Wicked Whispers

[rinxox]

Pls admin approve it.

[rinxox]

Pls admin approve it.

It was noon when Ali returned home from the market, his arms weighed down by grocery bags. As he approached the house—a neatly maintained, double-story home in a quiet, upscale neighborhood—he noticed a car parked in the driveway.  

It was Noor's car. Ali recognized it instantly. His son, Ayan, was at his friend's place for the day—a rare opportunity for Ali to have some time alone with Sheeza. Privacy was a luxury in their well-furnished yet busy home.  

But that chance seemed lost now, with Sheeza's friend's car sitting there. He lingered near the gate for a moment, glancing at the closed curtains of the living room window. A part of him wondered if he should just leave again, but curiosity held him in place.


Ali's grip tightened on the doorframe as he listened to their conversation. The mention of Asish had caught him off guard. He had never heard that name before, yet it seemed to mean a lot to Sheeza.  

He leaned in closer, his pulse quickening. From his hidden spot, he could see them now—Sheeza and Noor, seated comfortably on the bed. The room was softly lit, the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting gentle shadows.  

"I'm married now. Is he not married?" Sheeza's voice carried a mix of curiosity and caution.  

Noor's grin widened. "Still curious, I see. Want to know who he's married to?"  

Sheeza hesitated, her expression wavering between curiosity and something deeper—something Ali couldn't quite place.  

"Who?" she finally asked, a note of vulnerability in her voice.  

Noor leaned back, enjoying the suspense she was building. "Still interested in him, huh? Still imagine being his wife? Well, he's married to Nisha—you remember her, right? From our junior batch. But honestly, I think he's still that same old Asish. The charming, carefree one... You know him better than anyone. Everyone had a crush on him—even me! I used to have some very... racy dreams about him."  

Noor's playful confession was met with Sheeza's mock glare, followed by a burst of laughter that rang warmly through the room. The two women shared a moment, their laughter mingling, yet Ali felt a knot tightening in his chest. 

Ali's mind reeled as he listened to Noor's bold, unfiltered words. Each revelation hit him like a punch—raw, unexpected, and unsettling. The image of his wife, modest and composed, a picture of grace and decency, now blurred with the wild, uninhibited woman Noor described.  

"Can you blame me? I heard your moans so many times when he used to fuck you while I waited outside the room. Remember the Manali trip? You guys were like rabbits, fucking all day!" Noor giggled, a mischievous glint in her eyes.  

Sheeza's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and nostalgia flickering across her face. "It's not like that," she muttered softly.  

Noor laughed louder. "Oh please, spare me! Like I haven't seen you two doing it. Remember New Year's night, in his car? You literally blew him while I was in the backseat, and he was driving!"

Sheeza's light slap on Noor's arm only made Noor laugh harder. Ali's head throbbed as his world tilted. The woman he had known for years, the wife who now wore modest dresses, who spoke softly and carried herself with restraint—had she really been this bold, this sluty before they met?  

All the times he had asked about her past boyfriends, her relationships before him, and Sheeza had always brushed it off, denying any significant history. Had it all been a lie? The idea that she had shared such intense, intimate moments with someone else while hiding it from him all these years stung sharply.  


"You were looking so beautiful with his cock in your mouth,"Noor teased, her voice bold and unabashed.  

Ali's breath caught in his throat. Did he just hear that right? His wife—the woman he knew as modest, composed, and almost reserved—had done something so... brazen.  

His mind raced, caught between disbelief and a strange, unwelcome arousal. In all their years together, Sheeza had rarely done that for him—only on rare occasions, and only after much persuasion. Yet here she was, described as someone entirely different, someone soslutty.

An image flashed through his mind, vivid and intrusive—Sheeza, his beautiful, demure wife, naked with another man. Her lips wrapped around him, eyes glimmering with a look Ali had rarely seen. The thought left him reeling, sickened and yet strangely electrified.  

He pressed himself tighter against the wall, his heart hammering. Noor's laughter and Sheeza's flushed, embarrassed face came back into view. There was a side to his wife he had never known—a side that had existed before him, a side she had buried deep.  



"So...?"Noor prompted, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.  

"So... what?" Sheeza replied cautiously, her voice a bit hesitant.  

"Oh, Sheeza, what about meeting him?" Noor pressed, a smirk dancing on her lips.  

Ali's heart pounded. He silently begged Sheeza to shut it down, to refuse firmly, to laugh it off as a silly suggestion. But her response came hesitant, uncertain.  

"I don't know..." Sheeza's voice trailed off, her tone lacking conviction.  

Ali's mind raced. Why wasn't she more decisive? Why wasn't she shutting this down completely?  

"He just wants to see you," Noor coaxed gently.  

There was a pause, a moment of silence heavy enough that Ali could almost hear Sheeza's thoughts.  

"But Ali... would it not be deceiving him?"Sheeza's voice was soft, conflicted.  

Ali's chest tightened. She was thinking about him—about their marriage—but there was still a wavering in her voice that unsettled him. Why wasn't it a clear, firm no? Why did it sound like she was considering it, weighing it, rather than rejecting it outright?  

A part of him wanted to burst into the room, to confront them, to demand answers. Yet another part—more uncertain, more vulnerable—kept him rooted in place, unable to move.

[rinxox]

P

Sheeza, his wife, stood beside her—a picture of modesty in her long salwar suit. The pastel fabric dbangd gracefully over her curves, her dupatta pinned carefully to her shoulder. Her fair, radiant skin glowed softly, framed by her thick, dark hair. Her face was angelic, almost serene, a stark contrast to the wickedness he had just overheard.  

Noor, on the other hand, wore tight jeans that hugged her shapely legs and a fitted top that revealed a hint of her waist whenever she moved. She carried herself with a confidence that bordered on provocation, while Sheeza's demeanor was softer, gentler—a blend of tradition and grace.  

"Oh, Ali! You're back early!"Sheeza greeted him with a gentle smile, her eyes bright and unsuspecting.  

"Yeah, finished a bit early," Ali replied, forcing a casual tone.  

Noor leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Just in time to interrupt our girl talk," she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.  

Ali managed a chuckle, but his mind was far from ease. 




At evening 


Evening time ,Sheeza was playing with their 6 year old son Ayan ,Sheeza looked so homlely , doing her motherly duty. But the whisper he heard in the noon was still playing in his head ,her homely wife , doing something so filthy still can't believe it.





That night, unable to shake off the thoughts clawing at his mind, Ali found himself reaching for his phone once Sheeza had fallen asleep beside him. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of his screen.  

He opened Instagram, searching through Sheeza's mutual connections first—looking for a name, a face, anything that could be Asish. Nothing. Her profile was neat, curated—family photos, vacations, occasional selfies. No sign of the reckless, wild past Noor had described.  

Frustrated but determined, he moved on to Noor's profile. Noor's account was more vibrant, unapologetically bold—pictures of parties, group photos, nights out. It didn't take long for him to find four profiles named Ashish. Two were private, hidden behind locked profiles, but two were open.  

One of them caught his eye—a muscular, athletic man, sharply handsome with a confident smile. Pictures of him at the gym, beach vacations, arms around friends. Ali's eyes lingered on a photo of him shirtless—broad shoulders, defined chest, the kind of physique that drew attention.  

Could this be him? The thought gnawed at him. Was this the man who had once been with Sheeza? The man whose name she couldn't outright reject meeting? The man whose cock she had taken in her mouth, wild and reckless, while Noor watched from the backseat?  

Ali's fingers trembled. He didn't know whether to feel angry, betrayed, or something far more twisted. That night, when he finally managed to sleep, nightmares plagued him.  

He saw Sheeza—not the gentle, devoted wife he knew, but a different version of her. She was on her knees, her head bobbing as she took in a thick, veined cock, her eyes half-closed, a look of raw lust on her face. Noor's mocking laughter echoed somewhere in the background, taunting him, reminding him that this version of his wife had existed long before him.  

Ali woke up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, his arousal throbbing shamefully beneath the sheets. He glanced at Sheeza, peacefully asleep beside him, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.  

It happened again the next night—and the night after that. Each time, the visions were more vivid, more explicit. Each time, he woke up aching, confused, torn between resentment and an unwanted arousal he could barely understand.




Over the next few days, Ali kept a close eye on Sheeza. He watched her closely—her routine, her behavior, her interactions. Did she seem distracted? Was she texting more than usual? Did she ever slip away for private calls?  

But there was nothing. She was just... Sheeza—his wife, the mother of his child, carrying on as usual. Her days seemed devoted to Ayan, managing the house, and occasionally chatting with Noor. If there were any traces of Asish lingering in her life, they were expertly concealed.  

Two weeks later, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, Ali found himself in the storeroom, searching for some of his old belongings. Amid the clutter of forgotten boxes and unused items, he noticed a small, worn-out diary. It was dusty, the pages slightly yellowed with age. Curious, he flipped it open and felt his breath hitch—it was Sheeza's.  

The dates inside were from her college days, years before they had met. He frowned, trying to recall how this had ended up in their home. Then it clicked—about two years ago, Sheeza’s parents had sent over some of her old things when they were shifting houses. This must have been among them.  

Ali's heart pounded. Could this diary hold the answers he had been searching for? Could Asish’s name be scribbled in these pages—an account of her past, her feelings, her experiences?  

A part of him hesitated. Reading someone’s diary felt like an invasion, a betrayal. But the memory of Noor’s words, the taunting images of Sheeza’s past, haunted him. He needed to know

Carefully, he slipped the diary into a drawer, hiding it away. He would read it later, when he could be alone—when Sheeza and Ayan were asleep. For now, it would remain a secret, a key to a past he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront.




That afternoon, when the house was silent and Sheeza and Ayan were asleep, Ali carefully retrieved the diary. His hands trembled slightly as he opened it, flipping through the pages filled with Sheeza's neat, flowing handwriting.

At first, it was mundane—her classes, her friends, her dreams and insecurities. There were mentions of college events, her professors, silly notes about Noor. It was an innocent glimpse into the younger version of the woman he married.

But then, between two pages, a photograph slipped out. Ali’s heart stilled. It was Sheeza—much younger, with a youthful glow and a thinner figure. She wore a red-pink sweater, jeans, and a red muffler. Her smile was wide, carefree, her eyes bright. Standing beside her, his arm casually around her shoulder, was a man. Muscular, tall, handsome. Ashish.

The background was a hill station—snow-dusted, picturesque. Manali. The name struck a chord.

Ali’s fingers tightened around the photo as he skimmed the pages nearby.

"The Manali trip was unforgettable—the most beautiful memories of my life. A made everything special. A brought me that pink sweater. It still smells like that trip, like those days. Like him."

His eyes lingered on the initial, A. There was no doubt it was Ashish. The trip Noor had taunted Sheeza about, the trip where she had apparently been reckless, uninhibited, shameless.

And then a memory flashed—one he hadn't thought of in years. A smoky room, college friends, passing around a phone. A grainy video clip—poorly lit, a couple tangled together, the girl riding the man with an urgency that made the clip so infamous. Someone had whispered, "It's a viral MMS from Manali."

Ali had seen that video countless times. Back then, it was just a scandalous clip—blurry, anonymous, thrilling . The girl's face had been mostly covered by her hair, but her pink sweater had stood out. A tight, red-pink sweater. Just like the one Sheeza wore in this picture.

His stomach twisted. Had he unknowingly watched his own wife—before she was his wife—fucking with another man ? Had he jerked off to her, fantasized over her, without even realizing it?

Ali stared at the sweater in the photo, his thoughts a chaotic storm. The idea seemed impossible, absurd. But the possibility loomed, taunting him, making his heart pound and his hands tremble.

Was it her? Was that girl in mms is Sheeza?

He shut the diary abruptly, shoving it back into the drawer. The weight of what he had just unearthed pressed heavily on his chest, leaving him breathless, aroused, and tormented all at once.

[Twilight123]

Wow.. fantastic start

[a2011]

Great updates

[Sana4891]

Kya shadaar likh rhe ho..best to come i think