[Zoz34]

Afrah pov:

Sunday morning, Afrah sat on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram reels. Her feed was full of glamorous women flaunting their sexy waists and perfect curves. She sighed, lingering on one video. Gosh, these ladies have such stunning figures, she thought, a mix of admiration and envy creeping in. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by her sister Insha, who was talking on the phone nearby. "Yeah, exactly! Vishal means bada in Hindi. It’s such a common synonym for big,” Insha said to her friend, laughing lightly.  

Afrah’s scrolling halted at the mention of his name. Her ears perked up, her mind betraying her as it wandered to him. Big, Insha had said, and Afrah’s cheeks flushed at the unintended double entendre.  


Afrah couldn’t stop herself from blushing as her sister’s words echoed in her mind. Vishal means big.She bit her lip, her cheeks heating up. That name suits him perfectly.

Her mind drifted back to the restaurant washroom, to that intense moment when she had held Vishal’s vishal cock in her delicate hand. 

Even now, the thought of it made her feel a little naughty. 

At 11 a.m., Afrah sat on the couch, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Vishal, when her ammi’s voice broke her reverie. Afrah! Where is your Abba? The gas cylinder needs to be changed, and no one is here to help!

Before Afrah could respond, a sudden commotion came from outside, pulling everyone’s attention. The three women hurried to the front door, only to see a man sprawled on the ground next to a fallen bike. A small crowd had gathered, but what caught Afrah’s attention was Vishal standing nearby, looking sharp in a casual shirt and jeans.  

Her heart skipped a beat as their eyes met. Vishal noticed her immediately, his lips curving into a smirk as he approached. “Hi,” he said casually, ignoring the curious stares from her ammi and sister. “Is this your home?”  

Afrah’s ammi furrowed her brows in confusion, glancing between her daughter and the unfamiliar man. Insha, her younger sister, looked equally puzzled, her gaze darting between them. 

Afrah cleared her throat, “Yes, this is my home,” she replied, then quickly added, “Ammi, this is my boss, Vishal Sir."

Vishal :“Actually, I’m here for a business meeting with Nabeel Faruq. I didn’t realize your house was so close by.”  

Afrah’s ammi’s expression “Oh, welcome, beta,” she said politely, though her tone carried an undertone of curiosity.  

  

Vishal : “I hope I’m not intruding. I just happened to notice the commotion and thought I’d check if everything was alright,” 



Afrah’s ammi (zubeda):“Beta, sit down. I’ll make some chai,” but then stopped abruptly, glancing toward the kitchen. “Oh, the gas cylinder needs to be changed first… Afrah! Call your Abba or someone.”  

 Vishal :“Aunty, please don’t worry. Let me help. It’s no trouble at all.”  

Zubeda:“Beta, you’re a guest. How can I trouble you with such work?”  

Vishal : “Aunty, where I come from, we believe helping is a sign of respect, not trouble. And besides I’m quite good at fixing things—cylinders included.”  

Afrah :“Alright then, if you insist.”  

Vishal : “Aunty, I have to say, Afrah is always singing praises of your cooking at the office. She says no one makes biryani quite like you.”  

  

Zubeda demeanor softened further, visibly pleased by the compliment. “She said that?” Her voice held a hint of pride.  

Vishal:“Oh, absolutely,I’ve even been told your chai is legendary. I think her exact words were Ammi’s chai can fix anything—bad days, long hours, you name it.’

Zubeda finally broke into a laugh, her earlier stiffness fading. “This girl never says such things to my face,”  

 Vishal : “There you go, Aunty. All set!” he fixed the cylinder.

Zubeda: “Thank you, beta. You’ve been a great help. I’ll get the chai ready now—Afrah, bring some snacks for your boss.”  

As Vishal stepped out of the kitchen, he glanced at Afrah, giving her a subtle smirk. She glared at him, knowing exactly what he was doing.


As Vishal settled into the drawing room, Afrah’s ammi joined him, wiping her hands on her dupatta. She took a seat opposite him while Afrah reluctantly sat beside her, still flustered by the morning’s events. 

Zubeda:“So, beta,you said you’re Afrah’s boss? Where are you from?”  

Vishal :“Yes, Aunty. I work with Afrah on several projects. I’m originally from Chandigarh, but my work has brought me here. I"

Zubeda: “That’s good. Hardworking people are always blessed. And you’re so polite! Not all city boys are like this.”  

Vishal:“Thank you, Aunty. I believe respect should always come first, especially when visiting someone’s home. By the way,you have such a warm and welcoming house. It feels like a real home.”  

Zubeda:“That’s very kind of you, beta. It’s not much, but we try to keep it clean and comfortable.”  

Afrah:“Ammi, shouldn’t you be making the chai?”  

Zubeda“Afrah, you should learn to talk properly when guests are here. Beta,Afrah always speaks highly of her work. She’s very passionate about what she does, but I hope she doesn’t trouble you at the office?”  

Vishal :“Not at all, Aunty. Afrah is one of the most hardworking and dedicated people I’ve met. She’s very talented and brings great energy to the team.”  

Zubeda: That’s good to hear. A girl should be independent, but with dignity. I’ve always told her that.”  

Vishal:“Yes, and she carries herself with grace,But don’t worry, Aunty, I’ll keep an eye on her and make sure she stays focused.”  

Afrah couldn’t take it anymore. “Ammi, chai?” 

Zubeda “I’m going, I’m going. Afrah, bring some biscuits from the kitchen for your boss.”  

As her ammi left, Vishal : “Your ammi is so sweet, Afrah. I see where you get it from.”  

“Stop it,” Afrah muttered under her breath, avoiding his gaze as she fidgeted with the edge of her dupatta. 

Vishal:“I’m just saying,It’s nice to see you in your element. Very... homely.”  

Afrah shot him a glare but was saved from responding as her ammi returned with a tray of steaming chai. As she handed Vishal his cup, she said, “Beta, you should visit more often. It’s nice having polite, well-mannered people around.”  

“Oh, I’d love to, Aunty,But only if Afrah doesn’t mind.”  


Zubeda:“Why would she mind? You’re always welcome here.”  

Afrah could only groan internally, knowing Vishal had perfectly maneuvered the situation in his favor once again.


 Vishal : "Thank you for the chai, Aunty. It was wonderful meeting you."  

Zubeda:"Beta, you're welcome anytime. Do visit again."  

Afrah walked him to the door, trying to maintain her composure after the awkward conversation about her marriage. But as they reached the threshold, Vishal leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "By the way, Afrah thanks for having me"  

Before she could respond, his hand discreetly brushed over her backside, giving her ass a firm, deliberate squeeze. Her body stiffened, a mix of shock and anger flaring in her eyes as she turned to glare at him. 

Vishal straightened, his smirk maddeningly calm. "See you at the office," he said casually before stepping out.  

Afrah stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing, unsure whether she was more furious or flustered. 

Zubedacalled from the drawing room, "Afrah, what are you doing? Come help me clean up!"  

"Coming, Ammi!" she called back, her voice shaky as she tried to steady herself. But as she returned to the room, her mind couldn’t shake the lingering sensation of his audacity—and the maddening smirk he wore as he left.




After lunch she text Vishal.



Afrah:Aren’t you quite the charmer?  
Vishal:Guilty as charged.  

Afrah: By the way, my Ammi hardly likes strangers, but you managed to win her over.  

Vishal: I have my ways. Besides, I did help her with the cylinder.  

Afrah: Oh, of course, thank you for that.  

Vishal: Only a thank you? That cylinder was heavy, you know.  

Afrah: But you’re muscular, you can handle it.  

Vishal: Ah, so you’ve been paying attention to that. Still, it was hard work. A little goodwill gesture wouldn’t hurt.  

Afrah smiled to herself, a naughty thought creeping into her mind as her fingers hovered over the screen.  

Afrah: Wait for a few minutes. I’ll send you something.  

Her heart raced as she hit send, her mind already teasing her with ideas.



Afrah sat nervously, staring at her phone screen. She had spent two hours perfecting the video, making sure it was just the right balance of playful and seductive. Her fingers hovered over the send button, her lips biting down in anticipation.

She hesitated for a moment, but then with a deep breath, she tapped the button and sent it off.

As soon as it was sent, a rush of heat spread through her, and she hoped, more than anything, that he would like it.


Vishal pov:

It was hectic day but it was nice teasing Afrah he thought.Vishal leaned back in his car seat, his fingers tightening around his phone as a message pinged from Afrah. The screen flickered to life, and there she was, bathed in soft, intimate light. Her face came into focus first, her lips slightly parted, then her teeth bit her lower lips.

Before he could fully absorb the moment, the camera shifted. It jerked downward, fluidly following the path of her hand as it traced a teasing line along the curve of her waist.Her fingers lingered just beneath the fabric of her clothes.


The camera zoomed in, locking on her waist as she moved. Afrah’s left hand slid down her side, fingers lightly tracing the soft fabric that hugged her body. Slowly, her waist began to sway, her hips rolling side to side in a tantalizing, deliberate rhythm. The fabric of her outfit hugged her body like a second skin, stretching taut over her luscious curves with every sultry shift. The soft material shimmered under the light, accentuating the deep dip of her waist and the full, inviting curve of her hips as they moved in perfect harmony. Each roll of her hips created a mesmerizing ripple, her figure arching and flowing like a work of art, every motion an intoxicating blend of grace and raw sensuality.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />


He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the video, replaying it over and over, each time sinking deeper into the intoxicating rhythm of her body. 

His fingers itched, imagining the feel of that waist beneath his touch, the smooth, warm skin that had haunted his thoughts. He could almost feel it, the way it would yield to his grip as he pulled her closer, his lips trailing a fiery path along her waist, tasting the salt of her skin. Each kiss would leave her body glistening, not from the light, but from the heat of his saliva, a wet trail of longing and need.


He couldn’t help but think that Afrah had one of the sexiest figures he’d ever seen. That waist—uff, it was intoxicating. She knew exactly what she was doing with it, the way it moved with a confidence that screamed she was fully aware of her power over him. Her waist was seductive, undeniably sultry—slutty in the best possible way. Now, she was sending him this—a thirst trap, no doubt. She was playing him, drawing him in deeper, making it impossible to look away, to resist.


Another video pop up in the massage box:

The video started, and Afrah appeared in a red saree adorned with delicate floral patterns, the fabric catching the light as it dbangd elegantly over her curves. She stood still for a moment, her posture straight and confident, before she raised her left hand to her head, fingers lightly brushing her hair, a subtle hint of grace in the way she moved.

As the music began, a deep, rhythmic beat filling the space, her body responded instinctively. Both her arms flickered outward in quick, fluid gestures. Her hips swayed gently in time with the music, while her waist followed suit, the fabric of her saree flowing with every motion, accentuating the delicate curves of her body.

She turned to her left, her body flowing smoothly with the beat, her hand performing the same graceful gesture as before.

With every twist of her body, her waist became more visible, the delicate fabric parting slightly as she moved, revealing the soft curve of her midriff. Her waist chain hugged her waist just tightly enough to emphasize her feminine shape, accentuating the sensual, rhythmic sway of her body, making her every step a mesmerizing display of grace and allure.


[img]<a href=[/img][img]<a href=[/img]" />

As the music swelled, her movements became fluid and deliberate. Both hands moved in perfect sync—one tracing her collarbone and sliding down her shoulder, the other following the curve of her waist. Each motion flowed seamlessly with the rhythm, a hypnotic dance of grace.


As her hand moved, the fabric of her saree shifted, parting just enough to reveal the smooth, alluring curve of her waist and the sexy contour of her navel. The soft shimmer of her waist chain caught the light, gleaming as it rested delicately around her midriff.



She twirled once, her body spinning with effortless elegance, showing her left profile.


 The movement was deliberate and seductive.As she spun, her eyes locked into the camera, a playful yet seductive gaze . 

 Her fingers slid over her hips like a slow, teasing caress, moving upward to trace the soft, exposed curve of her waist.As her fingers trailed higher, her hips rolled in a slow, fluid motion, accentuating the thick, tempting curve of her ass that swayed with each deliberate turn. The fabric of her saree clung tightly to her body, highlighting every seductive contour, while the rhythmic sway of her hips and the deep curve of her back created an intoxicating, magnetic dance.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
She swayed her elbows side to side, each movement mirroring the rhythm of her hips. Her body moved in perfect harmony, the gentle roll of her hips matching the fluid motion of her arms, 


Now, both of her arms moved in perfect harmony. Her left arm, with a graceful, fluid motion, descended to her waist, gliding over the curve of her hips as though tracing the essence of her sensuality. Meanwhile, her right arm followed a delicate path along the outline of her chest, fingers grazing the fabric of her saree, teasingly skimming the edges of her neckline, as if inviting the fabric to part with every slow, deliberate touch.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />


With a sharp, deliberate motion, she lifted her chest, swaying with the beat as her body moved in perfect rhythm with the music. Her chest rose, accentuating the fullness of her curves as she held the pose, her back arching slightly to create a silhouette that was both powerful and seductive. The movement highlighted every curve of her form, her waist pulling inward as her chest pushed outward, creating a tantalizing tension that was at 
once poised and irresistibly sexy.

---

[img]<a href=[/img]" />


Vishal was fully aroused, his body reacting instinctively to the sight of her seductive dance. Each fluid movement, each sensual sway, seemed to intensify the tension, drawing him in deeper. He couldn't tear his gaze away, the rhythm of her body igniting a desire that grew with every graceful, provocative motion.


He couldn’t shake the thought of her seductive dance, the image lingering in his mind. In the days to come, she would perform those same alluring movements before his eyes, each one more captivating and enticing than the last. The anticipation of seeing her in person, moving with such raw sensuality, stirred a deep desire within him, fueling his longing.


As he was about to compliment her, his phone buzzed with a message from Afrah: "By the way, Sri Lanka tour is on."

He paused, his mind briefly distracted. He wondered if Afrah had finally gotten permission from her ammi for the trip. 

It would be a memorable trip for both of them, he thought. The things he planned to do with her would stay etched in her memory for a lifetime. A smirk curled on his lips as the thought fueled his anticipation.



To be continued

[Zoz34]

Afrah and her Ammi strolled through the bustling mall, their steps leisurely as they explored the stores. As they passed a group of young girls and boys, Ammi’s sharp gaze fell on the girls dressed in short, fitted tops and low-waist jeans that revealed a hint of their midriffs. Her disapproving expression was unmistakable.  

Afrah remained silent, accustomed to her mother’s judgmental looks. She would never dare to dress like that in front of Ammi. At home, her wardrobe was modest, adhering to the conservative values instilled in her since childhood. But Ammi was unaware of the side of Afrah that was beginning to emerge .

In few days, she and Vishal would visit Sri Lanka. There, she wouldn’t hesitate to wear the daring outfits —the short dresses, the sleek skirts, the bold tops. She imagined how confident and beautiful she’d feel, turning heads and drawing attention. Vishal loved dressing her up in bold outfits. He made her feel sexy, confident, and free.

Ammi:"Do you need anything else for your work trip?"

Afrah : "No, we’ve got everything we need."  

Ammi :"I still don’t think women should be going on office trips. But since Vishal is going, I trust you’ll be fine. He’s such a gentleman."  

Afrah felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Ammi’s view of Vishal as a proper, responsible man couldn’t be further from the truth. "He was the one who encouraged her to try bold outfits—clothes that would surely give Ammi a heart attack if she knew. Afrah was certain that Vishal would make her wear something daring during the trip.

The Goa trip was just four days away. Vishal had been busy lately, not coming to the office, but he stayed in touch, ensuring everything was on track. Afrah was excited but little sacred things could get out of her hand.




The anticipation of the trip had kept Afrah restless . In darkness of room her Her phone buzzed , breaking her thoughts.  



Vishal: "I hope you’ve prepared for the trip."  

Afrah smirked as she typed her response.  

Afrah: "Yeah, I’ve almost packed all the formal office dresses."  

Vishal: "Oh, you’ll need more than formal dresses."  

She knew what he meant but still she wanted to play it hard.

Afrah: But it’s just an office trip.

Vishal:But we’ll do more than work there.



Afrah: "What do you mean by ‘more’?"

Vishal: "We’ll enjoy the trip… by having some fun."  

Afrah: "You have a very dirty idea of fun. I know that, you pervert."  

Vishal: "And yet, dirty fun excites you."  

She bit her lip, unsure whether to laugh or snap back.  

Afrah: "No, it doesn’t. Besides, we’re not going to do anything dirty there, okay?"  

She hoped her response sounded firm, but a small part of her wasn’t convinced.  

Vishal: "We’ll see. By the way, what ‘dirty things’ are you referring to?"  

Her breath hitched as she reread the message. Was this a trap? Did he want her to spell it out? She cursed herself for even blushing at his boldness.  
Afrah's mind wandered as she stared at her phone, replaying the boldness of Vishal’s messages. She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they clung to her like a forbidden thrill. Memories of the past slipped into her consciousness, heating her cheeks and quickening her pulse.  

She thought about the dirty things they had already done, the boundaries they had crossed. Vishal had licked her pussy—not once, but twice. The first time in his car his tongue working her into an ecstasy she hadn’t thought possible. But it was the second time that made her shudder now—the memory of him kneeling between her legs, his mouth devouring her while she struggled to keep quiet, terrified of being caught in the office.

Her thighs clenched as she recalled how she had held his bare, thick, long cock in her hand, feeling its heat and weight. The memory of its hardness against her palm sent a thrill through her, no matter how much she tried to push it away. 



Afrah: "Stop twisting my words, Vishal. Just behave on the trip, okay?" Don’t even think about trying anything there, Vishal. We’re going to behave this time."  


Vishal: I have something planned.

Afrah: Oh? What’s the plan, like on the yacht?

Vishal: Exactly, the yacht. But this time, I think you should go for something a little more... adventurous than last time. Maybe a bikini?

Afrah: I’m not wearing a bikini.

Vishal: Come on, you’d look amazing in one.

Afrah: I know you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.

Vishal: But I thought I had some... special permission. Maybe a kiss or two?

Afrah: No, you don’t.

Vishal: You’re being so harsh. But remember, you’re my pretend girlfriend. I can’t help but think about kissing your waist... and maybe even lower if you let me.

Afrah: No, you’re not getting permission this time.

Vishal: Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. You know you like when my lips find their way to your body... especially when you're already so... WET.

Afrah: You’re a pervert. Don’t you have any shame using such disgusting words?

Vishal: I’m just stating facts. You like when I touch you, and I know your body—your pussy gets wet for me.

Afrah: No, it doesn’t.

Vishal: Oh, Afrah, don’t deny it. Your wet pussy is practically begging for my lips to taste it, to clean up all that leaking wetness.

Afrah: Whatever, still not happening. You’re not getting permission to kiss me or touch me, okay? 



Vishal: Oh, deny it all you want, but I know you’re wet right now.

Afrah: No, I’m not.

Vishal: Come on, admit it. You’re touching yourself, aren’t you?

Afrah: No! You’re such a pervert.

(Suddenly, her screen flashes with Vishal’s video call)

Vishal: Pick up the call.



She covers herself with a blanket before picking up the video call, Vishal's face appearing on her screen.

Vishal: What are you hiding under the blanket?

Afrah: Nothing, just feeling cold.

Vishal: Then why are you sweating?

Afrah: ...

Vishal: You were touching yourself, weren't you? You dirty little girl.

Afrah: No.

Her hand instinctively tugged the blanket up higher, hiding more of her body, even though she knew it wouldn’t make a difference. She could feel the heat on her cheeks as she tried to steady her breath. 


Her fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. She could feel her body betraying her, reacting to his presence, his gaze. She shifted uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure whether she should push him away or give in to the heat that was building inside of her. His smirk sent a thrill through her—she hated how much she liked it. 

Afrah:I told you,I wasn’t doing anything.

Vishal:I don’t believe you. Prove it to me.



Afrah bit her lip harder, pulling the blanket tighter. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled with her decision. 

Afrah :“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” 







Vishal's POV :


Vishal:"Show me what you're hiding,"

Afrah’s fingers trembled as they slowly pulled the blanket down. Her loose top came into view, Her loose top barely contained her heavy tits, the fabric clinging to every curve like it was painted on. Her nipples poked against the thin material, hard and begging for attention, practically screaming to be sucked or pinched. Every breath she took made her chest rise and fall, the jiggle of her big, round breasts hypnotic, almost obscene in how blatantly they demanded to be noticed.

The neckline dipped low enough to tease a generous view of her cleavage, the kind that made it impossible not to imagine burying your face there, feeling the warm softness against your skin. The way the fabric stretched and shifted with her slightest movement felt like a striptease in slow motion, each shift promising more but refusing to deliver.

She might as well have been naked with the way her tits filled out the top, the fabric doing nothing to hide the mouthwatering fullness of her body. She was walking temptation, every inch of her practically begging to be devoured.

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

As she pushed the blanket down further, her top rode up, baring the smooth, creamy expanse of her waist. The sight of her exposed midriff made his cock twitch, her soft skin practically begging to be kissed, licked, and marked. Her waist tapered into a perfect curve, the gentle dip of her ribs adding to the sinfully tempting shape of her body.  

His eyes trailed lower, drinking in the way her hips flared out, the faint line of her toned stomach leading to places he wanted to explore with his tongue. The softness of her skin looked so inviting, so touchable, that it made his hands itch to grip her, pull her closer, and feel the heat of her body pressed against him.  

[img]<a href=[/img]

Every inch of her exposed flesh screamed for attention, every curve daring him to lose control. She was a walking fantasy, and the way her top teased at revealing more had his mind running wild with filthy possibilities.  

Her waist, so tantalizingly visible, curved in all the right places, the skin gleaming softly in the dim light. His eyes roamed over the small indentations of her ribs, the dip of her stomach, and the way the fabric teased the outline of her hips beneath the blanket. The way her body responded to his gaze made every inch of her feel electric, alive with desire.

But she kept the blanket tucked tightly around her lower half, hiding what he ached to see. Vishal’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice low and insistent. “Come on, Afrah… Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you. Let go.”
 He knew she wanted it as much as he did.


Slowly, Afrah’s fingers gripped the edge of the blanket resting at her waist, pulling it downward . Her other hand lingered at her lips, teeth grazing her fingertip as if to stifle a nervous smile, though the spark in her eyes betrayed her growing confidence.  

Vishal’s eyes widened as the blanket slid off completely, leaving her in nothing but her pink lace panties. The delicate fabric clung to her curves like a second skin, barely covering the sweet, forbidden treasure beneath. The panties sat low on her hips, teasing the soft swell of her mound, the lace so thin he could almost see the outline of her slit pressing against it.  

Her thighs, thick and smooth, framed the little scrap of fabric perfectly, making her look like a goddess built for sin. The sight of her in just those panties, her creamy skin glowing, was enough to make his cock throb painfully.  

His eyes lingered on the way the lace hugged her pussy, the faint damp spot at the center driving him wild. It was like her body was begging for him, silently inviting him to touch, taste, and take her. The straps of the panties rested high on her hips, accentuating the curve of her ass and making her look even more tempting.  

---

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

Vishal couldn’t tear his eyes away, his breath coming faster as filthy fantasies filled his mind. He imagined peeling those panties off with his teeth, revealing her completely, his hands gripping her thighs as she opened herself to him. She was a vision of pure lust, and he wanted nothing more than to make her scream his name as he devoured every inch of her.


Vishal:"Open your legs wide," 

Afrah hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, but her obedience was laced with anticipation. Slowly, she parted her thick, creamy thighs.

“Now,trace your fingers—slowly, seductively—along your waist and thighs.”  

Her hand, slick with her own saliva from where her lips had just been, began its slow, teasing descent. Her fingers glided over the soft swell of her chest, lingering at the curve of her collarbone before dipping lower. Her breath hitched as she trailed her touch downward, the tips of her fingers grazing the tops of her tits, her nipples pebbling from the cool air and the filthy thoughts running through her mind.  

When her hand reached her bare stomach, she paused, her slick fingers circling her navel with deliberate, sinful intent. Each slow, sensual movement left a shimmering trail of spit on her skin, catching the light and making her look like she was glistening with desire.  

Her fingers dipped lower, teasing the line of her panties, her hips shifting slightly as if her body was already begging for more. She let her hand hover there, just above the waistband, the tension building as her breathing grew heavier. Her legs parted slightly, her thighs rubbing together, the damp heat between them undeniable now. She was lost in her own touch, every movement fanning the fire burning inside her.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />


Vishal's voice dropped to a commanding whisper, firm but enticing. “Now, focus the camera on your panty,” he ordered.  

Afrah’s breath hitched, her lips trembling as she bit down on them nervously. Her eyes flickered with hesitation, a mix of shyness and defiance. She shook her head, her dark hair brushing against her bare shoulders.  

“Do it,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for refusal.  

Reluctantly, her fingers tightened around the phone. Slowly, she lowered it, the camera angling downward toward her parted thighs. The frame shifted until the delicate triangle of her pink lace panty filled the screen. The fabric was no longer just a soft, innocent pink—it was darkened, damp.

Vishal’s lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned closer to the screen, his voice dripping with mock admonishment. “So, you were lying to me? Telling me you weren’t wet? You little liar,”.

Afrah’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she let out a soft whimper, her legs shifting slightly as her vulnerability only heightened the moment.  

“You like being caught, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and smooth, each word laced with a sensual edge. “You couldn’t even hide it if you tried.”  


Vishal: “Use the phone stand holder and get back to where you were, my dirty brat.”  

Afrah swallowed hard, her fingers trembling slightly as she obeyed. Placing her phone in the stand, she adjusted it until it framed her .

Vishal: “You’ll do exactly as I say because you lied to me. And this is your punishment.”  

Her breaths came faster, her chest rising and falling as her gaze met his through the screen. There was no escaping his control.

Vishal:“Now, bring your fingers to your panty. Start rubbing it slowly. And keep your eyes on me.”  

Afrah hesitated, her lips parting as if to protest, but instead, she moved her trembling hand downward. Her fingertips brushed over the damp fabric, the sensation drawing a gasp from her lips. Her legs twitched, but she kept them open, her gaze locked on Vishal’s as he watched her every move with a predator’s intensity.  

She began to rub, her movements tentative at first, her fingers pressing gently against the wet lace. A soft moan escaped her lips, barely audible but enough to fill the silence between them. Her cheeks flushed deeper, the vulnerability of being commanded like this only amplifying the heat coursing through her.  

Vishal:“Good girl,Now let me see how well you can follow orders.”  

“vishal:Now rub your fingers in slow circles,”

Afrah obeyed, her trembling fingers moving in deliberate, torturous circles over the damp lace of her panty. Her lips parted as soft, breathy sounds escaped her, the tension building with every motion. She bit down on her lower lip, struggling to stifle her moans, but the occasional whimper still slipped past.  

A tiny bead of sweat formed on her forehead, glistening in the dim light. Another trailed down her neck, its path slow and tantalizing until it reached the curve of her cleavage, disappearing into the valley of her chest. Her body betrayed her, every movement screaming surrender, every sigh a confession.  

“Faster,” Vishal ordered, his tone sharper now, his eyes glued to her every move.  

She quickened her pace, her fingers pressing harder, but the need within her overwhelmed her restraint. Without thinking, she plunged a finger beneath the fabric, slipping it inside her heat. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her body arching slightly in response.  

Vishal:“Stop,I didn’t say you could do that.”  

Afrah froze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Her finger lingered for a moment before she pulled it out, her breath shaky. She whimpered softly, a sound of apology mixed with longing, her gaze pleading through the screen.  

Vishal:“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” 

She didn’t answer with words, only letting out another soft whimper, her lips quivering as her thighs shifted restlessly. Her silence was answer enough.  


It was a sight that had Vishal’s cock throbbing with need. Afrah, bathed in the dim, golden glow of her room, looked like a goddess of sin, her body glistening as if touched by pure lust. 

Her fingers moved against her pink lace panty, slow and deliberate, teasing both herself and the man watching her. Her thighs quivered with every stroke, the struggle between restraint and desire evident in the way they trembled, threatening to close but obediently staying open.  

Her chest rose and fell, her breasts heaving with each ragged breath, the delicate sheen of sweat glistening along her cleavage, catching the light like tiny jewels. Her lips were parted just enough to let soft, breathy moans escape, each sound heightening the enchantment of the moment.  

Her head tilted slightly, her hair falling over her shoulders like a dark curtain framing her flushed face. Her eyes, half-lidded with pleasure, flickered toward the camera, a blend of innocence and unbridled desire that left Vishal spellbound.  

---

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
"Stop," Vishal commanded.

Afrah froze, her hand halting mid-motion, though her chest still rose and fell with ragged breaths. A soft, disappointed whimper slipped from her lips, her body aching from the sudden interruption.  

“Stand up and come closer to the phone,” he ordered.  

She hesitated for only a moment before rising to her feet, her legs still trembling slightly. As she approached the phone, the camera shifted, now capturing only her thighs and the delicate pink lace of her damp panty.  

Vishal:“Remove your panty,” 



Afrah’s hands hovered over her hips, her fingers brushing the waistband. Slowly, she hooked her thumbs under the lace, as she began to slide it down her hips.  

The fabric clung to her for a moment, reluctant to let go, before it slipped down her creamy thighs, leaving her bare and vulnerable under the dim light. The panty pooled around her ankles, and she stepped out of it, her body quivering with a mix of shyness and anticipation.  

Vishal’s silence was heavy, but his gaze, though unseen, felt like it was devouring her every movement.


Afrah stood there, trembling, her wetness glistening even in the dim light, clearly visible through the phone’s camera. The sight of her slick heat, glinting like dew, was utterly captivating.  

Vishal: “You’re a bratty liar, Afrah. Look at you. Now, hop back onto your bed.”  

She hesitated for only a moment before turning, giving Vishal a full view of her round, perfectly curved ass.

As she reached the bed, she crawled up onto it slowly, her back arching naturally with each movement. Her ass lifted, forming a perfect peach shape as she balanced on her knees for a moment, the dim light catching the smooth, creamy curves of her body.  

Finally, she settled back into her earlier position, her thighs spread once more, her body quivering with anticipation as she waited for his next command. 


Vishal :“Open your legs and look at me.”  

Afrah obeyed, spreading her thighs wide once again, her eyes locking onto his through the camera. Her vulnerability, coupled with her willingness, made her even more captivating.  

Vishal:“What do you want?”

Afrah:“I… I want to touch myself,” 

Vishal:“beg me,” 

Vishal:“Can I touch myself… please?”   

Vishal:“Touch your wet pussy,” 


Without hesitation, Afrah’s hand moved between her thighs, her slick finger plunging deep into her heat. A gasp escaped her lips as she began to move, her pace quickly growing frantic, too consumed by her need.  

Vishal:“Stop,Pull out your finger.”  

Afrah obeyed, her finger glistening with her arousal as she withdrew it, trembling from the abrupt halt to her pleasure.  

Vishal:“Now, just rub your pussy,” 

Her wet, sticky finger returned to her folds, gliding over them slowly, teasing herself as her breathing grew shallow. She let out a soft whimper, her hips instinctively shifting against her touch.  

As the pleasure built, her free hand wandered upward, slipping beneath her top. Her fingers pressed against the mound of her breast, kneading it gently, her thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple. 

Vishal watched her intently, his gaze dark and unrelenting, savoring her submission and the way she followed his every command.


Afrah’s eyes fluttered closed as her sticky, glistening fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements over her slick folds. Her breathing deepened, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the teasing circles she drew over herself.  

Vishal:“Afrah What are you thinking about?”  

She didn’t respond at first, her lips parting as if to answer, but instead, a soft gasp escaped.  

He repeated, “What are you thinking about?”  

Her eyes half-opened, her gaze meeting his through the camera, hazy and filled with lust. Finally, her lips moved, her voice breathy and trembling. “You… I’m thinking about you. About your lips…” She paused, a moan slipping through as her fingers pressed down a little harder. “…on my pussy.”  

 Her hips instinctively arched upward into her touch, her moans growing louder, more unrestrained, as she gave herself over to the thought of him, her body quivering with anticipation.



Vishal:“Now imagine I’m in your roomMy head is between your thighs, my lips devouring your wet folds.”  

Afrah’s body shuddered at the vivid imagery, a sharp groan followed by a deep moan escaping her lips. Her thighs instinctively pressed together for a moment, but she quickly spread them wider again, lost in the fantasy he painted.  

Vishal:“You dirty little slut,You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Me, eating you, tasting every drop.”  

Her response was a loud, needy moan. Her free hand squeezed her breast harder, her fingers rolling her nipple as her other hand worked faster between her thighs. The wet, sticky sounds of her fingers moving over her folds filled the air, her hips bucking against her own touch.  

She was close now, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.  

Vishal;“Cum for me, baby,Cum for me, thinking about me eating your wet pussy.”  

That was all it took. Afrah’s body tensed before erupting in release. Her thighs began to tremble violently, her fingers faltering for a moment as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Her entire body shook, her moans spilling out uncontrollably as she rode the high of her climax.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

Her head tilted back, her mouth open as her chest heaved, her body still quivering as she came down from the intense peak. The image of Vishal between her thighs lingered in her mind, keeping her breathless and utterly spent.  

Sohail pov;


Sohail sat alone in his dimly lit apartment, the faint hum of the ceiling fan doing little to ease his restless thoughts. Afrah's voice still lingered in his mind, casual yet sharp, as she mentioned her upcoming Sri Lanka trip with Vishal.

Was Afrah really the pious, virtuous woman ?Or was there another side to her, one he hadn’t seen, one she had kept hidden?  

The thought stirred an old wound, one he had tried to push aside but couldn’t fully forget: those ambiguous pictures sent from an anonymous number a few weeks ago. They had appeared suddenly, like a dagger meant to pierce his trust. The photos were racy but without face, but his mind was telling him that it was Arfah's.



Sohail's eyes fixated on the picture once again, his stomach churning as he analyzed every detail for the hundredth time. The image was undeniably provocative—a woman in a white b top and ripped denim shorts, her creamy thighs glistening as the light played across her skin. The shapely curves, the seductive pose, the sizeable breasts—everything about the picture exuded sensuality.  

But was it really Afrah? The thought gnawed at him, refusing to let go. Could this be her, captured in a moment he was never meant to see? Or was it a cruel trick orchestrated by Vishal, a silent taunt to show who truly had control?  

He couldn’t shake the suspicion that this picture, sent from an anonymous number weeks ago, had a purpose beyond mere mischief. If it was Vishal’s doing, the implications were unbearable—that Vishal was mocking him, flaunting the possibility that he was intimate with the woman Sohail was planning to marry.  

Sohail had never seen a woman like this—not in person, not in his sheltered life. The sight of such raw physicality made his throat dry and his insecurities louder. He didn’t even know how to process it—was it jealousy, shame, or anger that clawed at him?  



Sohail’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions as he stared at the picture, unable to shake the conflicting thoughts racing through him. Had Afrah ever worn something so racy, so immodest? The woman he thought he knew—a modest, shy girl handpicked by his mother for their arranged marriage—was not someone he imagined baring her waist, her legs, and so much of herself in front of others.  

The idea of her dressed like this, exposing her body for other men to see, filled him with irritation. But there was another, quieter voice in the back of his mind, one he tried to suppress. It whispered how undeniably sexy she looked. That curvaceous waist, her smooth thighs, her perfectly shaped chest—he couldn’t deny the allure.  




The Dream


Sohail’s heart raced as the darkness enveloped him. He was in a strange place, unfamiliar yet vivid. The breeze carried the scent of the ocean, its rhythmic waves crashing in the background. Distant laughter and singing filled the air, blending with the sound of feet moving to a beat he couldn’t place.  

Then he saw her—Afrah. She stood under dim, flickering lights, her body swaying to the music. Her thick, dark hair framed her glowing face, and her outfit—a tight white crop top that revealed her bare waist and racy denim that was showing her ass curve. 

He froze, his breath caught in his throat as her body twirled, her curves on full display. Her tits bounced with each movement, and the playful grin on her lips made her seem carefree, untouchable.  

But then it happened. A hand—a man’s hand—gripped her waist firmly, pulling her back. It was Vishal. His fingers pressed into her smooth, fair waist like kneading dough, sinking deep into her soft flesh, leaving an imprint of warmth and need. She let out a soft, teasing laugh, her body instinctively arching into his as if she were molded to fit him perfectly.

Sohail’s heart dropped, anger flaring within him as he called her name, but his voice was drowned out by the music and laughter. He began running toward them, but the ground beneath him shifted, his steps faltering as though the earth was swallowing him whole.  

Suddenly, the scene changed. The music faded, replaced by a rhythmic, haunting sound—thap, thap, thap. In the darkness, two figures emerged.  

Afrah was bent over a bench, her shorts now at her ankles, her bare thighs exposed. Her body quivered as Vishal stood behind her, his hips moving against her in a steady rhythm. Her top was gone, and her bare breasts swayed with every thrust.  

“No!” Sohail screamed, his voice breaking as he tried to move, but he was rooted to the spot. The sound of their movements grew louder, unbearable, as Vishal’s hands gripped Afrah’s hips tighter. She moaned, her head thrown back in ecstasy, a sound that pierced Sohail’s soul.  

He screamed again, louder this time, and everything went black.  

Sohail woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. He sat upright, gasping for air as his mind struggled to separate the nightmare from reality.  

The images were so vivid, so real, that his hands trembled as he wiped his face. His stomach churned, and he clenched his fists, unable to rid himself of the rage and jealousy the dream had stirred.  

Was this his mind playing tricks, or was it a premonition of the truth? He couldn’t sit idle anymore. This torment wouldn’t leave him until he found out the reality. He had to follow them to Sri Lanka—he needed to know, no matter the cost.


His trust in Afrah wavered, but his need for answers burned brighter. He couldn’t leave this to chance or assumption. If the Sri Lanka trip was the key to uncovering the truth, he had to act.  

Sohail made up his mind. He would follow them to Sri Lanka, keeping his presence hidden, and watch their every move. He needed to see with his own eyes whether Afrah was the modest woman he had envisioned her to be—or if she was living a double life, indulging in her desires with another 
man.  

Grabbing his phone, he began to book his ticket.

[Zoz34]

Update coming tomorrow

[Zoz34]

<a href="https://ibb.co/zffMyT6"><img src="https://i.ibb.co/GPP6K4H/GIF-20250112-224151-379.gif" alt="GIF-20250112-224151-379" border="0"></a>


As they stepped out of the hotel, Menand even some womencouldn’t help but stare. Their eyes roamed over her long legs, lingering on the curve of her ass that peeked out from the scandalously short denim. Her breasts, perfectly framed by the tight pink top, drew greedy stares, while her toned midriff and delicate navel seemed to invite fantasies of wandering lips.  

Afrah felt a mix of emotions—shy under the relentless gazes but undeniably sexy. The way people ogled her body made her pulse quicken, a forbidden thrill coursing through her veins. Though she felt exposed, she also felt powerful, knowing she was turning heads and stealing breaths. It was daring, it was bold, and she couldn’t deny—she loved the way Vishal’s choices had made her the center of attention[img]<a href=[/img]

As the night wore on and they found themselves seated at a cozy beach restaurant, her attention shifted. The mellow background music added to the intimacy of the moment, but Afrah’s focus kept drifting to Vishal. His eyes were fixed on her—her bare thigh, the curve of her waist, the slight dip of her navel revealed by the pink top. She could feel his gaze.

Afrah :"Stop looking like that."

Vishal: “What?” 

Afrah:“I know what you’re looking at,” 

Vishal: “I can’t help it,You look so sexy, like smooth butter. I can’t resist.” 

She didn’t know whether to blush or laugh, but one thing was clear: she was enjoying every moment of this flirtatious dance.


Vishal: "You know, the way your shorts hug your body, it’s like they’re made for my eyes only."

Afrah: "Stop staring, Vishal. You’re making me feel uncomfortable.'

Vishal: "Can’t help it. That smooth thigh of yours is just begging to be touched."

Afrah: "You’re so shameless."

---

Vishal: "Oh, I’m just admiring the view. Your waist, your curves... it’s hard not to stare."




Afrah: "You really can't stop staring, can you?"

Vishal: "How could I not? The way your curves fit those shorts, it’s like they’re made to showcase every inch of you. Especially your ass... it’s so fucking perfect, the way it moves."

Afrah: "Vishal, please, not that word..."

Vishal: "Why? It’s the truth. That round, smooth ass of yours looks like it’s begging for attention. It’s the first thing I noticed when we were walking. It’s... irresistible."

Afrah: "I don’t like you talking like that."

Vishal: "But it’s so damn filthy in the best way,Every step you take makes that ass jiggle perfectly left right.The way your waist dips and moves? Fuck, it’s obscene—racy as hell—and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t loving every second of it.” 

Afrah: "You’re unbelievable, Vishal. Honestly."  

Vishal: "What? It’s not like I haven’t seen you before… you know, without much on."  

Afrah: "Stop saying things like that!"  

She took a sip from her drink , the alcohol was slowly beginning to hit


Vishal: "Why should I? It’s true. You look stunning, especially when there’s nothing hiding that gorgeous juicy ass of yours."  

Afrah: "Vishal, stop. That’s so inappropriate."  

Vishal: "Inappropriate? Maybe. But you can’t blame me for appreciating perfection. Though, I’ll admit… I haven’t had the chance to see everything. Not yet, anyway."  




Afrah felt his gaze drop briefly to her top, lingering on the soft curve of her breasts, making her heart race.


Afrah: "You’re impossible! I can’t reason with you." 

Afrah bit her lip unconsciously, her hand grazing her neck as she felt a mix of shyness and thrill. The attention she was getting—not just from Vishal but from everyone around—made her pulse quicken. She caught a few lingering gazes from strangers, which only heightened her awareness of her body in the daring outfit.  

Vishal said, "Look at the woman at 9 o’clock."  

Afrah turned slightly, her eyes landing on a stunning woman in a tiny bikini top and shorts. 

Vishal smirked. "Even women can’t stop looking at you."  

Afrah’s eyes roamed over the woman, unable to look away. Her dusky, chocolate skin glistened under the dim lights, every inch of her toned body screaming seduction. Those thicc curves—so full. She was undeniably sexy, and Afrah couldn’t help but admire her too.  

Vishal said, "She’s mesmerized by you."  

Afrah sipped her drink, her eyes flickering back to the woman, who now the woman picked up an olive from her glass and slid it between her lips.

Vishal :"I bet she’s thinking about your lips instead of the olive."  

Afrah blushed :"You’re impossible."


The alcohol was starting to kick in, her senses buzzing as Vishal leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her neck, his hand resting casually but firmly on her shoulder.  

Vishal said, "Imagine her lips on yours. The way she’s looking at you... she’d devour you, Afrah. Eat you out like you’re a dessert."  

Afrah’s cheeks burned. She had never thought of a woman like that. Never considered that a woman might be attracted to her—and that she might secretly like it. She blamed Vishal for planting the thought in her head.  

Vishal: "Look at her lips."  

Her mind betrayed her. For a brief moment, she imagined the woman kissing her, those full lips exploring her body, the sensation making her shiver.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Vishal:"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?"  

Afrah :"No, I’m not!"Stop projecting your dirty fantasies, you pervert."  

She slapped his shoulder playfully, trying to hide her embarrassment.  

Vishal:"It would be quite the visual, though. You two kissing each other without any clothes on"

Afrah:"Stop it, Vishal!"  

Vishal:"Just saying… a man can dream."  

Vishal pov:

Vishal was again about to tease her,his eyes were on the dusky woman , as Afraj suddenly got up from her seat, She didn’t even glance back as she sauntered toward the dance floor, her hips swaying .It was unexpected.

The music hit, and her body began to move, sinuous and deliberate. Her hands slid down to her waist, fingertips grazing the bare skin just above her shorts, her expression dripping with seduction. She tilted her head back slightly, lips parted, as if she was lost in the rhythm.  

His eyes were glued to her thighs—long, silky, and trembling with every bass drop. The skimpy shorts were barely hanging on, teasing just enough to make his mouth water. Each roll of her hips sent a tantalizing jiggle through the soft curve of her ass, the plump flesh peeking out like an invitation. She was putting on a show, every move dripping with filth and temptation, and the smug glint in her eye told him she knew exactly what she was doing—and loving every second of it.

Vishal’s breath hitched as she ran her hands over her body, tracing the curve of her hips and sliding dangerously close to her cleavage. She was pure temptation, and he couldn’t stop imagining all the things he wanted to do to her right there on that dance floor.

She swayed her way back to the chair, every step a calculated tease. Her hips rolled with a sultry rhythm, and her eyes held a playful glint, as if she knew exactly the effect she had on him and everyone else.  

When she reached the chair, she lowered herself slowly, her movements deliberately unhurried. She crossed her legs, her denim shorts riding up slightly. 



Afrah pov:
As they head back to their suite 

Afrah pushed open the door to the suite, her heart still racing from the evening’s events. The suite had three rooms, but her focus wasn’t on the luxury—it was on the way her body buzzed with excitement and mischief. She couldn’t believe she had danced so provocatively in public, her moves bold and sultry, especially in front of Vishal. It wasn’t like her at all. Or at least, she thought it wasn’t. But something about his honeyed, naughty words had made her lose herself.  

“Good night,” she said softly, making her way toward her room. But just as she reached for the door, Vishal was behind her. Before she could react, he pinned her against the wall, her boobs pressing against the smooth surface , crushed as if it will spill out.

His hands found her waist, he leaned in. “You were teasing all those guys at the bar with that slutty body of yours… and teasing me all night. Then you were just going to go to bed, weren’t you?”  

Her breath hitched, and her face flushed as she tried to deny it. “I wasn’t teasing…” she whispered, her voice shaky.  

The sharp sting of his hand landing on her ass made her gasp, the sound halfway between a moan and a shocked yelp. Her knees wobbled slightly, and she bit her lip, mortified by her own reaction.  

“You weren’t teasing?” he murmured, “Then what would you call that little show, Afrah?”

Afrah: “Aahh… I-I was just dancing,” she stammered, her voice shaky as her breath hitched.  

Vishal leaned in closer, his grip tightening on her smooth bare waist. “No,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing. “You were showing off that slutty ass of yours.”  

Before she could protest, another sharp smack landed on her ass, the sound echoing in the room.  

“Ahhh…” The sound escaped her lips involuntarily, her body betraying her as her nipples hardened against the fabric of her top. Her chest, pressed firmly against the wall, emphasized the curve of her breasts, which now felt heavy with arousal.  

Vishal: “ you like attention , you like acting slutty ,You like showing slutty body of yours,” he said, his hand lingering for a moment before delivering another firm slap.  

Afrah whimpered softly, her thighs pressing together instinctively. She couldn’t understand it—how something as simple as a spanking could make her body react this way. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs, and it both mortified and thrilled her.
---------

Then,Afrah felt the hard pressure of his bulge pressing against her barely-covered ass, the heat of his arousal seeping through the denim. Her breath hitched, her resolve wavering. She needed to stop this before it spiraled completely out of control.

Vishal leaned in, his voice a low growl “Look what you’ve done to me,” he said, his hips pressing forward slightly.  

Without thinking, her ass began to grind against him, the friction making her moan softly. She bit her lip, mortified by how her body betrayed her.  

Vishal:“You caused this,. “You dirty little tease. Do you think I should let you get away with it? Or should you be punished?”  

Her mind raced, flooded with sinful thoughts she couldn’t control. The dampness between her thighs was undeniable now, her body craving more even as her mind screamed to pull away.  


 Vishal pressed his bulge against her again, his hands steadying her by her waist. 
Vishal: What to do with it, it demands it's release.

Afrah turned around abruptly, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes darted to his face and then down to the huge, unmistakable tent in his pants. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat through her, and her knees felt weak.  

But no. She couldn’t let this go further. She couldn’t let him have her, not like this. Yet, as her resolve weakened, she couldn’t deny the yearning in her body—or the way it screamed at her to submit.



Vishal pov:


Vishal watched her, her wide doe eyes filled with hesitation and something else—desire. She was contemplating her next move, her breaths coming in soft, shaky waves.  

Afrah :“I’ll take care of it… but you can’t touch me.”  

His cock throbbed painfully against the confines of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to grab her thick, slutty ass, leave his handprints there, and take her right against the wall. But he held back, reigning in his primal urges. No, not yet. He wanted her to lead, to see how far she’d go, and savor every moment.  

Still, he couldn’t resist teasing her further. Leaning in slightly, he smirked and said, “It better be good, sweetheart. Or I’ll make sure you’re punished for the rest of the trip.”  

His voice was low, dangerous, and full of promise, his eyes fixed on her every movement, waiting to see how she’d unravel for him.

With a mixture of fear and excitement flickering in her eyes, Afrah took a deep breath and said, "Open your shirt."  

Vishal raised an eyebrow but complied, peeling off his shirt to reveal his chiseled chest and defined abs. He caught the way her gaze lingered, the subtle hitch in her breath betraying her appreciation.  

“Your pants too,” she said softly, her voice more daring this time.  

A smirk tugged at his lips as he asked, “What’s on your mind?”  

She met his eyes, a teasing glint now replacing her earlier hesitation. “You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?”  

Intrigued and aroused, Vishal slowly unfastened his trousers, letting them fall to the floor. Standing there in just his underwear, he n
oticed how her initial fear had transformed into something bolder, more excited.  

Afrah pov:


There’s something intoxicating about making a grown man obey your every word, Afrah thought, her breath catching as Vishal’s fingers moved to unbutton and unzip his pants. The slow, deliberate motion made her heart race, a mix of excitement and nerves coiling tight in her stomach.  

When the pants slid down, her gaze dropped instinctively. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of the contour of his cock—thick, prominent, stretching the fabric of his boxer briefs. It was impossible not to stare, her mind betraying her as it imagined what lay beneath.  

"God, I’m struggling hard,"she admitted to herself, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks and between her thighs. "Right now, all I want to do is reach for him, tear those last scraps of fabric away, and let my hands—and maybe more—discover every inch of him." 

But no. She wouldn’t. Not yet. She bit her lip, her fingers brushing against her own trembling hands as she steadied herself. She was going to take her time, savor the control, and make him wait—make him want it even more.  



“Happy?” Vishal asks her with his cocky smile, and she look at him with one cocked eyebrow and a devilish grin. 
Afrah: you have no idea.

She pointed towards his underwear.

Sliding his hands down, Vishal curled his fingers around the waistband of his boxer briefs. Moving deliberately slow, he pushed them down inch by inch until, with a snap, his cock sprang free. Thick and proud, it stood at full attention, and Afrah’s breath hitched as her eyes locked on him. She bit her lower lip hard, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to reach out, grab that throbbing cock, feel against her palm ,play with it.

“Perfect,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but loaded with heat. Sitting up on the couch, her gaze shamelessly roamed over his naked form. Her fingers itched to feel him again in her palm, to trace every inch of that powerful length. The sight of him, fully exposed while she remained fully clothed, sent a delicious shiver through her.  

“Now what?” Vishal asked, his voice strained. “Do you just want me to stand here like this?” She could see the tension in his body, the restraint it took for him not to pin her down and take her. But she wasn’t going to let him. Not yet.  

“What if I do?” she teased, her chuckle soft but full of mischief. She leaned back against the couch, extending her legs provocatively and resting her heels on the edge of the mattress. His eyes immediately dropped to the space between her thighs, dark and hungry, as though he was mentally tearing her shorts apart.  

With a wicked glint in her eye, she slowly unbuttoned her denim shorts, the sound of the pop loud in the quiet tension between them. She didn’t remove them, though. Instead, her fingers hovered just above the waistband, lightly tracing the delicate skin between her navel and the undone fabric. Her teasing touch made her intentions unmistakable, her eyes locked on his.  

Vishal’s jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. She had him exactly where she wanted him—waiting, aching, and completely at her mercy.


“Now,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and daring. Her hand slid over the curve of her top, tracing her body with a sensuality she never knew she possessed. “I want you to stroke yourself.”  

The boldness of her request sent a rush of heat to her cheeks, and for a brief moment, she wondered if she’d lost her mind. This felt like something straight out of one of the steamy erotic books she’d devoured in secret. Yet here she was, not just imagining it, but living it, bringing those forbidden words to life.  

Her fingers hesitated at the hem of her top, lifting it just enough to expose the smooth expanse of her waist. The soft glow of her skin seemed to catch his eye, and she didn’t miss the way his breath hitched. Slowly, her hand slid upward, teasing the curve of her breast but stopping just shy of revealing more. Her other hand grazed the swell of her chest over the fabric.

Vishal’s eyes widened, darkening with lust as he watched her fingers squeeze gently over her top. He looked as though he was teetering on the edge of control, and before she could even process the effect she had on him, his hand moved to his cock. He began stroking himself, the motion slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on her every movement.  

She couldn’t look away. Her eyes followed the rhythmic motion of his hand, utterly captivated. The raw masculinity of him, paired with the intimate vulnerability of the act, left her mesmerized. She barely blinked, her breath shallow as the sight of him stroking himself left her pulse racing and her thoughts spinning wildly.  

It is so big ,she thought but didn't express her eyes were glued to his foreskin sliding in and out of his bobublous cock head.


She leaned back slightly, her movements slow and deliberate, raising her legs just enough to drag her shorts down her thighs. The fabric slid off inch by inch, revealing the delicate lace of her panties that clung to her, teasingly sheer. She could feel the weight of Vishal’s gaze, his hunger evident in every taut line of his body.  

His hand never stopped its steady rhythm on his cock, the long, thick length glistening as he stroked himself, his breathing heavy and uneven. His eyes were glued to her thighs, tracing the curve of her skin up to the lace barrier of her panties.  

Afrah bit her lip, meeting his gaze, her own arousal heightened by the raw need she saw in his eyes. Her hands roamed over her panties, teasingly brushing against herself, her body betraying her restraint. She could feel how wet she was, the thin fabric doing little to hide it.  

Vishal’s voice broke through, rough and full of desperation. "Don’t tease, Afrah. Remove it."  

The command in his tone sent a thrill through her, his desperation only fueling her excitement. She knew he was at his limit, his need for her almost unbearable, but she wasn’t done playing with the tension she had built.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />


She arched her back against the couch, her body curving like a taut bow, and let her fingers trail down between her thighs. The lace of her panties barely concealed her as her fingers found her clit, circling it with slow, deliberate pressure. Her breathing quickened as sparks of electricity coursed through her, each touch sending waves of pleasure rippling through her body.  

Her two fingers danced over her swollen bud, drawing out soft moans that she couldn't suppress. Her skin flushed with heat, every nerve ending alive and humming. She glanced up at Vishal, his jaw tight, his eyes dark and fixated on her every move.  

His hand moved faster now, stroking his hard, glistening cock with a rhythm that matched the rise and fall of her hips. His gaze, locked on the sight of her pleasuring herself, was wild with desire, his lips slightly parted as if trying to catch his breath.  

She couldn't look away, mesmerized by the raw hunger in his eyes and the hypnotic motion of his hand. There was something wickedly intoxicating about watching him pleasure himself, knowing it was because of her.  

She slid two fingers into her dripping pussy, the slick heat welcoming her touch as her sticky arousal coated her fingers instantly. Slowly, she began to move them in and out, the wet, lewd sounds of her desire filling the room. Her eyes stayed locked on him, watching every stroke of his hand as he pleasured himself, her own movements matching his rhythm. The obscene squelch of her fingers plunging deeper only made the moment more electric, her breath hitching with every glide. She was lost in the moment, a filthy symphony of need playing between them..



“You like that?” she asks him, and, taking her fingers off her clit, she brings them to her mouth. Parting her lips, she slides them inside her mouth and sucks on them, wetting them. She takes them back down to her pussy, but this time she simply ignores her clit. She presses her index finger on the crevice between her inner lips and then slips it inside her pussy, curling it upward and only stopping when her fingertip is pressed tight against her G-spot. She bites hard on her lower lip as she feels a maddening pressure start to build inside of her, and she does it so hard that she wouldn’t be surprised if she started tasting blood anytime soon. 
[img]<a href=[/img]" />
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Vishal breathes out, and he starts stroking himself so fast that she has no idea how long it’s going to take him. She can already see pre-cum glistening on the tip of his cock. 


“Isn’t it…?” she whispers, sliding one more finger inside her wet and warm pussy. Flicking her wrist, she starts fingering herself, building up a slow and gentle rhythm as she hears both their breaths growing more urgent and ragged.  

Vishal groans, flicking his wrist so hard that the motion of his hand has become a blur. “Keep on stroking that big cock for me,” she groan , a moan bubbling up to her lips as she takes her free hand to her clit and starts rubbing it again. Working on her clit and G-spot at the same time, she feels her muscles start to tense up, and she knows that she’s already dangling over the edge. Just one slight push and she’ll tumble down into pleasure’s abyss.  

 Sliding the third finger inside her, she feels her pussy stretching to accommodate her, and that’s when the orgasm hits. For the first time since Vishal started stroking himself, she closes her eyes and throws herself back onto the mattress, pressing her legs together and trapping her fingers inside her pussy. “Oh God,” she moans, ecstasy stinging every inch of her body like an angry wasp. Sliding her fingers off her pussy, she grabs at the sheets covering the mattress and bunches them up as her muscles spasm and twitch, all kinds of wicked thoughts tap-dancing inside her skull.  


Afrah opened her eyes, her gaze locking on Vishal. His hand moved with relentless speed, his cock glistening as his breath came in short, ragged gasps. His dark eyes were clouded with lust, his muscular frame taut with restrained desire. The sight of him, so lost in pleasure, sent another tingling wave of arousal coursing through her.  

“Come closer,” she whispered, her voice soft yet commanding.  

Vishal hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, his body tense with anticipation.  

“Just stand there. You can’t touch me, okay?” she added, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.  

He groaned in frustration, his muscles flexing as he fought the urge to disobey her.  

Afrah bit her lip, her own desire building as she reached for the hem of her top. Slowly, she pulled it upward, freeing one of her large, round breasts from its confines. It jiggled slightly as it came into view, her skin smooth and inviting, her brown nipple hardened from arousal. She glanced up at Vishal, watching his jaw tighten as he stared at her.  

With one hand, she squeezed the soft mound, her fingers sinking into the warm flesh.  

And then it happened.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Vishal groaned deeply, his body stiffening as a thick, hot splash of his release shot out, spilling across her stomach. It was so much—thick, white, and impossibly warm as it pooled on her skin. He released again, two more powerful spurts dripping over her, leaving trails that glistened in the dim light.  

It was dirty. It was raw.  

And it was enough.  

Afrah’s body tensed, a sudden, uncontrollable climax crashing over her without even needing to touch her clit. Her legs shook, her back arching slightly as the warm mess on her stomach only heightened the intensity of her release.
 Her breaths came fast, her heart pounding as she let herself be completely consumed by the moment.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

[Zoz34]

Afrah pov:

Afrah sat up slowly, the early morning light casting a soft glow across the room. Her heart raced as she glanced at Vishal, still fast asleep on the couch. The blanket that had barely covered him had slipped off, leaving his naked body in full view. Her gaze lingered, unable to stop herself from recalling the events of the night before.

She had never imagined herself being so bold, so commanding. It thrilled her to think about how she had taken control, exploring her own desires while coaxing Vishal to the edge of his. 

Her fingers traced her navel absentmindedly, her skin still warm from the memory of his release hours ago. She bit her lip, a faint taste of him lingering on her mind like a forbidden indulgence. After he had spilled his seed across her stomach, he'd fallen asleep on the couch, leaving her alone in the quiet aftermath. 

She remained in bed, her thoughts a swirl of curiosity and desire as her fingers reluctantly dipped into the remnants on her skin. Bringing them to her lips, she hesitated for only a moment before tasting him. She hadn't expected to enjoy it, but as the sensation unfolded, she found herself savoring every bit, devouring it with an intensity that surprised even her.
[img]<a href=[/img]" />

She had never done anything like that before, but the curiosity had been overwhelming. It was strange, intense, and undeniably naughty.


Afrah tiptoed toward the couch, unable to resist one last look at him. Vishal's face was peaceful, his strong features softened in sleep. She felt a strange sense of power and vulnerability all at once. He had surrendered to her in a way she hadn't expected, and it made her feel alive.




Afrah stepped out of the shower only in towel . She saw Vishal awake, sitting up on the couch, still completely naked. His smirk was undeniable, his hand lazily resting on his thigh, fingers teasingly grazing his fully erect cock.

“Good morning, Afrah,” he said.

Afrah:“You’re such a pervert, Vishal. Wear some clothes, for God’s sake, and go to your room!”  

Vishal :“You didn’t seem to mind last night. Or earlier, when you couldn’t take your eyes off me.” 

Afrah:“Shut up,”
 She quickly looked away, her grip tightening on the towel around her. “Don’t flatter yourself. Just… go!”  

He stood up slowly, stretching as if to emphasize his body, his smirk deepening as he caught her stealing another glance. “You’re staring again, Afrah. Are you sure you want me to leave?”  

Her breath hitched as he took a step toward her, the tension thick in the room. “Vishal…” she warned, though her voice was softer now.  

He leaned and Said “Relax. I’m just grabbing my clothes.”  

Vishal: I’ll see you later.”  

Idiot,” she muttered .




Sohail pov:

His flight had to land in Hyderabad due to bad weather.

Sohail slumped into one of the worn-out chairs in the airport waiting room, his mind still consumed by the thought of Afrah. Was she really having an affair? The thought gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He had to find out, no matter what. The detour to Hyderabad was frustrating, but he had no choice but to wait for the weather to clear.

As he absentmindedly scanned the room, his eyes suddenly froze. There, just a few feet away, was a face he hadn’t seen in years. Hiba. His heart skipped a beat. He was seeing her after so many since college where she was his crush and friend.Dressed in a modest green salwar suit with a dupatta dbangd delicately over her head, she looked every bit the perfect wife and mother. But her figure had filled out over the years, and her curves were full. Her once slim frame had matured into a voluptuous, that made her even more captivating
[img]<a href=[/img]" />

For a moment, he felt a rush of nostalgia, the memories of his college days flooding back. But then, darker thoughts crept in. He remembered vividly how his perception of her had changed back then. She had been the charming, innocent beauty every guy admired, including him. But that image shattered the day he stumbled upon her secret.

The memory was seared into his mind. The abandoned college building, the muffled sounds, and the sight of her, pinned between two men, her moans echoing in the empty hall. It had been a shocking, almost surreal moment for him—a mix of betrayal, fascination, and disgust. She had hidden it so well, her perfect facade never slipping. Even now, as he looked at her with her husband and children, he wondered if her family knew the truth. Did her husband have any idea what his wife had done back in college? Or had she buried her past so deeply that even he, who once admired her, had only stumbled upon it by accident?

Hiba laughed softly, leaning down to adjust her youngest child’s jacket, the picture of maternal affection. Her husband, an average-looking, smiled at her warmly. They looked like a happy family. But Sohail couldn’t shake the thought—beneath that perfect exterior, was she still the same woman he had seen that day?

He felt a strange mix of emotions—jealousy, resentment, and an inexplicable attraction. Hiba had been his college crush, the one he had dreamed about. And yet, the image of her from that abandoned building was burned into his mind, tainting every memory he had of her.

Sohail tore his eyes away, his jaw tightening. He didn’t know why he cared. His focus was supposed to be on Afrah, not on a ghost from his past. But as much as he tried, he couldn’t stop himself from rembering the incident.

In college timethe dark past)


He was searching for her when got info that she was last seen near the abandoned building.

In the building:

Sohail leaned against the wall, his breath hitching as he tried to process the scene unfolding before his eyes. His chest tightened with disbelief, betrayal, and something darker—a raw, primal reaction he couldn't control. He had come to this abandoned building looking for Hiba, fueled by hope and the thought of finally confessing his feelings for her. Instead, he was greeted by this—an image that would forever scar him.

Through the narrow crack in the door, he could see her clearly. Hiba, the woman he had secretly adored, stood there, her top discarded, her bare, perky breasts exposed for all to see. She looked nothing like the sweet, innocent girl he had idealized. 

His hands trembled, his mind screaming at him to look away, but his body betrayed him. He couldn’t tear his eyes off her. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, yet his body reacted in ways he couldn't control. His pants grew uncomfortably tight, and he cursed himself for it. How could he feel this way when his heart was breaking?  

Then Rajveer stepped into view. Sohail recognized him instantly, a cocky, popular guy from their college who always seemed to have women around him. Rajveer approached Hiba with ease, his hands sliding over her bare skin as if she belonged to him. He cupped her breasts, kneading them, and pressed his lips against hers in a heated kiss.  

Sohail felt his stomach churn, a mix of jealousy and disgust rising within him. How could she let him do this? How could she allow herself to be so... exposed? He wanted to barge into the room, to pull her away, to demand answers. But his feet felt rooted to the spot, his body frozen with shock.  

Just as he thought it couldn’t get any worse, another man entered the scene. This one came up behind Hiba, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. His hands joined Rajveer's, both men now groping her, playing with her boobs ,the woman he was in love with . 

They were engaged in intense make out. I could hear their tongue sucking each other's even from outside the room. Hiba's hands were rested on Rajveer's shoulder and his hands were roaming freely on her boobs 


Hiba let out a muffled moan, her lips parted slightly as she leaned into their touch. Sohail's heart shattered into a million pieces. The woman he had loved, the woman he had placed on a pedestal, was willingly surrendering herself to not one but two men.  

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to suppress the storm of emotions raging inside him. Anger, pain, arousal, and disbelief all swirled together, leaving him overwhelmed and powerless.  


Sohail’s mind screamed at him to leave, to turn around and walk away, but his body wouldn’t obey. He was rooted to the spot, his eyes fixated on the scene through the crack in the door. Every rational thought was drowned out by the overwhelming cocktail of emotions coursing through him—rage, jealousy, disgust, and an uncontrollable, shameful arousal.

He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms as he watched. “Storm in there, stop this,” a voice in his head urged. But another voice, darker and more pragmatic, stopped him. What would he gain by barging in? Confronting them would only expose him as a desperate fool, and there were two of them. He would likely end up beaten and humiliated. The thought made his stomach churn, but it didn’t help him look away.  

His breath hitched as Rajveer’s voice broke through the air, casual and commanding. “Take off your plazo,” Rajveer said, his tone dripping with authority.  

Hiba complied without hesitation, sliding the loose fabric down her legs, revealing her thick, creamy thighs in all their glory. Sohail swallowed hard, his throat dry as he watched her step out of the fabric, now completely naked. She stood there unashamed, her body on full display, the curves of her hips and the softness of her thighs mesmerizing even as they filled him with bitter anger.  

She knelt slowly on the ground, her movements deliberate and sensual. Sohail’s jaw clenched as the two men in front of her began to undo their pants. Their cock were big,bigger than him .He saw his crush hands reached out, each gripping a different cock, and she began to stroke them.

Sohail’s breathing grew shallow as he stared, his body betraying him once again. He hate her, to hate them, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the act. Her soft hands moved in tandem, jerking the two men off as they groaned in pleasure.  

“What the hell is wrong with you, Hiba?” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. The image of her, the girl he once loved, now on her knees for these men, shattered any lingering illusions he had about her.  

Still, he couldn’t leave. His feet felt glued to the floor as he continued to watch, each passing moment a torment he couldn’t escape. His emotions warred within him—anger at her betrayal, jealousy that she would give herself to others so freely, and an unwanted arousal that he couldn’t suppress no matter how hard he tried.  

Sohail leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to will himself to leave. But the sounds from the room—her soft moans, their grunts of pleasure—pulled him back in, compelling him to stay. Deep down, he hated himself for it, for being unable to walk away, for letting his emotions and desires consume him so completely.  


Sohail’s heart pounded in his chest, his emotions a chaotic storm of rage, heartbreak, and shameful arousal. His eyes refused to look away as he watched Hiba, his love, sink further into the depravity unfolding before him. She switched effortlessly between the two men, her mouth moving over one cock while her hand stroked the other. Her lips glistened, sticky and wet, as she pulled away, briefly catching her breath before resuming. He watched her bobbing cocks of two different men , pleasuring them with her precious lips ,the lips which he haven't even had the privilege to kiss.

Anger surged through Sohail, his jaw clenching so tightly it hurt. How could she do this? How could she let herself be used like this? Yet, despite his fury, his body betrayed him. His own cock raged in his pants, the primal side of him unable to resist the eroticism of the scene.  

Then it escalated further. Hiba stood up and bent over a nearby table, presenting herself to Rajveer. 
With one swift motion, Rajveer entered her. About one third of his cock went in. Aaaahhhhiiii.....a soft moan came out of her. Rajveer pushed some more, another few inches went in. Hiba spread her legs even further to accommodate him. Her hips flared wider. Rajveer pulled out and immediately pushed back in. This time a bit harder. Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiii... Rajveer groaned again; this time a bit louder. This went on for few minutes. With every thrust Rajveer went further in.
Her moans were suppressed as the other man came towards her mouth and stuff his cock inher mouth.
  

The room echoed with obscene sounds: the rhythmic 'thap, thap, thap' of Rajveer’s thrusts, her muffled moans, and the guttural grunts of the man in front of her.
Sohail’s hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the wall for support, his entire body tense with conflicting emotions.  

Each sound stabbed at his heart, yet the sight of her body moving in sync with the two men was intoxicating in a way he couldn’t explain. He hated it. He hated her. But he hated himself more for staying this long, for watching, for letting this moment sear itself into his mind.  

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. The betrayal, the humiliation, and the shame overwhelmed him. With a final glance at the scene—Hiba’s body shaking under Rajveer’s thrusts as she sucked the other man—Sohail turned and stormed away, his footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.  

His chest felt heavy as he made his way out of the building, each step filled with a mix of anger and despair. He didn’t stop until he was far away, the sounds and images still replaying in his mind like a cruel, unending loop.


Sohail snapped back to reality, the noisy bustle of the airport flooding his senses as he watched Hiba from a distance. She was laughing softly, adjusting the dupatta on her head while her husband stood beside her, one arm protectively dbangd over her shoulder. Her kids clung to her legs, and she smiled at them with a warmth that seemed so genuine it was almost impossible to reconcile with the woman he had seen all those years ago.  

His stomach churned as a wave of pity washed over him—not for her, but for her husband. The man likely believed he had married a virtuous, pious woman, someone devoted to him and their family. But Sohail knew the truth, a truth that gnawed at him. If only he knew what she really was, what she’d done back in college...  

The thought sickened him further, but it also fueled his bitterness. He clenched his fists, trying to push the memories away. But then, an even more dreaded thought crept into his mind, one that made his blood run cold: Afrah.  

Was he traveling to Sri Lanka only to uncover a similar betrayal? The scenes of Hiba's past began to blur with the disturbing possibility of Afrah and Vishal. The idea of Afrah—his Afrah—being ravaged by another man made his chest tighten painfully. He shook his head, trying to banish the image. No, no, that can’t be true. She isn’t like that. She wouldn’t do that. 

But doubt lingered. Hiba seemed innocent too, didn’t she? 

He looked down at his phone, the screen showing the delayed flight notification. Twelve more hours. Twelve agonizing hours before he could board the flight to Sri Lanka and confirm his suspicions. The wait felt like a cruel twist of fate, trapping him in his own thoughts, spiraling deeper into paranoia and despair.  

He stole another glance at Hiba and her family, the perfect picture of domestic bliss. The contrast between her public image and what he knew of her past only amplified his fears about Afrah. As he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, he muttered under his breath, “I need to know. I need to see it with my own eyes.”  

Time seemed to crawl as he sat there, consumed by the weight of his doubts, the memories of Hiba, and the looming uncertainty about Afrah.



Afrah:

At 10 a.m., there was a firm knock on Afrah's door. She adjusted her dress one last time, glancing in the mirror. She was ready for sightseeing.

His eyes trailed over her.

Vishal: "You know your punishment isn’t over yet."

Afrah raised an eyebrow, feeling the heat of his gaze and deciding to play along. There was a thrill in the banter, a tension she was starting to enjoy.  

Afrah: "But I thought I’d repented." 

He smirked, stepping into her room and closing the door behind him.  
Vishal: "That was just the start. You’re a very naughty girl, Afrah. Naughty girls deserve harsher treatment." 

Afrah felt a tingle run down her spine. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, a playful smile on her lips.  
Afrah: "But I was such a good girl last night, wasn’t I?"

Vishal stepped closer, towering over her as his strong fingers gently traced her lips.  
Vishal: Good girls don’t argue, Afrah."  

His hand moved slowly, deliberately, from her lips to her neck, then down her back. When his palm smacked her ass firmly, she gasped, her eyes widening.  
Vishal: "That’s for talking back."

Her heart raced. There was a delicious thrill in the way he asserted himself, but Afrah wasn’t about to let him have all the power. She took a step back, her lips curling into a sly smile as she looked up at him.  
Afrah: I don’t think I deserve to be punished. Maybe you’re just being unfair, Daddy."

The word slipped out before she could stop herself, and her face flushed immediately. Where did that come from? Maybe it was all the spicy novels she’d been devouring lately. She bit her lip nervously, waiting for his reaction.  

Vishal’s eyes darkened, his smirk transforming into something more primal. He tilted his head, studying her as though she’d just thrown down a challenge.  
Vishal: "Oh, so that’s how we’re playing now? Calling me 'Daddy' won’t save you from your punishment, Afrah. In fact…" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "it might just make it worse.Careful, Afrah. You might not be ready for the punishment I have in mind."*

His thumb brushed her lower lip, his touch sending shivers down her spine.  
Vishal: "Here’s the deal—you’ll do exactly what I say today. No arguments, no hesitation. Understand?"

Afrah swallowed, her pulse pounding in her ears. She nodded, but then added softly, her voice dripping with mischief,  
Afrah: "Yes, Daddy."

Vishal’s smirk returned, but it was darker now, his hand sliding down to her lower back.  
Vishal: "Good girl. Let’s see if you can behave yourself today. But remember—naughty girls don’t get away without consequences." 


As he pulled back, Afrah felt a mix of anticipation and mischief bubbling inside her. She wasn’t sure where this game would lead, but one thing was certain—she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. 


To be continued ( 
will give another update Tommorow night)

[Zoz34]

Afrah:



Afrah stood in the changing room, staring at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t believe Vishal had brought her to a bikini shop and told her to surprise him. It wasn’t just a shopping trip—it was her so-called “punishment.”


. She couldn’t believe how far she’d come. From the modest girl who wouldn’t even show her arms in public to this—a woman standing proudly in a bikini so revealing it left little to the imagination.  

Her fingers traced the thin straps of the fabric that barely covered her breasts. The tiny triangles clung to her large, firm boobs, showcasing a deep valley of cleavage . Her nipples teased the fabric, threatening to make an appearance if she moved too much. 

Afrah cupped her breasts in her hands, crushing them gently together. They felt soft yet firm, and she couldn’t help but admire their perfect shape. "I really do have the sluttiest body in the world," she whispered to herself, a naughty grin spreading across her face.  

Her eyes traveled down to her slim waist, adorned with a delicate waist chain that shimmered under the light. It sat snugly against her skin, drawing attention to her toned stomach and the navel that Vishal couldn’t get enough of. He had told her countless times how sexy he found it, and now, with the bikini accentuating every curve, she felt like a goddess—a seductress born to tease and tempt.  

She turned slightly, her hands running down her sides as she checked her reflection from behind. Her ass was almost completely exposed, the tiny strip of fabric between her cheeks doing nothing to hide her round, perfect shape. 

Her eyes fell lower, to the small, thin triangle of fabric barely covering her pussy. It was daring—no, it was obscene—and it made her heart race with a mix of excitement and nerves.  

She twirled in front of the mirror, watching how the bikini hugged her body like a second skin. Every curve, every dip and rise, was on display, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. She looked like a fantasy come to life.  

Picking up her phone, she struck a pose, arching her back slightly to emphasize her cleavage and her hips. She pouted at the camera, her free hand resting on her waist as she snapped a few pictures. One of her squeezing her boobs together, another of her turned around, showing off her ass. Each picture was naughtier than the last.  



Afrah felt the weight of gazes on her as she walked to the pool, her bikini leaving very little to the imagination. She could feel the heat of people's stares, some curious, others lustful, and for a moment, a hint of hesitation crept into her. But then her eyes found Vishal. His intense gaze, full of hunger and appreciation, erased any trace of doubt.  

She walked with newfound confidence to a lounge chair by the pool, her hips swaying seductively,and walked towards the bar counter ,Vishal was still at the chair ,watching her ass ,she was going ,at the counter a men came towards her ,tried to flirt with her .

Afrah felt the stranger's gaze linger on her, and she could sense his nervous excitement as he tried to strike up a conversation. His compliments were clumsy but harmless, and she responded with a polite smile, though her real intent was to test Vishal's reaction. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, noticing Vishal still sitting on the lounge chair, his eyes darkening as he observed the exchange.  

The stranger leaned in closer, clearly emboldened by her polite demeanor. "You look stunning. I must say, you could make any man lose his mind in that outfit," he said, his voice low.  

Afrah chuckled softly, her gaze flicking back to Vishal, who was now sitting upright, his jaw tightening. She enjoyed the little game, watching his possessiveness flare as he got to his feet and strode toward her with purpose.  

Before the stranger could utter another word, Vishal was by her side, his imposing presence immediately silencing the man. Without a word, the stranger muttered an awkward excuse and walked away, leaving Afrah biting back a triumphant smirk.  

She turned to the ice cream counter, selecting a cone of creamy vanilla, and began licking it slowly. Her tongue swirled around the ice cream with deliberate sensuality, her eyes darting toward Vishal, who now stood a few feet away, watching her every move with a mix of frustration and hunger.  

When a dollop of the thick cream fell onto her chest, just above her bikini top, Afrah let out a soft, "Oops." She traced the creamy streak with her fingers, her movements slow and deliberate as she brought it to her lips, licking it clean with a sultry gaze fixed on Vishal.  

Vishal:"You're being naughty again, Afrah. If you don't behave you going lick something else."

Afrah:"Naughty? I'm just eating ice cream. I’m a good girl, remember?"  

Afrah;"Good girls behave properly 

Afrah shrugged, her tongue flicking out to catch another melting drop of ice cream. 
Afrah:is that so?

Vishal leaned in, his hand brushing against her lower back as he whispered in her ear."Let’s go. You’ve pushed your luck enough for now."  

Her pulse quickened at the heat in his voice, and with a teasing grin, she let him guide her away from the counter. But as they walked, she couldn’t resist one last flick of her tongue, catching his eye and reveling in the way his jaw clenched in barely restrained desire.


Afrah nervously clutched the hem of her shirt as they approached the beach. The idea of walking around in nothing but her skimpy bikini, with so many eyes on her, filled her with a mix of fear and forbidden excitement. She glanced around; there were around twenty men scattered across the beach and a few women with judgmental expressions.  

As they found a spot near the water, 
Vishal : "Your punishment is that you’ll walk this beach in just your bikini. No cover. Let everyone see what a perfect, slutty body you have."  

Afrah: "Vishal, please… I can’t. There are too many people."  

Vishal:"That’s the punishment, Afrah. I want every man here to see what I see. Let them stare at your body and wish they had you. Let the women envy you."  
[img]<a href=[/img]" />
His words sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly, she unbuttoned her shirt, hesitating for a moment before letting it slide off her shoulders. Her bikini-clad body was now exposed to the world, the sun highlighting her curves. She could feel the stares almost immediately—hungry, lustful eyes devouring her every inch.  

Afrah's heart raced as she walked beside Vishal, trying to appear confident even as her thighs felt weak. She could hear the whispers from some of the men, their eyes glued to her jiggling ass and the swell of her breasts barely contained by the bikini.  

Vishal :"Look at that man over there, sitting with his wife. See how he’s practically drooling over you? He can’t stop staring at your boobs, even with his wife right next to him."  

Afrah’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t deny the thrill rushing through her. The idea of being the center of attention, the object of so much desire, made her thighs press together as she walked.  

Vishal :"And look at the women. Jealous, aren’t they? Wishing they had a figure as slutty and perfect as yours."  

Afrah:"Stop saying that,"

He chuckled, then pointed towards a man selling coconut.
 "Now, for your next punishment. Go to that stand and get us two coconuts. Alone."  

Afrah’s eyes widened as she saw the old man manning the counter, "Vishal, no… I can’t."  

Vishal’s hand slid down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze that made her gasp. "You can. It’s your punishment, Afrah. And you’ll do it."  

Reluctantly, she began walking toward the stand, every step feeling like an eternity as she felt the eyes on her body. The men’s stares were shameless, their gazes lingering on her glistening skin and the curves of her ass, barely covered by the thin bikini. Even the women couldn’t help but look, their expressions a mix of envy and disdain.  

When she reached the counter, the old man’s mouth practically fell open. His eyes were fixed on her chest, his gaze unashamedly roaming over the deep cleavage spilling out of her bikini top.  

"Two coconuts, please," she said.

The old man fumbled with the coconuts, his hands trembling as he handed them to her. His eyes never left her, and she could feel the weight of his stare on her exposed skin. It was humiliating, but at the same time, a spark of forbidden excitement coursed through her veins.  

When she returned to Vishal, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing heavily. She handed him the coconuts, trying to ignore the knowing smirk on his face as he watched her sit down beside him.  

Vishal:"You liked that, didn’t you?" 

"Shut up," she muttered, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.  

Vishal : "You’re such a badgirl, Afrah. But I can see the thrill in your eyes. You’re starting to embrace it, aren’t you?"  

Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t bring herself to answer. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop the growing heat inside her, and she didn’t want to.


Vishal:“Lay down, Afrah. You’ll get sunburned. Let me put lotion on you.”  

She hesitated, her cheeks flushed, but finally obeyed, reclining onto the lounger. The warm sun kissed her exposed skin, and her heart raced as Vishal knelt beside her.  

He squeezed the bottle of lotion, letting the thick white liquid drip onto her stomach. The sight made her breath hitch—it reminded her too vividly of the previous night, of how his seed had coated her skin. The memory sent a thrill through her body.  

Vishal’s strong hands began to move, spreading the lotion across her stomach with deliberate slowness. His palms applied just enough pressure to make her squirm as they glided over her soft skin, pausing at her waist. His fingers traced her waist chain, the cool metal a contrast to her heated skin.  

“You have the most perfect waist I’ve ever seen,” Vishal murmured.

Afrah didn’t respond, her lips pressed together to stifle the moans threatening to escape. Her eyes closed as his hands worked her body, exploring every curve with an expertise that made her ache with need.  

His touch drifted lower, spreading lotion along her thighs. He massaged the supple flesh, his hands inching dangerously close to her aching pussy . Her bikini bottoms did little to hide her arousal; she could feel her wetness pooling, her body crying out for him.  

Vishal’s fingers brushed the sensitive skin near her inner thighs, teasing her. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “I can feel how much you want me, Afrah. Your body doesn’t lie.”  

Her cheeks burned, but she couldn’t deny it. Her thighs trembled beneath his touch, and her breathing grew shallow. She was on fire, her desire consuming her with every stroke of his hands.  

“Vishal…” she finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible.  

He smirked, his hands lingering near her most sensitive spot before pulling back, leaving her desperate for more. “Patience,” he said, his tone both teasing and commanding. “Your punishment isn’t over yet.”  

Afrah opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes made her heart race even faster. She knew she was completely at his mercy, and the thought both thrilled and terrified her.


Vishal:“Turn around.”  

Afrah hesitated for a moment, knowing what it meant. Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned onto her stomach, her cheeks burning. "He’s going to see everything… my ass…"she thought, feeling a mix of embarrassment and arousal.  



Her body tensed as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, each movement deliberate and filled with intention. She gasped, feeling the lotion slide over her skin, slick and smooth, as his hands worked in slow, teasing motions. His fingers circled, applying pressure, kneading her round, firm ass like it was dough, molding it under his touch. The sensation was both comforting and electrifying, a contrast of softness and intensity that left her breathless.

She felt every inch of him as he squeezed tighter, his grip firm, possessive. Her smooth, taut skin gave way to his hands as he pressed deeper, the sensation of being molded by him sending a pulse of heat through her. It felt almost like he was claiming her, marking her body with every knead, the rhythm of his touch a sensual dance that made her heart race.

The way his fingers moved over her, molding and kneading, brought a shiver down her spine. It was as though his hands were coaxing out every ounce of pleasure from her body, pushing her into a state of raw need. Her ass was a perfect canvas for his touch, soft and responsive, and she could feel herself growing wetter, every squeeze of his hand sending waves of desire coursing through her. She couldn’t help but moan softly as his hands worked her, the sensation of being so thoroughly controlled by him both exhilarating and overwhelming.



Suddenly, she felt the gentle tug at the strings of her bikini top. Her breath hitched, and she glanced over her shoulder in alarm.  

“Relax,” Vishal said in a calm, teasing tone. “It’s only to put lotion on properly.”  

Her face flushed as the strings came undone, leaving her back completely exposed. The sun warmed her bare skin as his hands slid across her back, applying lotion with slow, sensual strokes.  

“Look at them,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear. “They’re watching you.”  

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze darted toward the nearby onlookers. She could feel their eyes on her, men staring hungrily and women casting judgmental glances.  

“They’re all imagining if they could be in my place,” Vishal continued, his voice dripping with confidence. “Touching your perfect body… playing with you.”  

Afrah’s thighs squeezed together involuntarily, her wetness growing at his words. She gasped softly, her breathing quickening as his hands traveled lower.  

Then, without warning, his hands slid to her ass. He grabbed her firmly, his fingers digging into her soft curves as he kneaded and squeezed it. Her gasp turned into a small moan, and she buried her face into her arms, overwhelmed by the sensation.  

Vishal’s grip lingered for what felt like an eternity, his touch igniting every nerve in her body. Just as she thought he might take things further, he suddenly released her and sat back.  

“All done,” he said with a smirk, his voice playful yet dominant.  

Afrah stayed still for a moment, her body trembling with unfulfilled desire. Slowly, she reached back to tie her top again, her face flushed as she avoided his gaze. The teasing had left her breathless, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t done with her yet.



As they strolled down the beach, the breeze kissed Afrah's sun-warmed skin, making her bikini-clad body tingle. When Vishal stopped and said, “Let’s take some pictures,” she felt a jolt of nervousness mixed with excitement.  

“In this?” she asked, glancing down at the tiny bikini barely covering her curves.  

“Yes,” Vishal smirked, his gaze intense. “You’re irresistible, Afrah. Trust me, these pictures will capture your beauty perfectly.”  

Swallowing her hesitation, Afrah nodded, her pulse quickening.  

Vishal:“Start by kneeling,” 

She slowly sank to her knees in the sand, her thighs parting slightly as her hands rested on them. The sun cast a golden glow over her skin, highlighting her toned legs and the smooth curve of her waist. Her ample breasts were barely contained by the thin bikini top, the deep valley of her cleavage catching the sunlight and drawing every eye.  

Vishal:“Arch your back more,”

[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Afrah obeyed, pushing her chest forward slightly, which made her breasts rise provocatively. The subtle sway of her hips and the way her bikini bottoms hugged her rounded ass were enough to leave anyone breathless. Her side profile was intoxicating — soft, feminine curves that seemed to demand worship.  

“Good,” Vishal said, his voice thick with approval as he snapped several photos. “Now, lie on your back.”  

Afrah stretched out on the warm sand, the grains clinging to her glistening skin. Her arms went above her head, framing her face, while her long legs extended in a perfect pose. The tiny triangle of her bikini botto[img]<a href=[/img]" />m barely covered her, teasing just enough to make her look both innocent and daring.  

“Move your hips to the side a little,” Vishal said


She shifted slightly, the movement causing her waist chain to jingle softly. The chain glimmered against her flat stomach, drawing attention to her navel and the delicate curves of her hips. The position made her body look sinfully enticing — her thighs parted just enough to showcase her flawless figure, while her cleavage seemed to spill over from the tiny top.  

Vishal crouched above her, his phone capturing every angle. From this view, she looked like a seductive goddess sprawled out on the sand, her body exuding raw, sensual energy.  

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his eyes lingering on the way the sunlight danced on her skin.  

Afrah couldn’t help but smile shyly, her lips parting slightly. “You’re making me feel so exposed,” she teased, though her tone was laced with mischief.  

“That’s because you are,” Vishal replied, his gaze smoldering. “Every man on this beach wishes he could see you like this, but they’ll never have what I do.”  

His words sent a shiver through her, a thrilling mix of possessiveness and pride swelling within her. Afrah’s body tingled as she felt Vishal’s eyes devouring her, capturing her in every way that mattered. The photoshoot had turned into a display of their unspoken connection — a bold, racy dance that left her feeling both exhilarated and utterly desired.

Sohail’s POV

As soon as the flight landed, Sohail rushed through the airport, weaving impatiently past crowds. His thoughts were consumed with Afrah — the image of her with Vishal, the mere possibility of her betrayal, was eating him alive. He felt both desperate and furious.  

The cab ride to the hotel was a blur, and by the time he reached the reception desk, his heart was racing. “Excuse me, can you tell me which room Afrah is staying in?” he asked, trying to sound calm.  

“I’m sorry, sir, we cannot share guest information,” the receptionist replied politely.  

Frustrated, Sohail clenched his fists. His mind was spinning. Was he hoping to catch Afrah and Vishal in the act?The thought made him sick, but he couldn’t stop himself. He headed to the bar, gulped down two quick drinks to steady his nerves, and dialed her number.  

The first two calls went unanswered. His frustration mounted, and just as he was about to give up, she finally answered.  

“Hi, how are you?” Sohail tried to keep his tone casual, not wanting to tip her off that he was in Sri Lanka, essentially stalking her.  

“I’m fine, just busy with some important work,” Afrah replied.  

“Work? I see. I just wanted to know your whereabouts.”  

Afrah : “I have a few spare minutes; we can talk.”  

Sohail felt a flicker of relief as they chatted. He tried to weave his questions naturally into the conversation. “Where are you having this meeting?”  

She gave him the location, seemingly without suspicion.  

As soon as the call ended, Sohail hurried out of the hotel to book a taxi. His paranoia and jealousy burned hotter. What if she wasn’t in a meeting? What if she was with him?

While in the taxi, his phone buzzed. It was from the same mysterious number that had been tormenting him for weeks.  

Another message. Another photo.  

It was a woman in an incredibly revealing bikini, her body glistening in the sun, her curves practically sinful. Her face was hidden, obscured by the angle of the sun and her flowing hair.  

[img]<a href=[/img]" />

Sohail’s chest tightened. Was it Afrah?Whoever this was, they were playing with him, toying with his sanity.

His throat felt dry as he typed back, "Who are you?

The reply came instantly: "You already know." 

Sohail’s stomach churned as he instructed the driver to speed up. Every second felt like torture, and his imagination ran wild with images of Afrah in that bikini, Vishal’s hands on her, his eyes devouring her.  

Another message came in: You’ll never see her the way I do.

Sohail’s hand trembled as he stared at the words, the lump in his throat growing. His grip on reality was slipping.  

When he finally reached the destination she had mentioned, he stormed into the office building. Approaching the reception desk, he demanded to know if the meeting was still ongoing.  

“Yes, sir, the meeting is in progress,” the woman at the desk replied. “Only authorized personnel are allowed inside.”  

“I just need to confirm something. It’s urgent,” Sohail insisted, his voice rising.  

“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not possible.”  

With alcohol clouding his mind and his emotions spiraling, Sohail pushed past the desk, determined to find out if Afrah was really there.  

“Sir, you can’t go in there!” the receptionist shouted.  

Security intercepted him before he could get far. His shouting and resistance escalated the situation until the security officer were called.  

As the officers handcuffed him and dragged him away, Sohail’s mind was a mess of anger, jealousy, and regret. His plan to confront Afrah had backfired spectacularly, and now he was locked up, left to stew in his own paranoia.  

The only thing keeping him awake in that cell was the haunting image of the bikini-clad woman — the possibility that it was Afrah, and that Vishal had won.  


Afrah’s POV

The sun was softening, its golden rays painting the horizon with a fiery glow as twilight crept in. The breeze from the ocean kissed her exposed skin, but it was the heat of Vishal’s gaze that sent shivers down her spine. They had found a secluded spot on the beach, tucked away behind trees and rocks, where the world felt distant.  

Vishal’s eyes were on her, burning with lust. He didn’t hide it, didn’t even try. He scanned her every curve, his hunger palpable.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured.

“You can’t stop me today, It’s your punishment.”  

Afrah bit her lip, her cheeks flushed. Her heart raced as he stepped closer, his fingers finding her waist. He played with her waist chain, tracing it with his touch, his fingertips leaving trails of heat on her skin.  

Vishal:“It suits you,Makes you even sexier.”  

Afrah: “I know,“You can’t stop obsessing over my waist.”  

Vishal:“Yes,“It’s not my fault it’s so sexy. You have the most beautiful, seductive figure in the world.”  

Her blush deepened, her breathing unsteady. “Your body is also… so hot,” she said shyly, her gaze dropping to his exposed chest, the buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his hard, sculpted abs.  

He smirked and took her hand, guiding it to his chest. Her fingers trembled as they explored his firm pecs, running over his skin, feeling the power beneath it.  

Vishal’s muscles twitched under her touch as her fingers roamed, drawn to the hard ridges of his abs. But just as her other hand moved to his shoulder, her phone buzzed in the sand beside her.  

The sound broke the moment, jarring her. She ignored it at first, focusing on the feel of Vishal beneath her fingers. But it buzzed again. And again.  

“Pick it up,” Vishal said, smirking knowingly. “It’s Sohail. He won’t stop.”  

She hesitated, but his hand on her waist encouraged her. With a sigh, she picked up the phone, glancing briefly at Vishal’s amused expression. She pressed the phone to her ear.  


She told him lie about , having a meeting in Xavi.


As Afrah picked up the call and began talking to Sohail, Vishal’s expression shifted into one of playful dominance. He reached for her free hand and guided it down to his raging bulge. Her eyes widened in surprise as her fingers brushed against his hardness.  

She glanced at Vishal with a mix of disbelief and nervousness, but he didn’t falter. Instead, his smirk deepened.  

Her voice trembled slightly as she continued speaking with Sohail. “I’m fine, just busy with some important work,” she managed, her tone carefully measured despite the heat rising between them.  

Vishal whispered low enough for only her to hear, “Go on, Afrah. Don’t stop talking. But now… you have something else to do.”  

Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing. She tried to focus on Sohail’s words, but her hand, as if moving on its own, started exploring Vishal’s bulge. She could feel its heat through the fabric, her fingers instinctively sizing him up.  

“Where are you having this meeting?” Sohail’s voice pressed on, oblivious to what was happening.  

Afrah stammered slightly, “It’s… uh… at the office near the beach......” she said, her words faltering as Vishal’s bulge twitched under her touch.  

Vishal leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Take it out, Afrah. That’s your punishment,” he ordered softly, his tone dripping with authority.  

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and arousal. The idea of doing something so daring while on the phone sent a wave of wetness pooling between her thighs. Her fingers moved hesitantly, slowly undoing the waistband of his shorts.  

Her breath hitched when his cock sprang free, hard and proud, demanding her attention. Her hand wrapped around him instinctively, her soft fingers gliding along his length.  

“Are you still there?” Sohail’s voice brought her back to the call, grounding her momentarily.  

“Yes,” she replied, her voice shaky as she struggled to maintain composure. “I’m just… a little distracted.”  

Her hand began moving up and down, stroking Vishal’s cock with slow, deliberate motions. Vishal’s low growl of approval sent a shiver down her spine.  

“Is everything okay?” Sohail asked, concern evident in his tone.  

“Yes, everything’s fine,” Afrah lied, her voice trembling as her hand continued its sinful task. Her fingers tightened slightly, earning a sharp intake of breath from Vishal, who smirked, clearly reveling in her dual predicament.  

As the call ended, she dropped the phone to her side, her body trembling with adrenaline and arousal. Vishal chuckled darkly.  

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone thick with desire. “But we’re not done yet.”


Afrah pov

Vishal: do u like my cock? 

Her hand still moving ,she shyily nod.

Vishal:good girl, now answer me what you were doing when talking to your fiance

Afra: i... I was playing with your ....thing



Vishal smirked, his eyes darkening with lust as he watched her struggle with her shyness. He leaned in, his voice low and teasing.  

Mmm, say it again, properly.

Afrah’s cheeks burned, her fingers still wrapped around his throbbing length. She bit her lip, hesitating, but his expectant gaze made her pulse race.  

Afrah:"I... I was playing with your big lund (cock)while talking to Sohail,"

Vishal let out a deep chuckle, his cock twitching in her grasp at her bold confession. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing his fingers down her cheek. "You sounded so sweet and innocent on the phone. Poor Sohail has no idea what his 'sharmili' fiancée was doing, hmm?

She swallowed hard, the thrill of being so filthy while talking to her fiancé sending a shiver through her. She felt so dirty, so wrong—yet she couldn't stop herself.  

His grip tightened around her wrist, guiding her movements. "Did it turn you on?"he asked, his voice thick with amusement. "Touching another man’s lund (cock) while pretending to be the perfect little fiancée?"

Afrah shivered, pressing her thighs together as the heat pooled between them. "Yes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.  

Vishal smirked, his lips brushing against her ear. "Haan? Maza aya?"  

She nodded, her breath hitching.  

Then show me just how much you love playing with it."

Vishal smirked, his voice a deep murmur against her ear. "You’re mygood girl."

Her fingers still toyed with his hard length, teasing, stroking, reveling in the way it twitched under her touch. But before she could take it further, he grabbed her and pulled her back against his chest, making her gasp. Seated on his lap, she felt the firm press of his thick lund against the curve of her ass, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of her bikini.  

His hand slid down, slipping beneath the waistband of her bikini bottom, his fingers brushing against her soaked folds. The moment he made contact, a soft moan escaped her lips.  

"You like it when I play with your pussy?" His voice was rough, teasing, the dirty words sending a delicious shiver down her spine.  

She moaned in approval, hips subtly shifting, silently begging for more.

His finger circled around her sensitive clit, each stroke light yet purposeful, brushing over it like a painter’s brush against a canvas. The delicate touch sent jolts of electricity through her body, and she gasped, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her body trembling in anticipation. Every time his finger brushed against her, she felt an ache, a craving, yet he didn’t press further. His teasing touch left her on the edge, desperate for more.

Her skin burned where his finger hovered, just barely touching, never fully giving her what she needed. She could feel her body tightening, her hips involuntarily shifting, seeking the pressure she craved. But still, his finger refused to go inside, keeping her in a state of yearning, forcing her to writhe under his control. She could feel herself growing slicker with every passing second, her body betraying her desire as she gasped for relief that he wouldn't give.



  

"Such a good, horny girl," he taunted, his fingers circling her clit in slow, torturous strokes.  



She squirmed in his lap, the teasing unbearable, but just as she was nearing the edge, he pulled away. A frustrated whimper left her lips as she grabbed his wrist, trying to push his hand back where she needed it.  

"Such a greedy, horny slut,"he chuckled .  

"Please..."she whimpered.



That was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers plunged deep inside her, a sudden, forceful motion that made her gasp and arch into his touch. His thrusts were relentless, pushing deeper and faster, each stroke sending waves of heat through her core. His thumb pressed hard against her sensitive clit, rubbing in precise, torturous circles that sent shockwaves of pleasure racing through her body.

She could feel her muscles tightening, the pressure building inside her until it was unbearable. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving, as the knot of pleasure coiled tighter in her belly. Then, it snapped—her body exploded in ecstasy, every inch of her quaking as the waves of bliss crashed over her. She came undone in his arms, her legs trembling, her body shaking as she surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure.




Vishal's POV:

Afrah lay beside him, her bikini-clad body glistening with sweat. Her flushed face, the sheen of spit on her swollen lips—it all made her look sinfully tempting. She was catching her breath, recovering from the pleasure he had just given her, but even in that moment of stillness, she was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.  

His phone buzzed.  

A message. Form his office desk.

"Some guy came looking for you. Tried to barge into the office. Now he is lock up."

Vishal smiled.He didn’t need to guess.

His fiancée had just come on his fingers, and he was out there, clueless, raging like a fool. The irony made Vishal smirk.  

But his thoughts scattered the moment he felt her hand wrap around his cock, stroking him with slow, deliberate motions. His breath hitched as she leaned closer, her voice sultry and teasing.  

"You like doing dirty things to me, don’t you?" she whispered, her fingers tightening around him.  

"Yes," he admitted, his voice low, hoarse with need.  

"You want to make me a slut, don’t you?" Her lips curled in a wicked smirk as she pumped him faster.  

"Yes,"he groaned, his hips jerking into her touch.  

"It makes you hard when I do dirty, forbidden things, doesn’t it?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she licked her lips.  

"Yes."

"You want me to be your little submissive slut?"


Vishal: take it in your mouth  

Her lips came close to his cock, but return back ,she bit her lips and looked him with mischief,and swing her head in disapproval.


God ,he need her lips.,her slutty lips around his hard cock, but she is just teasing him,when he thinks he control her ,she also have some sort of control over him.


Afrah: you want my lips on your big lund

He groans yes

Afrah: would like if I pleasure your ragging cock with my mouth 


Yes 

Afrah: you want to cum in my mouth?

That was it. The way she said it—breathy, sinful, knowing exactly what it did to him—sent him over the edge. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as his release shot out, thick ropes spilling onto her skin, marking her.  
[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Afrah dipped a finger into his seed, dragging it along her chest before bringing it to her lips, sucking it off with a slow, deliberate look in her eyes.  

Bas, tumhe ab handjob milega, aur kuch nahi." (That's it, you'll just get a handjob now, nothing more.) She winked, her voice a playful promise.


God this woman is something else , different from all the woman he had.And his fiance is clueless how slutty
 she is going to be.Another smiled crept in him knowing while Afrah was giving him handjob ,his fiance probly was in jail.

[Zoz34]

Sohail’s POV – 7 Days Later in Delhi  

Sohail sat in his room, his fingers tapping restlessly against the wooden armrest of his chair. The past week had been nothing short of a nightmare. His impulsive trip to Sri Lanka had backfired completely—he had spent a humiliating night in lockup, and instead of getting the confirmation he so desperately sought, he had returned with even more questions.  

The messages, the pictures, the sickening taunts from that unknown number still haunted him. The image of woman in that tiny bikini, her body exposed in ways he had never imagined, was burned into his mind. Was it really her? The doubt was eating him alive, but without conclusive proof, he couldn't accuse her.  

And now, today, he was heading to Afrah’s home with his parents. A formal visit—one that was supposed to move their engagement forward. He clenched his fists. How was he supposed to sit there, smile, and pretend nothing was wrong when his mind was filled with images of her in another man’s arms?  

Yet, he had no choice. Without proof, confronting her would only make him look insecure, paranoid. If she really was cheating, she would lie. If she wasn’t… he would lose her forever for doubting her.  

As he stood up and adjusted his blazer in the mirror, his jaw tightened.  

"I need to be careful. But I won’t let this go. I’ll find the truth… one way or another."


Afrah’s POV  

The room was filled with voices—her parents, Sohail’s parents, all discussing wedding dates, venue options, and guest lists. Sohail sat across from her, his expression unreadable, though she could sense an underlying tension in his posture. But none of it was holding her attention.  

Her phone vibrated again. Another message.  

She subtly tilted the screen, her heart pounding as she read Vishal’s words.  

Vishal:Are you wet yet? Sitting there like a good little fiancée while thinking about my hands on you?  

She bit her lip, crossing her legs to suppress the growing ache between them. She knew exactly why Vishal was doing this—he knew Sohail would be here, knew she would be sitting demurely among her family, pretending to be the perfect bride-to-be. He got a thrill from making her squirm in situations like this, from the silent humiliation he was forcing onto Sohail without the poor man even realizing it.  

And the truth was… she got a kick out of it too.  

The risk, the danger of being caught, only heightened the heat pooling in her core. Her fingers gripped the phone tighter as another message popped up.  

Vishal:Imagine if your parents knew what I did to you last week. If Sohail knew how you moaned for me. Should I tell them?

Her breath hitched. She glanced up quickly, scanning the room, but no one seemed to notice her flushed cheeks, the way she was pressing her thighs together.  

Vishal:Be a good girl. Touch yourself, just a little. Right there, with them in the room.

Her pulse skyrocketed. She couldn't. Not here. Not while her mother was discussing bridal dress with Sohail’s mother. Not while Sohail was sitting just a few feet away.  

But her body betrayed her. A slow, almost imperceptible shift in her seat. A tiny press of her thighs. Just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through her, leaving her breath unsteady.  

She typed back quickly, hands trembling.  

Afrah:You’re evil.

Vishal:And you love it.

She did. And that was the most sinful part of all.


Vishal: What are you wearing right now?

Afrah: That shouldn't concern you.

Vishal: Right… I prefer you without anything on.


[img]<a href=[/img]" />
Her phone buzzed again—a picture. Her own picture. The one he had taken of her in that barely-there bikini at the beach. The way the sunlight highlighted every curve of her body, the way her waist chain rested against her soft skin—it was scandalous. And he had just sent it back to her.

Vishal: Miss this look? I do. I’ve been thinking about peeling that off you again…

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Afrah: You shouldn’t text me like this. My family is here.

Vishal: That’s exactly why I’m texting. Look at the pic ,how sexy you look ,do they know u have their pious girl wore a slutty bikini in Sri lanka



Vishal: I bet they are. I bet you’re getting wet, sitting there in front of Sohail like a good little fiancée while your body still remembers how you moaned my name 


Afrah: Stop it.

Vishal: You don’t really want me to stop. If I were there right now, I’d make you excuse yourself from the room… pretend to go fix your lipstick… and then I’d follow you. Imagine that, Afrah. Me pressing you against the bathroom door, lifting your dress, feeling how soaked you are for me…

A fresh wave of heat rushed through her body. Her fingers trembled as she typed.

Afrah: You’re wicked.

Vishal: And you’re mine. Now, be a good girl and tell me—are you wearing panties?


Afrah: …Maybe.

Vishal: That’s not an answer. Do I need to come over and check for myself?

A thrill ran through her. This was dangerous. This was wrong.

And she loved every second of it.


The discussion about the wedding was ongoing. Her mother and future mother-in-law were deep in conversation, talking about invitations, décor, and rituals. Sohail sat beside her, his posture stiff, his face unreadable. Was he still suspicious? Did he still think about Sri Lanka, about the time she had been away?  

Afrah, however, could barely focus. Her phone kept vibrating in her lap, and she crossed her legs, trying to suppress the growing heat between her thighs. She knew exactly who it was. Vishal.  

The moment she unlocked her screen, her stomach clenched.  

Vishal:Btw, I sent you something. The delivery guy should be at your door right about now. 


Afrah:What is it?

Vishal:You’ll see.

She knew Vishal’s mischievous ways, knew that whatever he had sent wouldn’t be something innocent. Her heart pounded as she glanced toward the door. She needed to get it before anyone else.  

Feigning a polite smile, she cleared her throat. “Ammi, I just got a delivery. I’ll be back in a moment.”  

Her mother barely glanced up. “What is it?”  

“Just some skincare products I ordered,” Afrah lied smoothly, standing up. Sohail’s gaze followed her, but she ignored it, walking quickly toward the entrance.  

When she opened the door, a courier stood there holding a discreet brown package. Afrah took it, murmured a hurried thanks, and rushed to her room.  

Locking the door behind her, she carefully opened the box.  

The moment she saw what was inside, her breath caught in her throat.  

A dildo.  

Not just any dildo—but one nearly identical to Vishal’s cock. Thick, veined, and smaller than the real thing.  

Her hands shook as she shut the box and shoved it beneath her clothes in the cupboard.  

Her phone buzzed again.  
Vishal:Hope you liked my gift.

Afrah:Are you mad?! What if someone else had opened it? If ammi had.

Vishal:
Vishal:Then she would knowher daughter is a very naughty girl.


Vishal:I want you to play with it tonight. And send me a video.

Her thighs clenched. Heat licked at her skin.  

Afrah:I will do no such thing.

Vishal:Oh, but you will. You always do.

Her body betrayed her, tingling with anticipation. The idea of using it, of sending him a video while her fiancé was oblivious, made her shiver.  

Vishal:Be a good girl. Do it before bed. I want to see you come undone.

Afrah bit her lip.  

Was she really going to do this?  

The answer was already clear.





She again joined the family in the drawing room.
Soon sohail family ,was about to leave,her parents also had to go somewhere,Sohail offer them lift,she was alone now at her home ,her sis is also not here.A naughty smile crept in.









Sohail’s POV:

Sohail gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove through the dimly lit streets of Delhi. His mind was a storm of doubts, suspicions, and frustration. Seven days. Seven days since he had returned from Sri Lanka with nothing but more uncertainty.

He had wanted proof —something concrete to confirm his worst fears. But instead, he was left with a gnawing sense of unease that refused to let him sleep at night.  

As he pulled up in front of Afrah’s house, he sighed. He had forgotten his wallet at her place earlier when he came with his parents to discuss the wedding. Now, with her parents gone and her sister out, she was alone.  



He grabbed the house keys her mother had given him and stepped out. As he approached the entrance, something caught his eye  

A few pieces of clothing had fallen from the clothesline. Without thinking, he moved to pick them up. But just as he straightened up, his gaze flickered toward the window.

His heart stopped.  

The curtains weren’t drawn completely, and the warm glow from Afrah’s bedroom spilled into the night. The room door was open, giving him a clear view inside.  

And what he saw blew his mind.

Afrah.

Lying on her bed, her thighs bare, her knees slightly bent.  

Her hand was between her legs.  

Sohail was frozet. He felt like an intruder, yet he couldn’t look away.  

She was touching herself. 

A vibrator—small, pink, sleek. Her delicate fingers clutched it as she moved it against her most private place.  

Her other hand was teasing her own breast, palming it over her thin kurti. He could see how hard her nipple was through the fabric.  

His cock throbbed painfully.

He had never seen her like this before. He had only imagined what she looked like beneath her layers of modesty. But now? Now he was seeing a completely different side of Afrah—the secret side. For the first time he is seeing her immodest side ,he eyes were focused on her fair smooth thighs .



"Ahhh…"She moaned, her back arching slightly off the bed.  

The sound sent a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. He clenched his jaw. His fingers twitched toward his belt buckle. Should he…?

No. No.  

His mind warred between lust and fury.  

Who was she thinking about?  

She wasn’t watching porn. She wasn’t looking at a sexy actor or an Instagram influencer. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted, her breath ragged.

She was fantasizing about someone.

And a sick, horrifying realization hit him.  

Was it Vishal?

Sohail froze.

Vishal’s words echoed in his mind like a cruel whisper.  

"You will never be able to see her like I do."

His stomach churned. His erection pulsed uncomfortably. This wasn’t right.

Afrah moaned again.  

Sohail felt the last shred of his sanity slip. Should he burst into the room and confront her? Should he demand answers? Or should he stay there, in the shadows, watching?  

He felt disgusted. He felt aroused.

And he didn’t know what to do next.


She arched her back like a seductress, moving with slow, sinuous grace—like a nagin weaving a spell of lust.  

God, she was beautiful.  

Her body, the way her curves dipped and swayed, the delicate tremble of her thighs—it was the sexiest sight he had ever seen.   

His chest tightened.His hands curled into fists. His mind raced back to another night, another woman.

Hiba.  

That night in the old building, when he had caught her. But this was different.

There was no man involved this time.

Yet somehow, it felt worse.  

"Does she do this frequently?"  

"Where did she even get that vibrator?"

Is Vishal is her source of arousal?


Ahhhh…"

Her moan pulled him back into the present. His cock twitched, aching against his pants. He should look away. He should leave.  

But he couldn’t.

And then—their eyes met.

Everything stopped.

Afrah’s expression shifted from pure pleasure to utter horror.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.  

Then she scrambled up, her hands trembling as she yanked her salwar back into place. Panic. Guilt. Anger. It all flickered across her face.  

She didn’t say a word.  

Just rushed to the doorand slammed it shut.  

Sohail’s heart pounded against his ribs. What the fuck just happened?

He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand over his face.  

Minutes passed.

The main door creaked open.  

Afrah stepped out, her face flushednot from pleasure, but from guilt… and fury.

Sohail clenched his jaw. He stepped inside.  


Sohail: “What were you doing?”  

Afrah’s face flushed, but she held her composure, masking her guilt with defiance.  

Afrah: “Why were you spying on my room?!”  

Sohail: “I wasn’t spying! I came back for my wallet, and I found… this?!”  

Afrah folded her arms across her chest, her heart hammering.  

Afrah: “So what if you saw me? You had no right to watch!”  

Sohail: “No right? I am your fiancé, Afrah! I will be your husband soon. And you… you were lying there, doing this? You think I wanted to see that? You—touching yourself—with a vibrator?”  

Afrah narrowed her eyes.  

Afrah: “And what’s wrong with that?”  

Sohail: “You shouldn’t be… touching yourself like that. It’s haram.”  

Afrah scoffed, rolling her eyes.  

Afrah: “Oh, please, Sohail. Don’t start lecturing me now.”  

His jaw clenched.  

Sohail: “You belong to me, Afrah. Your body is for me. Not for… this filth.”  

Afrah’s eyes widened.  

Afrah: “Excuse me?”  

Sohail: “You should have some shame! Act like a proper woman—not… doing this.”  

Afrah took a step back, her chest rising and falling rapidly.  

Afrah: “Are you serious right now?!”  

Sohail: “You have too much freedom, given to you by your parents. And look how you misuse it! First, that trip with Vishal—now this?”  

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.  

Afrah’s face fell. Her eyes glossed over.  

A single tear slipped down her cheek.  

Afrah: “Is that what you think of me?”  

Sohail’s stomach twisted.  

Afrah: “You think I’m having an affair with Vishal?”  

Her voice cracked.  

Afrah: “That’s what you really think of me?”  

She turned away, storming out of the room.  

Sohail panicked.  

Sohail: “Afrah, wait! That’s not what I meant!”  

But she was already halfway down the hall. He hurried after her.  

Afrah: “Oh, I know exactly what you meant. You accused me of cheating on you while I was on a work trip!”  

Sohail: “That’s not—”  

Afrah: “How could you even think that? Do you think I’m some immoral woman? Some slut who sleeps around?”  

Sohail: “No! I don’t think that!”  

Her lips trembled.  

Afrah: “I agreed to this rishta because I thought you were different. That you were a good man. Secure. Not like other men.”  

Sohail: “I am, Afrah. I swear. I don’t think of you like that. I just… I was shocked seeing you like that.”  

Afrah’s eyes burned.  

Afrah: “No, Sohail. You were angry. And the truth came out.”  

Silence.  

Sohail ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself.  

Sohail: “I don’t think of you like that. In fact… I love you. I just… I wasn’t ready to see you like that.”  

Afrah’s lips parted slightly.  

Afrah: “Like what?”  

She took a step closer.  

Afrah: “Self-pleasuring?”  

Sohail’s throat went dry.  

Afrah: “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”  

He said nothing.  

Afrah: “Women have needs too, Sohail. Or do you think only men do?”  

He swallowed hard.  

Afrah: “Don’t you do it? Don't you touch your self?

He looked away.  

Afrah: “Answer me.”  

Sohail exhaled. “I…”  

Afrah gave a humorless laugh.  

Afrah: “Exactly.”  

Sohail opened his mouth, but she cut him off.  

Afrah: “And besides…”  

She hesitated. Then, her voice softened.  

Afrah: “I wasn’t thinking about some other man.”  

Sohail stilled.  

Afrah: “I wasn’t cheating.”  

She lowered her gaze.  

Afrah: “I was thinking about you.”  

Sohail’s heart skipped a beat.  

Her words hit him like a wave.  

His breath caught.  

For the first time since their argument began, he didn’t know what to say.  

Afrah: “You have to understand that.”  

Sohail stared at her. At her flushed cheeks, at the vulnerability in her expression.  

Then—without thinking—he pulled her into his arms.  

Sohail: “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll never accuse you again.”  

Afrah’s hands trembled against his chest.  

Then—out of nowhere—she kissed him.  

Sohail froze.  

It was soft, hesitant, but it stole the air from his lungs.  

Their first kiss.  

A rush of heat flooded his body.  

For the first time in his life, he felt butterflies

Vishal pov


Fuck yeah. He lean his head back on the leather seat in his penthouse and grin like the cocky bastard he is . He is meeting Tanya after months , but she’s going down on him like this is her last chance to ever suck a cock. Resting his hand on the back of her head, he push her down even further, making her take his huge cock all the way down her throat. When she gags a little, he ease up and let himself enjoy the wet slurping sounds she makes while she drags her tongue up and down my shaft, and then circles it around his thick head. It’s a good blowjob, Tanya is a proper slut she has skillful mouth but he’ve had better. He’ve had worse. In fact, He’ve had fucking thousands of blowjobs. Of all the sluts ,Tanya is one of his favourite slut ,the married bong is one of sexiest woman he knows ,only other woman that could beat her is Afrah.

Uff that slut is such a tease ,she makes him hard like no other, the Sri Lanka trip was such a revelation, her slutty side is slowly peeling up ,she is owning up to her desire.

Vishal leaned back against the couch, his fingers gripping Tanya’s hair as she continued to bob on his cock like a desperate slut in heat. She was moaning, taking him deep, but his mind wasn’t even on her. His focus was on his phone—the video Afrah had just sent him.  

It was short, only thirty seconds, but it was enough to drive him insane.  

On the screen, Afrah was holding the vibrator, her soft lips pressing against the tip in a teasing kiss. Then, slowly, she opened her mouth, taking it in, her tongue swirling around the plastic as she sucked it, her eyes locked onto the camera. Daring him. Mocking him.  


[img]<a href=[/img]" />[img]<a href=[/img]" />
His cock twitched.  

She was telling him exactly what he was missing.  

Telling him that his cock had never felt her lips.  

And that thought made him harder than anything Tanya was doing.

He groans.



“Uh…mmm…oh,” the Tanya moans as she bobs her head up and down on my cock. She’s doing a pretty good job, so he return the favor and reach under her skirt and slide his fingers inside her soaking pussy. She clenches around him and comes immediately. She sucks him even faster, pumping her hand up and down his shaft in time with her head, and I feel hus balls tighten. Yanking her up off my cock, he shoot jet after hot jet of cum all over her face, and she looks like she loves every fucking second of it. He looks at the video ,soon Afrah will be on her knees , sucking his huge cock , swallowing his thick load , his finance will be clueless or at best .

[Zoz34]

Sohail pov:


Sohail's heart fluttered as he read the 

message on his phone.  

"I like you so much"

Afrah had sent it.  

Since their confrontation, their heart-to-heart talk, and that kiss—everything had changed. It was like a switch had flipped between them. Afrah had been constantly messaging him, even flirting with him. And he? He had been flirting back, sometimes even getting a little naughty. It was a new side of her, one that made him feel thrilled.

 The wedding was getting closer, and his doubts? They seemed foolish now. She wasn’t having an affair. She was just shy, but now she was finally opening up to him.  

Last night, their conversation had taken a very unexpected turn.  

Afrah: How did you feel seeing me like that the other evening?

Sohail had frozen for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. It was a bold question.  

Before he could reply, another message popped up.  

Afrah: Was the scene arousing? Were you thinking that you were the one giving me pleasure?

He never thought her to be that bold
And then he decided—if she was being bold, so would he.  

Sohail: I was so hard.

Afrah: What was hard?

Sohail: You know.

Afrah: I don’t know. 

Sohail: don't be so innocent now.,i have seen you playing 

Afrah: playing?

Sohail: Don't be so coy 

Afrah: Do you find me sexy?



Sohail:You know I do.  

A few seconds later, her response came.  

Afrah: you are the first man to compliment me.

He felt so proud.



Sohail:you are the most beautiful girl I have seen in my entire life.

Afrah:Hmm… still not convincing enough. Tell me exactly you like about me?



Sohail:Your eyes… the way you look at me when you’re shy but still trying to be bold.

Afrah:Mmm… what else?

Sohail:Your lips. Especially after our first kiss. I can’t stop thinking about them.

Afrah:And?

His body heated up. She wasn’t going to stop pushing, was she? Fine. If she wanted to play, he would play.  

Sohail:Your curves. You have very sexy figure 

There was a pause. He wondered if he’d gone too far. But then—  

Afrah: really?

His chest tightened. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether he should actually say it. But at this point, there was no turning back.  

Sohail:I wants you to feel your body, 

Another pause. Then—  

Afrah:and?

He swallowed hard.  

Sohail: do naughty things to you.

Afrah: you will only get to touch me after marriage.

His cock twitched. His breathing turned shallow.  



Sohail:
Afrah, please send me a picture na… I want to see you.

Afrah:Hmm? And what exactly will you do with my picture?

Sohail:Just admire your beauty, bas.

Afrah:Oh, I know how men are…

Sohail:And how exactly are we?

Afrah:Perverts.

Sohail:Maybe. But can you blame me? You have no idea how incredibly sexy your figure is. 

 
A notification popped up. Image received.His heart pounded as he opened it.

As he opened the image, his breath hitched. It was a simple picture—Afrah in a modest salwar suit—yet the way it was captured made his heart race. The soft fabric clung to her curves, accentuating the shape of her breasts. A subtle hint of cleavage peeked through, just enough to tease, just enough to drive him crazy.  
[img]<a href=[/img]" />
His grip on the phone tightened. His body reacted instantly
, heat pooling low in his stomach. She was his. Soon, she would belong only to him. The thought made him very happy.


Vishal’s POV:-

Vishal phone pings.
It was from Afrah 


Her teasing had reached unbearable levels. Every time he saw her, he was hard. In the office, she never let an opportunity slip—arching her back just enough to give him a perfect view of her ass, adjusting her dupatta to flash a tempting hint of cleavage, biting her lip as if daring him to lose control.  

 She had given him four handjobs in the last two weeks—always initiated by her—but she refused to go all the way. It was as if she enjoyed keeping him on edge, knowing how much he wanted her, yet denying him the full taste of her body.  

This morning had been no different. Her texts had been sinful, filled with teasing words that made him ache with need.  

In office 

She sat beside him in the conference room, the air thick with professionalism—at least on the surface. But under the table, hidden from prying eyes, her fingers made their move.  

Slowly, deliberately, she grazed her hand over his crotch, feeling the heat and hardness beneath his trousers. He stiffened, his fingers clenching against the table as he fought to keep his composure.  

A low, barely audible groan escaped his lips.  

Her touch didn’t waver, her palm pressing firmer, fingers teasing the shape of his thick length through the fabric. He shifted in his seat, pretending to adjust his posture, but the truth was, he was struggling—not just to stay still, but to maintain his focus while she tortured him with slow, calculated strokes.  

The meeting dragged on, discussions fading into background noise. His breathing grew heavier, his jaw clenched. She never looked at him, never acknowledged what she was doing—just kept up the relentless, torturous game.  

By the time the conference ended, his body was taut with unreleased tension. She slid her hand away, leaving him aching, throbbing, on the very edge.  

Then, without a word, she gathered her things and walked out, leaving him there—hard, frustrated, desperate for more.  

She was going home.  

And she damn well knew he’d be horny 








Back in the Present:

Vishal sat in his room, watching the new video she had sent. It was a trending reel on Instagram, something racy and seductive. But what caught his attention wasn’t the song or the filter—it was her.  

She had her navel exposed, knowing full well that was his weakness. Her waist was perfect—curvy, smooth, the color of warm honey. A little bit of softness that jiggled slightly with each movement, just enough to make his imagination run wild.  [img]<a href=[/img]" />

The way she arched slightly, letting the camera catch the glint of her navel piercing, the way she ran a hand down her own stomach—she was playing with him. Taunting him. And fuck, it was working.


He remembered how her stomach had looked that night, glistening with his thick, potent release. The sight of her skin covered in his e
 Cum. 

Back to the video—she was shaking her ass now, her movements deliberate, taunting.  

His jaw clenched.  

This little minx needed to be punished.  

Sohail pov:

Sohail was standing by a small roadside tea stall, about two kilometers from Afrah’s house, casually smoking a cigarette. It was supposed to be a quick stop, just a break before heading to his next errand. But his ears caught something—voices dripping with filth, laughter laced with lust.  

His eyes flickered toward the group of young men loitering near a street corner, their gazes predatory, scanning every woman that passed by.  

Boy 1:"Samad, dekh na, kya maal ja rahi hai! Figure ekdum top-notch, kadak!"(Samad, just look at her! What a bombshell! Her figure is absolutely top-notch, sizzling hot!")








Samad:"Haan yaar, dekh kaise chal rahi hai… gaand ekdum perfect matka rahi hai."("Yeah, man, just look at the way she's walking… her ass is perfectly round and swaying beautifully)

Instinctively, Sohail’s gaze followed theirs. A woman in a fitted salwar kameez—curvy, around 30—walked past them. Sohail looked away in disgust, exhaling a sharp breath.  

Boy 3:"Uff, saali ki gaand toh football ki tarah gol hai, ek dum tight!"("Damn, her ass is round like a football, absolutely tight)

Samad:"Lekin jo bhi bolo, sabse kadak maal apne mohalle ki Afrah hai!"("But no matter what, the hottest chick in our neighborhood is Afrah!")










Sohail froze mid-puff. His fiancée’s name slithered out of Samad’s mouth like poison, instantly tightening his grip on the cigarette. A sharp sting on his fingers reminded him he was holding it too hard.  

Boy 2:"Haan yaar, ekdum zabardast! Malai jaisa badan, upar se killer figure. Jaise uski gaand, waise hi uske boobs!"(Yeah, man, she's absolutely insane! Smooth as cream, and that killer figure—her ass is just as perfect as her tits)


Boy 3:"Suna hai nikah hone wali hai. Jo bhi hai, bada lucky hai uska mard. Soch, bhai… har raat uske saath khelne ka mauka milega!"("I heard she's getting married soon. Whoever her man is, he's one lucky bastard. Just imagine, bro… getting to play with her every night!")

Samad:"Saala, agar main uska pati hota na, ghar se hi na nikalta! Roz, subah-shaam usko bajata!"(Man, if I were her husband, I’d never leave the house! I’d be smashing her morning and night)


A sickening churn twisted in Sohail’s gut.  

Boy 1:"Bhai, woh meri sapno ki rani hai! Pata nahi kitni baar uske bare mein soch ke… tu samajh raha hai na?" Bas kal hi dekha tha usko, saali ekdum latke-jhatke maar rahi thi, jaise jaan ke chhed rahi ho!"(Bro, she's the queen of my dreams! I can't even count how many times I've thought about her like that... you know what I mean?" He chuckled darkly. "Just saw her yesterday—damn, she was swaying those curves like she was teasing on purpose!")

Boy 2:"Haan yaar! Aur kuch din pehle main uske ghar ke paas se guzar raha tha, tabhi woh balcony mein dikh gayi. Jab jhuki na, kuch uthane ke liye… bhai, maine uska cleavage dekha!" He whistled low. "Gora, malai-dar, ekdum doodh se bhara hua! Kya nazara tha"(Yeah, man! A few days ago, I was passing by her house, and I saw her standing on the balcony. And when she bent down to pick something up… bro, I got a full view of her cleavage!" He whistled low. "Fair, creamy, and full like a pair of milk jugs! What a sight!")

Sohail’s breathing grew unsteady. His fists clenched at his sides.  

Samad:"Mujhe toh uska Instagram dekh ke hi muth marne ka mann karta hai! Jo makeup wale reels banati hai na, bas unpe hi…"(Just looking at her Instagram makes me want to jerk off! Those makeup reels she posts… man, that’s all I need!")

A flash of red clouded Sohail’s vision. His stomach twisted in disgust, in rage, in something far worse—doubt.  

Boy 2:"Jo bhi ho, uska seal khulna toh uske pati ke naseeb mein likha hai."(Whatever it is, breaking her seal is written in her husband's fate.")

Samad:"Saale, itna chutiya mat ban! Aisi figure bina kisi ladke ke bina nahi banti. Dekha hai uske boobs ,lagta hai Roz kissi se masalwati hia, aur gand ka kya khena,Pakka koi college ka ya office ka banda hoga jo usko chodh chuka hai ya abhi bhi chodh raha hai!,("Bro, don’t be such a fool! A body like that doesn’t come without a man in the picture. Have you seen her tits? Looks like someone’s been squeezing them regularly. And that ass? No doubt some guy from her college or office has already fucked her—or is still fucking her!)

A lump formed in Sohail’s throat. His fingers twitched as if craving violence.  

Boy 1:"Haan yaar, ya toh koi college wala ex, ya phir office ka boss!" (Yeah, man, either some college ex or maybe even her boss at work!")

Samad:"Ho sakta hai! Waise bhi, office mein yeh sab aam baat hai. Pata nahi kitne log uske saath…"(Could be! Anyway, this stuff is pretty common in offices. Who knows how many guys have had their turn with her...")

Their voices trailed off, now shifting their dirty attention toward another girl in tight jeans.  

But their words had already sunk deep into Sohail’s mind.  

His heart pounded violently in his chest. His body felt cold despite the heat of the evening air.  

Afrah. His Afrah.  




Sohail gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as his mind spiraled. For the past week, he had been on cloud nine—Afrah kissing him, their naughty late-night chats, the way she whispered his name with longing. It felt real. It felt perfect.  

But now, those insecurities that had been buried under her sweet words came crawling back.  

Did she chat with others the same way? Did she laugh at their texts like she did with his?  

Vishal a name, still hunting him.

The thought made his stomach twist unpleasantly.  

His thoughts screeched to a halt as his eyes locked onto a familiar figure in the crowded marketplace. Vishal.

Sohail’s pulse spiked.  

But that wasn’t what made his breath hitch. Beside Vishal was a woman clad in a full black burkha, her face completely covered.

His heart stopped for a moment. A cold, unsettling wave washed over him.  

Who was she?  

His mind screamed a possibility he didn’t want to acknowledge.  

Afrah?  

No. It couldn’t be.  

Before he could think, Sohail pulled over, hurriedly parking the car. His eyes darted back to the spot where he had seen them.  

But Vishal was gone.  

The woman in the burkha was nowhere to be seen either.  

His breath came in short, shallow bursts as he scanned the crowd, hoping—dreading—to catch another glimpse.  

Nothing.  

Had he imagined it? Or had they disappeared on purpose?  

His heart pounded violently in his chest.  



Afrah’s POV

4 PM. The metro rumbled beneath her, the faint vibrations doing little to calm the storm inside her.  

Stupid bet.

She should have known Vishal had something dirty in mind when she agreed. Now, she was sitting near the window, her body fully wrapped in a burkha—but underneath, she was completely naked.

Her heart pounded. Across from her, Vishal leaned against the pole, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself.  

Of course, he was enjoying this. He was the only one who knew her secret.

Her phone vibrated in her lap.  

Vishal:Your nipples are hard.

A jolt ran through her. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest as she shifted slightly on the seat.  

Another message.  

Vishal:Look at that uncle sitting near the door. He’s staring. He knows.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes flickered toward the door, where an older man sat, his gaze lingering just a little too long on her chest.  

She clenched the edges of her burkha.  

Afrah:You’re responsible for this.

Vishal:Oh, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying it.  

Her thighs pressed together.  

Vishal:See those two college boys sitting diagonally across from you? They haven’t stopped staring since you got on. I bet they’ll jerk off tonight thinking about you.

Heat pooled in her stomach. She risked a glance—and sure enough, the boys were whispering, their gazes fixated on her body.  

She shifted uncomfortably, her bare thighs rubbing against the cool seat beneath her.  


Vishal:Get off at the next station.

She swallowed.  


She got out of the metro train, Vishal was now beside her. Though her body was fully covered, she noticed the way some men were ogling at her, their eyes shamelessly drinking in her figure. The loose black fabric, meant to hide, did the exact opposite—it only highlighted the fullness of her breasts and the roundness of her hips as it swayed with each step. With every movement, her curves jiggled under the modest attire, making it impossible for them to look away.


They went to a nearby café. It was mostly empty, the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. Afrah removed her face cover, letting out a sigh as she leaned back in the chair.  

Afrah: "Why did you make me wear a burkha? What’s the game here?"  

Vishal smirked, leaning forward on the table, his eyes dark with mischief.  

Vishal: "Think from a male perspective. Think from my POV."  

Afrah: "You have a filthy mind. You’ve made me do all sorts of dirty things before—things that usually involve shorter dresses, not being covered head to toe."  

Vishal chuckled.  

Vishal: "Do you want me to strip naked instead? Because I would love to."  

Afrah: "That’s not what I meant!"   

Vishal: "I just wanted to see you in this attire."  

Afrah narrowed her eyes.  

Afrah: "Oh, please. I know you too well. You definitely have some kind of burkha fantasy or fetish."  

Vishal: "A closed door always invites curiosity."  

Afrah: "The door is closed to divert attention."  

Vishal: "Exactly. And that’s what makes it irresistible. Men take the greatest pleasure in what they’re forbidden from having. Like you, right now—dressed so modestly, yet completely naked underneath. Roaming around the city with me, soaked in filth beneath all that purity."  

Afrah gasped, her cheeks heating.  

Afrah: "I am NOT wet."  

Vishal: "You’ve been clenching your thighs since we sat down."  

Afrah: "No, I haven’t!" she shot back, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.  

Vishal’s hand slid under the table, pressing against her inner thigh, fingers teasingly close to her center. She stiffened, sucking in a breath.  

Afrah: "Vishal—"  

Vishal: "I know my dirty girl too well. Always needy for me."  

Before she could react, her phone buzzed. Dad. Her heart pounded as she picked it up, trying to sound normal.  

"Haan, … haan, busy hoon, baad mein baat karti hoon."  

She hung up quickly, exhaling.  

Vishal leaned in, his voice a taunting whisper.  

Vishal: "You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? The forbidden thrill. Lying to your father while you sit here, soaking, with me?"  

Afrah bit her lip. Heat coiled low in her stomach. 

The moment shattered when the waiter approached, clearing his throat. Afrah pulled away instantly, face flushed, her breath unsteady.  

Vishal leaned back in his chair, smirking.  

Vishal: "We’re not done yet."  


Vishal: "The waiter will definitely be thinking about the burkha beauty in his dreams tonight."  

Afrah scoffed, adjusting her veil slightly.  

Afrah: "Do people really fantasize about girls in burkhas? I mean, they can’t even see their faces."  

Vishal smirked, his fingers tapping against the table.  

Vishal: "You have no idea. Even if they can’t see the face, they imagine the body beneath the fabric. In their fantasies, they strip her down, piece by piece, imagining all the filthy things they’d do to her. A friend of mine in college once hooked up with a girl who wore a full niqab. Everyone thought she was the most modest girl on campus… but only he knew what she did for him in bed. The things she let him do, the fantasies she played out for him."  

Afrah swallowed, shifting slightly. Heat pooled between her thighs at the way he described it.  

Afrah: "So… you also fetishize girls who wear burkhas?"  

Vishal’s lips curled into a slow, teasing smile.  

Vishal: "Who wouldn’t? I’m so fucking hard right now just looking at you."  

Afrah: "So, what’s your fantasy, Mr. Pervert? Tell me what you imagine."  

Vishal leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. His voice dropped, thick with desire.  

Vishal: "I imagine you… wearing nothing but a veil. Your entire body naked. On your knees… your lips wrapped around my fat cock… slurping it, taking every inch…"  

He exhaled, his voice a husky growl.  

Vishal: "And then your pretty, slutty face covered in my baby batter."  

A shiver ran down Afrah’s spine. Her breath hitched, her thighs pressing together instinctively. The vivid image sent a fresh wave of wetness between her legs, a sinful need curling deep inside her.  

Afrah: "I will never…"  

Vishal chuckled, his fingers grazing her wrist.  

Vishal: "Don’t tell me you don’t think about my fat cock around your lips."  

Before she could answer, he leaned in and crashed his lips against hers. The kiss was hungry, demanding, making her toes curl as his tongue teased its way into her mouth.  






Around 6 PM, they were strolling through the park. The air was cool, the setting sun casting long shadows over the nearly empty space. They had already stolen a few kisses, Vishal’s hands daring to grope her breasts through the thick fabric of her attire.

As they were about to leave, Vishal suddenly grabbed her wrist and bent her over a wooden bench.  

Afrah gasped. "Vishal! What are you doing?"  

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted the fabric of her burkha from her toes to her waist, exposing her bare ass to him in the open park. Her breath hitched, her heart hammering in both panic and arousal. Before she could protest, she felt something cool and smooth slipping inside her soaked pussy.  

Her body tensed. "Vishal…!"  

A sharp smack landed on her ass, making her gasp. He let the fabric fall back down, covering her once again, as if nothing had happened.  

Afrah spun around, her cheeks flushed, lips parting to demand an explanation—  

And then it hit.  

A sudden vibration deep inside her, sending a jolt of pleasure through her core.  

"Ahhh…!" A whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it.  

She clutched his arm. "Vishal… what did you put—"  

Before she could finish, the sound of footsteps approached.  

Her eyes widened in alarm.  

Vishal smirked, nudging her forward. "Walk."  

Still trembling from the sensation between her thighs, Afrah obeyed, each step making the vibrations intensify. Her legs felt weak as they made their way out of the park, her body betraying her with every pulse of pleasure.



She clutched the edge of her burkha tightly, her fingers trembling as she tried to suppress the pleasure coursing through her.  

"Vishal… please," she whispered, her voice desperate, her eyes pleading with him from across the metro cabin. "Turn it off… people are around…"  

Vishal smirked, tilting his phone slightly, his thumb lazily scrolling on the screen. "No."  

Her pussy clenched around the vibrating device, the slow, teasing pulses sending shivers up her spine. It wasn't enough to push her over the edge—just enough to drive her mad with need. Every step, every shift in her seat made the sensations even more unbearable.  

They entered the metro.

She sat with her legs tightly pressed together, hoping to muffle the throbbing pleasure, but it only made her wetter. Her breath hitched as she bit down on her lip, her gaze darting around the metro cabin. There were only a few passengers—three old men and some women, none of whom seemed to notice her torment. Yet.  

She thought she was safe.  

Then the metro stopped, and a woman took the seat beside her. At that exact moment, the vibrations surged.  

A muffled whimper escaped her lips.  

"Ahhh…" she gasped, quickly turning her head to the side.  

The woman beside her glanced at her for a second but then looked away. Afrah's entire body tensed. The waves of pleasure rippling through her were intense, but she couldn't afford to lose control.  

She clenched her thighs tighter, trying to suppress the throbbing ache between her legs. Her soaked pussy pulsed desperately, aching for release, but Vishal was playing a cruel game.  

Across from her, he was watching.  

She met his eyes, her lips slightly parted, her face flushed beneath the veil.

The vibrations intensified.  

Afrah's body jerked slightly, her hand gripping the seat. Her mind was clouded with pleasure, her nipples hard under the burkha, her pussy slick and needy.  

Fuck… this feels so fucking good…  

She swallowed hard, biting the inside of her cheek to keep another moan from slipping out. Her thighs trembled, her hands clenched into fists, her body warring between restraint and desire.  

She had never been in a situation where she had to fight an orgasm. Every time she got close before, she had embraced it, welcomed the waves of pleasure crashing over her.  

But now?  

Now, she was on a metro, surrounded by strangers, forced to hold back—forced to endure this wicked, delicious torment Vishal had trapped her in.  

And worst of all?  

She fucking loved it.

Her entire body trembled, her breath ragged as she clenched her thighs, desperate for release. The vibrator inside her pulsed relentlessly, drilling into her soaked, needy pussy, sending waves of unbearable pleasure through her body.  

She wanted nothing more than to slip her fingers under the fabric, to rub herself to completion, but she couldn’t—not here, not in public, with strangers just inches away.  

She was heaving, sweat slicking her skin beneath the burkha, her chest rising and falling as she teetered on the edge.  

She was so close.  

Then—suddenly—the vibrations stopped.  

“Ahhh—” she whimpered, frustration clear in her voice.  

She looked up, her wide, desperate eyes locking onto Vishal’s. He was watching her intently, a smirk playing on his lips, his fingers hovering over his phone screen.  

That bastard.  

He knew. He knew exactly when she was about to climax, knew the precise moment when her body was ready to explode—and he denied her.  

Afrah clenched her jaw, her body trembling as her pussy ached, throbbing, the denied orgasm making her even more desperate.  

The vibrator began pulsing again—slow, torturous waves of pleasure teasing her, winding her up all over again.  

She tried to stay still, but every pulse made her hips jerk slightly. Her fingers curled against her lap, nails digging into the fabric as she squirmed in her seat, helpless against his torment.  

Vishal was controlling her pleasure with just a swipe of his fingers.  

He was playing with her.  

Afrah groaned in frustration, her body begging for release, but she couldn’t do anything. She was trapped in this agonizing cycle of pleasure and denial, her pussy throbbing, her breath coming out in soft, needy pants.  

And worst of all?  

Vishal knew she loved it.



Afrah’s entire body quivered, her thighs clenching involuntarily as her soaked pussy throbbed around the unrelenting toy. She fought the sensation, fought her own body’s desperate craving for release—but deep down, she wanted Vishal to control her pleasure. She wanted him to tease her mercilessly, to keep her on edge, to revel in how utterly wrecked she was becoming under his control.  

But she needed to cum.  

Her eyes flickered to Vishal, her gaze dropping to his lap. Her breath hitched.  

He was hard

Painfully, achinglyhard, his thick cock straining against the fabric of his pants, begging to be freed.  

He fucking loves this… she thought, swallowing hard as she watched his erection twitch beneath the material. The sheer size of him made her thighs press together, amplifying the already overwhelming sensations coursing through her.  

The vibrator surged again, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to her core.  

Afrah squeezed her eyes shut, her breath coming out in shaky gasps as she built toward orgasm, not just from the relentless toy inside her but from the situation itself—the helplessness, the control, the way Vishal played her body like a wicked maestro.  

Her bindings—the weight of the burkha concealing her flushed, aroused state—only intensified her euphoria.  

She was so close, teetering on the brink, her entire body shuddering as she reached for the peak—  

Then it stopped.  

Again.  

A strangled mewl slipped from her lips before she could stop it.  

The woman beside her glanced at her, brow furrowed in mild concern.  

Afrah bit her lip hard, her nails digging into her palms, her face burning beneath the fabric.  

She needed release. She needed him to let her cum.  

She wanted to plead with Vishal, to beg him for mercy—but her pride wouldn’t let her.  

And deep down…  

She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stop.

She lost track of time, sinking into a trance-like state where her body moved and reacted on its own, completely at the mercy of the relentless, pulsing toy inside her. The world around her faded—nothing else mattered but the unbearable, torturous pleasure that Vishal controlled with a flick of his fingers. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her thighs trembling as sweat dampened her skin beneath the fabric of her burkha.  

She couldn’t fight it.  

She couldn’t escape it.  

Even if she wanted to.  

She had surrendered, given up control, transformed into nothing more than a trembling, desperate vessel for sensation. She was a beautiful, intricate piece of art—crafted not by paint or stone, but by sheer, mind-melting arousal.  

Vishal had taken over her entire body.  

He turned up the vibrations, making her jolt in her seat, her walls clenching around the unrelenting device as pleasure surged through her core, obliterating her thoughts, turning her into a quivering, pleasure-drunk sponge, soaking up every exquisite jolt of ecstasy.  

She was so close.  

Her body braced instinctively, muscles tightening, preparing to explode into the euphoric release she had been desperately chasing—  

Then—  

It stopped.  

Again.  

A strangled sob escaped her lips, her body trembling with need, her clit throbbing in frustration. But before she could even process the loss, Vishal turned it back on—higher, faster, dragging her helplessly back to the very edge of climax.  

Then he stopped.  

Again.  

And again.  

Over and over, pushing her higher, keeping her dangling on the precipice of orgasm, never letting her fall.  

Afrah’s head spun, her entire body locked in a state of exquisite agony, her thoughts melting into pure, unbearable *need*.  

She wanted to scream.  

She wanted to beg.  

But all she could do was suffer in silence, drowning in the devastating pleasure that he so cruelly controlled.


She knew—oh, she knew—that almost every man in the metro, and surely some women too, would do anything to see her stripped bare, writhing, lost in the ecstasy coursing through her trembling body. And yet, there she was, mere feet away from them, drowning in pleasure, her release just within reach—but still denied.  

No one had a clue.  

No one knew that beneath her modest layers, she was soaking, her inner thighs slick with arousal. No one knew that her boss—her merciless tormentor—was the one pulling the strings, playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.  

No one knew that she was about to cum right there in the middle of it all.  

But Vishal wasn’t going to let that happen.  

After what felt like an eternity of teasing—of edging her so close to breaking that she could taste her climax—her body was wrecked, her face flushed, her breath erratic, her legs trembling from the sheer desperation of being held on the precipice for so long.  

And then—  

The train slowed.  

Their stop had arrived.  

Vishal stood, adjusting his jacket like nothing had happened. Afrah could barely move, her legs weak, her body screaming for the release he had denied her over and over again.  

“Come,” he murmured.  

I already fucking would have if you let me,she wanted to scream.  

But instead, she obeyed, stepping out onto the platform—flushed, ruined, and desperate for whatever he had planned next.


The road was empty, the night settling in even though it was only 8 PM. They walked towards the parking lot where Vishal’s car was parked. The quiet hum of distant traffic barely reached them, the dim yellow glow of overhead lights casting long shadows.  

As soon as they reached his car, Vishal wasted no time. He grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and bent her over the car hood. The cool metal sent a shiver through her, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning inside her.  

With deliberate ease, he lifted her burkha up to her waist, exposing her bare, trembling thighs and soaked core to the night air. The contrast of her fair skin against the dark fabric made his mouth water. He knelt behind her, gripping her hips as he buried his face between her legs.  

His tongue pressed against her swollen clit, flicking and swirling, teasing the ache he had built inside her. Afrah let out a strangled moan, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pushed him closer. He devoured her like a man starved, his tongue slipping inside her, tasting every drop of the arousal he had drawn from her all evening.  

Slurping, sucking, tracing every sensitive nerve with expert precision—he worked her up until her legs were shaking, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She didn’t care if anyone saw her. She didn’t care about anything except the pleasure he was giving her, the release she had been denied for so long.  

Her moans filled the empty parking lot, raw and uninhibited, as his tongue danced against her. She was close—so close. And Vishal knew it.


Gently, Vishal rubbed her clit, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles as her hips swayed unconsciously, matching the rhythm of his tongue. Afrah's grip tightened in his hair, feeling the slight bob of his head as he licked her, his lips sucking and kissing her sensitive flesh. Her body burned with need, every nerve alight with pleasure.

Her legs locked around his back, pulling him closer, as if she were possessed by raw desire. She thrust against his face, chasing the intoxicating friction of his mouth. Vishal responded with equal hunger, his tongue exploring her folds, teasing and tasting every inch.


Afrah was out of control, and judging by the way Vishal’s tongue furiously licked her, he was enjoying it just as much—if not more. She pressed harder against him, her body desperate for release, until that familiar pressure began to build deep inside her. Her insides clenched, bracing for the incoming wave, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as a moan tore from her throat.  

Her entire body trembled as the electric orgasm surged through her, radiating from her core to her limbs, until it finally settled in her mind, leaving her breathless. Her skin prickled, and she exhaled deeply, fully aware that Vishal wasn’t done with her yet.  

Hell, he was just getting started.  

He kept lapping at her, slowing just enough to let her catch her breath before teasing her clit with gentle, featherlight strokes. He knew how sensitive she was now, how every flick of his tongue sent jolts of pleasure coursing through her. But the moment she started moaning again, he returned to that vicious rhythm, relentless in his assault.  

Afrah bit her lip, her fingers gripping the hard edges of the car hood for support. Each time his tongue made contact, it was like a bolt of lightning striking her core, and she loved it.  

As her back arched, he slid a finger inside her, exploring her wet heat with deliberate, calculated movements. Her whole body twitched in pleasure, her thighs instinctively spreading wider as he pushed in another finger. He worked them in and out, thrusting with unrelenting intensity while his tongue continued its assault on her clit.  

Her jaw quivered, her body a live wire of sensation, muscles pulled taut like a bowstring stretched to its limit—on the verge of snapping into another mind-shattering release.


Afrah moaned his name, her voice dripping with desire and surrender. “Vishal…” It felt forbidden, yet intoxicating, a name she could whisper again and again and never grow tired of.  

"Vishal…" she gasped once more as her body convulsed, engulfed in the relentless flames of pleasure. She thrust her hips against his fingers, forcing him to bury them deep inside her, the pressure building to an unbearable peak. His name turned into a scream as the climax tore through her, thick beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, her hair sticking to her flushed skin.  

He placed a soft, lingering kiss against her trembling core before withdrawing his fingers, savoring the moment as he slowly stood. Towering over her, he leaned in, brushing a kiss against her cheek, right at the corner of her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips, and the realization sent another shiver of arousal through her. She loved it—loved how he wanted her, how he could never get enough of her body.  

After three devastating orgasms, her legs felt weak, trembling beneath her. Just as she was about to collapse, Vishal caught her, his strong arms steadying her, holding her upright as she melted against him.


She slowly slid off the hood of the car, her legs too weak to hold her up. As she crumpled to the ground, her breath still ragged, she turned her gaze back to Vishal—and her eyes widened.  

He already had his cock out.  

He was hard. Even harder than he have ever been. And somehow, impossibly, he looked even bigger. The sight of him sent another shudder of anticipation through her, her body still thrumming from the orgasms he had just wrung out of her.  

Apparently, when it came to Vishal, there were no limits.


She licked her lips, her gaze locked onto the glistening pearl of Vishal’s pre-cum trembling at the tip of his cock.  

His hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his foreskin gliding back and forth, revealing the slick, swollen head. It was mesmerizing—almost hypnotic.  

He brought himself closer, pressing the thick crown against her chin, deliberately avoiding her lips. Then, with a smirk, he dragged it along her cheek, smearing his arousal against her flushed skin.  

A sharp slap followed—his cock tapping against her face, each wet smack sending a jolt of heat through her body.

She gasp her eyes wide.

She bit her lower lip as her fingers traced the length of his cock. Moving slowly, she flattened her palm over his crotch, feeling the steady heat radiating from him. A pleasant warmth spread through her body as she felt the strong, rhythmic pulse of his shaft beneath her touch.  

Curling her fingers around his girth, she inhaled sharply, her heart tightening in her chest at the sheer thickness of him.  

Vishal took half a step forward, and the swollen tip of his cock bobbed against her lips, leaving a glistening string of pre-cum dangling between them.  

Instinctively, she licked her lips, tasting the salty nectar he offered.  

Her hand wrapped firmly around his thick base, her grip tightening as she brought her face closer. Maintaining eye contact, she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the tip, her lips parting just enough to tease him with her breath.

Her lips parted wider, and she pressed another kiss to the tip before slowly enveloping it in the heat of her mouth. Kissing quickly turned into sucking, her lips wrapping around him as she closed her eyes and nursed at the swollen head of his cock.

She swirled her tongue around him, savoring the taste, and let out a soft hum, the vibration sending a shudder through his body.

Opening her mouth as wide as it would go, she took him in, her tongue gliding against his length as she licked and sucked up every drop of his pre-cum. There was so much—thick, salty, and intoxicating.

“Good girl,” Vishal groaned through clenched teeth, his voice rough with pleasure.

A rush of pride filled her at his praise, making her more eager to please.


She pulled his cock out of her mouth to catch her breath, a thin string of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening tip.  

A rush of sensations surged through her as she met his heated gaze, her body responding instinctively. She dragged her tongue along the thick vein running down his shaft, starting from the base and moving upward in slow, teasing strokes. Pressing soft kisses along his length, she finally wrapped her lips around the head again, swirling her tongue over the sensitive tip.  

Her fingers trailed along his shaft, tracing every ridge and vein, before cupping his balls, rolling them gently in her palm.  

A thick bead of pre-cum oozed from his slit, coating her tongue with its sweet and salty taste—her favorite combination. She moaned softly, savoring it, and Vishal groaned in response, his hips bucking involuntarily. His need for her was undeniable.


She wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, closing her eyes as his raw taste consumed her senses. Without hesitation, she let her lips glide down his shaft, pushing herself to take him deeper, her throat stretching to accommodate his size.  

“Good girl,” Vishal murmured, amusement lacing his voice. “Seems like you know what you’re doing.”  

His grip on her head loosened, allowing her to pull back, gasping for air as his cock slid from her mouth. Her jaw ached from the effort, but she only grinned, desire burning in her eyes. She grasped his thick shaft, angling it downward before lunging forward, her mouth open wide as she welcomed him back onto her tongue.  

Wasting no time, she began bobbing her head, her lips gliding up and down his length, each movement drawing a groan from deep within him.


She moaned around his cock, the vibrations making him groan. “Ahhh, fucking hell. Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he growled, his fingers tangling in her hair. She pushed his cock in and out of her mouth, occasionally grazing the shaft lightly with her teeth, and the sharp intake of his breath told her just how much he liked it.

Releasing him with a wet pop, she watched as a thick bead of pre-cum dripped down his shaft. She eagerly licked it up, savoring every drop of his taste.

““You like having my fat cock in your lips while dressing so modestly?” Vishal murmured, his voice thick with lust. The forbidden nature of his words sent a shiver down her spine, making her even wetter. She was wearing a traditional bur***, an attire that defined modesty, yet here she was, on her knees, doing the most immodest things with a *** man. And somehow, that contrast only aroused her more, making her thighs clench as her slickness grew.


She was doing her best to swallow the full length of his iron-hard cock, her throat stretching around him, and never mind how it made her pussy throb. Holy fuck. It had never made her this wet before. She slid her fingers between her slick folds just to confirm—yes, she was soaked, dripping down her thighs.

The scent of her arousal filled the air, intoxicating, undeniable. Her clit pulsed, sending waves of desperate need through her body, making her ache for more.




Vishal’s POV:  



Vishal’s eyes locked onto Afrah, his cock twitching at the sight of her—head modestly wrapped in fabric, her face exposed, lips stretched wide around his thick shaft. The contrast was maddening. A woman dbangd in purity, yet here she was, on her knees, sucking him off like she was made for it. It sent a savage thrill through him.  
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"Fuck, look at you," he groaned, threading his fingers through the silky fabric covering her head, gripping just enough to keep her right where he wanted. "So modest, yet doing such filthy things with your mouth."  

She whimpered around him, the vibrations shooting straight through his cock, making his balls tighten.  

Afrah was hungry for it—her tongue flicking and swirling over his sensitive tip before she sank her mouth down again, taking him deeper. Her throat stretched, lips sealing tight around his girth, and Vishal let out a raw, primal groan.  

"Ahhh, fucking hell… your mouth feels too good," he gritted out, his hips rolling forward, testing how much more she could take.  

She hollowed her cheeks, sucking with obscene eagerness, and when her teeth lightly scbangd along his shaft, he jerked, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.  

"Shit," he growled, watching her with dark amusement. "You like teasing me, don’t you?"  

She pulled off with a wet pop, her lips glossy with spit and arousal. A thick bead of pre-cum oozed from his tip, and before he could even command her, she leaned in, tongue flicking out to lap it up.  

The sight sent a brutal wave of pleasure through him. He grabbed her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to look at him.  

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb smearing his arousal over her lips. “Dressed so modestly, yet here you are, swallowing my cock like a desperate little slut.”  

Her breath hitched, her pupils blown wide with lust. She was soaked—he could smell it, the heady scent of her arousal thick in the air.  

Vishal smirked, gripping his shaft and tapping the slick head against her flushed cheek, then trailing it down to her chin.  

"Open up," he ordered. "I’m not done using that mouth yet."  




The contrast was almost too much for Vishal to handle.  

The way she looked—modest, covered, almost demure—yet here she was, on her knees before him, her lips stretched around his thick cock like she was made for it.  

It was her first time. The way she hesitated, testing her movements, learning his reactions—yet she was a natural. Her soft lips wrapped around his girth, suckling him with reverence, as though she’d been dreaming of this moment long before it happened.  

Vishal’s jaw clenched as she kissed the tip, her tongue flicking out to gather the bead of pre-cum glistening there. She pulled back just slightly, breathing warm air over his length before dipping back in, her tongue swirling, teasing.  

His fingers dug into the edge of the car behind him. “Your fucking mouth is addicting,” he growled.  

She hummed against him, as if she liked hearing that, and tried to take more. His cock was big, far too thick for her to take in one go. She struggled past five inches before she gagged slightly, pulling back with a gasp, her lips shiny, her chin wet from the mess they were making.  

A strand of slick pre-cum trailed from her lips to his tip, a sinful little web connecting them. She was panting, wide eyes flicking from his cock to his face, as if waiting for approval.  

Vishal’s smirk was wicked. She looked so innocent—yet so utterly ruined. And fuck, she wasn’t even done yet.  

His cock twitched, and her breath hitched.  

She licked her lips, tasting the remnants of him there. And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she leaned back in.  

She wasn’t stopping until she had all of him.  



Afrah was something else.  

One moment, she was pushing Vishal away, playing at innocence, and the next—her soft, warm lips were wrapped around his thick cock, her tongue flicking against his sensitive tip. She was inexperienced, but damn if she wasn’t a natural.  

“Fuck, Afrah…” Vishal groaned, his head tilting back as his fingers threaded through her hair. “You’re already so good at this.”  

She hummed around his length, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his core. Her mouth stretched wide, struggling to take more of him, her eyes flicking up to meet his as if asking for approval.  

“You’re so big,” she breathed out, pulling back just enough to catch her breath before trailing wet kisses along his length. “I don’t think I can take all of you.”  

Vishal smirked, watching her try. “Just do what you can, baby. Every inch feels fucking amazing.”  

She blushed but didn’t stop. Her fingers wrapped around the base, stroking what her mouth couldn’t reach. She suckled on his tip, her tongue teasing the sensitive slit before drawing him in deeper, inch by inch.  

“Shit… just like that,” he groaned, his grip tightening in her hair. “You’re fucking perfect.”  

Afrah’s lashes fluttered, and despite the struggle, she moaned around him, aroused by his reactions. She wanted to please him—wanted to make him lose control.  

And from the way his muscles tensed and his breath hitched, she was succeeding.  



Her head was covered, the fabric framing her delicate features, a stark contrast to the sinful act she was lost in. That contrast—her modesty against the way she worshiped his cock—made Vishal's length twitch inside her warm, eager mouth.  

She gasped, pulling back, her lips parting as she sucked in air. A thin strand of pre-cum stretched from her swollen lips to his tip, glistening like a web in the dim light. Her chin and mouth were wet, her breath coming in soft, needy pants.  

Vishal’s cock throbbed at the sight.  

Afrah’s big doe eyes stayed fixed on his length, wide with something between innocence and hunger. Then, slowly, deliberately, she lifted her gaze to meet his.  

“Look at you,” Vishal murmured, his voice thick with arousal. His thumb brushed against her slick lower lip, smearing the wetness across her skin. “You love this, don’t you?”  

She shivered but didn’t answer, only parting her lips again, letting her tongue peek out as if silently begging for more.  

“Good girl,” he rasped, gripping her jaw. “Now, take me back in.”  



Afrah’s delicate fingers remained wrapped around his cock, stroking him slowly, spreading the slick mixture of her spit and his pre-cum along his thick length. The way she moved—hesitant yet eager—sent a pulse of pleasure straight to Vishal’s core.  

With a low groan, he took himself in hand, rubbing his swollen tip against her flushed cheeks, smearing his arousal across her soft skin. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let him paint her, her lips parting slightly, a soft whimper escaping as his heat marked her.  

“Fuck, Afrah,” he muttered, watching her, enthralled.  

She wrapped her fingers around him again, stroking slowly, deliberately, her gaze locked on his cock as if mesmerized by the way his foreskin slid back and forth, revealing the sensitive tip. Her tongue darted out, flicking against it, tasting him, before she pressed a lingering kiss to the head.  

Then, with a slow inhale, she took him back into her mouth.  

It’s a beautiful fucking sight. A scene Vishal could watch every day of his damn life.  

She looked up at him, her big, dark eyes smoldering, filled with heat and unspoken hunger. There was something else there, too—excitement, anticipation. She was on board for everything that wass or her to come.  

And Vishal was going to make sure of it.  


Afrah’s mouth wrapped around him, warm and tight, as she slowly pulled his length deeper. Her fingers moved skillfully, massaging his balls, teasing the sensitive skin beneath, driving him insane with each calculated touch.  

She worked him like a woman possessed, her rhythm torturous—stroking his cock, rolling his balls, tracing slow, maddening circles with her fingertips. Her tongue was sinful, flicking and swirling, coating him in slick heat.  

“Fuck… you’re unreal,” Vishal groaned, his head tipping back.  

She purred around him, the soft vibrations sending sharp jolts of pleasure down his spine. For someone so modest, so seemingly innocent, she sucked his cock like it was the most precious thing in the world.  

Her flushed cheeks, her doe eyes framed by the soft fabric of her veil—it was a vision of pure, filthy contrast. And the little moans she made, the way she shifted, pressing her thighs together—she was aroused. She was getting off on this.  

The image alone was too much.  

Vishal’s muscles tensed, his control slipping as her teeth grazed over his sensitive flesh—just enough to push him over the edge.  

“Ah—shit, Afrah!” he groaned, his body jerking as pleasure crashed over him. 

-

Vishal’s muscles jerked, his entire body coiling like a spring as the heat inside him surged to its breaking point. Afrah’s teeth grazed his sensitive flesh, sending a shudder through him—a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, tipping him over the edge.  

With a guttural groan, he erupted.  

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded her mouth, the sheer force of it making her eyes widen. She gasped, instinctively pulling back, but his release was relentless. Strands of creamy white painted her chin, her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and finally, streaked across her veil.  

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The black fabric was marked, stained with his seed.  

Vishal’s breath came in ragged pants as he took in the sight before him—her delicate, innocent features now laced with filth. Her lips glistened with his seed, her wide, dark eyes filled with a mix of shock and something deeper… something darker.  

A raw hunger flickered in her gaze as she hesitated, swallowing what little she had managed to hold. A soft whimper escaped her, her tongue darting out to catch the remnants of his release from her lower lip.  
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His cock twitched at the sheer eroticism of it.  

“Fuck, Afrah…” His voice was thick, hoarse. He reached out, cupping her cum-slicked chin, smearing his seed across her soft skin. “Look at you.”  

She blinked up at him, cheeks still flushed, her breath uneven. Slowly, as if realizing the state she was in, her fingers rose, hesitantly touching the sticky trails on her veil, feeling the warmth of his release clinging to her.  

A deep, satisfied smirk curled at Vishal’s lips.  

“Now that’s a fucking sight,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her wet lips. “You wear it so well.”  

Her lashes fluttered, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.  

And just like that, he knew—this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her like this.

[Zoz34]

Afrah sat, stiff, on the cushioned stool as her cousins and friends crowded around her.It was her hladi ceremony . As the haldi paste was applied to her cheeks and arms, she couldn’t shake the cold feeling that spread across her skin. The turmeric’s chill only made the heat between her thighs feel more pronounced. She resisted the urge to squeeze them together, biting her lip as the women continued with their playful chatter.

She had been doing this for weeks now—allowing Vishal’s touch, letting him push her boundaries, yet never fully giving in. But now, sitting in front of her friends and family, she wondered if anyone knew. Did they not notice her missing for few minutes? Did anyone noticed her coming out of that room?

Her cousins giggled, one of them whispering a joke about how her skin would “glow” after today. She clenched her thighs to control her wet pussy.

" I am going to fuck you in that bridal dress of urs Afrah"Vishal words ring in ears.


30 mins ago

She never should have gone upstairs.But with him every experience is thrilling ,she should have resisted not on her sacred days but she went to that room anyway , without anyone noticing.He was there.She shouldn’t be here.
She should be downstairs, sitting with the other women, waiting for them to apply the haldi that would mark her as Sohail’s bride.
As soon as she stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind her.

Afrah: have u gone mad ,it too risky ..

Vishal: that's the fun , besides I couldn't stop myself looking at u in this traditional attire 

Her throat felt dry."Vishal, I can’t
"You can. U want to "He took slow, deliberate steps toward her, and her back hit the wall.

"You're about to let them coat your body in turmeric, Afrah," he murmured, his fingers trailing up her bare forearm. "But before that… I want to apply something else on you."
Heat pooled between her thighs.
"Vishal—"
"Sshh." He pressed a single finger against her lips. 
She swallowed.
Vishal, please—someone might come—"
His chuckle was dark.
"Oh, someone will come." His lips brushed against her ear. "Then  they will witness what you horny little slut u are"Her knees buckled.
Vishal smirked, catching her wrist before she could stumble. And then—he guided her hand downward."You already know what to do, Afrah."Her fingers brushed against the hard ridge beneath his belt.
But—"
"No buts, Afrah." He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. "Take it out."
She hesitated.Not because she didn’t want to.
But because she did.Slowly, with trembling fingers, she unbuckled his belt.His zipper slid down, revealing thick, burning hard veiny cock.
And then—he was in her hand.Hot. Heavy. Veined.Her breath hitched
"That’s right," Vishal whispered, guiding her strokes. "All for you, Afrah. Only for you."
He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening in her hair.
"Now, use your mouth."

She knelt in front of him, her trembling fingers brushing against the thick, veiny length standing hard before her. Her face was flawless — fresh makeup done for the haldi ceremony, a soft yellow salwar clinging to her curves, strands of jasmine woven into her hair. The faint scent of sandalwood and rosewater clung to her skin.

She should have been downstairs, surrounded by giggling cousins, waiting for them to smear turmeric on her cheeks. Instead, here she was… staring at his cock like it was the only thing that mattered.Then, her lips parted. Warm, soft, desperate.She took him in.
A sharp inhale. A deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest as her mouth wrapped around his thick, veiny cock. His hips jerked forward, unable to resist the pull of her lips."So good… fuck, so beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough, laced with hunger.

She pulled his cock out of her mouth, gasping for breath, a thin string of spit clinging from her lips to his tip. A pearly bead of precum glistened there — she let it drip down, pooling onto her lips.Eyes wide, soft and hungry, she stared up at him with those doe-like eyes, cheeks flushed, bridal makeup still perfect, yellow dress slipping at the shoulder.His thumb brushed over her lips, gathering the slick mess and precum, then pushed it between her parted lips."Suck it," he said.She closed her lips around his thumb, eyes fluttering as she sucked with obscene, eager lust."Fuck, Afrah," he groaned, his voice strained. "Look at you… my perfect good girl… on her knees for me on her haldi ceremony."

He pulled his cock out of her mouth, a wet gasp escaping her lips like she’d been parted from her favorite toy.Without a word, he slapped his thick, wet cock against her flushed cheek, the slick sound loud in the charged air.
Her  makeup smeared slightly, but she didn’t care. If anything, the sting made her moan, eyes fluttering in wanton submission.

"You fucking love that, don’t you?" he growled.
“Suck it properly,” he ordered.“I want to ruin that pretty mouth before Sohail even gets to touch it.”A sharp, shameful ache coiled in her stomach — but it wasn’t disgust. It was heat. A searing, forbidden burn that made her core slick.His words should’ve made her stop. Should’ve made her run downstairs .But here she was. On her knees. Mouth full of hiscock.

"Vishal… please… cum soon,"she whispered between gasping breaths, pretending to beg him to finish, but every slick swirl of her tongue said otherwise.Afrah’s lips stretched around his thick, veiny length, the swollen tip hitting the back of her throat as her tongue teased the sensitive ridge. Precum smeared across her tongue, and she moaned around him.

“Just like that,” he groaned, hips jerking forward. “You filthy little slut… look at you.”And she did — looking up with doe eyes, her bridal makeup smeared, cheeks flushed, a sinful, helpless need written all over her face.His musky scent filled her senses, intoxicating, forbidden.Her fingers curled around the base, stroking him as she bobbed her head, letting him glide deeper into the heat of her mouth.  
"Fuck, Afrah," Vishal groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair."You're so fucking good at this."A wicked thrill shot through her.  He was loving it.Loving her.His cock throbbed on her tongue, thick veins pulsing beneath her touch.  
His hips jerked forward, a deep growl tearing from his throat.
"Afrah—fuck—I’m gonna—"And then it hit her.
A hot, thick rush flooded her mouth, spilling past her lips, trailing down her chin, painting her throat and bare collarbone in white streaks.She gasped around him, startled by how much there was. It dripped, warm and sinful, onto her lap.And then — a wet plop.Her eyes darted down.
No… no no no…
A thick drop had splashed into the haldi bowl beside her.The golden-yellow paste now streaked with white. 
Her breath hitched.
"Oh God…"Vishal grinned darkly, watching her panic, her chest heaving, face flushed, lips still parted and glistening.
He crouched, dragging his fingers through the mess on her throat, smearing it deeper into her skin.“Relax,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “A little extra blessing for your big day.”She looked up at him, wide-eyed, breathless.
"Vishal… the haldi—someone will see—”

He just smiles....




Present:

Present – Downstairs, cernomny 

Afrah sat on the decorated stool, dbangd in a yellow salwar , surrounded by giggling cousins and aunties. The scent of rosewater, sandalwood, and turmeric filled the air, mixing with the lingering musk of what she had just done. Her  thighs clenched together."Oh God…" The haldi bowl was placed before her, its golden paste slightly thicker than usual.

Afrah swallowed hard. "That haldi…"Her eyes flickered to the small streaks of white that had mixed in, vanishing into the yellow.No one had noticed. No one knew. But she knew.Her mother’s hands dipped into the bowl."Bi****h," Ammi murmured, smiling warmly before rubbing the paste onto Afrah’s cheeks.Afrah’s stomach twisted."Oh my God, Ammi is rubbing Vishal’s cum on my face." Her mother’s hands were gentle, loving, as she smeared the mixture down Afrah’s throat, over the very spot where Vishal had held her just minutes ago. Afrah’s breath hitched. The warm, sticky turmeric spread over her collarbone, the very place he had marked her."She’s rubbing his filth onto me… blessing me with it." Her mother smiled. "This will make your skin glow for your wedding day, beta." Afrah’s fingers dug into her lap."I’m glowing already, Ammi." Her cousins laughed, smearing more of the tainted haldi on her arms, her shoulders. The very same haldi that had trickled from Vishal’s cock minutes ago. Her body heated at the memory. "If they only knew." As they rubbed the paste into her bare skin, Afrah bit her lip, holding back a moan.  And none of them had any idea.

[Zoz34]

All my readers, this is the last post ,and again thank you all for showing love..hope u enjoy it




Guilt clung to her skin, heavier than any haldi paste ever could. It seeped into her pores, thick and suffocating, but not enough to drown out the phantom feel of Vishal’s fingers around her throat, the burn of his breath in her ear, the bitter-salt taste of him still ghosting on her tongue.

And yet… she hadn’t run. She never did.

Her wedding was four days away. Sohail — sweet, safe, gentle Sohail — waiting patiently for a bride who no longer existed. Somewhere along the line, Afrah had shed that version of herself like an old skin. She wasn’t sure when it happened. A glance too long. A touch held a moment too late. A whisper of filth dressed as a joke.

Now there was this… this trembling, hollow thing in her place. A woman who ached for Vishal’s cruel hands.

And the cruelest part was, she wasn’t even certain he wanted her. Maybe she was just another bored plaything. Another trophy to hang in the dark recesses of his whiskey-soaked nights. Another story traded between men who smelled of smoke and sin.

Her stomach knotted, bile rising in her throat. She thought she might cry. Right there on the haldi stool, surrounded by syrup-sweet faces and well-meaning hands smearing blessings across a body soiled barely minutes before.

But she didn’t.

Because even now — knowing what she should feel, knowing what she was about to destroy — she wanted him. Would let him do it again.

And no one could save her from herself.


The very next day, she made up her mind.
It was bold.
It was reckless.
And it was dangerous.

Convincing Ammi to let her step out alone had been a battle of careful lies and watery eyes. Her mother had fussed and fretted, declaring it was bad luck for a bride to wander days before her wedding. That tongues would wag. That the evil eye was always watching.

But Afrah managed.

And now — standing before his door, her pulse thundering in her ears — she rang the bell.

When Vishal opened it, the air left her lungs.
God, he looked good. Casual. Careless. Sin made flesh, leaning against the frame like he already owned her.

She faltered.

“We need to talk,” she blurted, her voice barely hers.

She didn’t wait for permission. She stepped past him, closing the door with a soft click that sounded far too loud in the quiet.“We can’t keep doing this,”she began, hands wringing the edge of her dupatta, voice shaking. “What we did yesterday was… stupid. Reckless. We could’ve been caught. I’m getting married, Vishal. It’s not fair — to Sohail, to my parents, to—”

Her words faltered, the guilt rising thick in her throat.

And then he was there — close, too close — lifting her chin with a single finger.Their eyes met.

“Then tell me,” he murmured, his voice a dark, lazy drawl. Why are you here?
She knew.God, she knew.And she should’ve left. She should’ve turned around, opened that door, and gone back to the safety of a life that wasn’t hers anymore.
But she didn’t.

Instead, with a ragged breath, she grabbed his collar and crashed her mouth against his. A desperate, messy kiss that filled the silent room with the wet, obscene sound of lips and teeth and need.

His hands slid down, cupping her ass with a bruising grip that made her gasp into his mouth, her body arching against his.

Her trembling fingers fumbled with his buttons, needing to feel him, to carve the shape of him into her memory for whatever life came after.She kissed down his chest, tasting salt, skin, sin.This was the last time.

She told herself that.
And then — trembling, guilty, starving — she sank to her knees.She undid his pants slowly, her fingers trembling against the metal button, brushing his skin. The sound of the zipper rasped in the thick, heavy silence.

His cock sprang free — thick, dark, heavy with blood. The veins stood out, ridged and pulsing, the swollen head already slick with precum. Heat radiated off it, the scent of him — musk, sweat, and sin — curling in the air.

Afrah’s soft hand wrapped around him, fingers barely closing around the girth. He was hot, impossibly hard, the weight of him settling into her palm like a sin she wasn’t strong enough to refuse.

She brought him to her lips, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the flushed tip. The skin was silky, the taste of salt and skin blooming on her tongue.

A soft, shaky breath left her as she ran her tongue along the underside, tracing a thick vein, savoring him like a forbidden treat on a suffocatingly hot day.

And then — without hesitation — she took him into her mouth.

Warm, wet sounds filled the room, obscene in the hush. Her lips stretched, her tongue swirling along the tender underside as she sank deeper. His taste coated her mouth, a mix of salt, musk, and raw maleness. She moaned softly around him, the vibration making his cock twitch against her tongue.

Precum leaked onto her tastebuds, sharp and slick, and she savored it, her lashes fluttering.

She pulled back, gasping, a thin string of saliva clinging between her swollen lips and his flushed, throbbing tip. It caught the low light like a thread of liquid silk.

Her eyes stayed on him, dark, glassy, full of desperate hunger.
“I want you to remember this,”she whispered, her voice a hoarse, aching promise.And then she slid him back into her mouth, slow and deep.

For the next few minutes, she pleasured him with her mouth — slow, filthy, desperate. Her lips slick with saliva, her tongue tracing every thick vein, savoring the salt and heat of him. The room was thick with the wet, obscene sounds of her suckling, the quiet hiss of his breath, the faint creak of the couch beneath them.

Her jaw ached, her throat raw, but she couldn’t stop.

Then — trembling, her lips swollen and wet — Afrah looked up. Their eyes met, and in that split second, she felt her composure shatter.

Her lips quivered as she bit down on them, trying to trap the words clawing up her throat.

But they broke loose.

“Vishal… please… fuck me,” she whispered.

The sound of it — her voice, wrecked with need and thick with guilt — hung heavy in the room.

Her stomach twisted. She shouldn’t have said it. She shouldn’t even be here. Sohail’s wedding haldi was still staining her skin. And yet… here she was. Again.

And worse — she didn’t want to leave.

She saw it in Vishal’s eyes the moment the words landed. That flare of dark, possessive hunger. Primal. Dangerous.

Before she could blink, he scooped her into his arms like she weighed nothing. The suddenness made her breath hitch, her heart pounding against her ribs. The scent of his skin, warm and sharp, filled her lungs as he carried her across the room.

The couch’s soft fabric kissed her skin as he laid her down, and then — with one practiced, unhurried motion — her salwar was tugged down her thighs and tossed aside.

Cool air licked at her slick folds, the obscene wetness there glistening under his gaze. She should’ve felt shame, should’ve tried to close her legs, cover herself. But all she felt was desperate, pulsing hunger.

When his gaze dropped between her thighs, a wicked smirk curled his lips.

“So wet for me already,” he murmured, the mocking praise making her toes curl and a sharp ache twist in her belly.
And then — she saw him spit.
A thick, hot glob landed directly on her swollen, glistening pussy. It mixed with her arousal, sliding down in a slick, filthy trail. The sensation was maddening — obscene and intimate in a way that made her hips jerk, a gasp escaping her throat.

“Vishal…” she moaned, the sound barely recognizable, raw and broken.

Then his mouth was on her.

The heat of his tongue, the way he flicked it over her clit, the firm, wet strokes against her swollen flesh — it was too much. Every deliberate lick, every maddening swirl and plunge had her body writhing. Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling tight, not to push him away, but to keep him there.

Afrah’s mind spun in a storm of sensation and shame. Her hips bucked against his mouth, chasing every pulse of pleasure he dragged from her with cruel ease.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood, but the words slipped out anyway.

“Baby… please,”she gasped, her voice cracking, thick with desperate hunger. “I need your cock… now…”

Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Not from pain. Not from guilt.

From the unbearable, searing heat of what she was doing… what she needed.

She wasn’t supposed to be this woman. A bride-to-be, begging for another man’s cock hours after being bathed in turmeric and blessings.

And yet — in this moment, with Vishal’s tongue on her and her body betraying every sacred vow — she didn’t care.Not when it was him.Not when it felt this good.Not when every part of her was already his.and deep down, she knew: she would let him ruin her again. And again. And again.
Even if it destroyed everything.

He stood up, the air thick and heavy between them, and revealed himself fully — his cock standing proud and impossibly hard. The sight of it made her stomach clench, her thighs instinctively pressing together, even as slickness seeped from her.

His eyes burned with hunger — dark, primal, unforgiving. The kind of gaze that promised ruin.

It made her stomach twist.
Made her pulse thrum in her throat.
Made her feel scared. Filthy.
And so fucking alive.

A heady, poisonous mix of fear, excitement, and raw, desperate want coiled tight and low in her belly as he gripped the base of his thick shaft, veins bulging, his hand like a collar around it.

He dragged the swollen, flushed head through her soaked folds, the slick sound of it obscene in the quiet room. Every slow, teasing stroke against her slit made her shudder, made her hips twitch, made her breath hitch in ragged gasps.

“Vishal…”she whispered, her voice trembling, thick with dread and need.He didn’t answer.

Instead — with a wicked glint in his eye — he laid the heavy, rigid length flat against her stomach.

Her eyes widened in shock.

The hot, velvety weight of him rested against her skin, the swollen head reaching damn near to her navel. The contrast of burning heat against her cool, trembling flesh made her gasp.

A pulse beat wildly in her throat. Panic tangled with heat, twisting inside her. She didn’t know how she’d take him. It seemed impossible. It was obscene.

But a dark, sick, shameful part of her wanted to.

Wanted to feel it stretch her, claim her, split her open.
Wanted to be ruined by him.

At least once.
Before it was too late.

Her hand trembled as she reached for him, her fingers wrapping around the thick shaft — her grip barely closing around its girth. The skin was hot, velvety over iron-hard flesh.

She guided him down, her breath hitching sharply when the swollen head brushed her slick heat again, the contact making her whole body jolt.Their eyes met.

“Go slow,” she whispered, voice breaking on the words, thick with fear and aching want. “It’s… my first time.”

The way his lips curled — that wicked, knowing smirk — made her pulse skip, her knees weaken.

She should have run.
Should have screamed.But instead, she spread her legs wider.
The soft, slick sound of her folds parting, the cool air ghosting against her soaked, swollen flesh, made her shiver.
Then she felt it.
The thick, blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against her entrance — and then, with a slow, merciless push, it began to breach her.

A sharp, burning stretch ripped through her, pain flaring bright and hot like a brand. Her back arched off the couch, her fingers clawing at the cushions, nails digging deep into the fabric. A strangled, guttural sound escaped her throat — half sob, half moan.

It was too much.
Too thick.
Too deep.

Her slick heat clenched desperately around him, trying to resist, trying to yield, and failing at both. Her legs trembled. Her head thrashed weakly from side to side, as if to deny what her body was doing — what it was *craving*.

“Vishal… it’s too… I can’t—”she gasped, voice catching on a sob thick with shock and need.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his breath hot and steady, the scent of him — sweat, spice, male — wrapping around her like a noose.

“Shh… almost in, Afrah. Just a little more,” he murmured, his voice thick with dark desire, but laced with a strange, dangerous tenderness she wasn’t prepared for.

The words settled something jagged inside her.

She bit down hard on her lip, coppery blood blooming on her tongue, as he pushed deeper. Each agonizingly slow inch an impossible, delirious mix of searing pain and unbearable, stretching pleasure. She could feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of him as her body was forced to open for him, take him.

And then…
Something shifted.

The razor-sharp edge of pain dulled — replaced by a raw, aching fullness. The heat of him, the obscene friction, made her thighs tighten instinctively around his waist, locking him closer.

A soft, broken moan slipped from her lips.

“Oh… God…”she whispered, not even aware she’d said it, the words ghosting into the heavy air between them.

Without thinking, her legs locked around him, heels digging into the hard curve of his back. Her trembling hands grabbed his torso, her nails biting into his sweat-slicked skin as she dragged him down, needing his weight, his heat, his mouth.

The kiss was messy, feral — a desperate tangle of tongues, gasps, bitten lips. She tasted sweat, salt, and sin. She felt the blunt scbang of his stubble against her cheek, the intoxicating burn of skin on skin, and she didn’t care.

She wanted more.
Needed more.

“Move… please,”she breathed against his mouth, her voice cracked and needy.

And he did.

Slow at first — a steady, torturous drag of his thick length inside her, every stroke a spark lighting through her oversensitive, overstretched body. The ache blurred into liquid pleasure, a filthy, wet friction that made her hips lift to meet him, chasing every thrust.

The air filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, wet, obscene slaps, the ragged rush of their breaths.

Afrah was lost.

Drowning in heat, guilt, pleasure so sharp it hurt, shame so sweet it tasted like honey.

And God help her —
she didn’t want to be found.


Vishal…” she gasped, voice cracking, clinging to him like she was afraid she might disappear. “I… I can feel you everywhere…”

He buried his face against her neck, his lips grazing her damp skin, his teeth catching her earlobe as he sank deeper. Each slow, claiming thrust made her entire body pulse with desperate, wet heat.

“You were made for this,” he whispered into her skin. “Made for me.”

A strangled sob burst from her throat, though it wasn’t from pain.

It was because it felt true.The pleasure was building, rising fast, an unstoppable, dizzying pulse deep inside her. It coiled low in her belly, tightening like a vice, every drag of him inside her a spark, every rough stroke a wave crashing against her will.

She didn’t want it to stop.
Didn’t care if it destroyed her.

“Vishal… oh God… I… I’m—”

He cradled the back of her head, his other hand gripping her thigh, holding her wide and open beneath him. His pace grew steadier, sure, the thick, wet sounds of their bodies joining filling the room.
That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice ragged, possessive. “Let go for me. Give me everything.”

And she did.

The orgasm tore through her like a flood, white-hot and blinding, crashing over her in a riot of heat, wetness, and helpless moans. Her body locked tight around him, her nails raking down his back as her hips bucked, chasing every last pulse of pleasure.

She cried out his name — raw, ruined — as she shattered beneath him.

And then he kissed her

Not rough.
Not greedy.

But like a man who couldn’t help himself.

And in that moment, there was no Sohail.
No wedding.
No family.
No guilt.

Only Vishal.
His scent, his weight, his heat.

And Afrah — lost, trembling, and ruined — wasn’t sure she ever wanted it to end.


Afrah had never felt this alive.
This desperate.
This unmade.

Vishal moved inside her like he owned her, like her body was made for no one else. Every thrust was deep, relentless — filling places she didn’t know could ache so beautifully. The stretch, the friction, the burn… it was almost too much.

Almost.

But God, she wanted it.

Needed it.More,” she gasped, her voice a ragged, broken thing, her arms clinging tight around his shoulders as if he was the only thing tethering her to earth. “Please, Vishal… harder. Don’t stop.”

His eyes met hers — wild, feral, dark with hunger. But underneath it was something else. Something dangerous. Something tender enough to wreck her.

He crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her cry as he thrust deeper, harder. The air filled with the sharp slap of skin on skin, the slick, obscene sounds of their bodies colliding. Every time he sank in, it felt like her body couldn’t possibly take another inch, another second — and yet it did.

And wanted more.

“You’re incredible, Afrah,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick, rough, wrecked with emotion. “So fucking beautiful like this… underneath me… taking all of me.”

His words poured through her veins like molten heat. She moaned into his mouth, her body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure built, a rising, suffocating tide she had no power to stop. The exquisite pressure inside her twisted tighter with every pounding thrust.

“I can’t… I’m—”

Yes you can,” he whispered fiercely, brushing damp strands from her flushed face, his palm cradling her jaw. “Give it to me, sweetheart. Everything. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

It shattered her.

The tenderness in his voice, the way his thumb brushed her cheek, the raw hunger in his stare — it cracked something inside her, sent her spiraling.

She bit down gently on his shoulder, the sharp salt of his skin on her tongue. Her nails clawed at his back, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure finally broke.

“Vishal… God… Vishal…”

Her climax hit like a storm, blinding and breathless. Her body locked around him, a slick, desperate pulse of heat as her hips bucked wildly, chasing every wave of bliss. She sobbed his name, her voice wrecked and beautiful in its ruin.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his own pace faltering, growing slower, deeper. His thick cock buried to the hilt, dragging every last ounce of pleasure from her trembling body. “You’re mine like this… no one else. Just me.”

And for that stolen, wicked, perfect moment — it was true.

She wasn’t a bride-to-be.
Wasn’t a daughter.
Wasn’t a good girl weighed down by duty and shame.

She was Afrah.
His Afrah.

He kissed her then — slow, aching, his lips lingering like he didn’t want to let her go. Their breath tangled, the taste of sweat and salt and sin between them.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered, his lips ghosting hers. “And you have no idea what you do to me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes — a heady, unbearable mix of overwhelming pleasure, aching guilt, and the terrible, beautiful truth that she didn’t want it to stop.
Just… don’t stop,” she breathed, threading her trembling fingers through his damp hair. “Please… just keep loving me like this.”

And he did.

For as long as the world outside would let them, Vishal gave her everything.
Not just his body.
But his hands. His mouth. His filthy words. His hunger. His tenderness.

Every gasp.
Every shiver.
Every stolen breath between them was a sin.

And utterly theirs.


Vishal…” Afrah gasped, her nails digging into his slick shoulders as the sensations threatened to unmake her completely. His thrusts grew ragged, uneven, his breath harsh against the curve of her neck. Every inch of his body trembled against hers, his muscles tight, his cock throbbing deep inside her with every desperate stroke.

“I’m close, Afrah,” he rasped, his voice wrecked, raw, thick with need and something darker. “So fucking close.”Tears burned behind her eyes — not from pain, not even from the unbearable pleasure — but from the ache in her chest. The knowing. That this moment, this impossible, ruinous, beautiful moment was theirs alone. And it wouldn’t last.

It never could.

She tightened her arms around him, clutching him as though she could hold time itself still, as though she could chain him to her, even for just a little longer.

“Please,” she whispered, voice cracking on the word, so heavy with everything she couldn’t say. She didn’t know what she was begging for — only that she wanted everything he had left to give. Every last broken, burning piece of him.

His movements turned frantic, desperate, their bodies slick with sweat and sin. Every wet slap of skin, every gasp, every shudder felt like the edge of a cliff she was about to tumble from.

And then — his voice broke.

“Afrah—God… Afrah…”

And she felt it — his release, hot, thick, spilling inside her in sharp, pulsing waves. The sudden heat of it made her sob against his shoulder, her entire body locking down around him. Her legs tightened around his hips, her nails biting into his back, desperate to keep him right there.

Because once he left…
Once she left…
It would be over.
And she would belong to someone else.

“Don’t,” she whispered brokenly, her lips brushing his ear, her voice a trembling, desperate thing. “Not yet… please… stay inside me.”

He cupped her face in his rough palm, his thumb brushing away the tears she hadn’t even realized had spilled down her cheeks. His gaze, dark and unguarded, searched hers.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he whispered against her trembling lips. “Not tonight.”

She kissed him then — deep, bruising, pouring everything she had into it. Every unspoken word, every raw fear, every aching corner of her heart she could never voice. Their mouths moved like they were dying, like this was the last kiss they’d ever have, because in some terrible, beautiful way, it might be.

It wasn’t just lust anymore.
It hadn’t been for a long time.

And though the world outside was waiting — with its vows, its expectations, its judgments — she stayed there.
Tangled in his arms.With his heartbeat pounding against hers, the heat of him still inside her, their sweat-dampened skin clinging together like neither could bear to be without the other.

Because for now — this stolen, impossible night — he was hers.
And she was his.

Even if, in a few short hours, it would all be taken away.


Thirty minutes later, the room was still thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and sandalwood. The dim, amber light cast a warm glow over their tangled, bare bodies, the bedsheet half-forgotten at their feet.

Afrah lay quiet against Vishal’s chest, her cheek resting over the steady, unhurried drum of his heartbeat. She felt it beneath her skin — steady, maddeningly calm while hers raced, every pulse a fresh ache.

His hand moved lazily up and down her spine, tracing aimless patterns, neither of them speaking. The silence had weight now. Heavy. Suffocating.

And her eyes…Those beautiful, doe-brown eyes glistened, a single tear slipping down her cheek, vanishing against his skin.

She hated herself for it.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
It was meant to be lust. A mistake. A final, reckless indulgence before she walked away forever.

And yet, here she was — her heart splitting wide open in the arms of the one man she should’ve never touched.

A lump burned in her throat.
She couldn’t stay.
If she lay like this a moment longer, she might never leave.Slowly, carefully, she peeled herself away, her palm lingering on his chest a second too long before she forced herself upright. The sudden absence of his warmth made her shiver — not from cold, but from the ache of it.

Vishal’s eyes opened, instantly catching the sheen in hers.

“Afrah…” his voice was rough, something almost tender in it, something she wasn’t ready to trust.

She turned away, yanking the corner of the sheet across her chest — pointless now, when he’d already seen, touched, known every inch of her.

“What happened?” he asked softly, pushing up onto his elbows, gaze searching, brow furrowed.

A thousand things crowded her mind.She could tell him she was scared. That she was marrying a man she didn’t love. That no matter how many times Vishal took her apart, she could never tell if it was her he wanted, or just the delicious thrill of ruining her.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she gave a short, bitter laugh. Wiped the corner of her eye with the heel of her hand.

“Like you care.”

The words landed like broken glass.

He flinched — just barely — but it was there.She didn’t give him a chance to answer. She grabbed her crumpled salwar kameez from the chair, pulling it over her sticky, aching body in hurried, clumsy movements, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Afrah, wait—”

But she was already gone.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the silence that followed was deafening.

Vishal sat there alone, the faint warmth of her imprint still on his chest. The scent of her still thick in the air. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, something twisted in his gut.

Something dangerously close to regret.

That night, Afrah wept.

Not for what she’d done — though she probably should have.
Not for Sohail.
Not for the wedding she was days from walking into.
Not for the honor she’d left bleeding between those tangled sheets.

She wept for something else.

For the aching emptiness blooming in her chest.
For the desperate, reckless hope that — maybe, just maybe — Vishal would’ve stopped her.

That when she stood at his door, eyes shining, voice shaking, saying “Like you care,” he would’ve reached for her. Pulled her back. Held her so tight the world would disappear.

That he would’ve said her name. Not with hunger. Not with possession.
But with meaning.
With something like love.

But he didn’t.
And of course… he wouldn’t.

She told herself that over and over as she lay on her bed, pillow damp with tears, the ache between her legs a cruel, lingering reminder of him.
He didn’t owe her that.
He was never hers to begin with.
She was the one who let this happen, week after week, knowing it would lead to nothing but ruin.

And yet…
Still, she clung to her phone.
Face down on the bed beside her, its screen dark and unblinking.

Waiting.

Praying.

Maybe he’ll call. Maybe he’ll message. Maybe… anything.

But the minutes turned to hours.
And the only thing that came was the mocking hush of night, broken only by the ragged sound of her breathing and the storm of her thoughts.
He never cared, Afrah,” she whispered to the darkness. “You were convenient. And now you’re just… gone.”

A fresh wave of tears spilled hot and silent down her cheeks as she buried her face deeper into the pillow.

By dawn, her throat was raw, her eyes swollen, her heart hollow.

She would have to get up soon.
To smile.
To be the blushing bride-to-be.
To forget this room, those hands, that voice.

But for now — for these last, borrowed hours of darkness — she let herself grieve.

For a man who was never hers.
And for the girl she used to be before him.

It was her wedding day.

The room smelled of jasmine, sandalwood, and fresh mehendi. The soft clatter of bangles and women’s laughter floated through the open window from the garden below. In the mirror, a stranger stared back — kohl-lined eyes, soft rose lips, hair pinned beneath an ornate dupatta heavy with sequins.

But inside, she was a ruin.

In a few hours, she’d be Sohail’s wife.
On paper. In God’s eyes. Before a hundred guests.

And yet… the ache lingered.

The hollow place where Vishal’s absence clung to her like a second skin.

The phone he never called on.
The message he never sent.
The word he never said.

Coward. Or worse — indifferent.

A sharp knock broke her thoughts.

“Who is it?” she called, frowning.

No answer.

A cold shiver snaked up her spine. She crossed the room, cracked open the door — empty. Only the faint hum of wedding music and far-off laughter.

She stepped into the dim corridor, her dupatta brushing her shoulder, the cool marble kissing her bare feet.
And just as she turned to go back —

A hand grabbed her face.

A rough palm clamped over her mouth, yanking her back. Her cry smothered against skin that smelled maddeningly of sandalwood and spice.

Her stomach flipped.

In an instant she knew.

He dragged her down the corridor, swift, silent. The storeroom door flew open and slammed behind them.

Vishal pressed her against it, one hand still over her mouth, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild — some terrible, beautiful storm in them she recognized.

Not fear now.

Not anymore.
Just the avalanche of need crashing into her.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, heart thundering as his hands gripped her waist, pulling her tight against him.

Before he could answer, her palm cracked across his face.

“You didn’t even call,” she choked, tears stinging her eyes. “After everything… you vanished. Like I didn’t fucking matter.”

His jaw clenched — then, maddeningly, he smirked, rubbing the sting on his cheek.

“Ouch.” His eyes glittered. “I can leave if you want. But you’d miss the chance to slap me again whenever you feel like it.”

Her throat tightened.

“What the hell is this, Vishal?”

He stepped in closer, voice dark silk, dangerous and sinful.

“I made you a promise, dulhan… when I had your sweet little pussy on my tongue.” His hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the delicate embroidery of her bridal lehenga, finding the heat beneath it.

“I said I’d fuck you on your wedding day.”

He grinned.
“Small change of plan.”

She swallowed hard, pulse hammering.

“Vishal…”

His lips ghosted her ear.
“You’re not marrying Sohail today.”

She froze, breath snagging in her throat.

“What…?”

His fingers teased along the waistband of her lehenga, making her gasp.

“Two choices, jaan.” His voice was a blade wrapped in velvet.
“Go back to Sohail. Pretend none of this happened. Or…”

His hand cupped her through the silk, her hips jerking at the contact.

“Come with me. And if you do…”
His breath scorched her skin.

I’ll ruin you, Afrah. Every day. I’ll fuck you while you wear this red, while you wear nothing. I’ll make you beg for my cock between office calls. Make you ache so bad you’ll never walk straight again. You’ll forget your own goddamn name, jaan.”

Her breath hitched, knees threatening to buckle.

He grinned — that cocky, shameless, possessive smirk that made her furious and wet in equal measure.

“So, dulhan… what’s it gonna be?” He tilted her chin up.
“Either way, I’m fucking you right now.”

And she slapped him.
Hard.

The sound cracked through the small room.

He laughed, low and dark — and then she crashed her lips onto his in a brutal, messy, desperate kiss. Their teeth clashed, her hands fisting in his hair, his arms caging her in.

“If you ever break my heart, Vishal,” she whispered against his mouth, fierce and trembling, “I swear, I’ll kill you.”

His smirk faltered for a split second — something rougher, something almost unguarded flickering there — before lust swallowed it whole.

“Deal, dulhan.”

She grabbed his wrist, shoved his hand under her lehenga, her breath ragged.

“Now fuck your dulhan,” she growled, dragging him deeper into the storeroom shadows.

And he did.


He spun her around in one rough motion, her back slamming gently into his chest, a sharp gasp catching in her throat. The storeroom smelled of dust, sandalwood, and the faint sweetness of old rose petals crushed underfoot. The muffled thump of dhol beats and wedding laughter drifted in from the distant garden, but here — in this dark, forgotten room — it felt like another world entirely.

Vishal’s hands slid possessively around her waist, grabbing fistfuls of her heavy bridal lehenga, dragging the ornate fabric upward, bunching the rich red and gold folds around her hips. The cold air hit her bare thighs, making her shudder.

God, look at you,” he growled against her ear, his breath hot, thick with lust. “Dressed like a good girl… but this pussy’s been aching for me since the minute you woke up, hasn’t it?”

Afrah whimpered, her cheeks burning, every nerve ending in her body alive and screaming for him.

His fingers hooked into her damp, lacy panties, tugging them down her trembling thighs. The scrap of fabric caught at her knees, and the helpless, obscene exposure made her stomach twist with guilt and filthy excitement.

“Vishal… we can’t—” she started, her voice a breathless, shaky whisper.

His palm clamped over her mouth.


Sshh, dulhan,” he rasped, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “You’ll wake your precious wedding guests. Let them keep dancing. You’re mine now.”

She moaned against his hand as his cock, hot and thick, pressed against the slick seam of her folds. He dragged himself slowly along her slit, gathering her wetness, teasing the head against her clit until her thighs trembled.

“Soaked,” he hissed. “Standing here like a whore, on your wedding night. Your Sohail’s out there with his barat smiling like a fool, waiting  for u and u are dripping for me.”

Afrah let out a muffled sob of pure want, her cheeks flushed, her pulse a violent drumbeat in her ears.

One hand snaked up to her chest, cupping her breast over the embroidered choli. His rough fingers squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh, thumb flicking over her taut nipple through the fabric until she arched against him.

“Fuck, I love how this body responds to me,” he growled, voice thick. “


She tried to plead, to reason, but her words were swallowed by his hand as his free hand guided his cock to her entrance.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” he murmured, his voice dark silk. “I promised I’d claim you on your wedding day. And you came looking for me anyway. Could’ve married your little boy. Could’ve been a good girl. But no — you needed my cock.”

Didn’t you, jaan?”

Her body spasmed at his words, a filthy, helpless moan lost against his palm.

“You fucking need this,” he snarled, and without another word, he pushed inside.


The stretch was brutal.

A sharp, searing pain bloomed as he split her open, forcing her tight, wet walls around his thick length in one long, ruthless thrust. Her nails clawed at the cold wall in front of her, her body jerking from the sheer force of him.

“Fuck…” Vishal groaned, hips grinding against her ass. “Tighter than I remembered. This pussy’s mine, Afrah. Say it.”

She tried to shake her head — the pain, the pleasure, the wrongness of it all clawing at her. But then his cock dragged out slowly and slammed back in, stealing the air from her lungs.

“Say it,” he snarled again, his voice a raw, possessive growl.

Yours,” she sobbed, muffled against his hand. “Yours, Vishal… oh God, it’s yours—”

“Louder.”

“Yours!” she cried, her voice breaking.

The pace grew filthy and savage, his hips pistoning into her, making the obscene slap of skin on skin echo through the storeroom. The cool metal bangles on her wrists clinked with every desperate jolt of her body against the wall.

“Listen to that,” he groaned. “That’s your pussy begging for me. So wet, it’s singing for my cock.”

Her climax built fast, sharp and relentless, the filthy stretch of him inside her, the heat of his chest against her back, his palm muffling her cries — it was all too much.


And then he leaned in, his mouth against her ear.

“After tonight, I’ll put a ring on you myself, jaan,” he snarled. “Put my baby in you. Fill this cunt up till you’re carrying me inside you. No more fucking Sohail. No more lies. Just me and you. Say you want it.”

The filthy promise shattered her.

Her body convulsed as the orgasm hit, hard and messy, her pussy spasming around his cock in desperate, clenching pulses. Her moan was a ragged, broken thing against his palm, her legs trembling.


And then, with one final, brutal thrust, he came — spilling hot and thick inside her, the sudden heat flooding her womb, making her sob with the sheer filth of it.

They stood there, trembling, breath ragged, the scent of sex thick in the air.

Vishal’s hand dropped from her mouth, his forehead resting against her shoulder as his arms caged her in.

“Mine,” he whispered, the word heavy, possessive, darkly tender.

And Afrah —

Afrah knew, even with her wedding waiting outside, with a hundred guests, a man ready to take her hand, and a future set in stone…
She’d never leave him.
She belonged to Vishal.



Five Years Later — Sohail’s POV
The beach air reeked of salt, roasted corn, and coconut oil. Waves shimmered in the late-afternoon haze as Sohail strolled the shoreline with his wife Naila, their daughter .

And then —
he saw her.

Afrah.

His pulse punched his throat.
A bolt of raw, helpless heat slammed through him.

She hadn’t softened with time.
If anything — she was more wickedly beautiful now.
Hair falling in loose, inky waves down her back, bronze skin kissed deeper by the sun. Sinful little denim shorts clung to thick, devastating thighs, riding high enough to make a man insane. A flimsy white crop top barely tamed her breasts — bigger now, fuller, swaying with every step.

Sohail’s cock gave a shameful, traitorous twitch.

And there was Vishal

One hand casually palming Afrah’s ass through those teasing shorts, squeezing thick, perfect flesh like it belonged to him. Because it did. His other hand played at her waistband, thumb slipping scandalously low. He whispered something filthy in her ear.

She laughed — head thrown back, eyes shining.
Then swatted his chest and kissed his cheek.

Sohail’s cock hardened instantly.

He’s still fucking her… every night. Every filthy, ruined night.

How could he not?
Look at her.

That goddamn body. That wet, obscene laugh.
Sohail’s mind betrayed him — picturing her mouth stretched wide around Vishal’s cock, her throat bulging, those ripe tits bouncing while she rode him on some hotel balcony.

Had she just sucked him off in the parking lot?
Was his cum still hot in her throat when she giggled like that?

Sohail’s cock throbbed against his jeans.

He should’ve turned away.
He didn’t.


His eyes devoured every lurid detail — the hypnotic sway of her ass, how her nipples pressed against the thin fabric, how Vishal grinned like a man who knew he owned her. Knew he could take her right there in the sand, if he wanted to.

And Sohail…
would watch.

He hated himself for it.
Hated how badly he wanted to.

“What are you staring at?”
Naila’s voice, soft. Too close.

He flinched — yanked back to the present — to the woman he married.
Naila.Sweet. Devout. Modest. Everything Afrah wasn’t. Everything he thought he wanted.

Her delicate features were softened by the dying sun, her eyes big and trusting.
The innocence of her made something sour twist in his gut.
Because in that moment, all Sohail could see was her gagging on another man’s cock.

Stop. Stop this.

“Nothing, jaan.” He forced a smile.

But then —
He saw him.

A tall, broad-shouldered stranger a few feet away. Dark skin, thick forearms inked with bold lines, sunglasses pushed back into slick hair. The man wasn’t subtle — he was staring at Naila. A long, slow, hungry gaze. The kind that stripped a woman down in broad daylight.

Sohail’s gut clenched.

And for one loaded second…
Naila looked back.

A startled flicker of eye contact.
A faint, nervous blush.
Then she looked down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.Sohail’s cock jerked again.
A pulse of heat and humiliation.

God. He felt it. That thing inside him again. That thing he could never kill.

He told himself it meant nothing.
That she was just startled.
That she didn’t feel the heat in that stranger’s gaze.

But a sick thrill coiled in his stomach.

He swallowed hard.
And in his head, Afrah laughed.

Some men were made to take.
And some men — to watch.

And Sohail would always be the latter.


The end..