, dressed, and sat across from each other at breakfast, eating in comfortable silence. My mind kept returning to the same place: he saw us yesterday. What if he speaks? What if someone notices the early changes in my body before we are free?
After the meal Mama took my hand and led me to the small gym room. He pushed me gently against the wall, lifted my saree up around my waist, and freed his cock from his dhoti. In one motion he entered me again, holding my thighs as he fucked me upright against the wall. This time we spoke very little. Our mouths stayed locked in deep, continuous kisses while his hips drove into me. The only sounds were the wet rhythm of our bodies and my muffled moans against his lips. He came hard, flooding me once more, then held me there until our breathing slowed. We cleaned up quietly and went to attend to some office work.
In the afternoon we ate lunch together. The moment the plates were cleared Mama guided me to the sofa. Again he did not undress me completely. He simply lifted my saree, opened his dhoti, and sank into me in the missionary position. We kissed the entire time—slow, deep, unbroken kisses—while he thrust with steady power. I came silently against his mouth. He followed, releasing another heavy load inside me. Afterward we cleaned ourselves and returned to work. Every quiet moment between us carried the same undercurrent: we are still not free, and I am already pregnant.
Night came. We finished dinner, and Mama stood without a word, took my hand, and led me boldly to his own room. This time we removed every piece of clothing. He turned me around, bent me forward, and entered me from behind in a strong doggy rhythm.
“Mama…!” I cried out as he filled me completely.
He gripped my hips and thrust deep. “Your father-in-law is taking his DIL again. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels perfect, Mama… so thick… so deep… fuck me harder…”
His hands slid forward and cupped my breasts, squeezing them as he pounded into me. “These are your Mama’s now. Everything of yours belongs to your FIL.”
“Yes… yes, Mama… I’m yours… grab them… fuck your daughter-in-law…” My moans turned into loud, open screams of pleasure. He kept the powerful rhythm, fingers teasing my nipples while his cock drove in and out.
After a long while he pulled out, turned me onto my back, and entered me again in missionary. Our eyes met. The talking resumed, thicker with lust and affection.
“Look at me while your Mama fucks you,” he said.
“I’m looking, Mama… I love you… I love being your DIL… keep going…”
“My sweet girl… my daughter-in-law… taking every inch so well…”
“Fill me, Mama… I want it… I want my father-in-law’s cum…”
He thrust deeper, faster. I came hard, shaking under him. A few strokes later he groaned loudly, jerked, and poured another thick load of cum straight into my pussy, holding himself deep until the last pulse faded.
When he finally eased out I started to rise, thinking of returning to my own room. Mama caught my wrist and pulled me back down against his chest.
“No more hiding, Trisha,” he said quietly but firmly. “I don’t want to keep this secret any longer. For the past two days I have finished inside you again and again. You are already carrying my child. There is no reason left to hide.”
I looked into his eyes. The words settled inside me as right and inevitable. The constant low-level fear of discovery that had lived in me since the positive test finally found an answer. I nodded.
“Yes, Mama. You are right.”
He drew me fully into his arms. I rested my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear. Wrapped together, still marked by everything we had done that day, we fell asleep.
The next day Atthai and the rest of the family returned. Atthai walked into Mama’s bedroom and stopped dead. She saw us both naked, my body still under his arm. A sharp shout left her throat.
Mama and I woke at once. I grabbed the bedsheet and pulled it up over myself, not knowing what to say or do. Mama simply stood up and stretched as if the morning were ordinary.
The sound of Atthai’s cry brought everyone rushing upstairs. One by one they filled the doorway and stared at the scene. Shock showed on every face.
A few hours later the entire household gathered in the main hall—Atthai, Brody, the other relatives, Mama and me. The air was heavy.
Atthai stepped forward, fury on her face, and raised her hand to strike me. I caught her wrist firmly and looked straight into her eyes.
“You have no right,” I said, my voice steady. “Everyone here knows the truth about you. You are lesbian. You have never been a wife to him in any real sense.”
The words landed hard. Atthai’s hand fell. She could not answer. The confidence drained from her face.
Mama then turned to Brody. “And you,” he said calmly. “You are gay. That is the truth we all lived with in silence for years.”
Brody lowered his gaze. No one else in the hall spoke. The confrontations left the room in complete silence. One by one they stood and left until only Mama and I remained.
The following days were spent in lawyers’ offices. Mama signed the divorce papers and made the separation from Atthai official. He arranged a fair settlement of assets for his former wife and for Brody, then required them to leave the house. The same week I also signed my own divorce papers, ending the marriage with Brody.
Even during those days of legal paperwork the old thrill did not completely disappear. Every time we were alone in the large house, the knowledge that I was still legally Brody’s wife and already pregnant with Mama’s child kept a faint edge of danger alive. We both felt it. We both used it.
Two weeks later, in front of our close relatives, Mama and I married each other. The ceremony was simple but complete. What had begun as father-in-law and daughter-in-law became, in the eyes of everyone, husband and wife.
From that moment I no longer called him Mama. He was no longer my father-in-law. He was my husband. I began addressing him the way a wife should.
We returned to the large house that was now fully ours. The rooms felt different without the old tensions. There were no more secrets to guard, no more careful timing, no more fear of discovery. The constant low hum of “what if we are caught” that had lived inside me since the day of the positive test finally fell silent.
All contact with his former wife and with Brody was cut. The past stayed behind us. Ahead of us was only the life we had chosen.
I carried the pregnancy to term. When the time came, I gave birth to healthy twins—a boy and a girl. Because we were now legally and openly husband and wife, we could keep them with us without any pretence or hidden arrangements. The children became part of our daily life from the very beginning.
With their birth, the long and complicated chapter that had started with a marriage proposal, hidden truths, secret nights, and stolen moments finally came to a close. We were no longer father-in-law and daughter-in-law living under borrowed time. We were simply husband and wife, raising the family we had chosen to build together.
And so the first part of our story ends.]]> <![CDATA[Traditional Wife Broken by Gangster's Obsession]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75604.html Sun, 11 Oct 2026 17:31:23 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75604.html Hi Friends

Starting my new story.. I hope U guys like it...]]> Hi Friends

Starting my new story.. I hope U guys like it...]]> <![CDATA[Super Deluxe Photo Studio (COMPLETED)- By Novelist Casanova]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75597.html Sun, 11 Oct 2026 09:31:42 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75597.html [Image: super-delux-photo-studio-Tamil-Nadu-Phot...mories.png]

Super Deluxe Photo Studio
By Novelist Casanova


  
It is the 1990s. Life moves slowly in our place. Letters take weeks to arrive. Phone calls are rare and short. Most things we need are not found nearby.
Our village is small and quiet. The houses stand close together with tiled roofs and open courtyards. Dusty paths run between them. There is a small provision shop, a tea stall, and the post office. For almost everything else we must go to the town. The town is one hour away by the morning bus. The bus is old, with hard seats. It leaves early and returns in the evening. If we miss it, we wait for a lorry or walk. In the village we manage with little. For new clothes, medicine, college needs for the boys, or any special work, we take the bus to the town market. That is how we live.

I am Sudha. I am a housewife. My husband works in Dubai as a construction labourer. He sends money orders every two or three months and writes inland letters. Our three sons study in a high-class college in the town and stay in the hostel. In the house it is only me and my mother-in-law.

I stand 5 feet 4 inches and weigh 56 kg, with measurements of 34-26-34, a 34 bra size, and panties sized for my 86 cm hips. My face is oval. My eyes are large and dark, almond-shaped, with long lashes. My eyebrows are neat and gently arched. My nose is straight. My lips are full and pink; they look fuller when I press them together. My black hair is long and thick; I keep it in a loose braid that falls over one shoulder, a few strands curling near my cheeks and touching the side of my neck.

My neck is slender. Below it my collarbones show under the skin. My heavy breasts sit high and press forward, full and soft, the weight of them making them shift with each step. The skin over them is warm. My nipples are dark and sit in the center of each breast, raised a little even when I am still. My waist is narrow, and in the center sits my navel, a small soft hollow that moves when I breathe. From the waist my body widens into wide hips that sway when I walk. My stomach is gently rounded below the navel. My thick thighs are soft and press together when I stand still, the inner sides warmer. Between them the mound of my pussy sits soft and full, the outer lips smooth, the skin there warmer and more sensitive than the rest of my body. My calves taper. My feet are small, the soles even, the toes straight.

If I stood without clothes the same body would look even hotter. My heavy breasts would hang full and soft, the dark nipples standing out. The narrow waist would lead into the wide curve of my hips. My thick thighs would frame the soft mound of my pussy, the outer lips closed and warm. The whole shape would be soft, heavy, and ready — the kind of body that looks made for a man’s hands to hold. That is how I look, clothed or not, as I move through this village house in the 1990s.
After the morning work is done I lock the bathroom door and start the things I do every day to keep my body the way it is. I sit on the low wooden stool and untie my saree, letting the pallu and the folds fall away until my saree is off. I open my blouse hooks one by one and slip my blouse off my shoulders. Then I untie my petticoat and let it drop. I reach behind and unhook my bra. The cups fall away and my heavy breasts hang free, full and soft, my dark nipples already a little raised from the air. I push my panties down my thick thighs until they drop to the floor. Now I am naked.

I open a small steel tin of coconut oil, pour a little into my palm, and rub it between my hands until it is warm. I lift my braid and work the oil into my scalp, my fingers moving slowly. The oil runs down the length of my black hair. I undo my braid and comb it with a wide-toothed comb until the strands shine. A few drops fall on my neck and slide onto the top of my heavy breasts.

Next I take a small piece of turmeric root and rub it on a rough stone with a little water until it becomes a yellow paste. I apply the paste on my face, covering my cheeks, forehead, and the area under my eyes. Then I spread the same paste over my neck, across the upper curve of my heavy breasts, around my dark nipples, around my navel, and down over my stomach. The paste feels cool at first, then warm as it dries. I oil my arms and legs. My hands move over my thick thighs, pressing the oil into the soft inner sides, then down my calves to my feet. I rub each toe and the sole. My anklets stay on; I only lift them a little to reach underneath.

I open my thighs wider and take a small amount of the turmeric paste mixed with a pinch of gram flour. I spread it carefully over the mound of my pussy and between my outer lips, then further back over my asshole. The paste sits there and softens any fine hair. After a few minutes I gently rub it away with my fingers in small circles. Both my pussy and my asshole stay without hair, my outer lips and the tight ring soft and even. I feel the warmth of my own fingers against my outer lips and around my asshole as I clear every bit of paste.

I fill the brass pot with warm water and pour it over myself to take my bath. The yellow paste runs off my face, down between my heavy breasts, over my dark nipples, over my navel, and between my thick thighs. I use a bar of soap and wash every part: under my breasts, around my dark nipples, inside the hollow of my navel, carefully between my outer lips of my pussy, and around my asshole so both places stay clean and soft. The water runs down my wide hips and pools for a moment on the floor before it drains. I rinse until the water runs clear, then dry myself with a thin cotton towel, patting under my breasts, around my waist, gently between my thighs, and over my asshole.
I sit on the stool again, still naked, and comb my hair once more, then braid it tightly so it stays neat. I apply a little kajal to my eyes with the tip of my finger. The whole body feels warm and clean from the bath. My heavy breasts rest full, my wide hips and thick thighs are soft, my pussy and asshole bare and smooth.

I pick up my panties and step into them, pulling them up over my thick thighs until they sit against the mound of my pussy and cover my asshole. I put my bra back on, lifting each of my heavy breasts into the cup and hooking it behind me so my dark nipples press against the cotton. I step into my petticoat and tie it low on my wide hips. I put on my blouse and hook it closed over my bra. Then I take my saree, tuck the pleats into my petticoat, and dbang the pallu over my shoulder. That is how I keep myself looking the way I do.


Before my husband left for Dubai we were just like the other families in the village. We had a small house, little money, and we managed with what we had. My mother-in-law and I cooked simple meals and wore the same few sarees again and again. Our relatives lived the same way. No one had much more than anyone else.
Then my husband went to Dubai as a construction labourer. He worked long hours in the heat and started sending money orders. Every month the postman comes to our house on his bicycle and hands me the money order. I sign for it and collect the cash. With that money our life changed. We bought more land around the village. We built a bigger house with a proper courtyard. Our three sons started studying in the high-class college in the town and stayed in the hostel. We became richer than the other families.
Our relatives saw the money coming in and tried to compete. One of them was Santosh. He took a big loan from the bank to buy a new house so he could match us. He could not repay the loan. The bank took the house. People in the village talked about him. He felt shamed. One day he locked himself in a room and committed suicide. After that the other relatives stopped trying so openly. Some of them still spoke behind our backs. I kept quiet and looked after the house.

My husband and I write inland letters to each other. He writes about the work and asks about the boys. I write back about the house, the land we bought, and how the boys are studying. The letters take weeks to arrive.
With the money he sends I buy things carefully. I put some into more properties so the land grows. I pay the college fees and hostel charges for our sons. When I go to the town I buy new sarees for myself from the shops in the market. Every three months a bra and panties salesman comes to our village on his cycle with a big bundle. He sits in the front room and opens his cloth. I choose my bra and my panties from what he has, pay him, and keep them for myself. That is how the money my husband works hard for is spent. We are better off than the others now, but he is still far away working every day so the money orders keep coming.


Every month a blue inland letter comes from my husband along with the money order. The postman hands it to me and I take it inside. I sit alone in the front room and open it. He always writes that he misses me. He writes that he thinks about my body at night after the work is finished. He writes that he gets hard remembering how I looked when he left.

In the last letter he wrote: “Sudha, I am so horny here. I keep thinking about your heavy breasts and how soft they feel in my hands. Take a measuring tape and measure yourself for me. Measure your breasts, your waist, your hips, and write the numbers. Tell me what color panties you are wearing today. Are your panties tight on your wide hips? I want to know if your panties are pressing against your pussy. I imagine pulling your panties down and putting my mouth there. Write back and tell me everything. I touch myself reading your letters.”
My face became hot when I read those lines. I folded the letter and put it under my blouse for a while. My dark nipples tightened against my white bra. I felt a warm feeling between my thick thighs.

That evening I locked the door and took the measuring tape from the sewing box. I untied my saree and let it fall. I opened the hooks of my blouse one by one and slipped my blouse off. I untied my petticoat and stepped out of it. I reached behind and unhooked my white bra so my heavy breasts hung free, full and soft, my dark nipples already raised. I pushed my pink panties down my thick thighs and stepped out of them. Now I was naked.

I stood in front of the small mirror and lifted the tape. I wrapped it carefully around the fullest part of my heavy breasts, just under my dark nipples, and noted the number. The tape pressed lightly against the soft weight of them. Then I moved the tape down and wrapped it around my waist, right above my navel, feeling it sit against the narrow curve. Next I brought the tape lower and circled it around the widest part of my wide hips, the tape resting just above the mound of my pussy. I held it there a moment, feeling the cool tape against my skin, then wrote all three numbers on a small paper.
I took a new inland letter and wrote back the same night. I wrote: “I measured myself like you asked. I got naked and used the tape. My breasts are 34, my waist is 26, my hips are 34. I am wearing my pink panties today. My pink panties sit low on my wide hips and my pink panties are pressed right against the mound of my pussy. When I walk my pink panties rub a little. I touched myself last night thinking of you. I slipped my fingers under my pink panties and rubbed between my outer lips until I was wet. I wish your cock was inside me instead of my fingers. Tell me more about what you want to do to my breasts and my pussy. I will write everything.”
I sealed the letter and gave it to the postman the next day. My cheeks stayed warm the whole morning. I kept thinking about the words I had written and the words he would write next month. The letters made me blush every time, but I always wrote dirty replies and waited for his next one.


For the next three months the letters from my husband stayed formal. He asked about my health, about our sons in the hostel, and about his mother. He wrote about the work in Dubai and how the money order would come. There were no more lines about my body or what color panties I was wearing. I read each letter and felt the difference, but I still wrote back carefully and waited.
One afternoon my friend Usha came to the house. We sat in the front room with tea. She wore her saree neatly and spoke in her usual easy way. After some time she leaned closer.
“My husband wrote again last week,” Usha said. “He is still in the army camp. He wrote such naughty things. He asked me what I was wearing under my saree and told me he gets hard thinking about my breasts. I blushed the whole day reading it.”
I listened and looked down at my hands. A small tightness came in my chest.
“My husband used to write like that too,” I said. “But for the past three months his letters are only formal. He asks about me, about our sons, and about my mother-in-law. Nothing else. No naughty words at all.”
Usha’s face changed. She set her cup down and looked at me properly.
“That is serious, Sudha,” she said. “A man alone for so long without any sex will get very horny. If he is not writing those things to you anymore, he must have found some way there. Prostitutes are everywhere in those places. He will go to them if you do not keep him thinking only of you.”
My stomach felt cold. I thought of the money orders still coming and the formal letters. My fingers pressed against my saree.
“What should I do?” I said. My voice was low.
Usha moved a little closer on the bench. Her voice became softer but firm.
“Take hot pictures of yourself and send them to him,” she said. “Go to the photo studio in the town. Wear a nice saree, but let them take pictures where the pallu is low and the blouse shows more. Send those pictures with your next letter. When he sees your heavy breasts and your wide hips in the photos he will remember only you. He will not look at any other woman there. Do it tomorrow itself. Do not wait.”
I sat quiet for a moment. The idea made my face warm, but the fear of what she said was stronger. I nodded slowly.
“I will go to the photo studio in the town tomorrow,” I said. “I will take the pictures and send them.”
Usha smiled a little and picked up her cup again. We talked about other things after that, but the plan stayed in my mind. When she left I stood at the door and watched her walk down the path. Tomorrow I would take the morning bus to the town.


The next morning I woke early. The house was still quiet. My mother-in-law was in the kitchen. I got up from the bed and went to the almirah. I opened it and looked through my sarees. I carefully picked out the yellow chiffon saree, the one my husband always said was his favorite color on me. I remembered how he used to look at me when I wore it before he left for Dubai. I took it out slowly and laid it on the bed. Then I took out my maroon panties, my white bra, my white petticoat, and my yellow blouse. I placed them one by one beside the yellow chiffon saree so everything was ready. Then I picked up a towel and walked into the bathroom.

I closed the door and stood in front of the small mirror. I took my toothbrush and began brushing my teeth, moving it slowly over each tooth while I looked at my face. After I finished I rinsed my mouth and set the brush down. Then I lifted my night saree along with my petticoat and pulled my panties down to my thick thighs. I sat on the toilet with my panties resting around my knees. I let myself poop, my thick thighs spread a little, my heavy breasts hanging forward under the night blouse as I stayed there. When I was done I cleaned myself carefully with water, washing between my outer lips and around my asshole the way I always do so everything stayed soft and clean. I stood up, pulled my panties back up, dried myself with the towel, and stayed for a moment in the small bathroom before I began the rest of my morning wash.


I stayed in the bathroom and began to undress for my bath. I untied my night saree and let it fall. I opened the hooks of my night blouse and slipped it off. I untied my night petticoat and stepped out of it. I unhooked my bra so my heavy breasts hung free, full and soft. I pushed my panties down my thick thighs and stepped out of them. Now I was naked.

I poured warm water from the brass pot over my head and body. The water ran down my face, over my heavy breasts, across my dark nipples, over my navel, and between my thick thighs. I took the turmeric paste I had kept ready and rubbed it slowly over my face, my neck, the upper curve of my heavy breasts, around my dark nipples, around my navel, and down my stomach. I spread a little more carefully over the mound of my pussy and between the lips of my pussy, then around my asshole, so both places stayed soft and without hair. The paste felt cool, then warm as it dried a little on my body.
I used the soap and washed every part with my hands. I soaped under my heavy breasts and around my dark nipples until they were clean. I washed inside the hollow of my navel. I opened my thighs and washed carefully between the lips of my pussy and around my asshole, my fingers moving slowly so the skin there stayed fresh and soft. The water rinsed the soap and turmeric away, running down my wide hips and over my thick thighs. I poured more water until everything was clear.
I dried myself with the towel, patting gently under my heavy breasts, around my waist, between my thick thighs, and over my pussy and asshole. My body felt clean and fresh. My face looked bright after the turmeric. My heavy breasts and wide hips were soft and ready. I wanted to look beautiful for the photos I would take for my husband. I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped out to the clothes waiting on the bed.


I came out of the bathroom with the towel around me and stood beside the bed. I dried the last drops from under my heavy breasts, around my navel, and between my thick thighs. Then I dropped the towel and stood naked in front of the small mirror. I thought of my husband and the photos I would send him. A warm feeling started low in my body.
I picked up my maroon panties from the bed. I held them open with both hands and stepped into them one foot at a time. I pulled my maroon panties slowly up my calves, then higher over my knees, feeling them slide against my thick thighs. As I pulled them higher I looked at myself in the mirror and spoke softly as if he could hear me.
“See, I am wearing the panties you like,” I said to the mirror.
I kept pulling until they reached the top of my thighs. I adjusted them carefully so the front sat snug against the mound of my pussy, pressing right over the lips of my pussy, and the back covered both my full ass cheeks completely. The closeness made me wetter. I ran my fingers along the edges and over the back, pressing a little against my pussy and over my ass cheeks. A small throb started between the lips of my pussy. I stayed looking in the mirror, my heavy breasts rising with my breath.
“I am getting wet thinking of you looking at me like this,” I said. “These maroon panties feel so close on my pussy and my whole ass.”
The horny feeling stayed strong as I reached for the next piece.


I picked up my white bra from the bed and turned back to the mirror. My heavy breasts hung free, full and soft, my dark nipples already a little raised from the warm feeling between my thighs. I looked at myself and spoke again as if my husband was watching.
“Now I am putting on my bra for you,” I said.
I slipped my arms through the straps and lifted my left heavy breast into my white bra, then my right heavy breast. I reached behind and hooked my white bra closed. My dark nipples pressed against my white bra. The weight of my heavy breasts felt held and lifted. I adjusted the straps a little so they sat properly on my shoulders. Standing there in only my maroon panties and my white bra, I felt the throb in my pussy grow stronger. I ran my hands lightly over my white bra, feeling my heavy breasts underneath.
“See how my breasts look in my white bra,” I said to the mirror. “I wish you could touch them now. I am so horny thinking of the photos.”
I stayed like that for a moment, breathing a little faster, before I reached for my white petticoat.


I picked up my white petticoat from the bed and stepped into it. I pulled it up over my thick thighs and my maroon panties until it reached my wide hips. I tied the string low, below my navel, the way I always do, so a little of my stomach showed above it. The petticoat sat snug on my wide hips. I looked at myself in the mirror, still in my white bra and my maroon panties underneath, and spoke softly.
“I tied my petticoat low for you,” I said. “You always liked it sitting below my navel.”
I smoothed my hands over the front of my white petticoat, feeling it rest against my maroon panties and the warmth of my pussy underneath. The horny feeling stayed. My heavy breasts rose and fell in my white bra as I breathed. I turned a little to the side so I could see how my wide hips looked.
“See how it sits on my hips,” I said to the mirror. “I am still wet thinking of you.”
I stayed there a moment longer, then reached for my yellow blouse.


I picked up my yellow blouse from the bed. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and brought it around my body over my white bra. I hooked it closed at the front, one hook at a time, until my yellow blouse sat close across my heavy breasts. My dark nipples pressed against my white bra underneath. I looked at myself in the mirror and spoke softly.
“My blouse is on now,” I said. “It is tight over my breasts the way you like.”
I ran my hands slowly over the front of my yellow blouse, feeling the shape of my heavy breasts under it. The warm throb between the lips of my pussy stayed strong. I adjusted the blouse a little at the waist so it sat neatly above my white petticoat.
“I wish you could open these hooks yourself,” I said to the mirror. “I am so horny for you right now.”
I stood still for a moment, breathing deeper, then reached for my yellow chiffon saree.



I picked up my yellow chiffon saree from the bed, the one my husband always said was his favorite. I held it open and began to tuck the pleats into my white petticoat, one by one, making them neat and even. I wrapped my yellow chiffon saree around my wide hips and brought the pallu up over my left shoulder. The soft saree settled against my yellow blouse and over my heavy breasts. I looked at myself in the mirror, fully dressed now, and spoke softly.
“I am wearing your favorite saree,” I said. “The yellow chiffon one. I tied everything low underneath for you.”
I smoothed my hands over the pallu and down the front of my yellow chiffon saree, feeling my body underneath—my white bra, my maroon panties, the warmth still between my thighs. The horny feeling had not gone. I turned a little so the saree moved with my wide hips.
“See how I look,” I said to the mirror. “I am going to take photos for you today. I want you to get hard when you see them.”
I stood there a moment longer, the attar soft on my neck, my anklets and mangalsutra in place, ready to leave for the town.


I sat on the edge of the bed in front of the mirror, my yellow chiffon saree already on. I picked up my silver anklets and fastened one around each ankle. They sat just above my feet and gave a small sound when I moved my legs. I looked at myself and spoke softly.
“I put on my anklets for you,” I said. “You always liked the sound when I walked.”
Next I took a small golden chain and fastened it around my neck. The chain rested between my heavy breasts, warm against my skin above my yellow blouse. I wore my small gold earrings and slipped a few glass bangles onto each wrist. I applied kajal carefully to my eyes and pressed a small bindi on my forehead. From the steel box I took a little attar and touched it on my neck, behind my ears, and on the inside of my wrists. The soft fragrance rose as I moved.
I stood up and looked at the full picture in the mirror—my yellow chiffon saree, my accessories in place, the warmth still between my thighs under my maroon panties.
“Everything is on now,” I said to the mirror. “I am ready for the photos. I want you to see me like this and miss me.”
The horny feeling stayed as I picked up my bag and got ready to leave for the town.



I sat down again and slipped on my footwear. As I stood up, my mother-in-law came into the room. She stopped and looked at me from head to toe in my yellow chiffon saree.
“You are dressed so nicely today,” she said. “Where are you going?”
I felt a little shy under her eyes. I adjusted my pallu.
“I am going to the photo studio in the town,” I said. “I want to take some pictures and send them to him.”
My mother-in-law’s face brightened. She came closer and began to adjust my yellow chiffon saree. She pulled the waist lower so more of my stomach showed above my white petticoat, then arranged the pallu so it sat lower on my heavy breasts. Her hands moved over my wide hips as she set the pleats.
“Not ordinary pictures,” she said, her voice lower. “Take hot and sexy ones for my son. Show your body properly. He is alone there. He needs to see you like this.”
She gave my ass a gentle spank over the saree, right where my maroon panties covered my full ass cheeks. The touch made me jump a little. My face became hot. I looked down, blushing.
“Go now,” she said. “Take good photos and send them. Make him happy.”
I nodded, still blushing, picked up my bag, and stepped out of the house. The morning bus would leave soon. My yellow chiffon saree felt different after her hands, and the warm feeling under my maroon panties had not gone.



I had just picked up my bag when my mother-in-law came to the front door and stopped me.
“Do not go by bus,” she said, looking at my yellow chiffon saree. “In that crowd your saree will get crushed and wrinkled. The pleats will spoil. Wait here. I will arrange something.”
She stepped out into the courtyard and called a boy who was standing near the next house. She pressed 5 rupees into his hand.
“Go fast and bring an auto,” she told him. “Tell him to come to this house.”
The boy nodded and ran down the dusty path. I stood inside, one hand holding my pallu, feeling the soft chiffon against my yellow blouse. A few minutes later I heard the sound of an auto engine. It stopped right in front of our gate. The driver, a thin man in a faded shirt, looked at my mother-in-law.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Town Market, near the Bus Stand,” my mother-in-law said. “Drop her there safely.”
The driver thought for a second.
“100 rupees,” he said.
“Fine,” my mother-in-law answered without bargaining. “Come, Sudha.”
I walked out of the house. The moment I stepped into the sunlight in my yellow chiffon saree the driver’s eyes moved over me. He started at my face, then slowly went down to my heavy breasts under the blouse, lingered on the low waist of my saree where a little stomach showed above my white petticoat, and then rested on my wide hips. His look stayed there. My mother-in-law saw it at once. She stepped forward, her voice sharp.
“Look at me,” she said. “If you try anything with her on the way, if you even touch her wrongly, I will find you and kill you. You only drop her at the market and leave. Understand?”
The driver’s eyes dropped to the ground. He shifted on the seat.
“I will not do anything, amma,” he said quickly. “I will drop her safe. Nothing else.”
I walked to the side of the auto. As I lifted my saree a little to step in, my mother-in-law came close and leaned to my ear. Her voice was low so only I could hear.
“Remember what I said,” she whispered. “Make every photo hot and sexy for my son. Do not take normal ones. Show him properly.”
A small laugh escaped both of us. My face grew warm under the kajal. I ducked my head and climbed inside. The seat was warm. I sat down, arranging my yellow chiffon saree around my legs so the pleats stayed neat. My maroon panties pressed against me under the petticoat as I settled. The driver started the engine without looking back. The auto moved forward, leaving our house and my mother-in-law standing at the gate, and turned onto the road that led to the town.


The auto moved along the village road, the engine loud and the seat shaking a little under me. I held my bag on my lap and kept my yellow chiffon saree arranged so the pleats would not spoil. My mother-in-law’s words stayed in my ears. Under my white petticoat my maroon panties felt close against the lips of my pussy. The warm feeling from the morning had grown stronger. I was excited. I kept thinking of the hot pictures I would take for my husband and how he would open the packet in Dubai.
I imagined the poses. Standing with my pallu low so my yellow blouse showed the top of my heavy breasts. Turning so my wide hips filled the frame. Sitting with my saree arranged to show the low line of my white petticoat. Maybe even one where I looked back over my shoulder. Each thought made the throb between my thighs deeper. I pressed my legs together a little and felt my maroon panties rub against my pussy.
The driver kept the auto steady, but his eyes kept coming to the small mirror. I saw them move over the front of my yellow blouse, lingering on the shape of my heavy breasts. Once when we slowed for a bullock cart his gaze dropped lower, toward the low waist of my saree and the way my wide hips filled the seat. He looked for a few seconds too long before turning back to the road. My face grew warm, but the excitement stayed. I pulled my pallu tighter, yet I still felt his glances while I thought of the poses waiting at the studio.
We left the village behind. The road widened. I stayed quiet, cheeks hot, picturing myself in front of the camera, my body arranged for my husband. After some time the town buildings appeared. The driver slowed as we reached the market area.
“Town Market, near Bus Stand,” he said, voice careful. “This is the place.”
He stopped at the side of the road. I took out the 100 rupees and handed it forward. His eyes flicked once more to my blouse as he took the money, then he looked away. I stepped down, holding my yellow chiffon saree clear of the step. The driver started the engine and left.
I stood near the bus stand, the market noise around me, my yellow chiffon saree bright in the sun. My heart beat faster. I was horny and ready. The photo studio was a short walk ahead. I adjusted my pallu, felt my maroon panties shift against my wet pussy as I moved, and began walking toward it, already thinking of the first pose.


I walked into the market under the hot sun. The road was dusty and the shops on both sides were busy. My yellow chiffon saree felt light on my body, but the heat made a thin layer of sweat form under my yellow blouse and along my wide hips. I held my pallu in place and looked for the photo studio, my heart still beating faster from the thoughts of the poses.
Women and girls passing by turned to look at me. Some stared at my face, then at the way my heavy breasts filled my blouse and how my wide hips moved under the saree. A few whispered to each other as I went past. Their eyes were sharp with jealousy. I kept walking, cheeks warm, feeling their looks on my body the same way I had felt the driver’s.
After asking one shopkeeper I found the place. It was in a corner building, on the first floor. A painted board above the stairs read “Super Deluxe Photo Studio.” I stood at the bottom for a moment, then began to climb the narrow stairs. On the ground floor a few men were standing near a tea stall. As I went up they all turned. Their eyes followed my yellow chiffon saree, moving over my heavy breasts, then lower to my wide hips and the way my ass shifted with each step. I heard one of them make a low sound. I did not look back. I kept my face straight and continued up, my anklets sounding softly on the steps, my maroon panties pressing against my pussy with every movement.
At the top I stopped outside the studio door. The board was right above me. I adjusted my pallu, took a small breath, and stood there for a second, the men’s eyes still on me from below, before I reached for the door.


I knocked on the glass door of the Super Deluxe Photo Studio. After a moment a man opened it. He was in his 40s, dark-skinned, with a rough ugly face and an athletic build. He wore a black t-shirt and denim pants. The moment he saw me he stopped. His eyes stayed on my face, then moved down my yellow chiffon saree. He looked spellbound and did not speak for a few seconds.
“Come in, madam,” he said at last, stepping aside.
I walked inside. The room smelled of chemicals. Photos covered the walls. He closed the door behind me.
“What can I do for you, madam?” he asked.
I held my bag in front of me.
“I have come to take some pictures of me in different poses,” I said. “I want to send them to my husband. He is working in Dubai.”
He nodded slowly, still looking at me.
“What kind of photos are you looking for?” he asked. “Homely or Hot?”
My face grew warm. I did not want him to suspect anything.
“Homely,” I said.
“Please sit,” he said, pointing to a chair. He walked to the curtain at the back, opened it, and went inside the photo room. I heard him moving lights.
While he was inside I looked at the photos on the wall. There were pictures of top Tamil actors and actresses from that time, all taken in this studio. The quality was good. I felt impressed. At the same time I kept thinking of the hot pictures I really wanted. I did not know how to tell him openly.
After a few minutes he came out to pick up something from the table near me. I spoke before I could stop myself.
“How much do you charge for Homely photos and for Hot photos?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
He glanced at me.
“Both same price, madam,” he said.
I looked down at my hands, then back at him.
“Then we will take both Homely and Hot photos,” I said. “I will decide later which ones to send.”
“Sure, madam,” he said. He picked up the item and went back inside the curtain to set up the camera. I stayed on the chair, my heart beating faster, my maroon panties feeling damp under my white petticoat as I waited.


“Madam, please come inside,” the photographer called from behind the curtain.

I stood up and walked through the curtain into the photo room. The space was small. A painted backdrop of a garden hung on the wall. Two big studio lights on metal stands stood on either side, the bright bulbs already warm. In the center a heavy film camera sat on a tall tripod, an old studio model with a large body and cloth hood. He was turning the knobs and checking the focus.
“We will complete the homely photos first,” he said. “Stand there, near the backdrop.”
I walked to the spot and stood in my yellow chiffon saree. He looked through the camera, then came forward to adjust my pallu. His dark hand brushed my shoulder and stayed a second longer than needed. I felt uncomfortable and shifted a little.
“Look at the camera and smile,” he said.
The flash popped. He wound the film and came closer again for the next pose. This time his fingers touched my waist while he turned me slightly. The touch was firm. I stiffened. He stepped back to the camera, but I saw the front of his denim pants had started to tighten. He was getting horny.
He kept taking pictures, one by one. For each new pose he came forward and used his hands—moving my arm, setting my pallu lower on my heavy breasts, pressing lightly at my wide hips to change my stance. At first every touch made me uneasy. My body stayed tense. But as the flashes continued and he kept adjusting me, the discomfort slowly eased. By the eighth pose his palm rested on my lower back without me pulling away. By the tenth pose, when he gently turned my face with two fingers under my chin, I no longer felt the urge to step back. I had started to feel comfortable under his hands.
He straightened after the last homely picture, breathing a little heavier. The bulge in his pants was clear now. He was fully horny.
“Homely set is done,” he said, voice thicker. “Now we can start the hot ones whenever you are ready.”
I nodded, my face warm, my maroon panties damp under my white petticoat, no longer minding how close he stood.


The photographer wiped his hands on his black t-shirt and looked at me.
“Madam, I have taken hot photos of all the top actresses in Chennai,” he said. “They also felt shy at first. Do not feel uncomfortable. Trust me. I know how to make the poses look good. I will help you. These pictures are for your husband.”
I stood near the backdrop, my heart beating fast. I was excited to take the hot photos for my husband, but nervous at the same time. My fingers held the edge of my yellow chiffon saree.
“The first hot pose is without the saree,” he said. “Please remove your saree.”
Heat rose to my face. I looked down.
“I feel shy,” I said softly.
He stepped a little closer but kept his voice polite.
“You are doing this for your husband, not for me,” he said. “Forget I am here. Just think of him opening the photos in Dubai. It will make him happy.”
I nodded slowly. I began to remove my yellow chiffon saree. I untucked the pleats from my white petticoat and unwound the saree little by little. As the chiffon slid off my body I glanced at him. Through his loose baggy denim pants I could see the clear shape of his boner pressing forward. He noticed me looking. He did not try to hide it.
“Do not worry,” he said calmly. “It is a natural reaction. Just focus on the pose.”
I finished removing my yellow chiffon saree. He took it from my hands, folded it quickly, and placed it on the chair. Now I stood in only my yellow blouse and my white petticoat.  The studio lights felt warmer on my bare midriff. He walked back behind the camera and looked through the hood.
“Stand straight,” he said. “We will start.”


To be continued ..! ]]> [Image: super-delux-photo-studio-Tamil-Nadu-Phot...mories.png]

Super Deluxe Photo Studio
By Novelist Casanova


  
It is the 1990s. Life moves slowly in our place. Letters take weeks to arrive. Phone calls are rare and short. Most things we need are not found nearby.
Our village is small and quiet. The houses stand close together with tiled roofs and open courtyards. Dusty paths run between them. There is a small provision shop, a tea stall, and the post office. For almost everything else we must go to the town. The town is one hour away by the morning bus. The bus is old, with hard seats. It leaves early and returns in the evening. If we miss it, we wait for a lorry or walk. In the village we manage with little. For new clothes, medicine, college needs for the boys, or any special work, we take the bus to the town market. That is how we live.

I am Sudha. I am a housewife. My husband works in Dubai as a construction labourer. He sends money orders every two or three months and writes inland letters. Our three sons study in a high-class college in the town and stay in the hostel. In the house it is only me and my mother-in-law.

I stand 5 feet 4 inches and weigh 56 kg, with measurements of 34-26-34, a 34 bra size, and panties sized for my 86 cm hips. My face is oval. My eyes are large and dark, almond-shaped, with long lashes. My eyebrows are neat and gently arched. My nose is straight. My lips are full and pink; they look fuller when I press them together. My black hair is long and thick; I keep it in a loose braid that falls over one shoulder, a few strands curling near my cheeks and touching the side of my neck.

My neck is slender. Below it my collarbones show under the skin. My heavy breasts sit high and press forward, full and soft, the weight of them making them shift with each step. The skin over them is warm. My nipples are dark and sit in the center of each breast, raised a little even when I am still. My waist is narrow, and in the center sits my navel, a small soft hollow that moves when I breathe. From the waist my body widens into wide hips that sway when I walk. My stomach is gently rounded below the navel. My thick thighs are soft and press together when I stand still, the inner sides warmer. Between them the mound of my pussy sits soft and full, the outer lips smooth, the skin there warmer and more sensitive than the rest of my body. My calves taper. My feet are small, the soles even, the toes straight.

If I stood without clothes the same body would look even hotter. My heavy breasts would hang full and soft, the dark nipples standing out. The narrow waist would lead into the wide curve of my hips. My thick thighs would frame the soft mound of my pussy, the outer lips closed and warm. The whole shape would be soft, heavy, and ready — the kind of body that looks made for a man’s hands to hold. That is how I look, clothed or not, as I move through this village house in the 1990s.
After the morning work is done I lock the bathroom door and start the things I do every day to keep my body the way it is. I sit on the low wooden stool and untie my saree, letting the pallu and the folds fall away until my saree is off. I open my blouse hooks one by one and slip my blouse off my shoulders. Then I untie my petticoat and let it drop. I reach behind and unhook my bra. The cups fall away and my heavy breasts hang free, full and soft, my dark nipples already a little raised from the air. I push my panties down my thick thighs until they drop to the floor. Now I am naked.

I open a small steel tin of coconut oil, pour a little into my palm, and rub it between my hands until it is warm. I lift my braid and work the oil into my scalp, my fingers moving slowly. The oil runs down the length of my black hair. I undo my braid and comb it with a wide-toothed comb until the strands shine. A few drops fall on my neck and slide onto the top of my heavy breasts.

Next I take a small piece of turmeric root and rub it on a rough stone with a little water until it becomes a yellow paste. I apply the paste on my face, covering my cheeks, forehead, and the area under my eyes. Then I spread the same paste over my neck, across the upper curve of my heavy breasts, around my dark nipples, around my navel, and down over my stomach. The paste feels cool at first, then warm as it dries. I oil my arms and legs. My hands move over my thick thighs, pressing the oil into the soft inner sides, then down my calves to my feet. I rub each toe and the sole. My anklets stay on; I only lift them a little to reach underneath.

I open my thighs wider and take a small amount of the turmeric paste mixed with a pinch of gram flour. I spread it carefully over the mound of my pussy and between my outer lips, then further back over my asshole. The paste sits there and softens any fine hair. After a few minutes I gently rub it away with my fingers in small circles. Both my pussy and my asshole stay without hair, my outer lips and the tight ring soft and even. I feel the warmth of my own fingers against my outer lips and around my asshole as I clear every bit of paste.

I fill the brass pot with warm water and pour it over myself to take my bath. The yellow paste runs off my face, down between my heavy breasts, over my dark nipples, over my navel, and between my thick thighs. I use a bar of soap and wash every part: under my breasts, around my dark nipples, inside the hollow of my navel, carefully between my outer lips of my pussy, and around my asshole so both places stay clean and soft. The water runs down my wide hips and pools for a moment on the floor before it drains. I rinse until the water runs clear, then dry myself with a thin cotton towel, patting under my breasts, around my waist, gently between my thighs, and over my asshole.
I sit on the stool again, still naked, and comb my hair once more, then braid it tightly so it stays neat. I apply a little kajal to my eyes with the tip of my finger. The whole body feels warm and clean from the bath. My heavy breasts rest full, my wide hips and thick thighs are soft, my pussy and asshole bare and smooth.

I pick up my panties and step into them, pulling them up over my thick thighs until they sit against the mound of my pussy and cover my asshole. I put my bra back on, lifting each of my heavy breasts into the cup and hooking it behind me so my dark nipples press against the cotton. I step into my petticoat and tie it low on my wide hips. I put on my blouse and hook it closed over my bra. Then I take my saree, tuck the pleats into my petticoat, and dbang the pallu over my shoulder. That is how I keep myself looking the way I do.


Before my husband left for Dubai we were just like the other families in the village. We had a small house, little money, and we managed with what we had. My mother-in-law and I cooked simple meals and wore the same few sarees again and again. Our relatives lived the same way. No one had much more than anyone else.
Then my husband went to Dubai as a construction labourer. He worked long hours in the heat and started sending money orders. Every month the postman comes to our house on his bicycle and hands me the money order. I sign for it and collect the cash. With that money our life changed. We bought more land around the village. We built a bigger house with a proper courtyard. Our three sons started studying in the high-class college in the town and stayed in the hostel. We became richer than the other families.
Our relatives saw the money coming in and tried to compete. One of them was Santosh. He took a big loan from the bank to buy a new house so he could match us. He could not repay the loan. The bank took the house. People in the village talked about him. He felt shamed. One day he locked himself in a room and committed suicide. After that the other relatives stopped trying so openly. Some of them still spoke behind our backs. I kept quiet and looked after the house.

My husband and I write inland letters to each other. He writes about the work and asks about the boys. I write back about the house, the land we bought, and how the boys are studying. The letters take weeks to arrive.
With the money he sends I buy things carefully. I put some into more properties so the land grows. I pay the college fees and hostel charges for our sons. When I go to the town I buy new sarees for myself from the shops in the market. Every three months a bra and panties salesman comes to our village on his cycle with a big bundle. He sits in the front room and opens his cloth. I choose my bra and my panties from what he has, pay him, and keep them for myself. That is how the money my husband works hard for is spent. We are better off than the others now, but he is still far away working every day so the money orders keep coming.


Every month a blue inland letter comes from my husband along with the money order. The postman hands it to me and I take it inside. I sit alone in the front room and open it. He always writes that he misses me. He writes that he thinks about my body at night after the work is finished. He writes that he gets hard remembering how I looked when he left.

In the last letter he wrote: “Sudha, I am so horny here. I keep thinking about your heavy breasts and how soft they feel in my hands. Take a measuring tape and measure yourself for me. Measure your breasts, your waist, your hips, and write the numbers. Tell me what color panties you are wearing today. Are your panties tight on your wide hips? I want to know if your panties are pressing against your pussy. I imagine pulling your panties down and putting my mouth there. Write back and tell me everything. I touch myself reading your letters.”
My face became hot when I read those lines. I folded the letter and put it under my blouse for a while. My dark nipples tightened against my white bra. I felt a warm feeling between my thick thighs.

That evening I locked the door and took the measuring tape from the sewing box. I untied my saree and let it fall. I opened the hooks of my blouse one by one and slipped my blouse off. I untied my petticoat and stepped out of it. I reached behind and unhooked my white bra so my heavy breasts hung free, full and soft, my dark nipples already raised. I pushed my pink panties down my thick thighs and stepped out of them. Now I was naked.

I stood in front of the small mirror and lifted the tape. I wrapped it carefully around the fullest part of my heavy breasts, just under my dark nipples, and noted the number. The tape pressed lightly against the soft weight of them. Then I moved the tape down and wrapped it around my waist, right above my navel, feeling it sit against the narrow curve. Next I brought the tape lower and circled it around the widest part of my wide hips, the tape resting just above the mound of my pussy. I held it there a moment, feeling the cool tape against my skin, then wrote all three numbers on a small paper.
I took a new inland letter and wrote back the same night. I wrote: “I measured myself like you asked. I got naked and used the tape. My breasts are 34, my waist is 26, my hips are 34. I am wearing my pink panties today. My pink panties sit low on my wide hips and my pink panties are pressed right against the mound of my pussy. When I walk my pink panties rub a little. I touched myself last night thinking of you. I slipped my fingers under my pink panties and rubbed between my outer lips until I was wet. I wish your cock was inside me instead of my fingers. Tell me more about what you want to do to my breasts and my pussy. I will write everything.”
I sealed the letter and gave it to the postman the next day. My cheeks stayed warm the whole morning. I kept thinking about the words I had written and the words he would write next month. The letters made me blush every time, but I always wrote dirty replies and waited for his next one.


For the next three months the letters from my husband stayed formal. He asked about my health, about our sons in the hostel, and about his mother. He wrote about the work in Dubai and how the money order would come. There were no more lines about my body or what color panties I was wearing. I read each letter and felt the difference, but I still wrote back carefully and waited.
One afternoon my friend Usha came to the house. We sat in the front room with tea. She wore her saree neatly and spoke in her usual easy way. After some time she leaned closer.
“My husband wrote again last week,” Usha said. “He is still in the army camp. He wrote such naughty things. He asked me what I was wearing under my saree and told me he gets hard thinking about my breasts. I blushed the whole day reading it.”
I listened and looked down at my hands. A small tightness came in my chest.
“My husband used to write like that too,” I said. “But for the past three months his letters are only formal. He asks about me, about our sons, and about my mother-in-law. Nothing else. No naughty words at all.”
Usha’s face changed. She set her cup down and looked at me properly.
“That is serious, Sudha,” she said. “A man alone for so long without any sex will get very horny. If he is not writing those things to you anymore, he must have found some way there. Prostitutes are everywhere in those places. He will go to them if you do not keep him thinking only of you.”
My stomach felt cold. I thought of the money orders still coming and the formal letters. My fingers pressed against my saree.
“What should I do?” I said. My voice was low.
Usha moved a little closer on the bench. Her voice became softer but firm.
“Take hot pictures of yourself and send them to him,” she said. “Go to the photo studio in the town. Wear a nice saree, but let them take pictures where the pallu is low and the blouse shows more. Send those pictures with your next letter. When he sees your heavy breasts and your wide hips in the photos he will remember only you. He will not look at any other woman there. Do it tomorrow itself. Do not wait.”
I sat quiet for a moment. The idea made my face warm, but the fear of what she said was stronger. I nodded slowly.
“I will go to the photo studio in the town tomorrow,” I said. “I will take the pictures and send them.”
Usha smiled a little and picked up her cup again. We talked about other things after that, but the plan stayed in my mind. When she left I stood at the door and watched her walk down the path. Tomorrow I would take the morning bus to the town.


The next morning I woke early. The house was still quiet. My mother-in-law was in the kitchen. I got up from the bed and went to the almirah. I opened it and looked through my sarees. I carefully picked out the yellow chiffon saree, the one my husband always said was his favorite color on me. I remembered how he used to look at me when I wore it before he left for Dubai. I took it out slowly and laid it on the bed. Then I took out my maroon panties, my white bra, my white petticoat, and my yellow blouse. I placed them one by one beside the yellow chiffon saree so everything was ready. Then I picked up a towel and walked into the bathroom.

I closed the door and stood in front of the small mirror. I took my toothbrush and began brushing my teeth, moving it slowly over each tooth while I looked at my face. After I finished I rinsed my mouth and set the brush down. Then I lifted my night saree along with my petticoat and pulled my panties down to my thick thighs. I sat on the toilet with my panties resting around my knees. I let myself poop, my thick thighs spread a little, my heavy breasts hanging forward under the night blouse as I stayed there. When I was done I cleaned myself carefully with water, washing between my outer lips and around my asshole the way I always do so everything stayed soft and clean. I stood up, pulled my panties back up, dried myself with the towel, and stayed for a moment in the small bathroom before I began the rest of my morning wash.


I stayed in the bathroom and began to undress for my bath. I untied my night saree and let it fall. I opened the hooks of my night blouse and slipped it off. I untied my night petticoat and stepped out of it. I unhooked my bra so my heavy breasts hung free, full and soft. I pushed my panties down my thick thighs and stepped out of them. Now I was naked.

I poured warm water from the brass pot over my head and body. The water ran down my face, over my heavy breasts, across my dark nipples, over my navel, and between my thick thighs. I took the turmeric paste I had kept ready and rubbed it slowly over my face, my neck, the upper curve of my heavy breasts, around my dark nipples, around my navel, and down my stomach. I spread a little more carefully over the mound of my pussy and between the lips of my pussy, then around my asshole, so both places stayed soft and without hair. The paste felt cool, then warm as it dried a little on my body.
I used the soap and washed every part with my hands. I soaped under my heavy breasts and around my dark nipples until they were clean. I washed inside the hollow of my navel. I opened my thighs and washed carefully between the lips of my pussy and around my asshole, my fingers moving slowly so the skin there stayed fresh and soft. The water rinsed the soap and turmeric away, running down my wide hips and over my thick thighs. I poured more water until everything was clear.
I dried myself with the towel, patting gently under my heavy breasts, around my waist, between my thick thighs, and over my pussy and asshole. My body felt clean and fresh. My face looked bright after the turmeric. My heavy breasts and wide hips were soft and ready. I wanted to look beautiful for the photos I would take for my husband. I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped out to the clothes waiting on the bed.


I came out of the bathroom with the towel around me and stood beside the bed. I dried the last drops from under my heavy breasts, around my navel, and between my thick thighs. Then I dropped the towel and stood naked in front of the small mirror. I thought of my husband and the photos I would send him. A warm feeling started low in my body.
I picked up my maroon panties from the bed. I held them open with both hands and stepped into them one foot at a time. I pulled my maroon panties slowly up my calves, then higher over my knees, feeling them slide against my thick thighs. As I pulled them higher I looked at myself in the mirror and spoke softly as if he could hear me.
“See, I am wearing the panties you like,” I said to the mirror.
I kept pulling until they reached the top of my thighs. I adjusted them carefully so the front sat snug against the mound of my pussy, pressing right over the lips of my pussy, and the back covered both my full ass cheeks completely. The closeness made me wetter. I ran my fingers along the edges and over the back, pressing a little against my pussy and over my ass cheeks. A small throb started between the lips of my pussy. I stayed looking in the mirror, my heavy breasts rising with my breath.
“I am getting wet thinking of you looking at me like this,” I said. “These maroon panties feel so close on my pussy and my whole ass.”
The horny feeling stayed strong as I reached for the next piece.


I picked up my white bra from the bed and turned back to the mirror. My heavy breasts hung free, full and soft, my dark nipples already a little raised from the warm feeling between my thighs. I looked at myself and spoke again as if my husband was watching.
“Now I am putting on my bra for you,” I said.
I slipped my arms through the straps and lifted my left heavy breast into my white bra, then my right heavy breast. I reached behind and hooked my white bra closed. My dark nipples pressed against my white bra. The weight of my heavy breasts felt held and lifted. I adjusted the straps a little so they sat properly on my shoulders. Standing there in only my maroon panties and my white bra, I felt the throb in my pussy grow stronger. I ran my hands lightly over my white bra, feeling my heavy breasts underneath.
“See how my breasts look in my white bra,” I said to the mirror. “I wish you could touch them now. I am so horny thinking of the photos.”
I stayed like that for a moment, breathing a little faster, before I reached for my white petticoat.


I picked up my white petticoat from the bed and stepped into it. I pulled it up over my thick thighs and my maroon panties until it reached my wide hips. I tied the string low, below my navel, the way I always do, so a little of my stomach showed above it. The petticoat sat snug on my wide hips. I looked at myself in the mirror, still in my white bra and my maroon panties underneath, and spoke softly.
“I tied my petticoat low for you,” I said. “You always liked it sitting below my navel.”
I smoothed my hands over the front of my white petticoat, feeling it rest against my maroon panties and the warmth of my pussy underneath. The horny feeling stayed. My heavy breasts rose and fell in my white bra as I breathed. I turned a little to the side so I could see how my wide hips looked.
“See how it sits on my hips,” I said to the mirror. “I am still wet thinking of you.”
I stayed there a moment longer, then reached for my yellow blouse.


I picked up my yellow blouse from the bed. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and brought it around my body over my white bra. I hooked it closed at the front, one hook at a time, until my yellow blouse sat close across my heavy breasts. My dark nipples pressed against my white bra underneath. I looked at myself in the mirror and spoke softly.
“My blouse is on now,” I said. “It is tight over my breasts the way you like.”
I ran my hands slowly over the front of my yellow blouse, feeling the shape of my heavy breasts under it. The warm throb between the lips of my pussy stayed strong. I adjusted the blouse a little at the waist so it sat neatly above my white petticoat.
“I wish you could open these hooks yourself,” I said to the mirror. “I am so horny for you right now.”
I stood still for a moment, breathing deeper, then reached for my yellow chiffon saree.



I picked up my yellow chiffon saree from the bed, the one my husband always said was his favorite. I held it open and began to tuck the pleats into my white petticoat, one by one, making them neat and even. I wrapped my yellow chiffon saree around my wide hips and brought the pallu up over my left shoulder. The soft saree settled against my yellow blouse and over my heavy breasts. I looked at myself in the mirror, fully dressed now, and spoke softly.
“I am wearing your favorite saree,” I said. “The yellow chiffon one. I tied everything low underneath for you.”
I smoothed my hands over the pallu and down the front of my yellow chiffon saree, feeling my body underneath—my white bra, my maroon panties, the warmth still between my thighs. The horny feeling had not gone. I turned a little so the saree moved with my wide hips.
“See how I look,” I said to the mirror. “I am going to take photos for you today. I want you to get hard when you see them.”
I stood there a moment longer, the attar soft on my neck, my anklets and mangalsutra in place, ready to leave for the town.


I sat on the edge of the bed in front of the mirror, my yellow chiffon saree already on. I picked up my silver anklets and fastened one around each ankle. They sat just above my feet and gave a small sound when I moved my legs. I looked at myself and spoke softly.
“I put on my anklets for you,” I said. “You always liked the sound when I walked.”
Next I took a small golden chain and fastened it around my neck. The chain rested between my heavy breasts, warm against my skin above my yellow blouse. I wore my small gold earrings and slipped a few glass bangles onto each wrist. I applied kajal carefully to my eyes and pressed a small bindi on my forehead. From the steel box I took a little attar and touched it on my neck, behind my ears, and on the inside of my wrists. The soft fragrance rose as I moved.
I stood up and looked at the full picture in the mirror—my yellow chiffon saree, my accessories in place, the warmth still between my thighs under my maroon panties.
“Everything is on now,” I said to the mirror. “I am ready for the photos. I want you to see me like this and miss me.”
The horny feeling stayed as I picked up my bag and got ready to leave for the town.



I sat down again and slipped on my footwear. As I stood up, my mother-in-law came into the room. She stopped and looked at me from head to toe in my yellow chiffon saree.
“You are dressed so nicely today,” she said. “Where are you going?”
I felt a little shy under her eyes. I adjusted my pallu.
“I am going to the photo studio in the town,” I said. “I want to take some pictures and send them to him.”
My mother-in-law’s face brightened. She came closer and began to adjust my yellow chiffon saree. She pulled the waist lower so more of my stomach showed above my white petticoat, then arranged the pallu so it sat lower on my heavy breasts. Her hands moved over my wide hips as she set the pleats.
“Not ordinary pictures,” she said, her voice lower. “Take hot and sexy ones for my son. Show your body properly. He is alone there. He needs to see you like this.”
She gave my ass a gentle spank over the saree, right where my maroon panties covered my full ass cheeks. The touch made me jump a little. My face became hot. I looked down, blushing.
“Go now,” she said. “Take good photos and send them. Make him happy.”
I nodded, still blushing, picked up my bag, and stepped out of the house. The morning bus would leave soon. My yellow chiffon saree felt different after her hands, and the warm feeling under my maroon panties had not gone.



I had just picked up my bag when my mother-in-law came to the front door and stopped me.
“Do not go by bus,” she said, looking at my yellow chiffon saree. “In that crowd your saree will get crushed and wrinkled. The pleats will spoil. Wait here. I will arrange something.”
She stepped out into the courtyard and called a boy who was standing near the next house. She pressed 5 rupees into his hand.
“Go fast and bring an auto,” she told him. “Tell him to come to this house.”
The boy nodded and ran down the dusty path. I stood inside, one hand holding my pallu, feeling the soft chiffon against my yellow blouse. A few minutes later I heard the sound of an auto engine. It stopped right in front of our gate. The driver, a thin man in a faded shirt, looked at my mother-in-law.
“Where to?” he asked.
“Town Market, near the Bus Stand,” my mother-in-law said. “Drop her there safely.”
The driver thought for a second.
“100 rupees,” he said.
“Fine,” my mother-in-law answered without bargaining. “Come, Sudha.”
I walked out of the house. The moment I stepped into the sunlight in my yellow chiffon saree the driver’s eyes moved over me. He started at my face, then slowly went down to my heavy breasts under the blouse, lingered on the low waist of my saree where a little stomach showed above my white petticoat, and then rested on my wide hips. His look stayed there. My mother-in-law saw it at once. She stepped forward, her voice sharp.
“Look at me,” she said. “If you try anything with her on the way, if you even touch her wrongly, I will find you and kill you. You only drop her at the market and leave. Understand?”
The driver’s eyes dropped to the ground. He shifted on the seat.
“I will not do anything, amma,” he said quickly. “I will drop her safe. Nothing else.”
I walked to the side of the auto. As I lifted my saree a little to step in, my mother-in-law came close and leaned to my ear. Her voice was low so only I could hear.
“Remember what I said,” she whispered. “Make every photo hot and sexy for my son. Do not take normal ones. Show him properly.”
A small laugh escaped both of us. My face grew warm under the kajal. I ducked my head and climbed inside. The seat was warm. I sat down, arranging my yellow chiffon saree around my legs so the pleats stayed neat. My maroon panties pressed against me under the petticoat as I settled. The driver started the engine without looking back. The auto moved forward, leaving our house and my mother-in-law standing at the gate, and turned onto the road that led to the town.


The auto moved along the village road, the engine loud and the seat shaking a little under me. I held my bag on my lap and kept my yellow chiffon saree arranged so the pleats would not spoil. My mother-in-law’s words stayed in my ears. Under my white petticoat my maroon panties felt close against the lips of my pussy. The warm feeling from the morning had grown stronger. I was excited. I kept thinking of the hot pictures I would take for my husband and how he would open the packet in Dubai.
I imagined the poses. Standing with my pallu low so my yellow blouse showed the top of my heavy breasts. Turning so my wide hips filled the frame. Sitting with my saree arranged to show the low line of my white petticoat. Maybe even one where I looked back over my shoulder. Each thought made the throb between my thighs deeper. I pressed my legs together a little and felt my maroon panties rub against my pussy.
The driver kept the auto steady, but his eyes kept coming to the small mirror. I saw them move over the front of my yellow blouse, lingering on the shape of my heavy breasts. Once when we slowed for a bullock cart his gaze dropped lower, toward the low waist of my saree and the way my wide hips filled the seat. He looked for a few seconds too long before turning back to the road. My face grew warm, but the excitement stayed. I pulled my pallu tighter, yet I still felt his glances while I thought of the poses waiting at the studio.
We left the village behind. The road widened. I stayed quiet, cheeks hot, picturing myself in front of the camera, my body arranged for my husband. After some time the town buildings appeared. The driver slowed as we reached the market area.
“Town Market, near Bus Stand,” he said, voice careful. “This is the place.”
He stopped at the side of the road. I took out the 100 rupees and handed it forward. His eyes flicked once more to my blouse as he took the money, then he looked away. I stepped down, holding my yellow chiffon saree clear of the step. The driver started the engine and left.
I stood near the bus stand, the market noise around me, my yellow chiffon saree bright in the sun. My heart beat faster. I was horny and ready. The photo studio was a short walk ahead. I adjusted my pallu, felt my maroon panties shift against my wet pussy as I moved, and began walking toward it, already thinking of the first pose.


I walked into the market under the hot sun. The road was dusty and the shops on both sides were busy. My yellow chiffon saree felt light on my body, but the heat made a thin layer of sweat form under my yellow blouse and along my wide hips. I held my pallu in place and looked for the photo studio, my heart still beating faster from the thoughts of the poses.
Women and girls passing by turned to look at me. Some stared at my face, then at the way my heavy breasts filled my blouse and how my wide hips moved under the saree. A few whispered to each other as I went past. Their eyes were sharp with jealousy. I kept walking, cheeks warm, feeling their looks on my body the same way I had felt the driver’s.
After asking one shopkeeper I found the place. It was in a corner building, on the first floor. A painted board above the stairs read “Super Deluxe Photo Studio.” I stood at the bottom for a moment, then began to climb the narrow stairs. On the ground floor a few men were standing near a tea stall. As I went up they all turned. Their eyes followed my yellow chiffon saree, moving over my heavy breasts, then lower to my wide hips and the way my ass shifted with each step. I heard one of them make a low sound. I did not look back. I kept my face straight and continued up, my anklets sounding softly on the steps, my maroon panties pressing against my pussy with every movement.
At the top I stopped outside the studio door. The board was right above me. I adjusted my pallu, took a small breath, and stood there for a second, the men’s eyes still on me from below, before I reached for the door.


I knocked on the glass door of the Super Deluxe Photo Studio. After a moment a man opened it. He was in his 40s, dark-skinned, with a rough ugly face and an athletic build. He wore a black t-shirt and denim pants. The moment he saw me he stopped. His eyes stayed on my face, then moved down my yellow chiffon saree. He looked spellbound and did not speak for a few seconds.
“Come in, madam,” he said at last, stepping aside.
I walked inside. The room smelled of chemicals. Photos covered the walls. He closed the door behind me.
“What can I do for you, madam?” he asked.
I held my bag in front of me.
“I have come to take some pictures of me in different poses,” I said. “I want to send them to my husband. He is working in Dubai.”
He nodded slowly, still looking at me.
“What kind of photos are you looking for?” he asked. “Homely or Hot?”
My face grew warm. I did not want him to suspect anything.
“Homely,” I said.
“Please sit,” he said, pointing to a chair. He walked to the curtain at the back, opened it, and went inside the photo room. I heard him moving lights.
While he was inside I looked at the photos on the wall. There were pictures of top Tamil actors and actresses from that time, all taken in this studio. The quality was good. I felt impressed. At the same time I kept thinking of the hot pictures I really wanted. I did not know how to tell him openly.
After a few minutes he came out to pick up something from the table near me. I spoke before I could stop myself.
“How much do you charge for Homely photos and for Hot photos?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
He glanced at me.
“Both same price, madam,” he said.
I looked down at my hands, then back at him.
“Then we will take both Homely and Hot photos,” I said. “I will decide later which ones to send.”
“Sure, madam,” he said. He picked up the item and went back inside the curtain to set up the camera. I stayed on the chair, my heart beating faster, my maroon panties feeling damp under my white petticoat as I waited.


“Madam, please come inside,” the photographer called from behind the curtain.

I stood up and walked through the curtain into the photo room. The space was small. A painted backdrop of a garden hung on the wall. Two big studio lights on metal stands stood on either side, the bright bulbs already warm. In the center a heavy film camera sat on a tall tripod, an old studio model with a large body and cloth hood. He was turning the knobs and checking the focus.
“We will complete the homely photos first,” he said. “Stand there, near the backdrop.”
I walked to the spot and stood in my yellow chiffon saree. He looked through the camera, then came forward to adjust my pallu. His dark hand brushed my shoulder and stayed a second longer than needed. I felt uncomfortable and shifted a little.
“Look at the camera and smile,” he said.
The flash popped. He wound the film and came closer again for the next pose. This time his fingers touched my waist while he turned me slightly. The touch was firm. I stiffened. He stepped back to the camera, but I saw the front of his denim pants had started to tighten. He was getting horny.
He kept taking pictures, one by one. For each new pose he came forward and used his hands—moving my arm, setting my pallu lower on my heavy breasts, pressing lightly at my wide hips to change my stance. At first every touch made me uneasy. My body stayed tense. But as the flashes continued and he kept adjusting me, the discomfort slowly eased. By the eighth pose his palm rested on my lower back without me pulling away. By the tenth pose, when he gently turned my face with two fingers under my chin, I no longer felt the urge to step back. I had started to feel comfortable under his hands.
He straightened after the last homely picture, breathing a little heavier. The bulge in his pants was clear now. He was fully horny.
“Homely set is done,” he said, voice thicker. “Now we can start the hot ones whenever you are ready.”
I nodded, my face warm, my maroon panties damp under my white petticoat, no longer minding how close he stood.


The photographer wiped his hands on his black t-shirt and looked at me.
“Madam, I have taken hot photos of all the top actresses in Chennai,” he said. “They also felt shy at first. Do not feel uncomfortable. Trust me. I know how to make the poses look good. I will help you. These pictures are for your husband.”
I stood near the backdrop, my heart beating fast. I was excited to take the hot photos for my husband, but nervous at the same time. My fingers held the edge of my yellow chiffon saree.
“The first hot pose is without the saree,” he said. “Please remove your saree.”
Heat rose to my face. I looked down.
“I feel shy,” I said softly.
He stepped a little closer but kept his voice polite.
“You are doing this for your husband, not for me,” he said. “Forget I am here. Just think of him opening the photos in Dubai. It will make him happy.”
I nodded slowly. I began to remove my yellow chiffon saree. I untucked the pleats from my white petticoat and unwound the saree little by little. As the chiffon slid off my body I glanced at him. Through his loose baggy denim pants I could see the clear shape of his boner pressing forward. He noticed me looking. He did not try to hide it.
“Do not worry,” he said calmly. “It is a natural reaction. Just focus on the pose.”
I finished removing my yellow chiffon saree. He took it from my hands, folded it quickly, and placed it on the chair. Now I stood in only my yellow blouse and my white petticoat.  The studio lights felt warmer on my bare midriff. He walked back behind the camera and looked through the hood.
“Stand straight,” he said. “We will start.”


To be continued ..! ]]> <![CDATA[My wife got seduced in a trap]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75588.html Sat, 10 Oct 2026 10:59:19 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75588.html  Only sad thing was she had affair before marriage and broke up. I said that happens in peak young age.We decided to forget past and lead happy life.
 We never wanted to have kid as we wanted be happy ourselves
 Due to mother force we decided have kid.
 After delivery we were happy and leading life
 After 2 years i got chance to go to America for 6 months I had a secretary who was managing my schedule. She had a bf even though both were married
 Once in our family function he saw my wife and for attracted to her and he was waiting for chance to talk to her .my wife ingored his message and all He was very happy that I went to America and he can try hand on my wife
 He used my secretary for that without willingly she agreed to help him
 She some how convinced my wife to come to her house with 7 days I left. My wife went with baby to her house.every thing was good for an hr.
[Then he came which was suprise to my wife and my secretary said just like that he visited and he will go
All were talking, laughing. My son started to cry and secretary took and said she will be back after going to near by store to buy something for him. My wife was not convinced but secretary said don't worry keep talking she will be back
 She has planned not to come for 1-2 hrs till h call her]]>  Only sad thing was she had affair before marriage and broke up. I said that happens in peak young age.We decided to forget past and lead happy life.
 We never wanted to have kid as we wanted be happy ourselves
 Due to mother force we decided have kid.
 After delivery we were happy and leading life
 After 2 years i got chance to go to America for 6 months I had a secretary who was managing my schedule. She had a bf even though both were married
 Once in our family function he saw my wife and for attracted to her and he was waiting for chance to talk to her .my wife ingored his message and all He was very happy that I went to America and he can try hand on my wife
 He used my secretary for that without willingly she agreed to help him
 She some how convinced my wife to come to her house with 7 days I left. My wife went with baby to her house.every thing was good for an hr.
[Then he came which was suprise to my wife and my secretary said just like that he visited and he will go
All were talking, laughing. My son started to cry and secretary took and said she will be back after going to near by store to buy something for him. My wife was not convinced but secretary said don't worry keep talking she will be back
 She has planned not to come for 1-2 hrs till h call her]]> <![CDATA[Mother and Son Trip Leads To Marriage with son and Teenage Boy and Pregnant]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75583.html Fri, 09 Oct 2026 10:31:20 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75583.html Mother and Son Trip Leads To Marriage with son and A guy and Pregnant
Mother : Sulochana age-50
Son : Chinu age-32
Rahul : A guy age-19
Shivangi : Wife of chinu age-30

Mother: Sulochana

[Image: Gemini-Generated-Image-sn97iesn97iesn97.png]

son:chinu

[Image: Gemini-Generated-Image-diu5xudiu5xudiu5.png]

A guy:Rahul

[Image: RTiuz.jpg]

Shivangi: Wife of chinu

[Image: images-1.jpg]

I belong to a higher middle class family from North India. I have two sisters and a brother, and I am the eldest among them. All four of us are married.

I live with my wife, my four-year-old son, and my parents. My father runs a substantial business; we hold a distributorship for engineering products, and we manage the business together. The business generates a good income, which is sufficient for us.

My younger brother lives abroad with his family.

This happened in December 2009, when North India was in the grip of a biting cold wave.

Business was a bit slow during those winter months. Around that time, my mother expressed a desire to visit tourist places in South India.

She wanted to visit the beaches and beautiful places on January 15th, a festival day. Since my father was unwell, he asked me to accompany her.

I wasn't keen on going, so I kept making excuses.

I am a family-oriented person and didn't feel like traveling away from my family. 

However, my mother insisted on going, so I was compelled to agree. We then decided that the two of us—mother and son—would make the trip once the weather improved.

Seeing my reluctance, my wife kept teasing me, saying I wasn't fulfilling my duty as a son and that I ought to take my mother for the tour she so desired.]]> Mother and Son Trip Leads To Marriage with son and A guy and Pregnant
Mother : Sulochana age-50
Son : Chinu age-32
Rahul : A guy age-19
Shivangi : Wife of chinu age-30

Mother: Sulochana

[Image: Gemini-Generated-Image-sn97iesn97iesn97.png]

son:chinu

[Image: Gemini-Generated-Image-diu5xudiu5xudiu5.png]

A guy:Rahul

[Image: RTiuz.jpg]

Shivangi: Wife of chinu

[Image: images-1.jpg]

I belong to a higher middle class family from North India. I have two sisters and a brother, and I am the eldest among them. All four of us are married.

I live with my wife, my four-year-old son, and my parents. My father runs a substantial business; we hold a distributorship for engineering products, and we manage the business together. The business generates a good income, which is sufficient for us.

My younger brother lives abroad with his family.

This happened in December 2009, when North India was in the grip of a biting cold wave.

Business was a bit slow during those winter months. Around that time, my mother expressed a desire to visit tourist places in South India.

She wanted to visit the beaches and beautiful places on January 15th, a festival day. Since my father was unwell, he asked me to accompany her.

I wasn't keen on going, so I kept making excuses.

I am a family-oriented person and didn't feel like traveling away from my family. 

However, my mother insisted on going, so I was compelled to agree. We then decided that the two of us—mother and son—would make the trip once the weather improved.

Seeing my reluctance, my wife kept teasing me, saying I wasn't fulfilling my duty as a son and that I ought to take my mother for the tour she so desired.]]> <![CDATA[The American Dream of a married Indian couple]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75565.html Wed, 07 Oct 2026 14:43:44 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75565.html Part 1: New Beginnings

Vijay Kumar stood at the arrival gate of Indira Gandhi International Airport, his heart pounding with anticipation. After three years in San Francisco working for a tech company, he had finally returned home to India for his wedding. The marriage had been arranged by his family, but the bride wasn't a stranger—Aditi Verma had been his younger sister's best friend for years.

He remembered Aditi from before he'd left for the States. She'd been a quiet, studious girl then, always hanging around their house. But when he saw her at the engagement ceremony two months ago during his brief visit, he'd been stunned. She had transformed into a beautiful woman—confident, articulate, with an infectious laugh that made his chest tighten.

The wedding was a whirlwind of rituals, relatives, and celebrations. Aditi looked breath-taking in her red bridal lehenga, her dark eyes lined with kohl, her lips painted a deep crimson. As they circled the sacred fire, Vijay caught her stealing glances at him, a small smile playing on her lips.]]> Part 1: New Beginnings

Vijay Kumar stood at the arrival gate of Indira Gandhi International Airport, his heart pounding with anticipation. After three years in San Francisco working for a tech company, he had finally returned home to India for his wedding. The marriage had been arranged by his family, but the bride wasn't a stranger—Aditi Verma had been his younger sister's best friend for years.

He remembered Aditi from before he'd left for the States. She'd been a quiet, studious girl then, always hanging around their house. But when he saw her at the engagement ceremony two months ago during his brief visit, he'd been stunned. She had transformed into a beautiful woman—confident, articulate, with an infectious laugh that made his chest tighten.

The wedding was a whirlwind of rituals, relatives, and celebrations. Aditi looked breath-taking in her red bridal lehenga, her dark eyes lined with kohl, her lips painted a deep crimson. As they circled the sacred fire, Vijay caught her stealing glances at him, a small smile playing on her lips.]]> <![CDATA[CRUSADE OF KAVYA IN AGARTHALA Part 2: Continues....]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75564.html Wed, 07 Oct 2026 14:42:44 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75564.html



As I talk to Anoop the original Author 4 months back in pvt msg. He told I have no time to write.. So any one can write. He may be give suggest... 


So now I  decides to continue this story....


Hope you will support.

Thanks...






https://xossipy.com/thread-69035.html


This is part 1.. Please read part 1 before you starts this part 2]]>



As I talk to Anoop the original Author 4 months back in pvt msg. He told I have no time to write.. So any one can write. He may be give suggest... 


So now I  decides to continue this story....


Hope you will support.

Thanks...






https://xossipy.com/thread-69035.html


This is part 1.. Please read part 1 before you starts this part 2]]> <![CDATA[Devi ( femdom cuckold )]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75550.html Tue, 06 Oct 2026 16:04:56 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75550.html Hello friends,

This is the first story I am going to write. I have already written stories in Tamil. I kindly request all of you to give me your support.

Hero: Vel — 36 years old. He comes from a normal family and works for a company.

Heroine: Ankita — 31 years old. She is extremely beautiful, beautiful enough to give even the world’s most beautiful women a run for their money. She also works for a company.

Raj: 23 years old. He lives in the house next to theirs and works in a workshop. He is a womanizer. Whenever he sees a woman he likes, he cannot resist pursuing her.

Let’s see whether Ankita will catch his eye. Soon start ]]> Hello friends,

This is the first story I am going to write. I have already written stories in Tamil. I kindly request all of you to give me your support.

Hero: Vel — 36 years old. He comes from a normal family and works for a company.

Heroine: Ankita — 31 years old. She is extremely beautiful, beautiful enough to give even the world’s most beautiful women a run for their money. She also works for a company.

Raj: 23 years old. He lives in the house next to theirs and works in a workshop. He is a womanizer. Whenever he sees a woman he likes, he cannot resist pursuing her.

Let’s see whether Ankita will catch his eye. Soon start ]]> <![CDATA[PIOUS WIFE FATIMA]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75540.html Mon, 05 Oct 2026 23:02:45 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75540.html
At twenty-six she still woke for early without an alarm. She still pinned her veil carefully every morning, still kept her gaze lowered when any unknown man spoke, still felt a quiet flush of shame if her thoughts ever strayed during unusual time. Her body was soft, fair, full-hipped and heavy-breasted beneath the loose black dress she wore outside and the modest cotton salwar-kameez she wore at home. She had never looked at it with hunger. She had never touched herself with purpose. She had never come.

Her husband Sameer was kind in the way timid men are kind. Thirty-one, thin, soft around the middle, a quiet bank clerk who still called her “Fatima ji” in front of others. In the dark of their modest two-bedroom flat in the old city of Hyderabad he would climb onto her, push inside with an apologetic murmur, thrust for less than a minute, and finish with a small, embarrassed sound. Then he would roll away and whisper “sorry” into the pillow. She would lie still afterward, thighs sticky, the ache between her legs unanswered, and tell herself this was simply what had written for her.

One night, after another such coupling, she sat on the mat in the corner of the bedroom long after Sameer had fallen asleep. The only light came from the streetlamp outside the window. Her veil was still on. Her tasbih hung from her fingers. The emptiness between her legs felt louder than the silence.

She opened the anonymous advice forum on her phone and typed with careful, trembling thumbs:

*Is it a test from higher when a wife’s body feels nothing even though she is trying to be obedient in every other way?*

She almost deleted it. Then she posted.

The reply came forty minutes later, while she was still sitting on the mat.

**Brother Adeel:**  
Good evening sister.  
When you say your body feels nothing… do you mean during the act, or after as well?

The language was soft, respectful, full of the gentle phrases she was used to. She answered. He asked another careful question. Then another. Over the next eleven days the conversation moved from the public forum to encrypted messages. He never rushed. He never used crude words. He simply made her describe, in increasingly precise language, exactly what happened in her bedroom. He taught her the anatomical names she had never been allowed to speak aloud. He asked her to place her own hand between her legs while she was still on the mat , and to keep reciting what he is saying , while she touched herself for the first time in her life.

The orgasm hit her like a punishment and a revelation at once.

Her thighs shook so hard that slipped from her fingers. A broken, wet sound tore from her throat before she could stop it. Her veil slipped. She collapsed forward onto the mat, forehead pressed to the fabric, sobbing, convinced she had committed a major sin.

His next message arrived while she was still trembling:

*That was not a sin, Fatima. That was your body finally answering what you wanted, which your husband has never been able to hear. he made that part of you. Your husband has simply never found it.*

He asked for a voice note of her still-shaking breath as proof she had followed the instruction.  
She recorded it. She sent it.

That was the first crack.

---

In the weeks that followed, Brother Adeel (whose real name was Rakesh, a married man with a quiet, patient hunger for breaking pious women) began assigning her exercises.

Touch yourself every night after prayer while listening to his voice notes.  
Keep your eyes open and look at the ceiling fan while you come, so you do not hide inside the pleasure.  
After each orgasm, write one sentence about how your husband fails you, then delete it.  
Start denying Sameer entry unless he lasts longer than two minutes.

Sameer never lasted longer than two minutes.

Fatima’s days remained the same. She cooked, cleaned, prayed, spoke softly, kept her gaze down. But at night she sat on the same mat with her salwar pulled down around her thighs and Rakesh’s calm voice in her ear telling her exactly where to press, how hard, how long. He made her edge for forty minutes once, then forbade her to come until she said, out loud into the empty room:

“My husband is not enough.”

She said it.  
Then she came so violently she had to bite the edge of her veil to stay silent.

He recorded everything. Voice notes. Screenshots of her confessions. He never threatened. He simply let her know the material existed. The knowledge sat in her stomach like a cold stone, and somehow that stone made her wetter.

---

The first meeting was arranged as a “private counselling session.”

She told Sameer she was going to a women’s study circle. She left the flat in full black veil. Underneath she wore only a thin cotton shalwar and kameez, no bra, no panties — Rakesh’s instruction.

The service apartment near Gachibowli was quiet, anonymous. Rahul opened the door in a simple white shirt. He was taller than she had imagined, clean-shaven, sharp-jawed, calm-eyed. He did not touch her at first. He made her sit, still fully covered, and recite the exact words she had been saying to herself for weeks. Then he had her stand and remove the veil. Until she stood in only the thin cotton dress, trembling, eyes lowered.

He made her keep the shalwar on while he knelt and mouthed her through the fabric until the cloth was translucent and stuck to her cunt. Only then did he pull it down.

The first time he entered her she was still trying to keep her voice soft, still trying to sound like the pious wife. He fucked her slowly at first, making her look at him, then harder, then so deep that the wet sound of her body filled the quiet room. He did not let her close her eyes. When she came the first time he covered her mouth with his hand so the neighbours would not hear the broken sob that escaped her.

He fucked her twice more that afternoon. The third time he made her stay on all fours and while he took her from behind. She lost the words halfway through and could only moan.

Before she left he made her kneel and thank him properly with her mouth. She had never taken a man that deep. She gagged. He held her head gently and told her she was doing well.

She returned home smelling of him.  
Sameer did not notice.

---

That was only the beginning.

In the weeks that followed she began to change in small, cruel ways at home. She started making Sameer ask permission to touch her. She made him wait on his knees beside the bed while she finished a call with Rakesh. She started describing, in soft, almost tender language, exactly how another man’s cock felt inside her while Sameer’s face went pale.

Rakesh escalated. He started sending her out in slightly less modest clothing under the veil. He made her edge in public places — once in a ladies’ room at a mall, once in the back seat of an Uber with the partition up. He recorded the wet sounds on her phone and made her listen to them later while Sameer was in the next room.

The second and third meetings were longer. He started using her more roughly. He made her keep her veil on while he fucked her throat. He made her come while she was trying to perform on the apartment floor, her forehead pressed to the mat while his fingers worked between her legs. The contradiction broke something open in her.

By the time she brought Rakesh into their own bedroom, Fatima was no longer the same woman.

She told Sameer the truth the night before, calmly, while he sat on the edge of the bed looking sick.

“Tomorrow another man is going to open what you never could. When I come home you will clean me. You will thank him. And you will not speak unless I allow it.”

The next evening Rakesh arrived. Fatima was already waiting in a simple black veil with nothing underneath. She made Sameer sit in the corner armchair with his hands on his thighs. She did not look at her husband while Rakesh undressed her. She only looked at him when she was fully naked and Rakesh was already inside her, fucking her with slow, deep strokes on their marital bed.

She held Sameer’s gaze the entire time she came.  
Then she climbed off, walked over still dripping, and quietly told her husband to open his mouth.

---

From that night the power dynamic was permanent.

She started using Sameer as a tool. She made him clean her after every meeting. She made him listen on speaker while Rakesh fucked her in the next room. She began giving him precise instructions in bed and punishing him with denial when he failed. The soft-spoken, pious wife was gone. What remained was a woman who had tasted real pleasure and now claimed it without apology — while keeping just enough of the old body language to make the degradation of her husband even sharper.

And that was only the beginning of her becoming.]]>
At twenty-six she still woke for early without an alarm. She still pinned her veil carefully every morning, still kept her gaze lowered when any unknown man spoke, still felt a quiet flush of shame if her thoughts ever strayed during unusual time. Her body was soft, fair, full-hipped and heavy-breasted beneath the loose black dress she wore outside and the modest cotton salwar-kameez she wore at home. She had never looked at it with hunger. She had never touched herself with purpose. She had never come.

Her husband Sameer was kind in the way timid men are kind. Thirty-one, thin, soft around the middle, a quiet bank clerk who still called her “Fatima ji” in front of others. In the dark of their modest two-bedroom flat in the old city of Hyderabad he would climb onto her, push inside with an apologetic murmur, thrust for less than a minute, and finish with a small, embarrassed sound. Then he would roll away and whisper “sorry” into the pillow. She would lie still afterward, thighs sticky, the ache between her legs unanswered, and tell herself this was simply what had written for her.

One night, after another such coupling, she sat on the mat in the corner of the bedroom long after Sameer had fallen asleep. The only light came from the streetlamp outside the window. Her veil was still on. Her tasbih hung from her fingers. The emptiness between her legs felt louder than the silence.

She opened the anonymous advice forum on her phone and typed with careful, trembling thumbs:

*Is it a test from higher when a wife’s body feels nothing even though she is trying to be obedient in every other way?*

She almost deleted it. Then she posted.

The reply came forty minutes later, while she was still sitting on the mat.

**Brother Adeel:**  
Good evening sister.  
When you say your body feels nothing… do you mean during the act, or after as well?

The language was soft, respectful, full of the gentle phrases she was used to. She answered. He asked another careful question. Then another. Over the next eleven days the conversation moved from the public forum to encrypted messages. He never rushed. He never used crude words. He simply made her describe, in increasingly precise language, exactly what happened in her bedroom. He taught her the anatomical names she had never been allowed to speak aloud. He asked her to place her own hand between her legs while she was still on the mat , and to keep reciting what he is saying , while she touched herself for the first time in her life.

The orgasm hit her like a punishment and a revelation at once.

Her thighs shook so hard that slipped from her fingers. A broken, wet sound tore from her throat before she could stop it. Her veil slipped. She collapsed forward onto the mat, forehead pressed to the fabric, sobbing, convinced she had committed a major sin.

His next message arrived while she was still trembling:

*That was not a sin, Fatima. That was your body finally answering what you wanted, which your husband has never been able to hear. he made that part of you. Your husband has simply never found it.*

He asked for a voice note of her still-shaking breath as proof she had followed the instruction.  
She recorded it. She sent it.

That was the first crack.

---

In the weeks that followed, Brother Adeel (whose real name was Rakesh, a married man with a quiet, patient hunger for breaking pious women) began assigning her exercises.

Touch yourself every night after prayer while listening to his voice notes.  
Keep your eyes open and look at the ceiling fan while you come, so you do not hide inside the pleasure.  
After each orgasm, write one sentence about how your husband fails you, then delete it.  
Start denying Sameer entry unless he lasts longer than two minutes.

Sameer never lasted longer than two minutes.

Fatima’s days remained the same. She cooked, cleaned, prayed, spoke softly, kept her gaze down. But at night she sat on the same mat with her salwar pulled down around her thighs and Rakesh’s calm voice in her ear telling her exactly where to press, how hard, how long. He made her edge for forty minutes once, then forbade her to come until she said, out loud into the empty room:

“My husband is not enough.”

She said it.  
Then she came so violently she had to bite the edge of her veil to stay silent.

He recorded everything. Voice notes. Screenshots of her confessions. He never threatened. He simply let her know the material existed. The knowledge sat in her stomach like a cold stone, and somehow that stone made her wetter.

---

The first meeting was arranged as a “private counselling session.”

She told Sameer she was going to a women’s study circle. She left the flat in full black veil. Underneath she wore only a thin cotton shalwar and kameez, no bra, no panties — Rakesh’s instruction.

The service apartment near Gachibowli was quiet, anonymous. Rahul opened the door in a simple white shirt. He was taller than she had imagined, clean-shaven, sharp-jawed, calm-eyed. He did not touch her at first. He made her sit, still fully covered, and recite the exact words she had been saying to herself for weeks. Then he had her stand and remove the veil. Until she stood in only the thin cotton dress, trembling, eyes lowered.

He made her keep the shalwar on while he knelt and mouthed her through the fabric until the cloth was translucent and stuck to her cunt. Only then did he pull it down.

The first time he entered her she was still trying to keep her voice soft, still trying to sound like the pious wife. He fucked her slowly at first, making her look at him, then harder, then so deep that the wet sound of her body filled the quiet room. He did not let her close her eyes. When she came the first time he covered her mouth with his hand so the neighbours would not hear the broken sob that escaped her.

He fucked her twice more that afternoon. The third time he made her stay on all fours and while he took her from behind. She lost the words halfway through and could only moan.

Before she left he made her kneel and thank him properly with her mouth. She had never taken a man that deep. She gagged. He held her head gently and told her she was doing well.

She returned home smelling of him.  
Sameer did not notice.

---

That was only the beginning.

In the weeks that followed she began to change in small, cruel ways at home. She started making Sameer ask permission to touch her. She made him wait on his knees beside the bed while she finished a call with Rakesh. She started describing, in soft, almost tender language, exactly how another man’s cock felt inside her while Sameer’s face went pale.

Rakesh escalated. He started sending her out in slightly less modest clothing under the veil. He made her edge in public places — once in a ladies’ room at a mall, once in the back seat of an Uber with the partition up. He recorded the wet sounds on her phone and made her listen to them later while Sameer was in the next room.

The second and third meetings were longer. He started using her more roughly. He made her keep her veil on while he fucked her throat. He made her come while she was trying to perform on the apartment floor, her forehead pressed to the mat while his fingers worked between her legs. The contradiction broke something open in her.

By the time she brought Rakesh into their own bedroom, Fatima was no longer the same woman.

She told Sameer the truth the night before, calmly, while he sat on the edge of the bed looking sick.

“Tomorrow another man is going to open what you never could. When I come home you will clean me. You will thank him. And you will not speak unless I allow it.”

The next evening Rakesh arrived. Fatima was already waiting in a simple black veil with nothing underneath. She made Sameer sit in the corner armchair with his hands on his thighs. She did not look at her husband while Rakesh undressed her. She only looked at him when she was fully naked and Rakesh was already inside her, fucking her with slow, deep strokes on their marital bed.

She held Sameer’s gaze the entire time she came.  
Then she climbed off, walked over still dripping, and quietly told her husband to open his mouth.

---

From that night the power dynamic was permanent.

She started using Sameer as a tool. She made him clean her after every meeting. She made him listen on speaker while Rakesh fucked her in the next room. She began giving him precise instructions in bed and punishing him with denial when he failed. The soft-spoken, pious wife was gone. What remained was a woman who had tasted real pleasure and now claimed it without apology — while keeping just enough of the old body language to make the degradation of her husband even sharper.

And that was only the beginning of her becoming.]]> <![CDATA[Dhika - An Innocent Angel - Updates]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75526.html Mon, 05 Oct 2026 06:45:09 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75526.html

Ten at night in the hotel. Outside was dark. Dhika answered on the bed in the pale blue nightie, one shoulder already low. On the screen it was morning. Half past nine in India. John was at the table.

John: There you are.

John: Night already? How are you? New city. Away from me. People treating you all right?

Dhika: I miss you.

(She meant it. She also did not.)

Actually, she was missing his cock. She was horny from the day’s encounters. Scott’s eyes on the wet saree. The bump, and Raj’s lap under her. The hug at the door, his lips on her neck, her breasts crushed to his chest.

(Warm. Guilty. Still smiling at the screen. ?)

Dhika: City is fine. One man at the hall talked too much. Compliments. Standing close. Raj handled it. That’s all.

John: Men do that. Compliments. He stopped. Good. How was the rest?

(The hug. The lap. She kept both behind her teeth. ?)

Dhika: Long day. I’m tired. You?

John: Morning here. I was about to eat.

Sharmi came in from the kitchen. Plates in one hand. A cup of tea in the other. Paratha, still hot. She was already in the house.

The saree was wine-red, thin, gold border. Blouse low. Pallu already off one shoulder. It sat close on her waist and hip. Bangles. Hair not fully done.

Sharmi: Hi, Dhika. He was going to eat alone. I don’t like eating alone at home either. So I came.

She set the plates down and kept the tea. The pallu slipped when she bent. She left it. John looked at the saree, at the shoulder, at the waist. Then he saw Dhika’s face on the screen and looked back at the phone too quickly.

(Dhika felt it. A small anger. Jealousy under it. He had looked. ?)

Sharmi: A client sat on my calendar. Two days. I couldn’t drop it and fly. So you went with Raj, and I stayed.

(Jealous. She knew Sharmi could see it. ?)

Sharmi: Oh. I forgot the breakfast kiss.

Dhika: Aii….. what…. he is MY husband…….

Dhika: Stop…. don’t come closer.

Sharmi only laughed. She had heard that before.

John heard the quiet on the call. He had been caught looking.

John: She came with food. I didn’t tell her to wear that.

Sharmi smiled at the phone, not at him. She stepped in, fixed nothing, and kissed his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth, because Dhika was watching. Her hand stayed on his neck.

(Anger, and heat under it. Sharmi was doing it on purpose. ??)

Dhika: That saree is a lot for nine in the morning.

Sharmi: It feels like nothing on the skin. I wore it because I was coming here, not because I was going to an office. You don’t like it?

She lifted the cup. The reach put her against his arm. She stayed. John did not move her. He was still a little careful with the phone.

John: Enough of her. When you land, I’m taking you for a saree. Not this red. A black one. You’ll wear it once for me and then complain it is too much.

(Her face eased. Anger stayed. Love came back. ❤️)

Dhika: You don’t even know which black.

John: I know the one that makes you shy in the shop. You look like you had water and a meeting. Tell Raj his wife is in my kitchen in a saree, so he should behave in Mexico.

Sharmi, from the side: Tell him if he misses this pallu, he can look at Dhika and suffer. Or he can come home. I’ll still be in it.

Dhika: Both of you, stop.

John: Okay, okay.

He grinned, and did not leave it clean.

John: Fine. No more Raj. You just tell him breakfast was loud, and Sharmi started it. I’ll deny everything.

Sharmi hooked her chin on his shoulder, arms loose around him. The pallu fell across his chest. She saw Dhika still tight, and dropped the joke.

Sharmi: Enough, John. Dhika, Mexico has eyes. Someone would have forgotten his sentence in that hall when you walked in. You have nice curves. Wear the maroon you packed. Let the pallu sit low. Be a little bad. No one there is judging you.

(She almost laughed. Jealousy stayed. The mood did not. ?)

John: There. She made you laugh. I was losing.

Dhika: You weren’t. The room is dark and you two are having breakfast like a show.

(The want from the day was still in her. She kept it behind the joke. ?)

John: Then stay on. Watch the show. Or watch me. Sharmi can eat.

Sharmi, still at his shoulder: I’m eating. You two can be soft. I’ll only interrupt if he stares again.

John glanced at the red pallu and back at the phone, quicker than he needed to.

John: I’m not staring. Dhika, the nightie is slipping. Fix it or don’t. I like it either way.

Dhika: John.

John: What? I’m your husband. She’s the problem.

Sharmi: I’m the breakfast. You’re the one who looked. Dhika, ignore him. Two days and you take him back. Till then sleep. Or don’t. He’ll still be on the phone if you stay.

Dhika’s breath caught. (Missing him. Alone in the room. ?‍?) She did not put her hands under the cloth. She sat up. The shoulder slipped. She left it.

Dhika: I miss your mouth.

John: I know. I miss you too. Come back.

Sharmi, off the screen: Eat, John. She’s allowed to miss you. I’m allowed to be here.

(She almost smiled. The heat stayed. ?)

John: Good night.

John: It’s morning here. Sleep when you can.

Dhika: Good morning.

She ended the call.

She was about to put the phone aside. WhatsApp lit. Two notifications. The twins. She was already tired, already near sleep. She did not open the chats. She set the phone face down.

Ten o’clock. The nightie felt like less than the red saree, and still too much. Two days. The hug and the lap stayed in the dark with her. In India, Sharmi’s pallu was still off her shoulder over the plates and the tea……..]]>

Ten at night in the hotel. Outside was dark. Dhika answered on the bed in the pale blue nightie, one shoulder already low. On the screen it was morning. Half past nine in India. John was at the table.

John: There you are.

John: Night already? How are you? New city. Away from me. People treating you all right?

Dhika: I miss you.

(She meant it. She also did not.)

Actually, she was missing his cock. She was horny from the day’s encounters. Scott’s eyes on the wet saree. The bump, and Raj’s lap under her. The hug at the door, his lips on her neck, her breasts crushed to his chest.

(Warm. Guilty. Still smiling at the screen. ?)

Dhika: City is fine. One man at the hall talked too much. Compliments. Standing close. Raj handled it. That’s all.

John: Men do that. Compliments. He stopped. Good. How was the rest?

(The hug. The lap. She kept both behind her teeth. ?)

Dhika: Long day. I’m tired. You?

John: Morning here. I was about to eat.

Sharmi came in from the kitchen. Plates in one hand. A cup of tea in the other. Paratha, still hot. She was already in the house.

The saree was wine-red, thin, gold border. Blouse low. Pallu already off one shoulder. It sat close on her waist and hip. Bangles. Hair not fully done.

Sharmi: Hi, Dhika. He was going to eat alone. I don’t like eating alone at home either. So I came.

She set the plates down and kept the tea. The pallu slipped when she bent. She left it. John looked at the saree, at the shoulder, at the waist. Then he saw Dhika’s face on the screen and looked back at the phone too quickly.

(Dhika felt it. A small anger. Jealousy under it. He had looked. ?)

Sharmi: A client sat on my calendar. Two days. I couldn’t drop it and fly. So you went with Raj, and I stayed.

(Jealous. She knew Sharmi could see it. ?)

Sharmi: Oh. I forgot the breakfast kiss.

Dhika: Aii….. what…. he is MY husband…….

Dhika: Stop…. don’t come closer.

Sharmi only laughed. She had heard that before.

John heard the quiet on the call. He had been caught looking.

John: She came with food. I didn’t tell her to wear that.

Sharmi smiled at the phone, not at him. She stepped in, fixed nothing, and kissed his cheek. Then the corner of his mouth, because Dhika was watching. Her hand stayed on his neck.

(Anger, and heat under it. Sharmi was doing it on purpose. ??)

Dhika: That saree is a lot for nine in the morning.

Sharmi: It feels like nothing on the skin. I wore it because I was coming here, not because I was going to an office. You don’t like it?

She lifted the cup. The reach put her against his arm. She stayed. John did not move her. He was still a little careful with the phone.

John: Enough of her. When you land, I’m taking you for a saree. Not this red. A black one. You’ll wear it once for me and then complain it is too much.

(Her face eased. Anger stayed. Love came back. ❤️)

Dhika: You don’t even know which black.

John: I know the one that makes you shy in the shop. You look like you had water and a meeting. Tell Raj his wife is in my kitchen in a saree, so he should behave in Mexico.

Sharmi, from the side: Tell him if he misses this pallu, he can look at Dhika and suffer. Or he can come home. I’ll still be in it.

Dhika: Both of you, stop.

John: Okay, okay.

He grinned, and did not leave it clean.

John: Fine. No more Raj. You just tell him breakfast was loud, and Sharmi started it. I’ll deny everything.

Sharmi hooked her chin on his shoulder, arms loose around him. The pallu fell across his chest. She saw Dhika still tight, and dropped the joke.

Sharmi: Enough, John. Dhika, Mexico has eyes. Someone would have forgotten his sentence in that hall when you walked in. You have nice curves. Wear the maroon you packed. Let the pallu sit low. Be a little bad. No one there is judging you.

(She almost laughed. Jealousy stayed. The mood did not. ?)

John: There. She made you laugh. I was losing.

Dhika: You weren’t. The room is dark and you two are having breakfast like a show.

(The want from the day was still in her. She kept it behind the joke. ?)

John: Then stay on. Watch the show. Or watch me. Sharmi can eat.

Sharmi, still at his shoulder: I’m eating. You two can be soft. I’ll only interrupt if he stares again.

John glanced at the red pallu and back at the phone, quicker than he needed to.

John: I’m not staring. Dhika, the nightie is slipping. Fix it or don’t. I like it either way.

Dhika: John.

John: What? I’m your husband. She’s the problem.

Sharmi: I’m the breakfast. You’re the one who looked. Dhika, ignore him. Two days and you take him back. Till then sleep. Or don’t. He’ll still be on the phone if you stay.

Dhika’s breath caught. (Missing him. Alone in the room. ?‍?) She did not put her hands under the cloth. She sat up. The shoulder slipped. She left it.

Dhika: I miss your mouth.

John: I know. I miss you too. Come back.

Sharmi, off the screen: Eat, John. She’s allowed to miss you. I’m allowed to be here.

(She almost smiled. The heat stayed. ?)

John: Good night.

John: It’s morning here. Sleep when you can.

Dhika: Good morning.

She ended the call.

She was about to put the phone aside. WhatsApp lit. Two notifications. The twins. She was already tired, already near sleep. She did not open the chats. She set the phone face down.

Ten o’clock. The nightie felt like less than the red saree, and still too much. Two days. The hug and the lap stayed in the dark with her. In India, Sharmi’s pallu was still off her shoulder over the plates and the tea……..]]> <![CDATA[Malli – My Wife (Originally written in Tamil by @heygiwriter)]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75519.html Sun, 04 Oct 2026 12:46:37 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75519.html
Heygi has become a total game-changer on Xossipy. He's doing incredible things in a space that usually just sticks to straightforward sexual stories, but he's flipping the script by turning erotic tales into gripping emotional rollercoasters. By weaving in themes like infidelity, psychological games, betrayal, guilt, and inner turmoil, he creates characters that really burrow into your brain. Every story feels like a precious gem—the kind that stays with you long after you've finished reading. "Malli – My Wife" marks his debut story written in Tamil.
 
Heygi has established himself as a pan-India writer. Many fans who aren't familiar with Tamil are eager to dive into the stories he has created in the language. I'm doing my best to translate this tale—which honestly feels like a full-length novel—into English for all of you.
 
I sincerely apologize in advance for any errors or formatting issues. Please direct your compliments and love to the author, heygi.
 
All rights to this English version of the story "Malli – My Wife" belong exclusively to heygiwriter. No one is permitted to publish or reproduce it in any form without his prior written consent.
 
Let's jump into the story!]]>
Heygi has become a total game-changer on Xossipy. He's doing incredible things in a space that usually just sticks to straightforward sexual stories, but he's flipping the script by turning erotic tales into gripping emotional rollercoasters. By weaving in themes like infidelity, psychological games, betrayal, guilt, and inner turmoil, he creates characters that really burrow into your brain. Every story feels like a precious gem—the kind that stays with you long after you've finished reading. "Malli – My Wife" marks his debut story written in Tamil.
 
Heygi has established himself as a pan-India writer. Many fans who aren't familiar with Tamil are eager to dive into the stories he has created in the language. I'm doing my best to translate this tale—which honestly feels like a full-length novel—into English for all of you.
 
I sincerely apologize in advance for any errors or formatting issues. Please direct your compliments and love to the author, heygi.
 
All rights to this English version of the story "Malli – My Wife" belong exclusively to heygiwriter. No one is permitted to publish or reproduce it in any form without his prior written consent.
 
Let's jump into the story!]]> <![CDATA[Rinku - Rascal & his bitch]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75518.html Sun, 04 Oct 2026 11:34:46 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75518.html
 
It was a door which I had seen numerous times but had never been allowed to use till today!
The blast of cold icy air flowing from the slim gap beneath the door made my bare knees knock against each other since for once I was not wearing my trademarked slinky blouse & semitransparent sari!!!!
 
In fact, I was not wearing any thing at all!!!! …….. I was standing there in the plush lobby, facing the door in the nude!.......... I was stark naked!!!
 
My silky brown hair, which I love to flaunt, was pulled back tightly & tied in tight little bun at the back of my head!!! …… I had worn no make-up, no lip colour, nothing …. I was as naked as I had been when I was born!!!
 
Except the fact that when I was born, I was coated in embryonic fluids but today I was coated in a transparent slimy gooey fluid which had already begun to dry giving my skin an ethereal glint! Every pore on my body, every orifice was saturated with the sweet fluid as I stood facing the huge studded door!!!
……
………..
…………..
Then, as if from afar, I heard a distinctive chime from the other side of the door, my Sex Master DK’s call to his sex slave, me!!!!!
 
Mustering my guts, I pushed against one of the studs, wincing at the coldness of the metal protrusion & pushed the door open & gasped as my breath was sucked from within me by the icy coldness of the dark room on the other side of the door!!!
 
The door closed behind me automatically & I realized that I was in a small dark vestibule beyond which lay a brightly lit arena like space & in the center of it was a large blue circular air filled inflatable pool!!!
 
As I walked towards the pool, I could hear the excited breathing of the watchers but couldn’t see them since they were sitting beyond the circle of light!!!!
 
Although I couldn’t see the watchers, I did see him!! ……. Rascal!!! He was kneeling, dark & foreboding, his deep dark brown hairy body, his taut rippling shoulder muscles, his powerful muscular thighs, his deep dark brown eyes staring at me with unconcealed lust & spit drooling from the edges of his mouth as he watched his naked bitch move towards him!!!!
………
…………
………………
A few murmurs & wolf whistles sounded from among the watchers as I dropped to all fours & crawled into the pool!!!
 
I saw the 2 bowls kept just outside the pool, one was clean & richly emblazoned with embossed golden alphabets that read ‘RASCAL’ while the other bowl was dirtier & seemed unwashed & on which was scrawled in hurried writing, ‘rinku’!
 
The implications were clear; Rascal was the king of the ring while I was his bitch!!!!
 
As I crawled forward, I spied the cheap plastic squeezy bottles with pierced caps filled with a liquid which smelt exactly like the one with which I had coated my entire naked before entering!!!!
………
………..
………………..
Another soft whistle sounded & Rascal moved into the ring, stately, regally, exactly like he was the king of the ring!!!!
 
He stationed himself in the center of the ring, rigid, seemingly in full control, the only give away was his engorged penis, the pink head which was pushing out of its sheath at the sight of his naked bitch!!!!
 
The chime sounded! …….. I crawled forward! Caressed his big head with my palms!!!! I saw his nostrils flare as he smelt the sweet fragrance of the coating on my palms & hands!!!!
 
Another chime!!! …….. I kissed him on his grinning mouth!!!! Forcing my tongue inside his mouth!!! Sucking on his slimy saliva!!!!
My tongue rippled around his evil looking canines even as I sucked on the insides of his stale smelly mouth!!!
 
A low whistle set him off!!!! Like a sprinter exploding from the blocks, Rascal’s pushed me backwards, his sharp nails digging in my soft fleshy breasts even as his tongue lapped all over my face, licking away the sweet residue!!!
 
His wildly lapping flexible tongue probed deep inside my mouth, almost deep throating me as he sucked & licked at the sweetness coating me!!!
………
………..
…………..
Suddenly, I felt a cold splash on my naked tits!!! Somebody had squirted a generous amount of the sweet liquid on to my tits!!!!!
 
Rascal was on to it in a jiffy, licking off the fresh sweet fluid even as I grimaced & whined as his teeth bit into my breasts & his canines nicked my erect nipples!!!!
 
“AAAHHhh!!!....UNNNGHHHhh!!!....AAAAHHHHH!!!” I moaned & squirmed as Rascal’s lusty licks & bites began to turn me on!!!!
 
I tried to push away his face only to feel the cold squirt in my arm pits!!!!
Even before I could register it, Rascal was nibbling at my arms pits, forcing me to spread out my arms, allowing him to clean it all up!!!!!
 
Barely had I caught my breath that I felt the squirt on my navel & then moved lower onto my clean shaven pussy!!!!
 
My whole body quivered in anticipation of the assault & I was not disappointed as Rascal almost leaped onto my navel & quickly moved across my flat naked tummy towards my quivering twat!!!!!
 
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH…………..UNNGGHHHHHHH!!!” I gasped groaned & moaned at the same time as Rascal’s mouth drove me wild & thrust me further towards an uncontrolled uninhibited orgasm which I desperately tried to prevent!!!!!
……
………….
……………….
Yet another chime!!! ………. I struggled against Rascal’s brute strength & pushed away his sweaty hairy body!!!
Horny as hell, I licked & kissed his furry arms, licked his hairy back with a wide open mouth & sloppy tongue as I slithered towards his hairy thighs, my aim, to reach his massive upwardly curved partially unsheathed penis & his wildly swinging balls!!!!!
 
Rascal, on his part was not to give in so easily, as I slithered towards his rear, he pinned my thighs, his nails clawing at the tender part of inner thighs as he chomped on my dilated cunt!!!!
 
As he bent forward, burying his handsome head in my crotch, I slid onto my back & squirmed into a perfect 69 position with my mouth beneath his massive erect shaft!
 
He was gnawing hungrily at my cunt as I felt splashes of the fluid on my pussy which further fueled his lust, even as I arched upwards as my body tethered on the verge of exploding into an orgasm!!!!
……..
…………
……………..
Somehow, with strength born out of desperation, I pulled myself upwards, my open mouth scrapping against his inner thighs while my tongue left drips of spit on him!
I grabbed his shaft with both my hands while I opened my mouth wide & swallowed his scrotum!!!
 
I could smell his fetid unwashed sweaty crud as my nose almost plunged into his asshole!!!
But as my tongue roiled against his balls, I felt his tongue freeze against my wet pussy, his thighs stiffened & as I began pumping his shaft, Rascal groaned!!!!
 
Finally, I had pulled back one point in our sex duel!!!!!
……..
…………
…………….
A Chime!!! & Another!!!!.......... Game on!!!!
 
I took a deep breath & let his balls pop out of my mouth!!! ……. Then, still pumping his shaft, I raised my head, collected a glob of spit in my mouth & spat at his tight asshole!!!!
Then before my spit could trundle down, I shoved my tongue into his filthy orifice & began lapping at it!!!
My head spun, my eyes watered & I retched!!!!! ……… I somehow managed to hold back the puke & kept pumping my tongue in & out of one of the filthiest assholes I have ever licked!!!
……
……….
……………
But not for long, without warning, my body revolted & puke trundled down the corners of my mouth!!!!
……
…………
Despairingly, I turned around raising my butt upwards, lay my head at Rascal’s feet & reached back to spread my own bums!!!!... I shoved my fingers in to my asshole & spread it wide!!!!
A searing sensation ran down my spine as ice cold fluid was squirted right in to my asshole & I felt rascal attack my butt with a gusto I could never have imagined!!!!
 
He lapped against my pussy & then upwards at my asshole, shamelessly, mercilessly!!!!!
…….
……….
…………..
A whistle & a chime sounded together & Rascal reluctantly pulled away from my asshole!!!!
Rascal 1 – Rinku 0!!!!
 
My body was quivering & quaking; I was unable to even sit up straight & fell backwards landing on my back!!!!
………….
………………
Again, the whistle & chime sounded in unison!!!
………
…………
Rascal rushed towards me, but this time I slipped aside & slipped into his crotch!!!!
I grabbed his sweaty balls in one hand & massaged them gently while I took his cock in the other hand & shoved it down my mouth & deep throated it!!!
 
Rascal groaned & growled & then whimpered as I sucked his cock as only I can!!!
But within seconds, he began thrusting deeper & deeper into my mouth!!! He was going deeper & deeper inside my throat!!!!
‘Glugggg!’ ………. ‘Glugggggg!’…… “Aaahh”…… ‘Glugggggg!’……….. My eyeballs rolled up in their sockets & huge amount of slimy spit drooled from my mouth as Rascal face fucked me mercilessly!!!!
………
…………….
A whistle & Rascal pulled out rapidly from my mouth!!!!! ………. I fell face forward, my face slipping in the slimy mess on the smooth floor of the inflatable pool!!!
………
……………
………………
Another whistle & felt his massive bulk thrust into my rear, felt the massive pressure of his elbows on my back & I screamed in pain as his mouth clamped on the hair at the back of my head & felt his engorged cock rip inside my already dripping pussy!!!!!
………
………….
……………….
“AAAHHHHH!...aaaaa…UNGHHHHH…..ohhhhhHHHHH..OHHHH…AAAHHHHH…UMMMMM”…”OOOOHHH …fu..aaaaahhhh…ckkkkkkkkKKKKKKK!” I screeched as Rascal banged his massive shaft inside my cunt!!!!
 
Fucking me, his bitch, savagely, brutally with an incomparable animalistic lust filled frenzy!!!!!
……….
………….
……………….
I have never had my pussy ravaged in such a brutal irresistible way & my pussy reacted in the only way it could!!!! ………… It squirted madly, flooding it with my juices, lubricating itself so Rascal wouldn’t need to stop!!!!
…….
………….
…………….
Rascal didn’t stop!!! He fucked my pussy hard & then fucked me some more & then kept fucking me!!!!! Hard & fast!!! …. Harder & faster!!!! ….. He was insatiable!!!! …… & I was uncontrollable!!! …. The more he banged my cunt the more juice I squirted!!!
…….
……………
………………….
Then suddenly, he stiffened & I felt a sharp pain inside my cunt as a searing hotness spread deep within me!!!! ………. Rascal was still pumping my pussy!!!! ……….. !!!!
 
Then there was a numbing silence, a stillness, except for the slapping of Rascals balls against my thighs!!!!
……….
………..
Then I heard something!!! ……… it was faint at first but then it increased …. Slowly at first & then reached its zenith in moments!
……… “FUCK MEEEEEE! ………… FUCK ME …..HARDER…..YOU BASTARD!!!!!.....BREED MEEEEE!!! ……… BREED ME….. I AM RINKU…..RINKU IS YOUR FUCKING BITCH!!!!!! BREED RINKU………. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCKKKKK….. MEEEEE!!!! ….. FUUUUUUUCK MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”
……..
………..
That’s when I grasped that I had been screaming while Rascal fucked my brains out & he had driven me to multiple amazingly uncontrolled orgasms!!!!
……..
……….
………….
Then I realized I was still cumming & Rascal was still stuck inside my pussy, quivering, still draining a few squirts at a time, still breeding me like his bitch!!!
 
Oh Yes! I was a bitch!!!
 
I was a bitch …….. because Rascal was a massive brown black Great Dane – Doberman mix breed….my Master DK’s pet dog!! ….
 
…. & me, Rinku was Rascal’s bitch!!! ……!!!!!]]>
 
It was a door which I had seen numerous times but had never been allowed to use till today!
The blast of cold icy air flowing from the slim gap beneath the door made my bare knees knock against each other since for once I was not wearing my trademarked slinky blouse & semitransparent sari!!!!
 
In fact, I was not wearing any thing at all!!!! …….. I was standing there in the plush lobby, facing the door in the nude!.......... I was stark naked!!!
 
My silky brown hair, which I love to flaunt, was pulled back tightly & tied in tight little bun at the back of my head!!! …… I had worn no make-up, no lip colour, nothing …. I was as naked as I had been when I was born!!!
 
Except the fact that when I was born, I was coated in embryonic fluids but today I was coated in a transparent slimy gooey fluid which had already begun to dry giving my skin an ethereal glint! Every pore on my body, every orifice was saturated with the sweet fluid as I stood facing the huge studded door!!!
……
………..
…………..
Then, as if from afar, I heard a distinctive chime from the other side of the door, my Sex Master DK’s call to his sex slave, me!!!!!
 
Mustering my guts, I pushed against one of the studs, wincing at the coldness of the metal protrusion & pushed the door open & gasped as my breath was sucked from within me by the icy coldness of the dark room on the other side of the door!!!
 
The door closed behind me automatically & I realized that I was in a small dark vestibule beyond which lay a brightly lit arena like space & in the center of it was a large blue circular air filled inflatable pool!!!
 
As I walked towards the pool, I could hear the excited breathing of the watchers but couldn’t see them since they were sitting beyond the circle of light!!!!
 
Although I couldn’t see the watchers, I did see him!! ……. Rascal!!! He was kneeling, dark & foreboding, his deep dark brown hairy body, his taut rippling shoulder muscles, his powerful muscular thighs, his deep dark brown eyes staring at me with unconcealed lust & spit drooling from the edges of his mouth as he watched his naked bitch move towards him!!!!
………
…………
………………
A few murmurs & wolf whistles sounded from among the watchers as I dropped to all fours & crawled into the pool!!!
 
I saw the 2 bowls kept just outside the pool, one was clean & richly emblazoned with embossed golden alphabets that read ‘RASCAL’ while the other bowl was dirtier & seemed unwashed & on which was scrawled in hurried writing, ‘rinku’!
 
The implications were clear; Rascal was the king of the ring while I was his bitch!!!!
 
As I crawled forward, I spied the cheap plastic squeezy bottles with pierced caps filled with a liquid which smelt exactly like the one with which I had coated my entire naked before entering!!!!
………
………..
………………..
Another soft whistle sounded & Rascal moved into the ring, stately, regally, exactly like he was the king of the ring!!!!
 
He stationed himself in the center of the ring, rigid, seemingly in full control, the only give away was his engorged penis, the pink head which was pushing out of its sheath at the sight of his naked bitch!!!!
 
The chime sounded! …….. I crawled forward! Caressed his big head with my palms!!!! I saw his nostrils flare as he smelt the sweet fragrance of the coating on my palms & hands!!!!
 
Another chime!!! …….. I kissed him on his grinning mouth!!!! Forcing my tongue inside his mouth!!! Sucking on his slimy saliva!!!!
My tongue rippled around his evil looking canines even as I sucked on the insides of his stale smelly mouth!!!
 
A low whistle set him off!!!! Like a sprinter exploding from the blocks, Rascal’s pushed me backwards, his sharp nails digging in my soft fleshy breasts even as his tongue lapped all over my face, licking away the sweet residue!!!
 
His wildly lapping flexible tongue probed deep inside my mouth, almost deep throating me as he sucked & licked at the sweetness coating me!!!
………
………..
…………..
Suddenly, I felt a cold splash on my naked tits!!! Somebody had squirted a generous amount of the sweet liquid on to my tits!!!!!
 
Rascal was on to it in a jiffy, licking off the fresh sweet fluid even as I grimaced & whined as his teeth bit into my breasts & his canines nicked my erect nipples!!!!
 
“AAAHHhh!!!....UNNNGHHHhh!!!....AAAAHHHHH!!!” I moaned & squirmed as Rascal’s lusty licks & bites began to turn me on!!!!
 
I tried to push away his face only to feel the cold squirt in my arm pits!!!!
Even before I could register it, Rascal was nibbling at my arms pits, forcing me to spread out my arms, allowing him to clean it all up!!!!!
 
Barely had I caught my breath that I felt the squirt on my navel & then moved lower onto my clean shaven pussy!!!!
 
My whole body quivered in anticipation of the assault & I was not disappointed as Rascal almost leaped onto my navel & quickly moved across my flat naked tummy towards my quivering twat!!!!!
 
“AAAAAHHHHHHHHH…………..UNNGGHHHHHHH!!!” I gasped groaned & moaned at the same time as Rascal’s mouth drove me wild & thrust me further towards an uncontrolled uninhibited orgasm which I desperately tried to prevent!!!!!
……
………….
……………….
Yet another chime!!! ………. I struggled against Rascal’s brute strength & pushed away his sweaty hairy body!!!
Horny as hell, I licked & kissed his furry arms, licked his hairy back with a wide open mouth & sloppy tongue as I slithered towards his hairy thighs, my aim, to reach his massive upwardly curved partially unsheathed penis & his wildly swinging balls!!!!!
 
Rascal, on his part was not to give in so easily, as I slithered towards his rear, he pinned my thighs, his nails clawing at the tender part of inner thighs as he chomped on my dilated cunt!!!!
 
As he bent forward, burying his handsome head in my crotch, I slid onto my back & squirmed into a perfect 69 position with my mouth beneath his massive erect shaft!
 
He was gnawing hungrily at my cunt as I felt splashes of the fluid on my pussy which further fueled his lust, even as I arched upwards as my body tethered on the verge of exploding into an orgasm!!!!
……..
…………
……………..
Somehow, with strength born out of desperation, I pulled myself upwards, my open mouth scrapping against his inner thighs while my tongue left drips of spit on him!
I grabbed his shaft with both my hands while I opened my mouth wide & swallowed his scrotum!!!
 
I could smell his fetid unwashed sweaty crud as my nose almost plunged into his asshole!!!
But as my tongue roiled against his balls, I felt his tongue freeze against my wet pussy, his thighs stiffened & as I began pumping his shaft, Rascal groaned!!!!
 
Finally, I had pulled back one point in our sex duel!!!!!
……..
…………
…………….
A Chime!!! & Another!!!!.......... Game on!!!!
 
I took a deep breath & let his balls pop out of my mouth!!! ……. Then, still pumping his shaft, I raised my head, collected a glob of spit in my mouth & spat at his tight asshole!!!!
Then before my spit could trundle down, I shoved my tongue into his filthy orifice & began lapping at it!!!
My head spun, my eyes watered & I retched!!!!! ……… I somehow managed to hold back the puke & kept pumping my tongue in & out of one of the filthiest assholes I have ever licked!!!
……
……….
……………
But not for long, without warning, my body revolted & puke trundled down the corners of my mouth!!!!
……
…………
Despairingly, I turned around raising my butt upwards, lay my head at Rascal’s feet & reached back to spread my own bums!!!!... I shoved my fingers in to my asshole & spread it wide!!!!
A searing sensation ran down my spine as ice cold fluid was squirted right in to my asshole & I felt rascal attack my butt with a gusto I could never have imagined!!!!
 
He lapped against my pussy & then upwards at my asshole, shamelessly, mercilessly!!!!!
…….
……….
…………..
A whistle & a chime sounded together & Rascal reluctantly pulled away from my asshole!!!!
Rascal 1 – Rinku 0!!!!
 
My body was quivering & quaking; I was unable to even sit up straight & fell backwards landing on my back!!!!
………….
………………
Again, the whistle & chime sounded in unison!!!
………
…………
Rascal rushed towards me, but this time I slipped aside & slipped into his crotch!!!!
I grabbed his sweaty balls in one hand & massaged them gently while I took his cock in the other hand & shoved it down my mouth & deep throated it!!!
 
Rascal groaned & growled & then whimpered as I sucked his cock as only I can!!!
But within seconds, he began thrusting deeper & deeper into my mouth!!! He was going deeper & deeper inside my throat!!!!
‘Glugggg!’ ………. ‘Glugggggg!’…… “Aaahh”…… ‘Glugggggg!’……….. My eyeballs rolled up in their sockets & huge amount of slimy spit drooled from my mouth as Rascal face fucked me mercilessly!!!!
………
…………….
A whistle & Rascal pulled out rapidly from my mouth!!!!! ………. I fell face forward, my face slipping in the slimy mess on the smooth floor of the inflatable pool!!!
………
……………
………………
Another whistle & felt his massive bulk thrust into my rear, felt the massive pressure of his elbows on my back & I screamed in pain as his mouth clamped on the hair at the back of my head & felt his engorged cock rip inside my already dripping pussy!!!!!
………
………….
……………….
“AAAHHHHH!...aaaaa…UNGHHHHH…..ohhhhhHHHHH..OHHHH…AAAHHHHH…UMMMMM”…”OOOOHHH …fu..aaaaahhhh…ckkkkkkkkKKKKKKK!” I screeched as Rascal banged his massive shaft inside my cunt!!!!
 
Fucking me, his bitch, savagely, brutally with an incomparable animalistic lust filled frenzy!!!!!
……….
………….
……………….
I have never had my pussy ravaged in such a brutal irresistible way & my pussy reacted in the only way it could!!!! ………… It squirted madly, flooding it with my juices, lubricating itself so Rascal wouldn’t need to stop!!!!
…….
………….
…………….
Rascal didn’t stop!!! He fucked my pussy hard & then fucked me some more & then kept fucking me!!!!! Hard & fast!!! …. Harder & faster!!!! ….. He was insatiable!!!! …… & I was uncontrollable!!! …. The more he banged my cunt the more juice I squirted!!!
…….
……………
………………….
Then suddenly, he stiffened & I felt a sharp pain inside my cunt as a searing hotness spread deep within me!!!! ………. Rascal was still pumping my pussy!!!! ……….. !!!!
 
Then there was a numbing silence, a stillness, except for the slapping of Rascals balls against my thighs!!!!
……….
………..
Then I heard something!!! ……… it was faint at first but then it increased …. Slowly at first & then reached its zenith in moments!
……… “FUCK MEEEEEE! ………… FUCK ME …..HARDER…..YOU BASTARD!!!!!.....BREED MEEEEE!!! ……… BREED ME….. I AM RINKU…..RINKU IS YOUR FUCKING BITCH!!!!!! BREED RINKU………. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCK ME!!!! ….. FUCKKKKK….. MEEEEE!!!! ….. FUUUUUUUCK MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”
……..
………..
That’s when I grasped that I had been screaming while Rascal fucked my brains out & he had driven me to multiple amazingly uncontrolled orgasms!!!!
……..
……….
………….
Then I realized I was still cumming & Rascal was still stuck inside my pussy, quivering, still draining a few squirts at a time, still breeding me like his bitch!!!
 
Oh Yes! I was a bitch!!!
 
I was a bitch …….. because Rascal was a massive brown black Great Dane – Doberman mix breed….my Master DK’s pet dog!! ….
 
…. & me, Rinku was Rascal’s bitch!!! ……!!!!!]]> <![CDATA[Sudha Sweet Stall (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75492.html Fri, 02 Oct 2026 14:25:40 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75492.html [Image: Sudha-Sweet-Stall-at-Midnight.png]


Sudha Sweet Stall 

By Novelist Casanova 



Sudha Sweet Stall sat on the ground floor of our house and opened straight onto the wide road, the shutter pulled up early every morning so the trays of mysore pak, jangiri, badusha and laddu faced the street and the people walking past could see everything from the pavement. The road itself stayed crowded from seven o’clock, autos stopping, men in shirts standing and pointing at the trays, women with bags waiting their turn, the smell of hot ghee and sugar already spilling out onto the road and mixing with the dust and the vehicle smoke. Inside the stall the wooden counter ran along the front, the money box sat under it, and behind the counter the door led down the steps into the basement where all the sweets were made, the big vessels sitting on the stoves, the workers stirring and pouring and cutting, the heat from those stoves rising up the steps and filling the ground floor so that even the air above the trays felt warm. Trays kept coming up from the basement one after another, fresh and shining, and the five workers moved between the basement and the ground floor without stopping, carrying the heavy trays, setting them on the counter, taking the empty ones back down. Customers leaned over the counter from the road side, calling out what they wanted, holding out notes, and the stall stayed packed like that through the whole morning, the road outside never empty, people coming from both directions, some standing and eating right there on the pavement, some taking boxes and walking away. The name Sudha Sweet Stall was painted above the shutter and everyone on that road knew it, the business had been running strong for two years, the trays emptying and filling again and again, the basement never quiet, the ground floor always smelling of sugar and ghee, the road in front always full of the same morning rush.



I am Sudha, a housewife, the wife of Rajesh, and my husband loves me very much, so much that he named the stall Sudha Sweet Stall after me. I stand 5 feet 9 inches tall and I weigh 70 kilos, my breasts measure 38, my waist 28, my hips 40, my bra is 38D and my panties are XL, and my husband looks at me the same way he looked at me when we married, his eyes going over my face first, the large eyes, the dark brows, the straight nose and the full lips, then down over my tall body, my straight shoulders, my long neck, my long black hair that I oil and leave loose or tie back. For that love I gave him three handsome sons. I wear a saree all the time with a blouse and a petticoat tied low below my navel, the pallu tucked at my waist, and the blouse sits tight across my breasts so that the heavy shape of them is clear, the nipples pressing from inside my bra. My waist stays narrow under the saree while my hips spread wide and my ass is full and round, the two ass cheeks sitting heavy under the petticoat and the saree, and when I walk my thick thighs touch and the inner thighs rub with every step. The saree stretches over my hips and over my ass and over my thighs. The mangalsutra rests against my chest above the blouse and the gold anklets sit on my ankles. Under the petticoat and the saree my panties rest against my pussy and against my clit. At night I take off the saree and the blouse and the petticoat and I wear only my nighty with my panties underneath. Whenever my husband was horny he would come to me on the first floor after the three sons were asleep, pull the nighty up, slide my panties down, and make love to me, enjoying my heavy breasts in his hands, my wide hips under him, my full ass, my thick thighs opening for him, and I would cooperate every time, hold him, lift my hips, let him take all the pleasure he wanted from my pussy and from my mouth and from my breasts until he finished.
“Sudha, you give me everything, I cannot stay away from you when I am like this, open for me,” my husband would say, already pushing into me.
“I am here Rajesh, take what you want, I will give you all of it,” I would say, my legs around him, my breasts against his chest, cooperating until he had taken every bit of pleasure he came for. My husband loves me, he tells me I am his, and I stay his wife and the mother of his three handsome sons, tall and curved inside the saree during the day, inside the nighty at night, my breasts heavy, my hips wide, my ass full, my thighs thick, my face the first thing he sees when he comes home.


Our house stood tall above Sudha Sweet Stall and it was beautiful because of the sweet business, four floors of rooms and windows rising over the ground floor and the basement, the paint fresh, the grills shining, the stairs wide and clean from the bottom to the top. On the ground floor my husband stood at the counter and sold the sweets to the people coming in from the road, and down in the basement the five workers made those sweets from morning, the vessels on the stoves, the trays going up the steps and coming back empty. The first floor was where my husband and I lived, the hall wide, the dining table in the centre, our room at the side, the windows opening toward the road so the sound of the stall came up, the rooms smelling of incense and the coffee I made. The second floor belonged to one son, his room, his bed, his cupboard, his books, the floor mopped every morning and the windows open to the same road. The third floor belonged to the second son, the same way, his own room, his own bed, his own things kept neat, another set of windows and another fan turning slowly. The fourth floor belonged to the third son, his room at the top, the terrace just outside his door, the pots along the wall, the breeze coming over the road and over the stall below, and from there anyone could look down and see the shutter of Sudha Sweet Stall and the people on the pavement. Every floor had been built and kept beautiful from the money the stall brought, the basement working, the ground floor selling, the first floor for my husband and me, the second and third and fourth for our three sons, and I walked those stairs in my saree from the first floor to the fourth and back down again, the house standing over the business that had given us all of it.



I went down into the basement every morning at 10 AM in my saree, the steps hot from the stoves, the air thick with sugar and ghee, the five workers bent over the vessels and the trays, their shirts already stained, their hands sticky, sweat on their faces and on their necks from standing over the heat since dawn, and I did not mind how dirty they were because they were the reason behind our success, the reason the trays on the ground floor stayed full and the reason customers kept coming from the road. The moment my saree and my blouse and my petticoat appeared on the steps they all looked up even while their hands kept stirring. My husband was rude to them on the ground floor, he raised his voice when a tray was late, he told them to work faster and not stand, he did not thank them, but I was sweet to them and that was the only reason they stayed and worked so hard. Before I entered the basement I pulled the saree low on my hips so the petticoat sat low below my navel and the curve of my waist and my hips and my ass showed clearly, and I walked in like that so they could feast their eyes on me and I could tempt them and make their day and make them horny enough to keep stirring until evening. They kept their words on the sweets and called me down to see the badusha or the mysore pak, but I could see their eyes go to my breasts inside the blouse, to my hips and my ass under the low saree, to my thighs when I stood near the vessels. My husband did not know. I talked to them, I joked with them, I smiled at them and let them look as long as they wanted. On their birthdays I went down and hugged each one, my arms around their shoulders, my breasts pressing against their chests through the blouse and my bra, my hips and my ass coming close under the saree, and I felt how they went still and how they grew horny in that one hug, their breath changing, their dirty hands hovering at my waist as if they wanted to hold me there and not let go. I told them the counter needed two more trays and I turned slowly so they could see my ass and the low line of the saree on my hips, then I went back up the steps to the ground floor, stopped before my husband could see me, and pulled the saree up and adjusted the pallu modestly across my chest and over my hips the way a wife should look while he stood at the counter selling, none of the low hip, none of the looking, and none of those hugs ever reaching his ears.



I started grooming myself not only for my husband but also for the five workers in the basement, so they would feel me every morning at 10 AM and stay. In the first floor room I oiled my long black hair slowly and tied it so my neck and my shoulders stayed open, I settled the mangalsutra against my chest above the blouse, I put the gold anklets on my ankles, and I dbangd the saree with the petticoat tied low below my navel knowing I would pull that saree lower still the moment I reached the basement steps. I checked the blouse across my breasts so the heavy shape sat forward, I checked how the saree stretched over my hips and over my ass and over my thighs, and I felt my panties against my pussy and my clit before I went down. My husband saw only the modest pallu when I stood near him at the counter, but the grooming was also for the stained shirts and the sticky hands waiting below, for the eyes that would go to my breasts and my waist and my ass the second I entered the heat. I wanted them to feel me in the air of the basement, to feel that I had dressed and walked those steps for them as much as for the man selling sweets on the ground floor, so they would keep working, keep making the sweets that brought the customers, and keep lusting after the same body my husband took at night on the first floor. After I came back up I adjusted the saree again and became only the wife on the ground floor, but downstairs I had already given them the groomed walk, the low hips, the oiled hair, the anklets, and the smile, and that was how I began to keep them.


Every time my husband yelled at a worker on the ground floor or beat him for a late tray or a burnt batch, that man would come to me instead of going straight back to the basement, and I would take him into a complete embrace and hug him against my saree and my blouse and my petticoat. I ignored the filthy smell on his shirt and on his neck, the sugar and the ghee and the sweat from the stoves, and I held him with both arms, my breasts pressing into his chest through the blouse and my bra, my hips and my ass coming against him, my cheek near his shoulder.
“Akka, he shouted again in front of the road, he hit my shoulder because the tray was late, my hands are still shaking, I cannot go down like this, I came to you only,” the worker said, his voice low against my neck, his dirty hands hovering at my waist and then settling there.
“I know, I heard him, you come here, you do not stand there and take it alone, I am holding you, breathe, the stall needs you in the basement not standing angry on the steps, stay against me until it goes,” I said, tightening the hug so he could feel my breasts and the low line of the saree on my hips, consoling him until the sad look and the angry look began to leave his face. I felt his body change in that hug, the stiffness of the shouting turning into the same horny stillness I felt on their birthdays, his breath warmer, his hands heavier at my waist as if he had forgotten the beating.
“I will go down now Akka, I will finish the next batch, I am all right, you do not tell him I came to you,” the worker said, still not stepping back, still holding the shape of my waist through the saree.
“Go, make the sweets the way you always make them, I will be here if he shouts again, do not carry the anger to the vessels,” I said, keeping the embrace one moment longer and then sending him off down the steps so he would go back to the stoves horny instead of angry, still working, still making the sweets that kept the road full. My husband never saw those hugs. He stayed at the counter after he shouted, and I stayed the sweet one who opened her arms, ignored the filthy smell, and sent the worker back changed.







My husband wanted Sudha Sweet Stall to stay number one on that road and in that area, he wanted the trays to empty faster than any other stall, he wanted the name he had put on the shutter after me to be the first name people said when they thought of sweets, and at night on the first floor after the three sons were asleep that want sat on him even when he was touching me. He did not say he was afraid, but I felt it in the way he counted the notes twice, in the way he asked if the morning crowd had been less, in the way he held my hips and my ass and still talked about the stall as if losing first place would take something from him I could not give back with my body alone. I wanted to support him in all the ways possible. I wanted the basement to keep producing, the five workers to stay, the road to stay full, and I wanted him to come upstairs still the man whose stall carried my name. That is why I went down at 10 AM, why I pulled the saree low on my hips only on those steps, why I hugged a worker after my husband shouted, why I ignored the filthy smell and turned anger into the horny mood that sent the man back to the vessels. My husband thought I supported him only with coffee and with my nighty and with my panties coming down on the first floor when he was horny. He did not know the other support, the one I gave in the heat under the stall so that his want to be number one would not break.
“Sudha, the stall has to stay first, I built this for you, I will not let anyone stand in front of us, tomorrow I will push them harder,” my husband said one night, his hands on my breasts, his mouth near my neck.
“I am with you Rajesh, I will support you in every way, you will stay number one, I will not let the stall fall,” I said, opening my thighs for him, giving him the pleasure he came for, and keeping the basement and the workers and the low saree inside my own want, the buried one, the one that already belonged to keeping him first even if he never saw how I did it.



Mary Sweets opened directly opposite us on the same road, the new shutter going up across the street from Sudha Sweet Stall, at first looking like just another stall with its own trays and its own name painted above. For two days the morning crowd still came to our counter, then I saw people walking past our ground floor and standing in front of the other shutter, pointing, buying, turning away without looking at our mysore pak and our jangiri. Fake rumours began circulating that our sweets were low quality, that the ghee was less, that the sugar was not right, and those words moved through the contacts on the road faster than any tray came up from our basement. My husband tried to keep selling the same way, standing at the counter, calling the same people, but fewer notes went into the money box and more empty trays went back down the steps. In the night on the first floor his smile at the dining table grew thinner. He sat with the three sons and with me and he asked them about college and he looked at me, but the look was already shorter, and after the boys went to the second and third and fourth floors he counted the day’s notes twice and did not talk about being number one the way he used to.
“They opened right in front of us, people are going there, someone is saying our sweets are not good, I heard it from two customers today, I will not let this sit,” my husband said, pushing the notes together, his voice already tighter than the voice he used when he asked me to open for him.
“We will see tomorrow Rajesh, the basement is still working, the workers are still there, the stall has your name and my name on it, it will not fall in two days,” I said, standing behind him in my nighty, my hand on his shoulder, feeling the first crack open on the road outside while the four floors above us stayed quiet and beautiful and already a little afraid.


After Mary Sweets opened opposite us the footfall on our ground floor dropped a little, not all at once, only enough that I began to notice the gaps between customers and the trays that did not empty before noon the way they used to. People still came, the five workers still sent sweets up from the basement, my husband still stood at the counter, but more pieces stayed in the trays and more boxes stayed unfilled, and the road that had always turned toward Sudha Sweet Stall now turned both ways. I noticed my husband staying later. After he pulled the shutter down he did not come up the stairs to the first floor at the old time. He stayed on the ground floor with the unsold trays, lifting the lids, counting what was left, writing numbers, going back to the money box and counting again, the tube lights still on over the counter while the road outside grew quieter. I waited on the first floor in my nighty and heard him below, the sound of trays moving, the sound of him not climbing the steps, and I knew the little drop in footfall had already made him stay behind with what had not sold.
“There are three trays still full, I am counting again, you go up, I will come after I finish this,” my husband said when I went down once to call him, not looking at me the way he looked when he was horny, only at the unsold sweets.
“I am upstairs Rajesh, the boys are already on their floors, come when you finish, I will keep the coffee,” I said, and I went back up and left him on the ground floor with the trays that had not moved, the first small step of the drop already sitting between the stall and the house.



The rumours spread through the contacts on the road because Santosh, the owner of Mary Sweets, put them there, from one regular to another, from the people who used to stand at our counter every morning to the people who only passed by, and the words were always the same, that Sudha Sweet Stall was selling low quality now, that Mary Sweets across the street was better. The regulars stopped coming. Faces I had packed boxes for two years did not stop at our shutter. They crossed to the other side and I watched them from the ground floor while my husband called out offers, extra pieces in the same box, a sample held out over the counter, a smaller price spoken fast before the customer could walk away. Nothing worked. The extra samples went back into the trays half eaten or not taken at all, the offers did not bring the old crowd, and the money box stayed lighter even when he stood there from morning and tried every line he knew. I saw his shoulders change at the counter. I saw him look across the road at Mary Sweets and at Santosh and then look down at our trays again. In the basement the five workers still made the same sweets, but fewer trays needed to come up, and when I went down at 10 AM the heat was the same and their eyes were the same and still the ground floor above us was losing the people who used to belong to us.
“Santosh is talking, he is telling everyone our sweets are not good, I am giving extra, I am giving sample, they still go there, I will try again tomorrow, I will not close early,” my husband said at night on the first floor, the notes in a thin pile, his hand on the table instead of on me.
“Try again Rajesh, the stall is still ours, the name is still on the shutter, I am with you, we will not let Santosh and his rumours finish us in one week,” I said, standing near him in my nighty, wanting to support him in every way while the regulars kept walking past our door to Mary Sweets.


Santosh came to the edge of the road in front of our ground floor and laughed at my husband in front of the customers who were still standing near our counter and in front of two of the workers who had come up from the basement with trays. He laughed loud enough that the people on both sides of the street turned, he pointed at our trays, he said our name as if it was already finished, and my husband stood behind the counter with the money box open and took that laugh in front of everyone. I was on the first floor and I heard it through the window. The sound came into my chest and stayed there. I went down and I saw my husband’s face closed and I saw the workers looking at the floor and I saw Santosh already walking back to Mary Sweets still laughing, and I felt the humiliation as if he had laughed at me also, at the name on the shutter, at the four floors built from that stall, at the man I had given three sons. I wanted Sudha Sweet Stall the way it was before his shutter opened, the road turning only to us, the trays emptying, my husband number one again and smiling at the dining table. The pain sat in me while I was still standing on the ground floor. My husband did not answer Santosh. He sold what he could sell and he pulled the shutter down earlier than usual and he came up the stairs silent. On the first floor he sat at the dining table and did not eat and did not count the notes the way he always counted them. The three sons came down from the second and third and fourth floors and they saw their father like that, silent, his shoulders in, the humiliation still sitting on him from the road, and they went quiet too, and I felt that also, the boys seeing him small, and the pain went deeper. At night he could not sleep. He turned on the bed on the first floor while I lay beside him in my nighty, and every time I put my hand on his chest he only stared at the ceiling.
“He laughed in front of them, in front of the customers, in front of the workers, I stood there and I took it, I cannot sleep, I keep hearing that sound,” my husband said, his voice flat, his body not turning toward me.
“I heard it Rajesh, I felt it, the boys saw you when you came up, the stall will still open tomorrow, I am here, you do not have to carry it alone on this bed,” I said, keeping my hand on him, feeling the silence of the four floors and the laugh from the road still working inside the room and inside me, the pain already looking for a way to bring the old stall back and to make him number one again, and none of that reaching his ears.


The next day my husband settled the balance with the five workers and sent them off because he was unable to maintain them. He called them up from the basement to the ground floor one after another, counted the notes, put the money in their hands, and told them not to come tomorrow, the trays were not moving, Mary Sweets had taken the road, and he could not keep five men when the money box was that thin. I stood near the counter in my saree with the pallu modest across my chest and I watched them take the balance. Their shirts were still stained from the morning stoves, their hands still sticky, and when they looked at me they looked only for a second because my husband was standing there. I wanted to take them down the steps and embrace them the way I had after every shouting, ignore the filthy smell, change the mood, tell them to wait, but I could not do that in front of him. They went out onto the road with their money and they did not come back. The basement went quiet. The vessels sat without anyone stirring them. The heat that used to rise through the ground floor at 10 AM was only leftover heat. My husband pulled two trays forward and tried to sell what was already made and he did not talk while he did it. On the first floor that night the house felt larger and emptier, the second and third and fourth floors still holding the three sons, the basement below us empty for the first time since the stall had been number one.
“I paid them and I sent them, I cannot keep five people when no one is buying, tomorrow I will make what I can make and I will stand at the counter, that is all we can do now,” my husband said, sitting at the dining table with a smaller pile of notes than even the night after Santosh laughed.
“You did what you had to do Rajesh, the stall is still here, I am here, we will open tomorrow,” I said, my hand on the table near his, the basement already gone from our mornings and the pain of the empty steps sitting in me with the rest of it, and none of what I had been to those five men reaching his ears.


At night on the first floor the room stayed dark except for the thin light from the window and then from my phone, the fan turning slowly above the bed, the heat of the day still sitting in the walls even though the stall below was shut and the basement was empty, and my husband finally slept on his side facing the wall, his breath slow, his shoulder rising and falling, the humiliation of Santosh’s laugh and the sending off of the five workers still on him but asleep at last.
I lay beside him in my nighty with my white panties underneath, the nighty settled over my breasts and over my waist and over my hips, the white panties sitting against my pussy and against my clit, my thick thighs touching, my ass on the bed, my long black hair spread on the pillow, totally depressed, the four floors of the house feeling too large over a stall that was no longer number one. I had to do something.
I took the phone from the side of the bed with both hands and held it above my chest, the glow on my face and on the nighty, my thumbs moving, and I opened Instagram first and scrolled without really seeing, video after video of other people’s shops and other people’s smiles, the same road I did not want to look at, my breath staying shallow while my husband slept and did not know I was awake.
Then a buildup video of a rowdy named Ranga came onto the feed, his name across the screen, people standing around him, and I stopped scrolling and I watched it twice, my thumb hovering, my other hand holding the phone steady so the light would not turn toward my husband’s face. I clicked through to YouTube and I went from one video to the next, lying on my back in the nighty, my white panties unmoving against me, my breasts heavy under the nighty, my nipples already pressing because of the heat and because of how still I was.
He was ugly and scary in every video. His face was hard and uneven, he was dark, his eyes sat deep, his mouth did not smile the way ordinary men smiled, his lips were thick and rough in the close shots, his shoulders filled the frame, and the people around him stood a little back even when they were thanking him, as if the same body that helped them also frightened them. I lay in my nighty and I wondered how any woman would sleep with him, how a woman would put her mouth on those lips and kiss him, how she would let that dark ugly body come over her, how ugly he would look naked, his chest, his stomach, his cock, all of it matching that face, and still the videos kept playing while I wondered and did not look away.
They still called him the Robinhood of the poor. People went to him with every kind of problem, rich or poor, a shop that was dying, a loan, an insult in front of a crowd, a man who would not stop talking, and the videos showed him listening with his head slightly down and then lifting that ugly scary face and solving what they brought, his name moving through the city the way Sudha Sweet Stall used to move through our road when the trays emptied before noon.
In the same videos I found his house. The camera stood outside a gated place in his area, men at the gate, the building behind them, comments and voice-overs naming the area again and again until I knew where he lived and how people went there when they needed him.

I watched him stand with people who had nowhere else to go. I watched mouths thank him while their eyes stayed careful. I watched the talk about how he helped and how he did not turn anyone away if they came to him properly. My thumbs kept opening the next video, my eyes burning a little from the screen, my mouth slightly open the way it stays when I am not speaking, and the depression in my chest changed shape while I watched, still heavy, but now pointed at a man I did not want to look at and still needed.
I held the phone until my hands grew warm. I thought of Santosh laughing on the road, of my husband silent at the dining table, of the three sons seeing that silence, of the basement with no workers and no 10 AM walk in the low saree, of the name my husband had put on the shutter after me.
I decided I would meet Ranga the next day itself. I needed his help. Ugly or scary I would still go to that area, to that house I had seen on the screen, and tell him about the rival stall, about the rumours Santosh spread through every contact, about the laugh in front of customers and workers, about the balance paid and the five men sent off, about my husband who could not sleep.
I did not wake my husband. I locked the phone, slid it under the pillow, turned onto my side facing his back, and lay in the nighty and the white panties with that decision already made, my breasts against his back without waking him, my hips still, my breath finally slower, the house quiet above the closed stall and the empty basement, tomorrow already fixed in my head, and none of the videos and none of the house and none of the decision reaching his ears.


In the middle of the night on the first floor the room stayed dark except for the thin light from the window, the fan still turning above the cot, the heat of the day still in the walls, the stall below still shut, the basement still empty, and I woke to my husband already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the cot beside me, one foot on the floor, his weight making the cot dip, and he had already lifted my nighty up over my hips and over my waist and over my stomach until the nighty sat bunched above my breasts. My breasts were bare in the dark under that lifted nighty, my nipples already tight, and he was looking down at my pussy over my white panties, his palms on my thick thighs, his thumbs near the edge of the panties, his eyes on the line of the white panties against my clit.
I lay there and felt his looking. I was ready to do anything to make him happy.
“You want me? I am here, you woke me like this, you can take me, I will give you whatever you want now, tell me, I will not say no,” I said, my voice still thick from sleep, my ass heavy on the cot, my thighs opening a little so he could keep looking at the white panties.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of my white panties and pulled them down. I lifted my hips off the cot to help him, the nighty staying up around my breasts, and I felt the white panties slide over my ass and over my shaved pussy and down my thick thighs. I used my feet to push them off my ankles and they dropped beside the cot. Then I lay there with the nighty bunched above my breasts and nothing on my pussy and nothing on my ass, the night air on my clit, on my shaved pussy, on my asshole.
He looked at my clean shaved pussy first, then at my asshole. He put his thumbs on me and spread my pussy open and held it open on the cot, the two sides of my pussy in his hands, my clit showing, and he kept looking as if the stall and Santosh and the empty basement were all sitting in that one look.
“If I close the shop, if Sudha Sweet Stall goes, will you still love me, look at me and say it, I need to hear it while I am looking at you like this, while I am holding you open,” my husband said, his thumbs keeping my pussy spread, his breath coming faster, his body still on the edge of the cot.
“Come on Rajesh, I am your wife, I always love you, shop or no shop I am not going anywhere, you look at me, you hold me like this, you take what you want, I am yours, I will not leave you,” I said, keeping my thighs open, my shaved pussy in his hands, my breasts rising and falling under the lifted nighty, my long black hair on the pillow.
He moved his hands down from my pussy to my ass. He spread my ass cheeks with both palms and held the two ass cheeks apart and looked at my asshole the same way he had looked at my pussy, leaning a little on the edge of the cot, his breath hitting me, the fan turning above us, the house quiet on the second and third and fourth floors where the three sons were still sleeping.

“You are my only happiness now, this, you on this cot, the boys upstairs, I do not have the stall the way I had it, I only have you, I only have this, I am looking at you because this is what I have left,” my husband said, his fingers still spreading my ass cheeks, his eyes on my asshole and then on my shaved pussy again.
“Do not worry, somehow God will help us, we will build the shop from the scrap, we will be number one again, you come here, I am your wife, I love you, that will not change, you keep looking, you take me if you want me, I am here,” I said, my ass in his hands, my shaved pussy open, the white panties already off on the floor, the nighty still up over my breasts, giving him the middle of the night on the first floor and keeping the next day’s visit to that ugly scary man inside my own head where he could not hear it.


I sat up on the cot in the middle of the night and pulled the nighty off over my head and dropped it beside the white panties, and then I was naked on the first floor, my breasts free, my nipples tight, my shaved pussy and my ass bare, my thick thighs on the cot. I put my hands on my husband and I removed his banian first, lifting it over his chest and over his shoulders and off his arms, and then I opened his lungi and pulled it away from his waist and off his legs until he was naked with me. His cock was against my thigh and it was not ready. I lay back and I pulled him onto me so he could make love to me, my breasts under his chest, my thighs open, my shaved pussy waiting for him, my hands on his back and on his ass, and he tried to settle on me and he could not. His cock stayed soft against my pussy. He put his face in my neck and he started crying, the sound small and broken in the dark, the pain coming out of him while the fan turned above us and the three sons slept on the floors above.
“I built Sudha Sweet Stall for you, I put your name on the shutter, now it is nothing, Santosh took the road, he laughed, he spread the talk, I cannot even make love to you, my dream is gone, I am nothing on this cot,” my husband said, his tears on my neck, his body heavy on my breasts and on my stomach, his cock still soft against my shaved pussy.

“Do not cry, do not say you are nothing, I am here, I am your wife, the stall is not the only thing, you lie on me, you breathe, we will be all right, God will help us, you do not have to do anything tonight,” I said, my arms around his back, my thighs still open under him, consoling him while he shook on top of me.
Deep inside I wanted to destroy Santosh’s life and destroy his shop. The crying on my neck fixed that want. I made up my mind to meet Ranga the next day at any cost, ugly and scary or not, because my husband was naked on me and could not make love and could not stop crying and the name on the shutter had been reduced to nothing. I did not say any of that. I held him until the crying slowed. I turned him onto his back and I slept on top of him, my breasts on his chest, my shaved pussy against his cock, my ass under the fan, my long black hair falling over his shoulder, my mouth near his ear, and I stayed on him until he slept under me and I slept on him, naked on the cot, the white panties and the nighty and the banian and the lungi on the floor, tomorrow already decided and still not reaching his ears.


I woke early on the first floor while the light was still thin, still naked on top of my husband, my heavy breasts flattened on his chest, my nipples against him, my shaved pussy resting on him, my ass under the slow fan, the nighty and the white panties and his banian and his lungi still on the floor from the middle of the night. His breath was even. The three sons were still asleep on the second and third and fourth floors. I put my mouth close to his ear and I whispered so the house would not wake.
“You take rest, I am going to the temple and coming, you sleep, I will be back, do not get up,” I said, my lips almost on his face.
I pushed myself off him gently, lifting my breasts away from his chest first, then my stomach, then my hips and my shaved pussy, and I sat on the edge of the cot with my thighs together and my ass on the wood and I picked up the towel from the chair. I went into the bathroom first for the things I did every morning before the water. I sat and relieved myself, then I stood at the basin and brushed my teeth, the brush in my mouth, my breasts hanging as I bent, my ass bare, and I washed my face with both hands, water on my eyes and on my lips and on my neck, and I looked at my face in the small mirror, the large eyes, the full lips, the same face my husband loved, before I turned to the shower.

I took a shower. The water ran over my long black hair and down my neck and over my shoulders and over my heavy breasts and across my nipples until they tightened under the stream. It ran over my narrow waist and over my wide hips and over my ass cheeks and into the line of my ass, over my shaved pussy and over my clit and over my inner thighs and down to my ankles. I stood there and let it, one hand on the wall, the other moving the water over my breasts and between my thighs, washing the night off my pussy and off my ass and off my nipples, until I was clean.
I turned the water off and I toweled myself slowly. I dried my breasts first, lifting each one in the towel, rubbing the nipples until they stood, then my waist, then my hips, then each ass cheek, then I put the towel between my thighs and dried my shaved pussy and my clit and my asshole, and I came out of the bathroom wrapping the towel around me. The towel sat tight over my breasts and tucked at my chest, the top of my ass showing when I walked, my wet hair down my back.

I opened the cupboard. I picked up my white bra and my grey panties and my pink petticoat and my pink blouse and my pink chiffon saree and I laid them on the cot near his sleeping feet. I dropped the towel. I stood naked again in the thin morning light, my breasts heavy, my nipples tight, my shaved pussy open to the room, my ass full, and I stepped into the grey panties. I pulled them up over my thick thighs and over my ass until the grey panties sat against my shaved pussy and against my clit, the back of them holding my ass cheeks. I put my arms through the white bra and settled my heavy breasts into the cups and closed it at my back, and the white bra lifted and held them, the nipples pressing from inside at once. I tied the pink petticoat low below my navel, low on my hips, the way I had learned, so the petticoat sat under my waist and above the grey panties. I put on the pink blouse and closed it across my breasts, the blouse sitting tight over the white bra, the heavy shape of my breasts pushing the pink blouse forward. I dbangd the pink chiffon saree over the pink blouse and over the pink petticoat, tucked it at my waist, brought the pallu around, and I stood getting ready in front of the cupboard, adjusting the saree over my wide hips and over my ass, the grey panties and the white bra hidden.

I put the mangalsutra around my neck so it rested against my chest above the pink blouse. I put the gold earrings in my ears. I slid the simple gold bangles onto my wrists. I put the small bindi on my forehead. I put the gold anklets on my ankles. I opened the perfume and I put it on my neck and behind my ears and on my wrists and once between my breasts over the pink blouse, a small amount, enough that I would carry it out of the house. I looked at my husband once on the cot, naked under the sheet I pulled up, and I left the first floor in the pink chiffon saree, the perfume already on me, the temple only in the whisper I had given him, and Ranga’s house already waiting in my head.

To Be Continued...!]]> [Image: Sudha-Sweet-Stall-at-Midnight.png]


Sudha Sweet Stall 

By Novelist Casanova 



Sudha Sweet Stall sat on the ground floor of our house and opened straight onto the wide road, the shutter pulled up early every morning so the trays of mysore pak, jangiri, badusha and laddu faced the street and the people walking past could see everything from the pavement. The road itself stayed crowded from seven o’clock, autos stopping, men in shirts standing and pointing at the trays, women with bags waiting their turn, the smell of hot ghee and sugar already spilling out onto the road and mixing with the dust and the vehicle smoke. Inside the stall the wooden counter ran along the front, the money box sat under it, and behind the counter the door led down the steps into the basement where all the sweets were made, the big vessels sitting on the stoves, the workers stirring and pouring and cutting, the heat from those stoves rising up the steps and filling the ground floor so that even the air above the trays felt warm. Trays kept coming up from the basement one after another, fresh and shining, and the five workers moved between the basement and the ground floor without stopping, carrying the heavy trays, setting them on the counter, taking the empty ones back down. Customers leaned over the counter from the road side, calling out what they wanted, holding out notes, and the stall stayed packed like that through the whole morning, the road outside never empty, people coming from both directions, some standing and eating right there on the pavement, some taking boxes and walking away. The name Sudha Sweet Stall was painted above the shutter and everyone on that road knew it, the business had been running strong for two years, the trays emptying and filling again and again, the basement never quiet, the ground floor always smelling of sugar and ghee, the road in front always full of the same morning rush.



I am Sudha, a housewife, the wife of Rajesh, and my husband loves me very much, so much that he named the stall Sudha Sweet Stall after me. I stand 5 feet 9 inches tall and I weigh 70 kilos, my breasts measure 38, my waist 28, my hips 40, my bra is 38D and my panties are XL, and my husband looks at me the same way he looked at me when we married, his eyes going over my face first, the large eyes, the dark brows, the straight nose and the full lips, then down over my tall body, my straight shoulders, my long neck, my long black hair that I oil and leave loose or tie back. For that love I gave him three handsome sons. I wear a saree all the time with a blouse and a petticoat tied low below my navel, the pallu tucked at my waist, and the blouse sits tight across my breasts so that the heavy shape of them is clear, the nipples pressing from inside my bra. My waist stays narrow under the saree while my hips spread wide and my ass is full and round, the two ass cheeks sitting heavy under the petticoat and the saree, and when I walk my thick thighs touch and the inner thighs rub with every step. The saree stretches over my hips and over my ass and over my thighs. The mangalsutra rests against my chest above the blouse and the gold anklets sit on my ankles. Under the petticoat and the saree my panties rest against my pussy and against my clit. At night I take off the saree and the blouse and the petticoat and I wear only my nighty with my panties underneath. Whenever my husband was horny he would come to me on the first floor after the three sons were asleep, pull the nighty up, slide my panties down, and make love to me, enjoying my heavy breasts in his hands, my wide hips under him, my full ass, my thick thighs opening for him, and I would cooperate every time, hold him, lift my hips, let him take all the pleasure he wanted from my pussy and from my mouth and from my breasts until he finished.
“Sudha, you give me everything, I cannot stay away from you when I am like this, open for me,” my husband would say, already pushing into me.
“I am here Rajesh, take what you want, I will give you all of it,” I would say, my legs around him, my breasts against his chest, cooperating until he had taken every bit of pleasure he came for. My husband loves me, he tells me I am his, and I stay his wife and the mother of his three handsome sons, tall and curved inside the saree during the day, inside the nighty at night, my breasts heavy, my hips wide, my ass full, my thighs thick, my face the first thing he sees when he comes home.


Our house stood tall above Sudha Sweet Stall and it was beautiful because of the sweet business, four floors of rooms and windows rising over the ground floor and the basement, the paint fresh, the grills shining, the stairs wide and clean from the bottom to the top. On the ground floor my husband stood at the counter and sold the sweets to the people coming in from the road, and down in the basement the five workers made those sweets from morning, the vessels on the stoves, the trays going up the steps and coming back empty. The first floor was where my husband and I lived, the hall wide, the dining table in the centre, our room at the side, the windows opening toward the road so the sound of the stall came up, the rooms smelling of incense and the coffee I made. The second floor belonged to one son, his room, his bed, his cupboard, his books, the floor mopped every morning and the windows open to the same road. The third floor belonged to the second son, the same way, his own room, his own bed, his own things kept neat, another set of windows and another fan turning slowly. The fourth floor belonged to the third son, his room at the top, the terrace just outside his door, the pots along the wall, the breeze coming over the road and over the stall below, and from there anyone could look down and see the shutter of Sudha Sweet Stall and the people on the pavement. Every floor had been built and kept beautiful from the money the stall brought, the basement working, the ground floor selling, the first floor for my husband and me, the second and third and fourth for our three sons, and I walked those stairs in my saree from the first floor to the fourth and back down again, the house standing over the business that had given us all of it.



I went down into the basement every morning at 10 AM in my saree, the steps hot from the stoves, the air thick with sugar and ghee, the five workers bent over the vessels and the trays, their shirts already stained, their hands sticky, sweat on their faces and on their necks from standing over the heat since dawn, and I did not mind how dirty they were because they were the reason behind our success, the reason the trays on the ground floor stayed full and the reason customers kept coming from the road. The moment my saree and my blouse and my petticoat appeared on the steps they all looked up even while their hands kept stirring. My husband was rude to them on the ground floor, he raised his voice when a tray was late, he told them to work faster and not stand, he did not thank them, but I was sweet to them and that was the only reason they stayed and worked so hard. Before I entered the basement I pulled the saree low on my hips so the petticoat sat low below my navel and the curve of my waist and my hips and my ass showed clearly, and I walked in like that so they could feast their eyes on me and I could tempt them and make their day and make them horny enough to keep stirring until evening. They kept their words on the sweets and called me down to see the badusha or the mysore pak, but I could see their eyes go to my breasts inside the blouse, to my hips and my ass under the low saree, to my thighs when I stood near the vessels. My husband did not know. I talked to them, I joked with them, I smiled at them and let them look as long as they wanted. On their birthdays I went down and hugged each one, my arms around their shoulders, my breasts pressing against their chests through the blouse and my bra, my hips and my ass coming close under the saree, and I felt how they went still and how they grew horny in that one hug, their breath changing, their dirty hands hovering at my waist as if they wanted to hold me there and not let go. I told them the counter needed two more trays and I turned slowly so they could see my ass and the low line of the saree on my hips, then I went back up the steps to the ground floor, stopped before my husband could see me, and pulled the saree up and adjusted the pallu modestly across my chest and over my hips the way a wife should look while he stood at the counter selling, none of the low hip, none of the looking, and none of those hugs ever reaching his ears.



I started grooming myself not only for my husband but also for the five workers in the basement, so they would feel me every morning at 10 AM and stay. In the first floor room I oiled my long black hair slowly and tied it so my neck and my shoulders stayed open, I settled the mangalsutra against my chest above the blouse, I put the gold anklets on my ankles, and I dbangd the saree with the petticoat tied low below my navel knowing I would pull that saree lower still the moment I reached the basement steps. I checked the blouse across my breasts so the heavy shape sat forward, I checked how the saree stretched over my hips and over my ass and over my thighs, and I felt my panties against my pussy and my clit before I went down. My husband saw only the modest pallu when I stood near him at the counter, but the grooming was also for the stained shirts and the sticky hands waiting below, for the eyes that would go to my breasts and my waist and my ass the second I entered the heat. I wanted them to feel me in the air of the basement, to feel that I had dressed and walked those steps for them as much as for the man selling sweets on the ground floor, so they would keep working, keep making the sweets that brought the customers, and keep lusting after the same body my husband took at night on the first floor. After I came back up I adjusted the saree again and became only the wife on the ground floor, but downstairs I had already given them the groomed walk, the low hips, the oiled hair, the anklets, and the smile, and that was how I began to keep them.


Every time my husband yelled at a worker on the ground floor or beat him for a late tray or a burnt batch, that man would come to me instead of going straight back to the basement, and I would take him into a complete embrace and hug him against my saree and my blouse and my petticoat. I ignored the filthy smell on his shirt and on his neck, the sugar and the ghee and the sweat from the stoves, and I held him with both arms, my breasts pressing into his chest through the blouse and my bra, my hips and my ass coming against him, my cheek near his shoulder.
“Akka, he shouted again in front of the road, he hit my shoulder because the tray was late, my hands are still shaking, I cannot go down like this, I came to you only,” the worker said, his voice low against my neck, his dirty hands hovering at my waist and then settling there.
“I know, I heard him, you come here, you do not stand there and take it alone, I am holding you, breathe, the stall needs you in the basement not standing angry on the steps, stay against me until it goes,” I said, tightening the hug so he could feel my breasts and the low line of the saree on my hips, consoling him until the sad look and the angry look began to leave his face. I felt his body change in that hug, the stiffness of the shouting turning into the same horny stillness I felt on their birthdays, his breath warmer, his hands heavier at my waist as if he had forgotten the beating.
“I will go down now Akka, I will finish the next batch, I am all right, you do not tell him I came to you,” the worker said, still not stepping back, still holding the shape of my waist through the saree.
“Go, make the sweets the way you always make them, I will be here if he shouts again, do not carry the anger to the vessels,” I said, keeping the embrace one moment longer and then sending him off down the steps so he would go back to the stoves horny instead of angry, still working, still making the sweets that kept the road full. My husband never saw those hugs. He stayed at the counter after he shouted, and I stayed the sweet one who opened her arms, ignored the filthy smell, and sent the worker back changed.







My husband wanted Sudha Sweet Stall to stay number one on that road and in that area, he wanted the trays to empty faster than any other stall, he wanted the name he had put on the shutter after me to be the first name people said when they thought of sweets, and at night on the first floor after the three sons were asleep that want sat on him even when he was touching me. He did not say he was afraid, but I felt it in the way he counted the notes twice, in the way he asked if the morning crowd had been less, in the way he held my hips and my ass and still talked about the stall as if losing first place would take something from him I could not give back with my body alone. I wanted to support him in all the ways possible. I wanted the basement to keep producing, the five workers to stay, the road to stay full, and I wanted him to come upstairs still the man whose stall carried my name. That is why I went down at 10 AM, why I pulled the saree low on my hips only on those steps, why I hugged a worker after my husband shouted, why I ignored the filthy smell and turned anger into the horny mood that sent the man back to the vessels. My husband thought I supported him only with coffee and with my nighty and with my panties coming down on the first floor when he was horny. He did not know the other support, the one I gave in the heat under the stall so that his want to be number one would not break.
“Sudha, the stall has to stay first, I built this for you, I will not let anyone stand in front of us, tomorrow I will push them harder,” my husband said one night, his hands on my breasts, his mouth near my neck.
“I am with you Rajesh, I will support you in every way, you will stay number one, I will not let the stall fall,” I said, opening my thighs for him, giving him the pleasure he came for, and keeping the basement and the workers and the low saree inside my own want, the buried one, the one that already belonged to keeping him first even if he never saw how I did it.



Mary Sweets opened directly opposite us on the same road, the new shutter going up across the street from Sudha Sweet Stall, at first looking like just another stall with its own trays and its own name painted above. For two days the morning crowd still came to our counter, then I saw people walking past our ground floor and standing in front of the other shutter, pointing, buying, turning away without looking at our mysore pak and our jangiri. Fake rumours began circulating that our sweets were low quality, that the ghee was less, that the sugar was not right, and those words moved through the contacts on the road faster than any tray came up from our basement. My husband tried to keep selling the same way, standing at the counter, calling the same people, but fewer notes went into the money box and more empty trays went back down the steps. In the night on the first floor his smile at the dining table grew thinner. He sat with the three sons and with me and he asked them about college and he looked at me, but the look was already shorter, and after the boys went to the second and third and fourth floors he counted the day’s notes twice and did not talk about being number one the way he used to.
“They opened right in front of us, people are going there, someone is saying our sweets are not good, I heard it from two customers today, I will not let this sit,” my husband said, pushing the notes together, his voice already tighter than the voice he used when he asked me to open for him.
“We will see tomorrow Rajesh, the basement is still working, the workers are still there, the stall has your name and my name on it, it will not fall in two days,” I said, standing behind him in my nighty, my hand on his shoulder, feeling the first crack open on the road outside while the four floors above us stayed quiet and beautiful and already a little afraid.


After Mary Sweets opened opposite us the footfall on our ground floor dropped a little, not all at once, only enough that I began to notice the gaps between customers and the trays that did not empty before noon the way they used to. People still came, the five workers still sent sweets up from the basement, my husband still stood at the counter, but more pieces stayed in the trays and more boxes stayed unfilled, and the road that had always turned toward Sudha Sweet Stall now turned both ways. I noticed my husband staying later. After he pulled the shutter down he did not come up the stairs to the first floor at the old time. He stayed on the ground floor with the unsold trays, lifting the lids, counting what was left, writing numbers, going back to the money box and counting again, the tube lights still on over the counter while the road outside grew quieter. I waited on the first floor in my nighty and heard him below, the sound of trays moving, the sound of him not climbing the steps, and I knew the little drop in footfall had already made him stay behind with what had not sold.
“There are three trays still full, I am counting again, you go up, I will come after I finish this,” my husband said when I went down once to call him, not looking at me the way he looked when he was horny, only at the unsold sweets.
“I am upstairs Rajesh, the boys are already on their floors, come when you finish, I will keep the coffee,” I said, and I went back up and left him on the ground floor with the trays that had not moved, the first small step of the drop already sitting between the stall and the house.



The rumours spread through the contacts on the road because Santosh, the owner of Mary Sweets, put them there, from one regular to another, from the people who used to stand at our counter every morning to the people who only passed by, and the words were always the same, that Sudha Sweet Stall was selling low quality now, that Mary Sweets across the street was better. The regulars stopped coming. Faces I had packed boxes for two years did not stop at our shutter. They crossed to the other side and I watched them from the ground floor while my husband called out offers, extra pieces in the same box, a sample held out over the counter, a smaller price spoken fast before the customer could walk away. Nothing worked. The extra samples went back into the trays half eaten or not taken at all, the offers did not bring the old crowd, and the money box stayed lighter even when he stood there from morning and tried every line he knew. I saw his shoulders change at the counter. I saw him look across the road at Mary Sweets and at Santosh and then look down at our trays again. In the basement the five workers still made the same sweets, but fewer trays needed to come up, and when I went down at 10 AM the heat was the same and their eyes were the same and still the ground floor above us was losing the people who used to belong to us.
“Santosh is talking, he is telling everyone our sweets are not good, I am giving extra, I am giving sample, they still go there, I will try again tomorrow, I will not close early,” my husband said at night on the first floor, the notes in a thin pile, his hand on the table instead of on me.
“Try again Rajesh, the stall is still ours, the name is still on the shutter, I am with you, we will not let Santosh and his rumours finish us in one week,” I said, standing near him in my nighty, wanting to support him in every way while the regulars kept walking past our door to Mary Sweets.


Santosh came to the edge of the road in front of our ground floor and laughed at my husband in front of the customers who were still standing near our counter and in front of two of the workers who had come up from the basement with trays. He laughed loud enough that the people on both sides of the street turned, he pointed at our trays, he said our name as if it was already finished, and my husband stood behind the counter with the money box open and took that laugh in front of everyone. I was on the first floor and I heard it through the window. The sound came into my chest and stayed there. I went down and I saw my husband’s face closed and I saw the workers looking at the floor and I saw Santosh already walking back to Mary Sweets still laughing, and I felt the humiliation as if he had laughed at me also, at the name on the shutter, at the four floors built from that stall, at the man I had given three sons. I wanted Sudha Sweet Stall the way it was before his shutter opened, the road turning only to us, the trays emptying, my husband number one again and smiling at the dining table. The pain sat in me while I was still standing on the ground floor. My husband did not answer Santosh. He sold what he could sell and he pulled the shutter down earlier than usual and he came up the stairs silent. On the first floor he sat at the dining table and did not eat and did not count the notes the way he always counted them. The three sons came down from the second and third and fourth floors and they saw their father like that, silent, his shoulders in, the humiliation still sitting on him from the road, and they went quiet too, and I felt that also, the boys seeing him small, and the pain went deeper. At night he could not sleep. He turned on the bed on the first floor while I lay beside him in my nighty, and every time I put my hand on his chest he only stared at the ceiling.
“He laughed in front of them, in front of the customers, in front of the workers, I stood there and I took it, I cannot sleep, I keep hearing that sound,” my husband said, his voice flat, his body not turning toward me.
“I heard it Rajesh, I felt it, the boys saw you when you came up, the stall will still open tomorrow, I am here, you do not have to carry it alone on this bed,” I said, keeping my hand on him, feeling the silence of the four floors and the laugh from the road still working inside the room and inside me, the pain already looking for a way to bring the old stall back and to make him number one again, and none of that reaching his ears.


The next day my husband settled the balance with the five workers and sent them off because he was unable to maintain them. He called them up from the basement to the ground floor one after another, counted the notes, put the money in their hands, and told them not to come tomorrow, the trays were not moving, Mary Sweets had taken the road, and he could not keep five men when the money box was that thin. I stood near the counter in my saree with the pallu modest across my chest and I watched them take the balance. Their shirts were still stained from the morning stoves, their hands still sticky, and when they looked at me they looked only for a second because my husband was standing there. I wanted to take them down the steps and embrace them the way I had after every shouting, ignore the filthy smell, change the mood, tell them to wait, but I could not do that in front of him. They went out onto the road with their money and they did not come back. The basement went quiet. The vessels sat without anyone stirring them. The heat that used to rise through the ground floor at 10 AM was only leftover heat. My husband pulled two trays forward and tried to sell what was already made and he did not talk while he did it. On the first floor that night the house felt larger and emptier, the second and third and fourth floors still holding the three sons, the basement below us empty for the first time since the stall had been number one.
“I paid them and I sent them, I cannot keep five people when no one is buying, tomorrow I will make what I can make and I will stand at the counter, that is all we can do now,” my husband said, sitting at the dining table with a smaller pile of notes than even the night after Santosh laughed.
“You did what you had to do Rajesh, the stall is still here, I am here, we will open tomorrow,” I said, my hand on the table near his, the basement already gone from our mornings and the pain of the empty steps sitting in me with the rest of it, and none of what I had been to those five men reaching his ears.


At night on the first floor the room stayed dark except for the thin light from the window and then from my phone, the fan turning slowly above the bed, the heat of the day still sitting in the walls even though the stall below was shut and the basement was empty, and my husband finally slept on his side facing the wall, his breath slow, his shoulder rising and falling, the humiliation of Santosh’s laugh and the sending off of the five workers still on him but asleep at last.
I lay beside him in my nighty with my white panties underneath, the nighty settled over my breasts and over my waist and over my hips, the white panties sitting against my pussy and against my clit, my thick thighs touching, my ass on the bed, my long black hair spread on the pillow, totally depressed, the four floors of the house feeling too large over a stall that was no longer number one. I had to do something.
I took the phone from the side of the bed with both hands and held it above my chest, the glow on my face and on the nighty, my thumbs moving, and I opened Instagram first and scrolled without really seeing, video after video of other people’s shops and other people’s smiles, the same road I did not want to look at, my breath staying shallow while my husband slept and did not know I was awake.
Then a buildup video of a rowdy named Ranga came onto the feed, his name across the screen, people standing around him, and I stopped scrolling and I watched it twice, my thumb hovering, my other hand holding the phone steady so the light would not turn toward my husband’s face. I clicked through to YouTube and I went from one video to the next, lying on my back in the nighty, my white panties unmoving against me, my breasts heavy under the nighty, my nipples already pressing because of the heat and because of how still I was.
He was ugly and scary in every video. His face was hard and uneven, he was dark, his eyes sat deep, his mouth did not smile the way ordinary men smiled, his lips were thick and rough in the close shots, his shoulders filled the frame, and the people around him stood a little back even when they were thanking him, as if the same body that helped them also frightened them. I lay in my nighty and I wondered how any woman would sleep with him, how a woman would put her mouth on those lips and kiss him, how she would let that dark ugly body come over her, how ugly he would look naked, his chest, his stomach, his cock, all of it matching that face, and still the videos kept playing while I wondered and did not look away.
They still called him the Robinhood of the poor. People went to him with every kind of problem, rich or poor, a shop that was dying, a loan, an insult in front of a crowd, a man who would not stop talking, and the videos showed him listening with his head slightly down and then lifting that ugly scary face and solving what they brought, his name moving through the city the way Sudha Sweet Stall used to move through our road when the trays emptied before noon.
In the same videos I found his house. The camera stood outside a gated place in his area, men at the gate, the building behind them, comments and voice-overs naming the area again and again until I knew where he lived and how people went there when they needed him.

I watched him stand with people who had nowhere else to go. I watched mouths thank him while their eyes stayed careful. I watched the talk about how he helped and how he did not turn anyone away if they came to him properly. My thumbs kept opening the next video, my eyes burning a little from the screen, my mouth slightly open the way it stays when I am not speaking, and the depression in my chest changed shape while I watched, still heavy, but now pointed at a man I did not want to look at and still needed.
I held the phone until my hands grew warm. I thought of Santosh laughing on the road, of my husband silent at the dining table, of the three sons seeing that silence, of the basement with no workers and no 10 AM walk in the low saree, of the name my husband had put on the shutter after me.
I decided I would meet Ranga the next day itself. I needed his help. Ugly or scary I would still go to that area, to that house I had seen on the screen, and tell him about the rival stall, about the rumours Santosh spread through every contact, about the laugh in front of customers and workers, about the balance paid and the five men sent off, about my husband who could not sleep.
I did not wake my husband. I locked the phone, slid it under the pillow, turned onto my side facing his back, and lay in the nighty and the white panties with that decision already made, my breasts against his back without waking him, my hips still, my breath finally slower, the house quiet above the closed stall and the empty basement, tomorrow already fixed in my head, and none of the videos and none of the house and none of the decision reaching his ears.


In the middle of the night on the first floor the room stayed dark except for the thin light from the window, the fan still turning above the cot, the heat of the day still in the walls, the stall below still shut, the basement still empty, and I woke to my husband already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the cot beside me, one foot on the floor, his weight making the cot dip, and he had already lifted my nighty up over my hips and over my waist and over my stomach until the nighty sat bunched above my breasts. My breasts were bare in the dark under that lifted nighty, my nipples already tight, and he was looking down at my pussy over my white panties, his palms on my thick thighs, his thumbs near the edge of the panties, his eyes on the line of the white panties against my clit.
I lay there and felt his looking. I was ready to do anything to make him happy.
“You want me? I am here, you woke me like this, you can take me, I will give you whatever you want now, tell me, I will not say no,” I said, my voice still thick from sleep, my ass heavy on the cot, my thighs opening a little so he could keep looking at the white panties.

He hooked his fingers in the sides of my white panties and pulled them down. I lifted my hips off the cot to help him, the nighty staying up around my breasts, and I felt the white panties slide over my ass and over my shaved pussy and down my thick thighs. I used my feet to push them off my ankles and they dropped beside the cot. Then I lay there with the nighty bunched above my breasts and nothing on my pussy and nothing on my ass, the night air on my clit, on my shaved pussy, on my asshole.
He looked at my clean shaved pussy first, then at my asshole. He put his thumbs on me and spread my pussy open and held it open on the cot, the two sides of my pussy in his hands, my clit showing, and he kept looking as if the stall and Santosh and the empty basement were all sitting in that one look.
“If I close the shop, if Sudha Sweet Stall goes, will you still love me, look at me and say it, I need to hear it while I am looking at you like this, while I am holding you open,” my husband said, his thumbs keeping my pussy spread, his breath coming faster, his body still on the edge of the cot.
“Come on Rajesh, I am your wife, I always love you, shop or no shop I am not going anywhere, you look at me, you hold me like this, you take what you want, I am yours, I will not leave you,” I said, keeping my thighs open, my shaved pussy in his hands, my breasts rising and falling under the lifted nighty, my long black hair on the pillow.
He moved his hands down from my pussy to my ass. He spread my ass cheeks with both palms and held the two ass cheeks apart and looked at my asshole the same way he had looked at my pussy, leaning a little on the edge of the cot, his breath hitting me, the fan turning above us, the house quiet on the second and third and fourth floors where the three sons were still sleeping.

“You are my only happiness now, this, you on this cot, the boys upstairs, I do not have the stall the way I had it, I only have you, I only have this, I am looking at you because this is what I have left,” my husband said, his fingers still spreading my ass cheeks, his eyes on my asshole and then on my shaved pussy again.
“Do not worry, somehow God will help us, we will build the shop from the scrap, we will be number one again, you come here, I am your wife, I love you, that will not change, you keep looking, you take me if you want me, I am here,” I said, my ass in his hands, my shaved pussy open, the white panties already off on the floor, the nighty still up over my breasts, giving him the middle of the night on the first floor and keeping the next day’s visit to that ugly scary man inside my own head where he could not hear it.


I sat up on the cot in the middle of the night and pulled the nighty off over my head and dropped it beside the white panties, and then I was naked on the first floor, my breasts free, my nipples tight, my shaved pussy and my ass bare, my thick thighs on the cot. I put my hands on my husband and I removed his banian first, lifting it over his chest and over his shoulders and off his arms, and then I opened his lungi and pulled it away from his waist and off his legs until he was naked with me. His cock was against my thigh and it was not ready. I lay back and I pulled him onto me so he could make love to me, my breasts under his chest, my thighs open, my shaved pussy waiting for him, my hands on his back and on his ass, and he tried to settle on me and he could not. His cock stayed soft against my pussy. He put his face in my neck and he started crying, the sound small and broken in the dark, the pain coming out of him while the fan turned above us and the three sons slept on the floors above.
“I built Sudha Sweet Stall for you, I put your name on the shutter, now it is nothing, Santosh took the road, he laughed, he spread the talk, I cannot even make love to you, my dream is gone, I am nothing on this cot,” my husband said, his tears on my neck, his body heavy on my breasts and on my stomach, his cock still soft against my shaved pussy.

“Do not cry, do not say you are nothing, I am here, I am your wife, the stall is not the only thing, you lie on me, you breathe, we will be all right, God will help us, you do not have to do anything tonight,” I said, my arms around his back, my thighs still open under him, consoling him while he shook on top of me.
Deep inside I wanted to destroy Santosh’s life and destroy his shop. The crying on my neck fixed that want. I made up my mind to meet Ranga the next day at any cost, ugly and scary or not, because my husband was naked on me and could not make love and could not stop crying and the name on the shutter had been reduced to nothing. I did not say any of that. I held him until the crying slowed. I turned him onto his back and I slept on top of him, my breasts on his chest, my shaved pussy against his cock, my ass under the fan, my long black hair falling over his shoulder, my mouth near his ear, and I stayed on him until he slept under me and I slept on him, naked on the cot, the white panties and the nighty and the banian and the lungi on the floor, tomorrow already decided and still not reaching his ears.


I woke early on the first floor while the light was still thin, still naked on top of my husband, my heavy breasts flattened on his chest, my nipples against him, my shaved pussy resting on him, my ass under the slow fan, the nighty and the white panties and his banian and his lungi still on the floor from the middle of the night. His breath was even. The three sons were still asleep on the second and third and fourth floors. I put my mouth close to his ear and I whispered so the house would not wake.
“You take rest, I am going to the temple and coming, you sleep, I will be back, do not get up,” I said, my lips almost on his face.
I pushed myself off him gently, lifting my breasts away from his chest first, then my stomach, then my hips and my shaved pussy, and I sat on the edge of the cot with my thighs together and my ass on the wood and I picked up the towel from the chair. I went into the bathroom first for the things I did every morning before the water. I sat and relieved myself, then I stood at the basin and brushed my teeth, the brush in my mouth, my breasts hanging as I bent, my ass bare, and I washed my face with both hands, water on my eyes and on my lips and on my neck, and I looked at my face in the small mirror, the large eyes, the full lips, the same face my husband loved, before I turned to the shower.

I took a shower. The water ran over my long black hair and down my neck and over my shoulders and over my heavy breasts and across my nipples until they tightened under the stream. It ran over my narrow waist and over my wide hips and over my ass cheeks and into the line of my ass, over my shaved pussy and over my clit and over my inner thighs and down to my ankles. I stood there and let it, one hand on the wall, the other moving the water over my breasts and between my thighs, washing the night off my pussy and off my ass and off my nipples, until I was clean.
I turned the water off and I toweled myself slowly. I dried my breasts first, lifting each one in the towel, rubbing the nipples until they stood, then my waist, then my hips, then each ass cheek, then I put the towel between my thighs and dried my shaved pussy and my clit and my asshole, and I came out of the bathroom wrapping the towel around me. The towel sat tight over my breasts and tucked at my chest, the top of my ass showing when I walked, my wet hair down my back.

I opened the cupboard. I picked up my white bra and my grey panties and my pink petticoat and my pink blouse and my pink chiffon saree and I laid them on the cot near his sleeping feet. I dropped the towel. I stood naked again in the thin morning light, my breasts heavy, my nipples tight, my shaved pussy open to the room, my ass full, and I stepped into the grey panties. I pulled them up over my thick thighs and over my ass until the grey panties sat against my shaved pussy and against my clit, the back of them holding my ass cheeks. I put my arms through the white bra and settled my heavy breasts into the cups and closed it at my back, and the white bra lifted and held them, the nipples pressing from inside at once. I tied the pink petticoat low below my navel, low on my hips, the way I had learned, so the petticoat sat under my waist and above the grey panties. I put on the pink blouse and closed it across my breasts, the blouse sitting tight over the white bra, the heavy shape of my breasts pushing the pink blouse forward. I dbangd the pink chiffon saree over the pink blouse and over the pink petticoat, tucked it at my waist, brought the pallu around, and I stood getting ready in front of the cupboard, adjusting the saree over my wide hips and over my ass, the grey panties and the white bra hidden.

I put the mangalsutra around my neck so it rested against my chest above the pink blouse. I put the gold earrings in my ears. I slid the simple gold bangles onto my wrists. I put the small bindi on my forehead. I put the gold anklets on my ankles. I opened the perfume and I put it on my neck and behind my ears and on my wrists and once between my breasts over the pink blouse, a small amount, enough that I would carry it out of the house. I looked at my husband once on the cot, naked under the sheet I pulled up, and I left the first floor in the pink chiffon saree, the perfume already on me, the temple only in the whisper I had given him, and Ranga’s house already waiting in my head.

To Be Continued...!]]> <![CDATA[Indian hotwife flirts in Austin bar]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75490.html Fri, 02 Oct 2026 05:36:17 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75490.html
She felt eyes on her before she saw him. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark shirt crossed the room and took the empty stool beside her. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Priya turned, letting her gaze travel over his chest and arms. "Not at all," she answered, her accent soft. "I'm Priya."

"Lucas," he said, ordering another round for them both. Their knees brushed under the bar. Conversation moved from travel to the city lights to the heat between them. Priya leaned in, her lips brushing his ear when she laughed. Lucas rested a hand on her thigh, fingers tracing slow circles.

Across the room, her husband sat alone at a corner table, nursing a drink and watching every move. Priya caught his eye once and smiled, then turned back to Lucas and spread her legs wider so her husband could see the stranger's hand sliding higher up her thigh.

When the music shifted to something slower, Priya stood and pulled Lucas toward the small dance floor. She pressed her body against his, hips swaying, her ass rubbing against the growing bulge in his pants. Lucas slid his hands down her back and cupped her cheeks, squeezing. Priya tilted her head up and kissed him hard, tongue sliding into his mouth right there in front of the crowd. Several heads turned. She didn't care. Her wedding ring flashed as her fingers tangled in his hair.

Her husband watched from his table, cock stiffening under the tablecloth as Priya ground openly against the stranger. Lucas groaned into the kiss, one hand slipping under her dress to grip bare skin. Priya ground against him, feeling his cock harden. They made out openly, tongues wet and hungry, her dress riding higher with every sway. Priya broke the kiss only to whisper, "Take me somewhere."

They left the bar with his hand on her ass. The hotel was two blocks away. In the elevator Lucas pinned her to the wall, kissing down her neck while his fingers pushed her panties aside and stroked her wet pussy. Priya moaned, legs parting for him.

The moment the door shut behind them in his room, clothes came off fast and Lucas threw her on the bed. He spread her thighs wide and lowered his mouth to her pussy. His tongue dragged slowly through her wet folds, tasting her arousal. Priya gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets as Lucas licked her clit in firm circles. Priya's hips bucked against his face. Lucas licked deeper, tongue thrusting into her entrance. He kept eating her pussy until her thighs trembled and she cried out, coming hard against his mouth.

Only then did Lucas rise up, line his cock up with her soaked entrance, and drive into her in one thrust, stretching her open. Priya cried out, gripping the sheets as he pounded her hard and deep. Each slap of skin echoed. He reached around to rub her clit, and she came again, pussy clenching around his cock. Lucas followed, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with hot cum. He stayed inside until every drop was pumped into her.

Priya dressed slowly, feeling his load leak down her thighs. She took a cab back to her own hotel. Her husband waited in their room, already in bed.

She stripped in front of him, letting the black dress fall. Cum glistened on her inner thighs. "I went out tonight," she said, voice steady. "Met a man named Lucas. We kissed in the bar while people watched. Then I went to his hotel and let him fuck me."

Her husband stared, cock already hardening under the sheet. Priya climbed onto the bed, straddling his face so he could see the creampie still dripping from her swollen pussy. "He came inside me," she continued, lowering herself. "Taste it."

She told him every detail while he licked Lucas's cum from her cunt. Her husband stroked himself as she spoke, and when she finished the story she sank down onto his cock, letting him feel how loose and wet another man had left her.

Priya rode him slowly, describing the way Lucas had gripped her hips and filled her, until her husband groaned and added his own load to the mess inside her. She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "Next time," she whispered, "I want you watching from the corner of his hotel room. I want you to see Lucas fuck me, see him lick my pussy, see him fill me up again."

"Would you like that? Sitting there while another man uses your wife? Maybe you can even clean me up right after he cums." Her husband groaned beneath her, cock twitching at the thought. Priya smiled and kissed him, tasting the mix of both men on his tongue.]]>
She felt eyes on her before she saw him. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark shirt crossed the room and took the empty stool beside her. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Priya turned, letting her gaze travel over his chest and arms. "Not at all," she answered, her accent soft. "I'm Priya."

"Lucas," he said, ordering another round for them both. Their knees brushed under the bar. Conversation moved from travel to the city lights to the heat between them. Priya leaned in, her lips brushing his ear when she laughed. Lucas rested a hand on her thigh, fingers tracing slow circles.

Across the room, her husband sat alone at a corner table, nursing a drink and watching every move. Priya caught his eye once and smiled, then turned back to Lucas and spread her legs wider so her husband could see the stranger's hand sliding higher up her thigh.

When the music shifted to something slower, Priya stood and pulled Lucas toward the small dance floor. She pressed her body against his, hips swaying, her ass rubbing against the growing bulge in his pants. Lucas slid his hands down her back and cupped her cheeks, squeezing. Priya tilted her head up and kissed him hard, tongue sliding into his mouth right there in front of the crowd. Several heads turned. She didn't care. Her wedding ring flashed as her fingers tangled in his hair.

Her husband watched from his table, cock stiffening under the tablecloth as Priya ground openly against the stranger. Lucas groaned into the kiss, one hand slipping under her dress to grip bare skin. Priya ground against him, feeling his cock harden. They made out openly, tongues wet and hungry, her dress riding higher with every sway. Priya broke the kiss only to whisper, "Take me somewhere."

They left the bar with his hand on her ass. The hotel was two blocks away. In the elevator Lucas pinned her to the wall, kissing down her neck while his fingers pushed her panties aside and stroked her wet pussy. Priya moaned, legs parting for him.

The moment the door shut behind them in his room, clothes came off fast and Lucas threw her on the bed. He spread her thighs wide and lowered his mouth to her pussy. His tongue dragged slowly through her wet folds, tasting her arousal. Priya gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets as Lucas licked her clit in firm circles. Priya's hips bucked against his face. Lucas licked deeper, tongue thrusting into her entrance. He kept eating her pussy until her thighs trembled and she cried out, coming hard against his mouth.

Only then did Lucas rise up, line his cock up with her soaked entrance, and drive into her in one thrust, stretching her open. Priya cried out, gripping the sheets as he pounded her hard and deep. Each slap of skin echoed. He reached around to rub her clit, and she came again, pussy clenching around his cock. Lucas followed, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with hot cum. He stayed inside until every drop was pumped into her.

Priya dressed slowly, feeling his load leak down her thighs. She took a cab back to her own hotel. Her husband waited in their room, already in bed.

She stripped in front of him, letting the black dress fall. Cum glistened on her inner thighs. "I went out tonight," she said, voice steady. "Met a man named Lucas. We kissed in the bar while people watched. Then I went to his hotel and let him fuck me."

Her husband stared, cock already hardening under the sheet. Priya climbed onto the bed, straddling his face so he could see the creampie still dripping from her swollen pussy. "He came inside me," she continued, lowering herself. "Taste it."

She told him every detail while he licked Lucas's cum from her cunt. Her husband stroked himself as she spoke, and when she finished the story she sank down onto his cock, letting him feel how loose and wet another man had left her.

Priya rode him slowly, describing the way Lucas had gripped her hips and filled her, until her husband groaned and added his own load to the mess inside her. She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "Next time," she whispered, "I want you watching from the corner of his hotel room. I want you to see Lucas fuck me, see him lick my pussy, see him fill me up again."

"Would you like that? Sitting there while another man uses your wife? Maybe you can even clean me up right after he cums." Her husband groaned beneath her, cock twitching at the thought. Priya smiled and kissed him, tasting the mix of both men on his tongue.]]> <![CDATA[Forbidden Desire of Shalini - The Awakening]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75473.html Thu, 01 Oct 2026 06:14:12 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75473.html Forbidden Desire of Shalini - The Awakening

“Some choices look innocent when you make them. You only understand their consequences later.”


Hello everyone! 


I’m Shelly, and I’m starting a new fictional story series here on Xossipy.


My main character, Shalini, aka Shelly, is 22, independent, curious, and trying to find her place in a changing world. Like many young adults, she is learning about relationships, friendship, attraction, family expectations, and the freedom that comes with growing up.


But Shalini is not always sure where to draw the line.


The story is written from Shalini aka Shelly’s perspective. You won’t just read about her journey—you will experience the world through Shelly’s eyes, her thoughts, feelings, doubts, choices, and the way she sees the people around her.


A normal day can become an unexpected encounter.
A simple conversation can create a new connection.
And sometimes, one small decision can change everything.


The story has an Indian setting and atmosphere, with familiar places, relationships, social situations, and everyday experiences that you may connect with.


What to expect:


• Episodic chapters
• Indian characters and settings
• Relationships and emotional conflicts
• Personal choices and consequences
• Character development
• Unexpected twists
• Mature themes as the story progresses


I’ll be posting the story chapter by chapter, so you can follow Shelly’s journey from the beginning.


This is not just about what happens to Shelly.
It is about how Shelly sees it, feels it, and chooses to respond.


If you enjoy character-driven Indian fiction with drama, relationships, mystery, and mature themes, welcome to Shelly’s world. 

DISCLAIMER


This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, locations, events, and situations are fictional and created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.


All characters appearing in mature situations are 18 years or older.


Any visual materials used with the story are AI-generated and do not represent any real person, living or dead.


18+ only. Please read responsibly.


Episode 1 starts soon...

Meet the Characters

Shalini aka Shelly (Nickname), 22
Curious. Independent. Restless.
She completed her graduation last year and is now pursuing a computer course in accounting, hoping to build a corporate career and an independent life. She believes she knows her limits—until she starts discovering that curiosity can change everything.


Rohan
Her elder brother. Protective, trusting, and completely unaware of the secrets unfolding around him.


Bikram
The quiet driver who sees more than he says. Sometimes the person standing closest to you knows exactly where your boundaries lie.


Arjun
Shelly’s boyfriend. He encourages her curiosity, but he may not be prepared for where that curiosity takes her.


Rupam
An unexpected presence who enters Shelly’s life at a time when everything is already becoming complicated.


Sunny
Confident, impulsive, and always ready to push the limits. His arrival adds a new kind of temptation to Shelly’s increasingly complicated world.


Naman
Sunny’s friend. Charming, observant, and difficult to read. He meets Shelly as a stranger—but first impressions don't always remain that way.


Mohit
Quiet, shy, and seemingly innocent. He stays in the background at first, but Shelly soon discovers that even the quietest people can have their own secrets.


Chotu
The familiar milk boy from the neighbourhood. Young, cheeky, and surprisingly observant—he notices more than people expect.


Bineet — The Young Security Guard
Young, observant, and closer to Shelly’s world than she initially realizes. He sees a side of Shelly’s situation that others don't, making her question whether she truly understands the people around her.


Jatin — The Tailor
A tailor whose involvement goes beyond simply making clothes. His work brings him unexpectedly into Shelly’s increasingly complicated world.


Sailen Uncle
The stern landlord, an ex service man with an observant eye. He seems like just another authority figure—until his unexpected appearances put secrets at risk.



Shelly's story isn't really about who enters her life.


It's about who she becomes after they do.]]> Forbidden Desire of Shalini - The Awakening

“Some choices look innocent when you make them. You only understand their consequences later.”


Hello everyone! 


I’m Shelly, and I’m starting a new fictional story series here on Xossipy.


My main character, Shalini, aka Shelly, is 22, independent, curious, and trying to find her place in a changing world. Like many young adults, she is learning about relationships, friendship, attraction, family expectations, and the freedom that comes with growing up.


But Shalini is not always sure where to draw the line.


The story is written from Shalini aka Shelly’s perspective. You won’t just read about her journey—you will experience the world through Shelly’s eyes, her thoughts, feelings, doubts, choices, and the way she sees the people around her.


A normal day can become an unexpected encounter.
A simple conversation can create a new connection.
And sometimes, one small decision can change everything.


The story has an Indian setting and atmosphere, with familiar places, relationships, social situations, and everyday experiences that you may connect with.


What to expect:


• Episodic chapters
• Indian characters and settings
• Relationships and emotional conflicts
• Personal choices and consequences
• Character development
• Unexpected twists
• Mature themes as the story progresses


I’ll be posting the story chapter by chapter, so you can follow Shelly’s journey from the beginning.


This is not just about what happens to Shelly.
It is about how Shelly sees it, feels it, and chooses to respond.


If you enjoy character-driven Indian fiction with drama, relationships, mystery, and mature themes, welcome to Shelly’s world. 

DISCLAIMER


This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, locations, events, and situations are fictional and created for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.


All characters appearing in mature situations are 18 years or older.


Any visual materials used with the story are AI-generated and do not represent any real person, living or dead.


18+ only. Please read responsibly.


Episode 1 starts soon...

Meet the Characters

Shalini aka Shelly (Nickname), 22
Curious. Independent. Restless.
She completed her graduation last year and is now pursuing a computer course in accounting, hoping to build a corporate career and an independent life. She believes she knows her limits—until she starts discovering that curiosity can change everything.


Rohan
Her elder brother. Protective, trusting, and completely unaware of the secrets unfolding around him.


Bikram
The quiet driver who sees more than he says. Sometimes the person standing closest to you knows exactly where your boundaries lie.


Arjun
Shelly’s boyfriend. He encourages her curiosity, but he may not be prepared for where that curiosity takes her.


Rupam
An unexpected presence who enters Shelly’s life at a time when everything is already becoming complicated.


Sunny
Confident, impulsive, and always ready to push the limits. His arrival adds a new kind of temptation to Shelly’s increasingly complicated world.


Naman
Sunny’s friend. Charming, observant, and difficult to read. He meets Shelly as a stranger—but first impressions don't always remain that way.


Mohit
Quiet, shy, and seemingly innocent. He stays in the background at first, but Shelly soon discovers that even the quietest people can have their own secrets.


Chotu
The familiar milk boy from the neighbourhood. Young, cheeky, and surprisingly observant—he notices more than people expect.


Bineet — The Young Security Guard
Young, observant, and closer to Shelly’s world than she initially realizes. He sees a side of Shelly’s situation that others don't, making her question whether she truly understands the people around her.


Jatin — The Tailor
A tailor whose involvement goes beyond simply making clothes. His work brings him unexpectedly into Shelly’s increasingly complicated world.


Sailen Uncle
The stern landlord, an ex service man with an observant eye. He seems like just another authority figure—until his unexpected appearances put secrets at risk.



Shelly's story isn't really about who enters her life.


It's about who she becomes after they do.]]> <![CDATA[The Aarogya Wellness and Intimacy Clinic]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75470.html Wed, 30 Sep 2026 17:55:26 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75470.html Hi All,

Here is the 2nd story I am starting. This is an Erotic Crime Thriller. Hope you like this.  Again, I can tell you one thing, even after writing one story up to 40+ pages, I am still stumbling with writing. So, if I make any mistakes, please easy on me. 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Chapter 1 - The First Night

 
Scene 1

 
The last guests had gone.
 
Naveen stood at the window of the hotel suite, the city of Hyderabad glittering below him like a spilled jewel box, and listened to the silence settle.
 
It was a living thing, that silence, it had texture, weight, the slow exhale of a day that had been building toward this moment for months.
 
Years, even.
 
He loosened his tie, then stopped, his fingers still on the knot, because he could see her reflection in the glass.
 
Seema.
 
She sat on the edge of the bed, which was enormous, and absurd, and strewn with rose petals the color of old blood.
 
Someone from the hotel, some unseen, efficient hand, had arranged them in the shape of a heart.
 
It was the kind of gesture that would have made Naveen cringe if he'd seen it earlier, if he'd had the presence of mind to notice, but now it just seemed...
 
right.
 
Everything seemed right.
 
She was here.
 
She was his.
 
And she was, without question, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
 
The saree was a masterpiece of crimson silk and gold zari, heavy with embroidery that caught the lamplight and threw tiny sparks across the room.
 
It had been made for her, not bought, not borrowed, but made, by a tailor in Varanasi who had spent three months on the embroidery alone.
 
The blouse was cut low on her back, and the pallu, which had slipped from her hair sometime during the long evening, lay on her shoulder like a fallen cloud.
 
Her arms were bare, adorned only with the traditional chudiyan, a few  bangles in red and gold above her wrists and they caught the light every time she moved, which was rarely, because she was sitting very still.
 
Her skin was the color of warm honey, and it seemed to glow in the soft lamplight, luminous and impossibly smooth.
 
Naveen had noticed it the first time he met her, at a friend's Holi party, a several months back, her fingers stained pink with gulal, laughing at something he hadn't heard, and he had spent the intervening months learning its geography.
 
The delicate curve of her collarbone.
 
The soft hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beat a quiet rhythm.
 
The inside of her wrist, where the skin was so fine he could see the faint blue tracery of veins beneath.
 
The small of her back, which he had touched only once, accidentally, when helping her into a car, and had thought about for weeks afterward.
 
Her hair was black and thick and fell in waves past her shoulders, and tonight it was loose, unbound from the elaborate style the stylist had spent two hours creating.
 
Dark curls framed her face, and some of them clung to her temples, damp with the heat of the evening.
 
Her eyes were large and dark and fringed with lashes that needed no enhancement, and they were fixed on her own hands, folded in her lap, as if she had never seen them before.
 
She wore mehndi on her hands, intricate patterns that covered her palms and climbed up her forearms, the henna dark and rich against her skin.
 
Someone had told him it was traditional for the bride to hide the groom's name somewhere in the design, and he had spent the entire reception trying to find it, without success.
 
He would find it later, he told himself.
 
They had time.
 
 ]]> Hi All,

Here is the 2nd story I am starting. This is an Erotic Crime Thriller. Hope you like this.  Again, I can tell you one thing, even after writing one story up to 40+ pages, I am still stumbling with writing. So, if I make any mistakes, please easy on me. 
 
 
 
 
 
 


Chapter 1 - The First Night

 
Scene 1

 
The last guests had gone.
 
Naveen stood at the window of the hotel suite, the city of Hyderabad glittering below him like a spilled jewel box, and listened to the silence settle.
 
It was a living thing, that silence, it had texture, weight, the slow exhale of a day that had been building toward this moment for months.
 
Years, even.
 
He loosened his tie, then stopped, his fingers still on the knot, because he could see her reflection in the glass.
 
Seema.
 
She sat on the edge of the bed, which was enormous, and absurd, and strewn with rose petals the color of old blood.
 
Someone from the hotel, some unseen, efficient hand, had arranged them in the shape of a heart.
 
It was the kind of gesture that would have made Naveen cringe if he'd seen it earlier, if he'd had the presence of mind to notice, but now it just seemed...
 
right.
 
Everything seemed right.
 
She was here.
 
She was his.
 
And she was, without question, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
 
The saree was a masterpiece of crimson silk and gold zari, heavy with embroidery that caught the lamplight and threw tiny sparks across the room.
 
It had been made for her, not bought, not borrowed, but made, by a tailor in Varanasi who had spent three months on the embroidery alone.
 
The blouse was cut low on her back, and the pallu, which had slipped from her hair sometime during the long evening, lay on her shoulder like a fallen cloud.
 
Her arms were bare, adorned only with the traditional chudiyan, a few  bangles in red and gold above her wrists and they caught the light every time she moved, which was rarely, because she was sitting very still.
 
Her skin was the color of warm honey, and it seemed to glow in the soft lamplight, luminous and impossibly smooth.
 
Naveen had noticed it the first time he met her, at a friend's Holi party, a several months back, her fingers stained pink with gulal, laughing at something he hadn't heard, and he had spent the intervening months learning its geography.
 
The delicate curve of her collarbone.
 
The soft hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse beat a quiet rhythm.
 
The inside of her wrist, where the skin was so fine he could see the faint blue tracery of veins beneath.
 
The small of her back, which he had touched only once, accidentally, when helping her into a car, and had thought about for weeks afterward.
 
Her hair was black and thick and fell in waves past her shoulders, and tonight it was loose, unbound from the elaborate style the stylist had spent two hours creating.
 
Dark curls framed her face, and some of them clung to her temples, damp with the heat of the evening.
 
Her eyes were large and dark and fringed with lashes that needed no enhancement, and they were fixed on her own hands, folded in her lap, as if she had never seen them before.
 
She wore mehndi on her hands, intricate patterns that covered her palms and climbed up her forearms, the henna dark and rich against her skin.
 
Someone had told him it was traditional for the bride to hide the groom's name somewhere in the design, and he had spent the entire reception trying to find it, without success.
 
He would find it later, he told himself.
 
They had time.
 
 ]]> <![CDATA[Move the Incest Stories to their Section]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75438.html Sun, 27 Sep 2026 10:54:07 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75438.html

First, thank you for running the site so well; your effort is truly appreciated.

As you know, a dedicated "Incest and Other Stories"section was created so everyone could follow clear content guidelines. However, many stories that belong in that specific category are still being posted in the general sections.

You might be busy managing other areas of the platform, but we kindly request that you take some time to review and move these stories to their respective section.

We also appeal to all writers and readers to respect the site rules.

While some authors might initially worry about receiving fewer views by moving sections, keeping the platform organized benefits the entire community in the long run.

Thank you for your time and continued dedication to keeping the site structured.]]>

First, thank you for running the site so well; your effort is truly appreciated.

As you know, a dedicated "Incest and Other Stories"section was created so everyone could follow clear content guidelines. However, many stories that belong in that specific category are still being posted in the general sections.

You might be busy managing other areas of the platform, but we kindly request that you take some time to review and move these stories to their respective section.

We also appeal to all writers and readers to respect the site rules.

While some authors might initially worry about receiving fewer views by moving sections, keeping the platform organized benefits the entire community in the long run.

Thank you for your time and continued dedication to keeping the site structured.]]> <![CDATA[Partners]]> https://xossipy.com/thread-75430.html Sat, 26 Sep 2026 18:29:53 +0300 https://xossipy.com/thread-75430.html The tea had gone cold in the porcelain cup. A single fly buzzed against the windowpane, trapped between the glass and the screen.


Priya leaned over the mahogany desk, her palms flat against the polished wood. She could smell the scent of expensive cologne and old blueprints. Kavin stood behind her, his hand gripping her hip with a strength that left red marks on her skin. He didn't speak, but the heavy sound of his breathing filled the silence of the cabin. The door was locked, and the blinds were drawn tight against the midday sun.

He shifted his weight, guiding her further down until her chest nearly touched the desk. When he pushed inside, Priya let out a loud, guttural moan that echoed through the sterile office. The sensation was overwhelming, a sudden and violent stretch that felt as if her tight, muscular walls were being torn apart. She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles turning white, as he drove into her with a rhythmic, punishing force.

The contrast of the situation fueled her excitement. Outside this room, she was the disciplined partner of a prestigious firm, a woman of logic and structure. Here, pinned against the mahogany, she was nothing more than a vessel for Kavin's hunger. Every thrust from behind sent a jolt of electricity through her spine, forcing a series of breathless whimpers from her throat. He didn't hold back, his movements raw and demanding, filling her completely with every deep, sliding motion.

Priya arched her back, her breasts brushing the cool surface of the desk as she shifted into a deeper doggy position. The angle allowed him to sink even further, pushing past her resistance. She felt the intense stretch of her tight, muscular walls being pushed to their absolute limit. The sensation was almost painful, a violent expansion that made her vision blur, yet she craved the feeling of being torn open by him. A loud, guttural moan escaped her, echoing off the soundproof walls of the cabin.

Kavin groaned, his voice a low rasp against her neck. He loved the raw, friction-filled grip of her interior. There were no lubricants, no gels, and no barriers to soften the experience. It was purely skin on skin, a brutal and honest collision of flesh. He felt the warmth of her internal walls clutching him with a desperate, muscular intensity, creating a searing heat that seemed to melt them both together. The lack of glide made every thrust an effort, a sliding struggle that only heightened the pleasure for both of them.

This was not their first time, but for Kavin, it never felt like a repeat. Priya possessed a natural tightness that defied logic, a structural firmness that remained unchanged regardless of how many times he had claimed her. Every encounter felt like the first time he had broken her in. Her body possessed a resilient, gripping quality that made him feel as if he were pushing into uncharted territory with every single stroke. To him, she was an endless puzzle of tension and release, always tight, always demanding, and always welcoming him with a crushing embrace.

As Kavin continued his assault, Priya found herself spiraling into a deep, intoxicating comparison. She thought of Mahesh, his gentleness and his hesitation, and the physical reality of their marriage. With Mahesh, intimacy was a quiet, polite affair, often leaving her feeling an empty void where a roar of passion should have been. His small dick and lack of presence in the bedroom meant she spent most of her nights searching for a sensation that never quite arrived. She had spent a year pretending that his modest size was enough, but the sheer scale of Kavin filling her now made that lie impossible to maintain.

Kavin felt her internal walls spasm and tighten around him, a clear signal of her approaching peak. He didn't slow down; instead, he increased the violence of his thrusts, driving himself deeper into her with a raw, punishing force. Every strike was designed to hit the deepest part of her, pushing past the threshold of comfort into a realm of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Priya’s moans evolved into loud, guttural cries, the sounds of a woman completely undone by a man who knew exactly how to occupy every inch of her.

The sound of her voice, stripped of all professional dignity, acted as a catalyst for Kavin. He reached forward and wound his fingers firmly into her thick hair, gripping the roots with a possessive intensity. With one swift motion, he pulled her head back, forcing her to arch her neck and expose her throat to the dim light of the office. The sudden change in position shifted the angle of their connection, allowing him to sink even deeper into her muscular interior.

He didn't stop the assault; instead, he accelerated the pace, driving himself into her with a raw, rhythmic violence. Each thrust was a deliberate attempt to claim every millimeter of her body, pushing past the point of mere pleasure into a territory of overwhelming sensation. Priya’s responses shifted from moans to loud, guttural cries that sounded desperate and hungry. She sounded like a woman who had been starved of this specific intensity for years, her voice echoing off the mahogany and the soundproof walls in a chaotic symphony of surrender.

With her head still tilted back, Kavin tightened his grip on her hair, the tension pulling her scalp taut and forcing her eyes to flutter shut. He leaned in, his chest pressing against her back, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of her professional attire. He didn't offer a gentle word or a romantic whisper. Instead, he let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated against her skin, the sound of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her.

He shifted his weight, driving himself into her with a renewed, punishing force. Each thrust was harder and deeper than the last, slamming into her with a rhythmic violence that threatened to lift her off the mahogany desk. The friction was intense, a searing heat that filled her entirely and left her gasping for air. Priya’s composure shattered completely, her voice shifting from soft moans to loud, desperate cries. She sounded like a woman possessed, her vocalizations turning into the raw, uninhibited sounds of a whore, stripped of all her status and dignity, craving only the brutal impact of his body against hers.

Kavin’s grip on her hair tightened, his knuckles white as he yanked her head back with a sharp, possessive jerk. Her neck arched violently, exposing the pale line of her throat and forcing her eyes to roll back in a haze of pleasure and pain. He leaned in close, his chest heaving against her spine, the scent of his musk and expensive cologne overwhelming her senses. The suddenness of the pull made her gasp, her body trembling under the weight of his aggression.

Without breaking the rhythm of his assault, Kavin drove himself deeper into her, his thrusts becoming more punishing and relentless. Each strike hit her cervix with a brutal force that made her entire frame shudder. Priya was no longer the composed architect; she was a woman dismantled, her voice dissolving into loud, guttural moans that lacked any shred of restraint. She sounded primal, her cries filling the soundproof room with a desperate, hungry quality that bordered on the obscene. She clung to the mahogany desk, her nails digging into the wood as she sought any anchor in the storm of sensation he was creating.

Hearing those raw, unfiltered sounds of her pleasure drove Kavin into a frenzy. The knowledge that he was breaking her spirit and her body right here in his office cabin made his dick feel even larger and harder. The contrast of the professional environment and the animalistic act they were performing acted as a stimulant, pushing his arousal to a breaking point. He felt the tight, muscular walls of her interior clutching him with a fierce, involuntary intensity, as if her body were trying to absorb him entirely.

He shifted his grip, releasing her hair only to swing his hand down with a sudden, violent force. A loud crack echoed through the room as he slapped her ass, the impact leaving a bright red handprint across her pale skin. Priya let out a sharp, startled shriek that melted into a deep, guttural moan. The sting of the slap combined with the depth of his thrusts created a sensory overload that left her shaking. Kavin didn't stop there; he delivered another heavy blow to her cheek, the sound of flesh hitting flesh punctuating the rhythmic thud of their bodies colliding.

For Priya, the sudden infusion of pain acted as a catalyst, amplifying the pleasure to an unbearable intensity. She felt a surge of electricity travel from the point of impact up her spine and straight down into her core. The dual sensation of the stinging slap and the unrelenting pressure of his hard dick filling her created a friction that pushed her over the edge. Her body felt as if it were fracturing under the weight of the pleasure, every nerve ending firing at once in a desperate, chaotic symphony.

The trigger was instantaneous. A violent tremor seized her muscles, and her internal walls began to clamp down on Kavin with a fierce, rhythmic desperation. She let out a loud, guttural scream that tore through the silence of the office, her voice cracking with the intensity of her release. The orgasm hit her like a physical blow, a tidal wave of heat and tension that snapped her focus and left her gasping for air. She arched her back violently, her chest pressing hard against the mahogany, as the waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Kavin felt the same explosive reaction. The crushing grip of her orgasming interior was an overwhelming sensation, pulling him deeper into her with every involuntary spasm. He groaned, his voice a low, primal sound that vibrated through her skin, and he drove himself into her one final time with a punishing force. He felt her body shudder beneath him, her muscles twitching in an effort to squeeze every bit of pleasure from his hard length. The friction was searing, a white hot intensity that pushed him past the point of no return.

As he reached his own peak, Kavin delivered another sharp, stinging slap to her bum. The sudden shock of pain acted as a final trigger for Priya, amplifying the pleasure of her climax. She felt the sting of his palm against her skin, a violent contrast to the deep, sliding pressure of his dick. This duality of sensation, the sharp bite of pain meeting the heavy throb of pleasure, sent her spiraling further into the abyss of her release. She screamed, a loud and guttural sound that echoed off the soundproof walls, her voice stripped of all professional poise.

The lubricant of her orgasm changed everything. The sudden release of natural fluids made the friction slick and searing, allowing Kavin to invade her with a renewed, devastating strength. He no longer had to fight for every inch; instead, he slid deep into her with a terrifying ease, his thrusts becoming faster and more punishing. The lack of resistance allowed him to drive himself fully home, the impact of his pelvis slamming against her with a raw, rhythmic violence that made the mahogany desk shudder.

Priya was lost in the aftermath of her peak, her body still trembling, but Kavin was far from finished. The slickness of her interior drove him to a state of frenzy, pushing him to fuck her with a hard, relentless intensity. With every deep, driving stroke, she felt the heavy slap of his balls against her cunt, a rhythmic percussion of flesh hitting flesh that echoed through the quiet cabin. That specific sensation, the weight of him colliding with her, anchored her to the reality of his dominance, making her feel small and completely consumed by his size.

As the friction built to a searing heat, Priya felt a sudden shift in his rhythm. The thrusts became shorter, more urgent, and far more powerful. She could feel the internal pulsing of his shaft, a warning sign that he was reaching the point of no return. A wave of warmth flooded her, and she became acutely aware that there was no condom, no barrier to stop the flood of his seed from filling her. The realization hit her with a jolt of panic that cut through the haze of her pleasure, a sudden reminder of the risks they were taking in the middle of the workday.

The warning in her mind screamed louder than the pleasure in her body. Desperate to avoid an unplanned pregnancy, she tried to shift her hips, attempting to create distance between them. She reached back, her fingers clawing at his thighs, as she shouted for him to pull out. Her voice, already raspy from screaming, broke as she begged him not to finish inside her, her words a frantic plea for caution amidst the chaos of their collision.

Kavin heard her, the request cutting through the fog of his arousal. Ordinarily, he was the one in control, the partner who followed the rules of their secret arrangement. He knew the risk, and he usually managed the timing of his release with clinical precision. But the sheer intensity of the moment had stripped away his discipline. The crushing grip of her internal walls and the slick, searing heat of her peak had pushed him beyond the point of logic. His mind was a blur of white noise and raw instinct, and his body refused to obey the command to retreat.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he drove himself deeper into her, his hips locking against her with a final, devastating force. The momentum was unstoppable. He felt the surge begin in the base of his spine, a tidal wave of tension that snapped violently. As the first wave of his seed erupted, filling her with a hot, pulsing flood, Kavin let out a long, shuddering groan. He stayed pinned against her, refusing to break the connection, allowing every drop of his release to saturate her interior.

Priya gasped, her body jerking beneath him as she felt the warmth bloom inside her. The sensation was an invasive, heavy presence that contrasted sharply with the panic rising in her chest. She could feel the thickness of him, the way he occupied her completely, leaving no room for doubt or denial. The physical pleasure of his climax was still radiating through her, but it was now clouded by the sudden, stark reality of their lack of protection.

Kavin just whisper "sorry, Priya"....

The silence that followed the storm was heavy, broken only by the synchronized sound of their ragged breathing. Priya remained pinned against the mahogany, her forehead resting on the cool wood, while the heat of Kavin’s body continued to press against her back. The initial shock of the unplanned release began to settle into a slow, pulsing warmth. She could feel the thick, viscous weight of his seed filling her, a heavy sensation that seemed to settle deep within her womb. It was an invasive, overwhelming fullness that made her feel marked and claimed in a way that Mahesh could never achieve.

As Kavin slowly began to withdraw, the seal of their bodies broke with a soft, wet sound. The sudden vacuum pulled the accumulated fluids with it, and Priya felt the immediate, warm rush of their mixed cums escaping. The combined overflow leaked through the narrow gap of her pussy lips, sliding over the remaining friction of his shaft as he finally slid out. The sensation was vivid and visceral, a sliding warmth that didn't stop at the threshold of her skin.

She stood there for a moment, trembling and breathless, feeling the heavy residue of his climax pooling within her. The seed felt as if it had filled her womb to the brim, a thick and pulsing presence that anchored her to the mahogany desk. As she shifted her weight, the excess fluid began to travel, tracing a slow, hot path down the insides of her thighs. The feeling of the liquid running down her skin was a stark reminder of the boundary they had crossed, a physical manifestation of the risk she had just taken.

The panic that had gripped her heart only moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a calculated sense of relief. She mentally traced her calendar, recalling the precise date of her last cycle and the timing of her ovulation. She was in her safe window, the days where the possibility of conception was minimal. This realization acted like a sedative, smoothing out the jagged edges of her anxiety and allowing her to lean back into the lingering pleasure of the act. The danger had been an intoxicant, but the knowledge of her safety provided the stability she needed to return to the world of the living.

Across from her, Kavin was already reclaiming his composure. He moved with a confident, predatory grace, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached for his trousers. Priya watched him, her gaze tracing the hard lines of his body and the effortless way he pulled his pants up, the fabric sliding over his muscular thighs with a soft rustle. There was something profoundly erotic about the transition, the way he shifted from the raw, animalistic force of the encounter back into the polished image of a successful partner in their firm. He fastened his belt with a sharp, metallic click, the sound echoing through the quiet cabin like a final punctuation mark.

Priya turned to the mirror, her breath still coming in shallow, ragged bursts. She carefully adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric over her hips and ensuring the hem was straight. The silk felt cool against her skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering, viscous warmth of his seed that continued to trickle slowly down her thighs. As she straightened her shoulders and regained her professional posture, Kavin stepped up behind her. He didn't speak, but his presence was a heavy weight, his heat radiating through her clothes. He leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a deep, demanding kiss that tasted of salt and shared secrets.

The kiss was a bridge between their two worlds, a momentary collapse of the boundary between partners and lovers. Kavin’s hands didn't stay still; he reached around her, his large palms sliding upward to grip her breasts with a possessive force. He squeezed her firmly, his fingers digging into the soft tissue through the thin fabric of her dress. He leaned his mouth close to her ear, his voice a low, vibrating rasp that sent a fresh shiver down her spine. He whispered that he didn't care about the risks or the timing today, his grip tightening as if to prove that his desire outweighed any potential consequence.

Priya leaned back against him, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but the professional instinct that governed her life was beginning to resurface. She reached up, her fingers gently brushing away his hands from her chest, though she didn't push him away entirely. She whispered back that he could play over it some other day, her voice regaining the smooth, controlled tone of the woman who managed multi million dollar projects. The suggestion was a promise, a way to tether his hunger to a future date, ensuring that the tension remained taut between them.

The drive home was a blur of city lights and humming tires. She felt the drying residue of Kavin’s release clinging to her skin, a secret weight that shifted every time she pressed the brake. While the mental calculation of her cycle had provided a temporary sense of security, the visceral memory of the flood inside her sparked a lingering anxiety. The thought of Mahesh, with his quiet habits and gentle nature, flashed through her mind. He was a safe harbor, but the storm Kavin provided was far more addictive, and the risk of a permanent mistake was too high to leave to chance.

She steered her car away from the main road, pulling into the neon glow of a twenty four hour pharmacy. The sterile scent of the store, a mixture of rubbing alcohol and cheap perfume, acted as a cold splash of reality. Priya walked the aisles with a practiced neutrality, her expression a mask of professional composure. When she reached the family planning section, her eyes locked onto the small, foil packaged I pill. She grabbed the box, her fingers trembling slightly, and headed for the checkout counter.

The transaction was swift, a mere exchange of cash and a plastic bag. As she walked back to her car, the weight of the pill in her palm felt like a confession. Despite the calculations of her cycle, the visceral memory of Kavin filling her had left a mark of uncertainty that no calendar could erase. She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror, seeing a woman who managed towering structures of glass and steel, yet felt her own foundation crumbling under the weight of a secret.

The drive back to the suburbs was a transition from the electric adrenaline of the office to the muted stillness of her domestic life. As the neon signs of the city faded into the soft glow of streetlamps, the image of Mahesh waiting for her began to surface. He was the steady hum of a well-run machine, a man of predictable rhythms and a kindness that often felt like a void. He would have asked if she had a productive day, and she would have lied with a practiced ease, her voice steady while her body still hummed with the residue of another man.]]> The tea had gone cold in the porcelain cup. A single fly buzzed against the windowpane, trapped between the glass and the screen.


Priya leaned over the mahogany desk, her palms flat against the polished wood. She could smell the scent of expensive cologne and old blueprints. Kavin stood behind her, his hand gripping her hip with a strength that left red marks on her skin. He didn't speak, but the heavy sound of his breathing filled the silence of the cabin. The door was locked, and the blinds were drawn tight against the midday sun.

He shifted his weight, guiding her further down until her chest nearly touched the desk. When he pushed inside, Priya let out a loud, guttural moan that echoed through the sterile office. The sensation was overwhelming, a sudden and violent stretch that felt as if her tight, muscular walls were being torn apart. She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles turning white, as he drove into her with a rhythmic, punishing force.

The contrast of the situation fueled her excitement. Outside this room, she was the disciplined partner of a prestigious firm, a woman of logic and structure. Here, pinned against the mahogany, she was nothing more than a vessel for Kavin's hunger. Every thrust from behind sent a jolt of electricity through her spine, forcing a series of breathless whimpers from her throat. He didn't hold back, his movements raw and demanding, filling her completely with every deep, sliding motion.

Priya arched her back, her breasts brushing the cool surface of the desk as she shifted into a deeper doggy position. The angle allowed him to sink even further, pushing past her resistance. She felt the intense stretch of her tight, muscular walls being pushed to their absolute limit. The sensation was almost painful, a violent expansion that made her vision blur, yet she craved the feeling of being torn open by him. A loud, guttural moan escaped her, echoing off the soundproof walls of the cabin.

Kavin groaned, his voice a low rasp against her neck. He loved the raw, friction-filled grip of her interior. There were no lubricants, no gels, and no barriers to soften the experience. It was purely skin on skin, a brutal and honest collision of flesh. He felt the warmth of her internal walls clutching him with a desperate, muscular intensity, creating a searing heat that seemed to melt them both together. The lack of glide made every thrust an effort, a sliding struggle that only heightened the pleasure for both of them.

This was not their first time, but for Kavin, it never felt like a repeat. Priya possessed a natural tightness that defied logic, a structural firmness that remained unchanged regardless of how many times he had claimed her. Every encounter felt like the first time he had broken her in. Her body possessed a resilient, gripping quality that made him feel as if he were pushing into uncharted territory with every single stroke. To him, she was an endless puzzle of tension and release, always tight, always demanding, and always welcoming him with a crushing embrace.

As Kavin continued his assault, Priya found herself spiraling into a deep, intoxicating comparison. She thought of Mahesh, his gentleness and his hesitation, and the physical reality of their marriage. With Mahesh, intimacy was a quiet, polite affair, often leaving her feeling an empty void where a roar of passion should have been. His small dick and lack of presence in the bedroom meant she spent most of her nights searching for a sensation that never quite arrived. She had spent a year pretending that his modest size was enough, but the sheer scale of Kavin filling her now made that lie impossible to maintain.

Kavin felt her internal walls spasm and tighten around him, a clear signal of her approaching peak. He didn't slow down; instead, he increased the violence of his thrusts, driving himself deeper into her with a raw, punishing force. Every strike was designed to hit the deepest part of her, pushing past the threshold of comfort into a realm of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Priya’s moans evolved into loud, guttural cries, the sounds of a woman completely undone by a man who knew exactly how to occupy every inch of her.

The sound of her voice, stripped of all professional dignity, acted as a catalyst for Kavin. He reached forward and wound his fingers firmly into her thick hair, gripping the roots with a possessive intensity. With one swift motion, he pulled her head back, forcing her to arch her neck and expose her throat to the dim light of the office. The sudden change in position shifted the angle of their connection, allowing him to sink even deeper into her muscular interior.

He didn't stop the assault; instead, he accelerated the pace, driving himself into her with a raw, rhythmic violence. Each thrust was a deliberate attempt to claim every millimeter of her body, pushing past the point of mere pleasure into a territory of overwhelming sensation. Priya’s responses shifted from moans to loud, guttural cries that sounded desperate and hungry. She sounded like a woman who had been starved of this specific intensity for years, her voice echoing off the mahogany and the soundproof walls in a chaotic symphony of surrender.

With her head still tilted back, Kavin tightened his grip on her hair, the tension pulling her scalp taut and forcing her eyes to flutter shut. He leaned in, his chest pressing against her back, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of her professional attire. He didn't offer a gentle word or a romantic whisper. Instead, he let out a low, guttural growl that vibrated against her skin, the sound of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her.

He shifted his weight, driving himself into her with a renewed, punishing force. Each thrust was harder and deeper than the last, slamming into her with a rhythmic violence that threatened to lift her off the mahogany desk. The friction was intense, a searing heat that filled her entirely and left her gasping for air. Priya’s composure shattered completely, her voice shifting from soft moans to loud, desperate cries. She sounded like a woman possessed, her vocalizations turning into the raw, uninhibited sounds of a whore, stripped of all her status and dignity, craving only the brutal impact of his body against hers.

Kavin’s grip on her hair tightened, his knuckles white as he yanked her head back with a sharp, possessive jerk. Her neck arched violently, exposing the pale line of her throat and forcing her eyes to roll back in a haze of pleasure and pain. He leaned in close, his chest heaving against her spine, the scent of his musk and expensive cologne overwhelming her senses. The suddenness of the pull made her gasp, her body trembling under the weight of his aggression.

Without breaking the rhythm of his assault, Kavin drove himself deeper into her, his thrusts becoming more punishing and relentless. Each strike hit her cervix with a brutal force that made her entire frame shudder. Priya was no longer the composed architect; she was a woman dismantled, her voice dissolving into loud, guttural moans that lacked any shred of restraint. She sounded primal, her cries filling the soundproof room with a desperate, hungry quality that bordered on the obscene. She clung to the mahogany desk, her nails digging into the wood as she sought any anchor in the storm of sensation he was creating.

Hearing those raw, unfiltered sounds of her pleasure drove Kavin into a frenzy. The knowledge that he was breaking her spirit and her body right here in his office cabin made his dick feel even larger and harder. The contrast of the professional environment and the animalistic act they were performing acted as a stimulant, pushing his arousal to a breaking point. He felt the tight, muscular walls of her interior clutching him with a fierce, involuntary intensity, as if her body were trying to absorb him entirely.

He shifted his grip, releasing her hair only to swing his hand down with a sudden, violent force. A loud crack echoed through the room as he slapped her ass, the impact leaving a bright red handprint across her pale skin. Priya let out a sharp, startled shriek that melted into a deep, guttural moan. The sting of the slap combined with the depth of his thrusts created a sensory overload that left her shaking. Kavin didn't stop there; he delivered another heavy blow to her cheek, the sound of flesh hitting flesh punctuating the rhythmic thud of their bodies colliding.

For Priya, the sudden infusion of pain acted as a catalyst, amplifying the pleasure to an unbearable intensity. She felt a surge of electricity travel from the point of impact up her spine and straight down into her core. The dual sensation of the stinging slap and the unrelenting pressure of his hard dick filling her created a friction that pushed her over the edge. Her body felt as if it were fracturing under the weight of the pleasure, every nerve ending firing at once in a desperate, chaotic symphony.

The trigger was instantaneous. A violent tremor seized her muscles, and her internal walls began to clamp down on Kavin with a fierce, rhythmic desperation. She let out a loud, guttural scream that tore through the silence of the office, her voice cracking with the intensity of her release. The orgasm hit her like a physical blow, a tidal wave of heat and tension that snapped her focus and left her gasping for air. She arched her back violently, her chest pressing hard against the mahogany, as the waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Kavin felt the same explosive reaction. The crushing grip of her orgasming interior was an overwhelming sensation, pulling him deeper into her with every involuntary spasm. He groaned, his voice a low, primal sound that vibrated through her skin, and he drove himself into her one final time with a punishing force. He felt her body shudder beneath him, her muscles twitching in an effort to squeeze every bit of pleasure from his hard length. The friction was searing, a white hot intensity that pushed him past the point of no return.

As he reached his own peak, Kavin delivered another sharp, stinging slap to her bum. The sudden shock of pain acted as a final trigger for Priya, amplifying the pleasure of her climax. She felt the sting of his palm against her skin, a violent contrast to the deep, sliding pressure of his dick. This duality of sensation, the sharp bite of pain meeting the heavy throb of pleasure, sent her spiraling further into the abyss of her release. She screamed, a loud and guttural sound that echoed off the soundproof walls, her voice stripped of all professional poise.

The lubricant of her orgasm changed everything. The sudden release of natural fluids made the friction slick and searing, allowing Kavin to invade her with a renewed, devastating strength. He no longer had to fight for every inch; instead, he slid deep into her with a terrifying ease, his thrusts becoming faster and more punishing. The lack of resistance allowed him to drive himself fully home, the impact of his pelvis slamming against her with a raw, rhythmic violence that made the mahogany desk shudder.

Priya was lost in the aftermath of her peak, her body still trembling, but Kavin was far from finished. The slickness of her interior drove him to a state of frenzy, pushing him to fuck her with a hard, relentless intensity. With every deep, driving stroke, she felt the heavy slap of his balls against her cunt, a rhythmic percussion of flesh hitting flesh that echoed through the quiet cabin. That specific sensation, the weight of him colliding with her, anchored her to the reality of his dominance, making her feel small and completely consumed by his size.

As the friction built to a searing heat, Priya felt a sudden shift in his rhythm. The thrusts became shorter, more urgent, and far more powerful. She could feel the internal pulsing of his shaft, a warning sign that he was reaching the point of no return. A wave of warmth flooded her, and she became acutely aware that there was no condom, no barrier to stop the flood of his seed from filling her. The realization hit her with a jolt of panic that cut through the haze of her pleasure, a sudden reminder of the risks they were taking in the middle of the workday.

The warning in her mind screamed louder than the pleasure in her body. Desperate to avoid an unplanned pregnancy, she tried to shift her hips, attempting to create distance between them. She reached back, her fingers clawing at his thighs, as she shouted for him to pull out. Her voice, already raspy from screaming, broke as she begged him not to finish inside her, her words a frantic plea for caution amidst the chaos of their collision.

Kavin heard her, the request cutting through the fog of his arousal. Ordinarily, he was the one in control, the partner who followed the rules of their secret arrangement. He knew the risk, and he usually managed the timing of his release with clinical precision. But the sheer intensity of the moment had stripped away his discipline. The crushing grip of her internal walls and the slick, searing heat of her peak had pushed him beyond the point of logic. His mind was a blur of white noise and raw instinct, and his body refused to obey the command to retreat.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he drove himself deeper into her, his hips locking against her with a final, devastating force. The momentum was unstoppable. He felt the surge begin in the base of his spine, a tidal wave of tension that snapped violently. As the first wave of his seed erupted, filling her with a hot, pulsing flood, Kavin let out a long, shuddering groan. He stayed pinned against her, refusing to break the connection, allowing every drop of his release to saturate her interior.

Priya gasped, her body jerking beneath him as she felt the warmth bloom inside her. The sensation was an invasive, heavy presence that contrasted sharply with the panic rising in her chest. She could feel the thickness of him, the way he occupied her completely, leaving no room for doubt or denial. The physical pleasure of his climax was still radiating through her, but it was now clouded by the sudden, stark reality of their lack of protection.

Kavin just whisper "sorry, Priya"....

The silence that followed the storm was heavy, broken only by the synchronized sound of their ragged breathing. Priya remained pinned against the mahogany, her forehead resting on the cool wood, while the heat of Kavin’s body continued to press against her back. The initial shock of the unplanned release began to settle into a slow, pulsing warmth. She could feel the thick, viscous weight of his seed filling her, a heavy sensation that seemed to settle deep within her womb. It was an invasive, overwhelming fullness that made her feel marked and claimed in a way that Mahesh could never achieve.

As Kavin slowly began to withdraw, the seal of their bodies broke with a soft, wet sound. The sudden vacuum pulled the accumulated fluids with it, and Priya felt the immediate, warm rush of their mixed cums escaping. The combined overflow leaked through the narrow gap of her pussy lips, sliding over the remaining friction of his shaft as he finally slid out. The sensation was vivid and visceral, a sliding warmth that didn't stop at the threshold of her skin.

She stood there for a moment, trembling and breathless, feeling the heavy residue of his climax pooling within her. The seed felt as if it had filled her womb to the brim, a thick and pulsing presence that anchored her to the mahogany desk. As she shifted her weight, the excess fluid began to travel, tracing a slow, hot path down the insides of her thighs. The feeling of the liquid running down her skin was a stark reminder of the boundary they had crossed, a physical manifestation of the risk she had just taken.

The panic that had gripped her heart only moments ago began to ebb, replaced by a calculated sense of relief. She mentally traced her calendar, recalling the precise date of her last cycle and the timing of her ovulation. She was in her safe window, the days where the possibility of conception was minimal. This realization acted like a sedative, smoothing out the jagged edges of her anxiety and allowing her to lean back into the lingering pleasure of the act. The danger had been an intoxicant, but the knowledge of her safety provided the stability she needed to return to the world of the living.

Across from her, Kavin was already reclaiming his composure. He moved with a confident, predatory grace, his eyes never leaving hers as he reached for his trousers. Priya watched him, her gaze tracing the hard lines of his body and the effortless way he pulled his pants up, the fabric sliding over his muscular thighs with a soft rustle. There was something profoundly erotic about the transition, the way he shifted from the raw, animalistic force of the encounter back into the polished image of a successful partner in their firm. He fastened his belt with a sharp, metallic click, the sound echoing through the quiet cabin like a final punctuation mark.

Priya turned to the mirror, her breath still coming in shallow, ragged bursts. She carefully adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric over her hips and ensuring the hem was straight. The silk felt cool against her skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering, viscous warmth of his seed that continued to trickle slowly down her thighs. As she straightened her shoulders and regained her professional posture, Kavin stepped up behind her. He didn't speak, but his presence was a heavy weight, his heat radiating through her clothes. He leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a deep, demanding kiss that tasted of salt and shared secrets.

The kiss was a bridge between their two worlds, a momentary collapse of the boundary between partners and lovers. Kavin’s hands didn't stay still; he reached around her, his large palms sliding upward to grip her breasts with a possessive force. He squeezed her firmly, his fingers digging into the soft tissue through the thin fabric of her dress. He leaned his mouth close to her ear, his voice a low, vibrating rasp that sent a fresh shiver down her spine. He whispered that he didn't care about the risks or the timing today, his grip tightening as if to prove that his desire outweighed any potential consequence.

Priya leaned back against him, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, but the professional instinct that governed her life was beginning to resurface. She reached up, her fingers gently brushing away his hands from her chest, though she didn't push him away entirely. She whispered back that he could play over it some other day, her voice regaining the smooth, controlled tone of the woman who managed multi million dollar projects. The suggestion was a promise, a way to tether his hunger to a future date, ensuring that the tension remained taut between them.

The drive home was a blur of city lights and humming tires. She felt the drying residue of Kavin’s release clinging to her skin, a secret weight that shifted every time she pressed the brake. While the mental calculation of her cycle had provided a temporary sense of security, the visceral memory of the flood inside her sparked a lingering anxiety. The thought of Mahesh, with his quiet habits and gentle nature, flashed through her mind. He was a safe harbor, but the storm Kavin provided was far more addictive, and the risk of a permanent mistake was too high to leave to chance.

She steered her car away from the main road, pulling into the neon glow of a twenty four hour pharmacy. The sterile scent of the store, a mixture of rubbing alcohol and cheap perfume, acted as a cold splash of reality. Priya walked the aisles with a practiced neutrality, her expression a mask of professional composure. When she reached the family planning section, her eyes locked onto the small, foil packaged I pill. She grabbed the box, her fingers trembling slightly, and headed for the checkout counter.

The transaction was swift, a mere exchange of cash and a plastic bag. As she walked back to her car, the weight of the pill in her palm felt like a confession. Despite the calculations of her cycle, the visceral memory of Kavin filling her had left a mark of uncertainty that no calendar could erase. She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror, seeing a woman who managed towering structures of glass and steel, yet felt her own foundation crumbling under the weight of a secret.

The drive back to the suburbs was a transition from the electric adrenaline of the office to the muted stillness of her domestic life. As the neon signs of the city faded into the soft glow of streetlamps, the image of Mahesh waiting for her began to surface. He was the steady hum of a well-run machine, a man of predictable rhythms and a kindness that often felt like a void. He would have asked if she had a productive day, and she would have lied with a practiced ease, her voice steady while her body still hummed with the residue of another man.]]>