Adultery Nivetha (Nivi) - Power and Submissions of working wife (28/08/2025 - Chapter 45)

[nivithenaughty]

Hey, xossipy readers!

I’m super excited to drop my first-ever story on this spicy platform that I’ve been obsessed with forever! I’m a middle-aged Tamil gal, juggling life at a tech firm by day and getting lost in the steamy world of xossipy and old-college xossip by night. Those hot Tamil and English stories? Oh, they’ve had my heart racing and my imagination running wild for years, and now I’m ready to add my own naughty tale to the mix!

I’ve always wanted to write sexy stories pulled from my life and my friends’ juicy experiences, with a dash of my wildest fantasies to crank up the heat. But, ugh, life’s been so busy that I could only jot down ideas and plots in my little notebook. Now, with a cheeky bit of help, I’m finally turning those notes into a proper story.

This first story? It’s a little piece of my past, mixed with the steamy, secret life I’ve always craved. I hope it gets you all hot and bothered in the best way! Drop your thoughts in the comments—I’m dying to know what you think. And if any fellow writers want to connect, let’s swap some spicy ideas!
I really wanted to write this in Tamil to keep it close to my roots, but that cheeky help is not good at Tamil so much, so English it is for now. Here’s hoping I can bring you some Tamil heat in the future!

Get ready for a wild ride, and let me know how much you love it (or want more)!

With a naughty wink,
Nivi the Naughty




Chapter 1: The Empty Bed

The warm Coimbatore breeze slipped through the open window, carrying the scent of coconut groves and distant street food—sizzling vadas from the corner stall. Inside Nivi’s modest apartment, her two boys, aged five and three, darted around the living room, their laughter a bright note against the dull ache in her chest. 

At 32, Nivi stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sambar, the steam curling up to her face. She’d always been slim, her frame unremarkable in her single days—flat-chested, narrow-hipped, blending into the background at work, where the guys treated her like one of their own, tossing jokes without a second glance. 

Motherhood had changed that. Her breasts were fuller now, pressing against her simple cotton blouse, her waist still tight but leading to wider hips and a round backside that turned heads at the market. Men noticed her now, their eyes lingering in ways that stirred a quiet curiosity she hadn’t felt before. But at home, it was like she was still invisible.

Anand, her husband, had swept her off her feet five years ago with his easy charm and stories of late-night drives across Tamil Nadu. He’d fudged his age—claimed 30 when he was 34—but she’d been too smitten to care. Now, with two kids and a pile of bills on the dining table, he barely looked at her. His evenings were spent hunched over his phone or sipping whiskey, the glass leaving rings on the scratched wood. The apartment felt like a cage, the unpaid electricity notice a constant reminder of their strain. 

Nivi plated idlis for the boys, their chatter pulling her back. Her mother-in-law, widowed young and still carrying a quiet grief, watched from a stool, stirring her tea. “You’re looking worn, dear,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Work might do you good. It gave me purpose after my husband passed. You need something for yourself.”

Nivi sipped her chai, the warmth spreading through her. The call from her old office last week had planted the idea—her accounting job was open again. “You’re right,” she said, setting the cup down. “The boys are in college now, and the money would help.” But it wasn’t just the money. She missed the buzz of the office, the easy laughs with her old gang—Ashwin’s loud jokes, Dinesh’s witty quips, Ashok’s shy smiles. 

As she tucked the kids into bed later, she caught her reflection in the bedroom mirror: her green kurti hugged her new curves, her dark hair falling in waves. Would they even notice the difference?

In bed, Anand was already half-asleep, muttering about a late shift. She lay beside him, the fan creaking overhead, and stared at the ceiling. 

Her thoughts drifted to the office: Ashwin’s booming laugh, Dinesh’s quick banter, Ashok always a step back, watching quietly. It had been years—would they still see her as the plain girl who fixed their spreadsheets, or as someone new? 

The thought brought a small spark, a flicker of excitement about stepping back into that world, feeling like more than just a mom or a wife.





continued....

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 2: Back in the Game

The office door swung open, and Nivi stepped into the familiar hum of Coimbatore’s busiest accounting firm, the air thick with the smell of ink and morning coffee. Her heart thumped—not from nerves, but from the thrill of being back after five years. 

Her green kurti fit snugly, flaring over her hips, paired with simple black leggings that felt comfortable in the humid morning. The lobby was the same: cluttered desks, a buzzing printer, and the faint clink of teaspoons from the tea station. 

She’d been invisible here once, just one of the boys, but as she crossed to her old desk, she caught a few glances from new faces—men in the hallway pausing a second too long. Maybe I’m not that girl anymore, she thought, setting down her bag.

Her desk was waiting, a stack of files neatly arranged but dusty from disuse. She ran a finger over the edge, smiling at the familiarity. The tea station called, a habit from her old days. 

There they were: Ashwin, broad-shouldered and grinning, though his eyes had new shadows from fatherhood; Dinesh, glasses slipping as he waved a spoon for emphasis; and Ashok, leaning against the counter, quiet as ever, sipping his chai. They spotted her, and the air lit up.


“Nivi! The prodigal accountant returns!” Ashwin’s voice boomed, pulling her into a quick, brotherly hug. “Look at you, back to save us from budget disasters. Kids keeping you busy?”

Dinesh handed her a steel tumbler of tea, smirking. “Yeah, you’re probably running a tighter ship at home than we do here. How’s it been?”

Ashok gave a shy nod, his eyes meeting hers briefly. “Good to see you, Nivi.”

She stirred sugar into her chai, the clink of the spoon grounding her. “Kids are a handful, but worth it. Anand’s… swamped with work. What about you all? Ashwin, how’s the baby?”

They launched into stories—Ashwin’s tales of sleepless nights, Dinesh joking about his wife’s mango pickle cravings, Ashok mentioning a new chess app he’d tried. It felt like slipping into an old rhythm, their laughter wrapping her in warmth. 

But as she turned to grab a biscuit from the tin, her kurti shifted slightly, and she caught Ashok’s gaze linger on her back for a moment before he looked away, cheeks pink. Was that new? She brushed it off, focusing on their banter.

At lunch, she joined Saritha and Lakshmi in the canteen, the smell of rice and tangy rasam filling the air. “Nivi, you’re glowing,” Saritha said, passing her a plate. “Motherhood suits you.”

Lakshmi nodded, her eyes kind. “Tell us about the boys—they must be little terrors.”

Nivi shared stories of their antics, laughing as the women swapped their own. Across the room, Mr. Raghavan, her boss, walked by, his stern face softening. “Nivetha, welcome back,” he said, pausing. “This place missed your sharp eye.” 

His gaze was warm, professional, and she thanked him, a quiet pride sparking. As she headed back to her desk, helping Dinesh fix a formula error, their elbows brushing as they laughed over a typo, she felt it: this was her space again, and it was enough for now.


Continued......

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 3: Playing with Fire

The morning sun filtered through the office windows, casting long shadows across Nivi’s desk as she sorted through a stack of invoices. 

Her blue kurti hugged her frame comfortably, the fabric soft against her skin in Coimbatore’s sticky heat. The office was quieter today, the usual hum of keyboards punctuated by the occasional honk from the street below, where vendors hawked fresh coconuts and roasted peanuts. 

Three days back, and Nivi was settling into the rhythm—emails, spreadsheets, the familiar clink of teaspoons at the tea station. But there was a buzz in her chest, a small thrill from being part of this world again, where she wasn’t just a mom juggling college schedules or a wife ignored over whiskey glasses.

At the tea station mid-morning, the gang was already gathered, their voices carrying over the hiss of the kettle. Ashwin leaned against the counter, his shirt sleeves rolled up, animatedly describing a traffic jam he’d dodged on his bike. 

“Swear, I thought I’d be late forever—auto driver was singing at the top of his lungs!” he said, laughing.

Dinesh smirked, stirring his chai. “You should’ve joined him, Ashwin. Your voice is worse than a horn.”

Ashok, sipping his tea quietly, gave a small smile, his eyes flicking up as Nivi approached. “Morning,” she said, grabbing a tumbler and pouring herself a steaming cup. The scent of cardamom hit her, grounding her in the moment.

“Morning, spreadsheet queen!” Ashwin grinned, tossing her a biscuit from the tin. “You’re making us look bad with how fast you’re catching up.”

She caught the biscuit, laughing. “Someone’s got to keep you in line.” The banter felt easy, like slipping back into an old friendship. 

They swapped stories—Dinesh about his wife’s latest craving for jackfruit, Ashok admitting he’d lost another online chess match. But as Nivi reached for the sugar, her dupatta slipped slightly, catching on the counter’s edge and tugging her kurti up to flash a sliver of her waist. 

She adjusted it quickly, but not before Dinesh’s eyes flicked down, then away, his smirk faltering for a split second. Did he notice? she wondered, a tiny spark of curiosity flickering. 

No one said anything, and the chatter rolled on, but the moment lingered in her mind.

By noon, the gang was restless. “Canteen food’s getting old,” Ashwin declared, tossing a pen in the air. “Nivi, you’re back—let’s celebrate properly. There’s a new dosa joint down by the market. Team lunch, your treat for rejoining the chaos!”


Dinesh clapped. “Yeah, let’s get out of this fluorescent prison. Masala dosas on you.”

Ashok nodded, his voice soft. “Sounds nice.”

Nivi hesitated, then smiled. “Fine, but only if you stop calling me spreadsheet queen.” The idea of escaping the office, even for an hour, felt like a small adventure. 

They piled into Ashwin’s beat-up Maruti, the car smelling faintly of petrol and sandalwood air freshener. The streets of Coimbatore buzzed outside—cycles weaving between autos, the air thick with the sizzle of street-side bhajjis and the chatter of vendors. 

At the eatery, a small open-air spot with plastic chairs under a tin roof, they squeezed around a table, the smell of ghee and chutney wrapping them in warmth.

They ordered crispy dosas and filter coffee, the waiter balancing steel plates with practiced ease. Ashwin launched into a story about a client who’d sent a spreadsheet full of emojis, making Nivi laugh so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. 

“You should’ve seen Raghavan’s face—thought he’d fire the guy on the spot,” he said, mimicking their boss’s stern frown.

Dinesh leaned forward, grinning. “You’re still the only one who can calm him down, Nivi. Remember that time you fixed his budget report last minute?”

She waved it off, but her cheeks warmed at the praise. “Just doing my job.” As she reached for a sambhar bowl, her sleeve caught on the table’s edge again, pulling her kurti slightly to show the curve of her hip. 

Ashok’s eyes darted there, then away, his fingers tightening on his glass. It was quick, but Nivi caught it, her curiosity deepening. They’re seeing me differently, aren’t they? she thought, though the table stayed loud with jokes, no one crossing any lines.

Back at the office, the afternoon dragged with data entry, but Raghavan stopped by her desk. “Settling in well, Nivetha?” he asked, his voice steady, eyes warm but professional. “The team’s already leaning on you.”
She nodded, a small pride sparking. 

“Trying to keep up, sir. It’s good to be back.” He smiled, a rare softness breaking through his usual sternness, and walked off. Later, as she helped Dinesh untangle a client’s messy invoice, their shoulders brushed over the screen, and they laughed at a typo— “Profit” spelled as “Prophet.” The moment was light, but the day’s small glances and easy camaraderie left her with a quiet buzz. 

Maybe I’m not just one of the boys anymore, she thought, heading home under the fading sun, the city’s pulse matching her own.

Continues....

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 4: Turning Up the Heat

The morning light spilled across Nivi’s desk, glinting off the steel tumbler she’d left there overnight. Her red kurti, bright against the office’s faded walls, felt like a small rebellion against Coimbatore’s humid grayness. 

Day three, and the rhythm of work—sorting invoices, untangling spreadsheets—was starting to feel like hers again. Outside, the city buzzed with life: auto rickshaws honked, a street vendor’s call for fresh idlis carried on the breeze, and the faint scent of jasmine lingered from a nearby temple. 

Nivi leaned back in her chair, stretching, her kurti pulling slightly across her chest. She wasn’t thinking about her changed figure, but the occasional glance from a passing colleague made her wonder if others were.

At the tea station, the gang was in full swing, the kettle hissing like a gossiping auntie. Ashwin stood with his hands on his hips, recounting a disastrous diaper change that had Dinesh snorting into his chai. “Swear, the kid’s got better aim than a cricket bowler,” Ashwin said, grinning.

Dinesh adjusted his glasses, smirking. “You’re just mad he outsmarted you. Nivi, back us up—kids are tiny terrors, right?”

She laughed, pouring her tea, the steam curling up. “Oh, mine are worse. Yesterday, the youngest painted the wall with my lipstick.” 

Ashok, leaning against the counter, gave a shy chuckle, his eyes flicking to her briefly before dropping to his cup. The chatter flowed easily, their voices blending with the office’s hum, but as Nivi turned to grab a spoon, her dupatta caught on the tin, tugging her kurti to reveal a sliver of her waist. 

She fixed it quickly, but Ashwin’s story paused for a split second, his grin softening. It was subtle, but she caught it—a flicker of something new in their dynamic. They’re noticing me, she thought, her curiosity stirring, though she pushed it aside to keep the mood light.
By noon, the office felt stuffy, and Saritha waved her over at lunch. “Nivi, come with us,” she called, gesturing toward the canteen door. “Let’s take a walk to the park nearby—clear our heads.” Lakshmi nodded, fanning herself with a file. “This heat’s no joke. A stroll will help.”


Nivi agreed, grabbing her water bottle. The three women stepped out, crossing the busy street where cycles dodged scooters and a cow lazily chewed cud by a fruit stall. The park, shaded by sprawling banyan trees, smelled of damp earth and blooming hibiscus.

 They walked along a gravel path, the crunch underfoot mixing with distant temple bells. Saritha nudged her. “You’re looking brighter already, Nivi. Work’s doing you good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Nivi said, smiling. “It’s nice to feel… useful again. Home’s all kids and bills sometimes.” Her voice dipped, but she caught herself, not wanting to dampen the moment.

Lakshmi’s eyes softened. “You’re more than a mom, you know. You’ve got that spark—always did. Tell us about the boys; they must keep you on your toes.”

Nivi shared a story about her eldest trying to “cook” with mud, making them laugh. The walk felt like a breath of fresh air, their chatter about family recipes and college dramas wrapping her in warmth. 

As they headed back, a breeze tugged her dupatta, and she adjusted it, catching a passing vendor’s glance. It was quick, but it added to that growing sense—she wasn’t invisible anymore.

Back in the office, the afternoon buzzed with work. Raghavan stopped by her desk, a client file in hand. “Nivetha, can you take a look at this? Your eye for errors is unmatched.” His tone was professional, but his rare smile felt personal, like he saw her effort. She nodded, diving into the numbers, her focus sharpening. “Looks like they mislabeled a column,” she said after a moment, pointing at the screen. “Should be an easy fix.”

He leaned closer, nodding. “Good catch. Keep that up.” His voice carried a quiet pride, and she felt a small thrill—not just from the praise, but from being valued in a way Anand hadn’t in years.

Later, she joined Dinesh to tackle a messy vendor sheet, their heads bent over her monitor. “Who writes ‘miscellaneous’ for half the entries?” he grumbled, making her laugh. 

As they worked, her elbow brushed his, and he grinned, unfazed. “You’re a lifesaver, Nivi.” The moment was simple, but the day’s small connections—the women’s warmth, the gang’s banter, Raghavan’s nod—built a quiet confidence. 

Heading home, the sun dipping behind Coimbatore’s skyline, she felt a spark. Maybe I’m finding my place again, she thought, the city’s pulse syncing with her own.

Continues....

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 5: Electric Air


The office hummed with its usual rhythm on Nivi’s fourth day, the clatter of keyboards mixing with the faint drone of ceiling fans. Her black kurti felt cool against her skin, the fabric loose but flattering as she moved through Coimbatore’s sticky morning heat. 

Outside, the city pulsed—street vendors shouted about ripe mangoes, and the distant chime of a temple bell carried on the breeze. Nivi settled at her desk, diving into a pile of expense reports, but a quiet restlessness stirred. The office was her escape from home’s weight—Anand’s late nights, the unpaid bills stacked by the fridge—but today, her mind felt heavier, her smile a little harder to hold.

At the tea station, the gang was in high spirits, their voices cutting through the morning haze. Ashwin leaned against the counter, gesturing wildly about a cricket match. “That catch was impossible! My kid could’ve done better,” he said, grinning.

Dinesh snorted, stirring his chai. “Your kid’s got better hand-eye coordination than you, Ashwin.” He glanced at Nivi as she approached, handing her a tumbler. “You’re quiet today, Nivi. Kids tire you out?”

Ashok, sipping his tea in the corner, looked up, his eyes soft but curious. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.
She forced a smile, the warmth of the chai grounding her. “Just a long morning. 

The boys decided 5 a.m. was playtime.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. The gang laughed, Ashwin launching into a story about his daughter’s midnight tantrums, but Nivi felt Ashok’s gaze linger a moment longer, like he saw through her. 

As she reached for a biscuit, her sleeve caught on the tin, tugging her kurti slightly to show a hint of her collarbone. She adjusted it fast, but Dinesh’s quick glance and Ashwin’s paused chuckle made her heart skip. They’re noticing me more, she thought, a flicker of curiosity sparking. Not as one of the boys, but… something else.


By afternoon, the office felt stifling, and Nivi’s mood hadn’t lifted. She caught Ashwin alone near the printer, grabbing a stack of files. “You really okay?” he asked, his usual grin softening. “You seem off.”
She hesitated, then let a piece of the truth slip. “Home’s been tough. Anand’s always working late, stressed about money. It’s like I’m handling everything alone—kids, house, all of it.” Her voice was low, her fingers tightening on the files.


Ashwin’s face softened, his hand hovering like he wanted to pat her shoulder but didn’t. “That’s rough, Nivi. You’re not alone here, you know. We’ve got your back.” His sincerity warmed her, easing the knot in her chest. “Lean on us when you need.”

“Thanks,” she said, a small smile breaking through. The moment felt raw, like she’d peeled back a layer, and the care in his eyes stirred something—a quiet thrill of being seen, not just as the old Nivi but as someone carrying weight.

To shake off the day’s heaviness, Dinesh suggested an outing at lunch. “Let’s hit that chai stall by the market after work,” he said, eyes bright. “Best masala tea in Coimbatore. We need to unwind, and Nivi needs a break.”

Ashok nodded, a rare spark in his voice. “I’m in.”

“Count me in,” Nivi said, the idea lifting her spirits. After the office clocked out, they walked through the bustling evening streets, the air thick with the sizzle of pakoras frying and the chatter of vendors haggling over bananas. The chai stall was a small, crowded spot, its steel counter gleaming under a single bulb. They squeezed onto a bench, the scent of ginger and cardamom wrapping them as the vendor poured steaming tea into glass tumblers.

Ashwin raised his glass. “To Nivi’s return—and to surviving her kids’ chaos!” They clinked glasses, laughing, and Nivi felt the weight lift further. Dinesh shared a story about his wife burning a dosa to a crisp, while Ashok, loosening up, admitted he’d started reading detective novels. “Keeps me up too late,” he said, blushing when Nivi teased him about it.

As she laughed, her dupatta slipped slightly, catching on the bench and baring a bit of her shoulder. She fixed it, but not before Ashok’s eyes flicked there, his cheeks reddening. 

The moment was fleeting, but it added to her growing awareness—they were seeing her differently, their glances quick but not as casual as before. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… intriguing. She sipped her chai, the spice warming her throat, and let the thought simmer.

Back home, as she helped the boys with dinner, her mother-in-law caught her smile. “You look lighter, dear,” she said, stirring a pot of rasam. “Work’s doing you good.”

Nivi nodded, the evening’s warmth lingering. “It’s the people,” she said softly. The gang’s support, Ashwin’s kind words, those subtle looks—they were small, but they made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in years. 

In bed, Anand’s snores filled the silence, but her mind was on the office, on the way Ashok’s shy gaze had held hers. What’s changing? she wondered, the curiosity growing as she drifted to sleep, the city’s distant hum a quiet echo of her pulse.

Continues....

[nivithenaughty]

Please let me know your comments and feedbacks i know its rough and I'm trying to improve myself. apologies for the mistakes.

[Dumeelkumar]

Awesome start. waiting to see how the life of Nivi is gonna turn upside down.

[chellaporukki]

Great way to start.
Will she fall in love with someone or just open her legs to many?
Anything interesting in the previous stint of the same office?

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 6: Owning the Room

A week into her return, Nivi felt the office shift around her, like Coimbatore’s morning mist settling into a clear day. Her cream kurti flowed softly, catching the light as she moved through the office, the faint hum of printers blending with the city’s pulse outside—autos rattling, vendors calling out for fresh bananas and filter coffee. The work was steady—balancing ledgers, catching errors—but the real rhythm was in the people: the gang’s laughter, the women’s warmth, even Raghavan’s rare nods. Today, her steps felt lighter, her confidence a quiet glow. She wasn’t just the mom juggling college runs or the wife lost in Anand’s haze of whiskey and bills. Here, she was Nivi, and she was starting to feel it.

At the tea station, the gang was already buzzing, the air thick with cardamom and their easy banter. Ashwin leaned on the counter, mimicking a client’s over-the-top email. “Guy wrote ‘urgent’ in all caps, like I’d drop everything,” he said, rolling his eyes.

Dinesh chuckled, stirring his chai. “You’d drop everything for a good biryani, don’t lie.” He glanced at Nivi, grinning. “You’re looking chirpy today, Nivi. Kids let you sleep?”

Ashok, sipping quietly, gave her a small smile, his eyes lingering a moment before dropping. “Yeah, you seem… happy,” he said softly.

She poured her tea, the steel tumbler warm in her hands. “The boys were angels this morning—rare, but I’ll take it.” She laughed, but as she reached for a biscuit, her dupatta slipped, baring a sliver of her shoulder. 

She caught it fast, but Ashwin’s story paused, his grin softening, and a passing intern’s eyes flicked her way before he hurried off. The stranger’s glance was quick, curious, and it sparked something in her—a flicker of awareness that she wasn’t just blending in anymore. They’re all seeing me, she thought, her curiosity deepening, though she kept her smile light.

Mid-morning, Ashwin clapped his hands at the tea station. “We need a break from this grind. Game night tonight—cards at that cafe near the temple. Like old times, Nivi, you in?”

Dinesh nodded. “Team up with me, Nivi. We always crushed these guys at rummy.”

Ashok perked up, a rare spark in his eyes. “I’m in. Been practicing.”

Nivi grinned, the idea lifting her mood. “You’re on, but don’t cry when I win.” The promise of an outing felt like a small escape, a chance to lean into the gang’s warmth.

That evening, they headed to a cozy cafe tucked down a bustling street, its wooden tables lit by soft bulbs, the air heavy with coffee and fried vada. Coimbatore’s nightlife hummed outside—street lamps flickering, a group of college kids laughing by a juice stall. 

They claimed a corner table, the waiter sliding a deck of cards their way. As Nivi dealt, her kurti sleeve brushed the table, catching briefly and showing a hint of her waist. 

She fixed it, but a man at the next table glanced over, his eyes lingering before he turned back to his friend. The look wasn’t bold, just curious, but it added to the day’s quiet buzz—she was being noticed, not just by the gang but by strangers too.

The game kicked off with Ashwin’s loud bets. 

“Loser buys the next round of coffee!” he declared, tossing down a bad card. Dinesh groaned, “You’re hopeless,” while Ashok played a sly move, earning a cheer. Nivi laughed, her competitive streak waking up, but during a break, she found herself alone with Dinesh at the counter, ordering snacks.

“You seem more settled,” he said, his wit softening. “But something’s still off, isn’t it?”

She hesitated, stirring her coffee. “It’s Anand. He’s drinking more, buried in work. I feel like I’m running the house alone, you know? The kids are my world, but it’s… empty sometimes.” Her voice was low, the confession slipping out.

Dinesh’s glasses slipped as he nodded. “That’s tough. You’re stronger than you think, Nivi. And you’ve got us—lean on the gang when it gets heavy.” His words were simple, but they hit deep, easing the ache she’d carried.

“Thanks,” she said, her smile genuine. Back at the table, Ashok won a round, his shy grin lighting up as Nivi teased, “Beginner’s luck?” The group’s laughter wrapped her in warmth, but as they left, another stranger—a vendor packing up nearby—glanced her way, his eyes catching her silhouette against the cafe’s glow. 

It was fleeting, but it stirred that same curiosity. Why are they looking? she wondered, the thought lingering as they walked back through the lively streets.

At home, her mother-in-law noticed her glow. “You’re smiling more,” she said, chopping onions for dinner. “Work’s bringing you back.”

Nivi nodded, setting plates for the kids. “It’s the people. They make it feel… alive.” In bed, Anand’s snores filled the silence, but her mind replayed the day—the gang’s support, Dinesh’s kind words, those strangers’ glances. Something’s shifting, she thought, her heart light but curious, Coimbatore’s distant hum matching the quiet spark in her chest.


Continues....

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 7: Commanding Eyes

Three weeks into her return, Nivi moved through the office with a quiet ease, the hum of Coimbatore’s morning traffic filtering through the windows—autos honking, a fruit vendor’s call rising above the din. 

Her navy kurti felt light, its soft fabric catching the breeze as she sorted through client files. The office had become her sanctuary, a place where she wasn’t just the mom rushing through college drop-offs or the wife lost in Anand’s haze of late nights and liquor. Here, the gang’s laughter and the steady rhythm of work made her feel like herself again, though a new awareness simmered—those fleeting glances from colleagues, the way heads turned at the tea station. Even strangers outside, like the shopkeeper who’d stared as she bought bananas yesterday, seemed to notice her in a way they hadn’t before.


At the tea station, the gang was in their usual orbit, the air thick with the scent of ginger chai. Ashwin leaned back, recounting a client’s absurd demand for a same-day audit. “Guy thought we’re magicians,” he said, tossing a biscuit in the air and catching it.

Dinesh smirked, adjusting his glasses. “You’d need more than magic to survive that one, Ashwin.” He glanced at Nivi, handing her a tumbler. “You’re looking settled, Nivi. Office life agreeing with you?”

Ashok, quiet as ever, sipped his tea, his eyes flicking to her briefly. “Yeah, you seem… at home,” he said, his voice soft but warm.

Nivi stirred her chai, smiling. “It’s starting to feel like it. The boys are keeping me on my toes, but this place helps.” As she reached for the biscuit tin, her dupatta slipped slightly, catching on the counter and baring a hint of her collarbone. She fixed it fast, but Ashwin’s story paused, his grin softening, and a passing delivery boy outside the window glanced her way, his eyes lingering before he pedaled off. 

The moment was quick, but it added to her growing curiosity—why were these looks happening now? She pushed it aside, keeping the chatter light. “You guys still fighting over cricket scores?” she teased, steering them back.

Mid-morning, Dinesh suggested a break. “This office is a pressure cooker today,” he said, stretching. “Let’s walk to that temple down the street—clear our heads. You in, Nivi?”

Ashwin clapped. “Good call. Maybe we’ll pray for clients who actually send files on time.”

Ashok nodded, a shy smile breaking through. “I could use some calm.”

Nivi agreed, the idea of fresh air appealing. They stepped out, crossing the bustling street where a dosa cart’s sizzle mixed with the scent of jasmine from a flower stall. 

The small temple, tucked between shops, glowed with oil lamps, its bells ringing softly as devotees moved in and out. Nivi slipped off her sandals, the cool stone soothing her feet. 

As they walked the courtyard, a group of college students passed, one pausing to glance at her, his eyes catching her silhouette before hurrying off. The look was subtle, but it stirred that same awareness—she was standing out, even here.

Inside, they lit lamps, the flicker calming the group’s usual energy. Ashok lingered near her, quieter than the others. “This place is peaceful,” he said, his voice barely above the chants.

“Yeah,” Nivi said, her guard softening. Later, as they sat on a bench outside, she found herself alone with him, the others chatting with a priest. “Ashok, can I say something?” she asked, her voice low. 

“Home’s been… heavy. Anand’s so focused on work and bills, it’s like I’m invisible there. The kids are everything, but sometimes I feel like I’m fading.”

Ashok’s eyes widened, his usual shyness giving way to concern. 

“You’re not invisible, Nivi. You’re… strong. We see you here.” His words were halting but earnest, and they hit her deeply, easing the ache she’d carried.

“Thanks,” she said, her smile small but real. The moment felt like a thread tying her to the gang, their support a quiet anchor. Back at the office, the afternoon passed with her helping Ashwin on a report, their laughter over a client’s typo—“expence” instead of “expense”—lightening her mood. Raghavan stopped by later, his tone warm. “Nivetha, you’re picking up fast. The team’s leaning on you.”

She nodded, pride sparking. “Trying my best, sir.” His eyes held hers a moment, steady and encouraging, before he moved on.

At lunch, she joined the boys’ table, their banter pulling her in. “Nivi, you’re officially our good-luck charm,” Dinesh said, grinning. “No spreadsheet disasters since you got back.” As she laughed, her kurti sleeve caught on her chair, tugging to show a hint of her waist.

She fixed it, but a stranger—a courier guy dropping off a package—glanced her way, his eyes lingering before he left. It was quick, but it fueled her curiosity further. I’m not just one of them anymore, she thought, heading home as the sun dipped, Coimbatore’s skyline glowing. 

The gang’s warmth, Ashok’s words, those strangers’ looks—they were small, but they made her feel alive, like a spark catching in her chest.

Continues...

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 8: Pushing Limits

Coimbatore’s morning sun burned through the haze, casting a golden glow over the office as Nivi stepped in, her simple blue kurti catching the light. Four weeks back, and the office felt like hers—keyboards clacking, the faint smell of ink and coffee grounding her. 

Outside, the city thrummed: a vegetable cart’s bell jingled, and the sizzle of dosas from a nearby stall drifted through the open windows. Her navy leggings hugged her comfortably, but she was starting to notice how her clothes fit differently now, how they traced the curves motherhood had given her. 

The gang’s banter, the women’s warmth, even Raghavan’s steady presence had become her anchor, pulling her from the weight of home—Anand’s late nights, the whiskey stains on the table, the bills piling up. But lately, something else stirred: the way heads turned when she walked by, not just from colleagues but from strangers too, like the auto driver who’d stared as she crossed the street yesterday. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore—it was a quiet thrill, a spark she couldn’t ignore.


At the tea station, the gang was in high gear, the air thick with cardamom and laughter. Ashwin leaned against the counter, waving his phone. “Client sent me a novel-long email at midnight,” he groaned, grinning. “Think they want me to live in their inbox.”

Dinesh smirked, stirring his chai. “You’d probably reply with emojis. Nivi, you’re the only one keeping us sane—how’s it going?”

Ashok, sipping quietly, glanced at her, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “You look… good today,” he said softly, then flushed, looking down.

Nivi smiled, pouring her tea. “Thanks, Ashok. Just surviving the chaos.” As she reached for a biscuit, her dupatta caught on the tin, tugging her kurti to show a sliver of her waist. 

She fixed it quickly, but Ashwin’s story paused, his grin softening, and a delivery guy passing the window glanced her way, his eyes catching her silhouette before he moved on. 

The look was brief, but it sent a small jolt through her. They’re all noticing me, she thought, the thrill growing, though she kept her tone light. “You guys still arguing over emails? Some things never change.”

Mid-morning, Raghavan called the team for a brainstorming session—a new client needed an urgent audit plan. “Nivi, your input’s key,” he said, his voice steady but warm. They piled into a van to visit the client’s office, a textile firm across town. 

The ride was lively, Ashwin joking about his daughter’s latest crayon masterpiece, Dinesh teasing him about his “art critic” skills. Nivi laughed, but as she shifted in her seat, her kurti rode up slightly, catching Ashok’s eye. He looked away fast, his cheeks pink, and she felt that spark again—quiet, but undeniable.


At the client’s office, a modern building with glass walls, the team met with the manager, a stern man who softened when Nivi clarified a budget error. “Sharp catch,” he said, nodding. As they toured the floor, a young staffer glanced at her, his eyes flicking to her figure before he busied himself with papers. 

Another worker, carrying fabric rolls, paused to look as she passed. The attention was subtle, professional, but it fed that growing awareness—she was drawing eyes, not just from the gang but from strangers here too.

Back at the office, Raghavan pulled her aside for a file review. The room was quiet, the hum of the AC soft. “You’re settling in fast, Nivetha,” he said, leaning back, his eyes warm but searching. “But you seem… distracted sometimes. Everything alright?”

She hesitated, then let the truth spill, her voice low. “It’s been hard at home, sir. Anand’s drinking more, always stressed about bills. The kids are my world, but I feel like I’m disappearing there. Here, it’s different—I feel seen.” Her fingers tightened on the file, the confession leaving her vulnerable.

Raghavan’s face softened, his usual sternness gone. “You’re not disappearing, Nivi. You’re strong, valuable. You deserve better than that.” His voice was gentle, his gaze steady. “Let’s get you out of here for a bit—clear your mind. Come with me.”

They drove to a nearby temple, the surprise catching her off guard. The air was thick with incense, the soft clang of bells mingling with chants. Raghavan stayed by her side, his presence calm as they lit lamps. “This place always grounds me,” he said quietly. “Thought it might help you too.”

Nivi’s chest tightened, his kindness hitting deep. He’s seeing me, really seeing me, she thought, a warmth spreading beyond the temple’s glow. As they left, the sun setting over Coimbatore’s skyline, she felt lighter, the spark in her chest burning brighter. 

Those glances—from Ashok, the client’s staff, even passersby outside the temple—weren’t just curiosity now. They were fuel, making her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in years.

Continues...

[lakshana]

Nice Writing but you are repeating the same lines and phrases.

[nivithenaughty]

Nice Writing but you are repeating the same lines and phrases.

Thank for your feedback. 

Thanks all the readers who send DM comments on the story and please post in comments too. 

Some clarification is i started writing this story year ago and i write this each chapter weekly one or monthly once like that and i sometime forget the past chapter details so it might feel repetitive and now I'm almost crossed 100th chapter in my writing and going back and correcting this mistakes is very boring since now I'm writing some spicy scenes i could imagine so i mages to rewrite initial 20 chapters and toned down the pace of her sluttiness for seamless corruption. I will post initial 20 chapters here for you and post 5 chapter each week. I am not a pro English writer so i'm using some help with writing tools to fix some grammar mistakes and the English words so that too sometime mess the content i will verify and post in my future Keep posting the feedback for my improvements. 

Thank you, 

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 9: The Fire Rekindled


The sun dipped low, painting Coimbatore’s skyline in warm amber as Nivi and Raghavan stepped out of the temple, the lingering scent of jasmine and incense clinging to their clothes. The chants echoed faintly in her ears, a soothing rhythm that eased the ache she’d confessed—Anand’s indifference, the empty nights, her fading sense of self. 

Raghavan had listened without judgment, his presence a steady anchor. He sees me, she thought, not just as an accountant or a mom, but as a woman reclaiming her light. The realization stirred a quiet boldness, a spark urging her to step beyond her usual caution.

They walked to his car, the evening breeze tugging at her blue kurti, the fabric hugging her curves in a way she was starting to embrace. Raghavan’s eyes flicked to her side, lingering on her hips, and she felt it—a gaze heavy with respect but edged with something warmer. 

As they drove, the silence thickened, the city lights flickering past like distant stars. “You okay, Nivi?” he asked, his voice low, hands steady on the wheel. His glance darted to her legs, the leggings tracing her shape.

She shifted, her kurti riding up slightly, and for the first time, she didn’t rush to fix it. “Better than okay,” she said, her tone softer but with a new edge. 

“You didn’t just hear me—you helped me breathe. Anand’s world is bills and bottles; here, with you, I feel… alive.” Her fingers brushed her thigh, the gesture casual but aware, testing the air between them.

His throat bobbed, eyes on the road but flicking back. “You’re more than alive, Nivi. You’re glowing. Don’t let anyone dim that.” His words carried a growl, and she felt a quiet thrill, her confidence nudging her forward.

“Where to now?” she asked, leaning closer, her voice playful, breaking the tension but holding his gaze a beat longer.

He smiled slowly. “Thought we’d pick something new for you. Your clothes are practical, but you deserve bold—something that shows the woman you are.” His eyes traced her chest briefly, then met hers. The idea sent a spark through her; he was pushing her, gently, to embrace it.

They pulled into a quiet mall, the shops aglow in the evening light. Raghavan led her to a boutique, the air cool and scented with sandalwood, racks lined with shimmering silks. He moved confidently, his fingers grazing fabrics as he pulled out a wine-red saree with delicate gold embroidery. “Try this,” he said, holding it up, his voice firm but encouraging. “It’s not for hiding—it’s for you.”

Nivi took the saree, their fingers brushing, the contact sending a small jolt. “It’s striking,” she said, her tone bolder than before. “You think I can pull it off?” She held his eyes, stepping closer, feeling the pull to test her newfound spark.

His smile deepened. “I know you can. Go on—show me.” His words were a gentle challenge, urging her forward.

In the trial room, she dbangd the saree, the silk gliding over her skin, hugging her breasts and flaring over her hips. The low-cut blouse showed the swell of her cleavage, the pleats accentuating her curves. She turned, checking the mirror, and felt a rush—she looked powerful, seen. 

Stepping out, hips swaying slightly more than usual, she met his gaze. “Well?” she asked, her voice soft but with a tease, turning to give him a full view.
Raghavan’s eyes widened, his throat working. 

“Nivi… you’re stunning. It hugs you perfectly—shows your strength.” His compliment was direct, his gaze tracing her figure, and she felt the thrill intensify, stepping bolder in the moment.

Emboldened, she suggested another. “What about that black one?” she said, pointing to a saree with a sheer pallu. He nodded, handing it over, his hand lingering on hers. 

“Good choice—try it.” As she changed, a shop attendant glanced her way, eyes admiring, and outside, a passerby in the mall paused to look through the window. The attention fueled her, making her feel daring.

In the black saree, the fabric clung, the deep back teasing her spine. She stepped out, arching slightly. “Like it?” she asked, her tone playful, holding his eyes.

He leaned forward. “It’s dangerous on you. Own it, Nivi—don’t hold back.” His encouragement pushed her, and she felt the spark grow, trying more pieces, each one bolder under his gaze.

By the end, with the saree bagged, she turned to him. “Thank you—for seeing me, for this.” Her voice held a new confidence, the evening’s heat pacing up subtly, leaving her eager for more.


Continues...

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 10: Dressed in Desire

The boutique's soft, ambient lighting cast a warm, inviting glow over the racks of vibrant kurtis, the air heavy with the subtle fragrance of sandalwood incense and freshly pressed fabrics. 

Nivi stood beside Raghavan, her heart beating a little faster than usual, the wine-red saree already folded and bagged at the counter like a promise of change. 

His hand hovered near her lower back as he led her deeper into the store, not quite touching but close enough to send a faint shiver down her spine.

The temple visit had unlocked something in her—a quiet curiosity about herself, a desire to step beyond the shadows of home. Raghavan's words echoed in her mind: she deserved to shine, to feel bold. And now, as he scanned the kurtis with deliberate care, she felt drawn to his guidance, innocently trusting his vision while knowingly letting herself fall into it, step by step.

He paused at a rack of emerald greens, his fingers trailing over the sheer fabric of a low V-neck kurti. "Let's start with this," he said, pulling it off the hanger and holding it against her body. His knuckles brushed her arm lightly, a fleeting contact that made her breath catch. 

The kurti's material was light, almost translucent in places, designed to hug the chest and flow loosely over the hips. "It's not too much, but it shows the top just enough—frames your neckline, lets your confidence peek through."

Nivi took the kurti, her fingers grazing his in a way that lingered a second longer than necessary. "It's prettier than what I usually pick," she admitted, her voice soft, a mix of hesitation and intrigue. 

"I've always gone for plain ones—nothing that draws eyes. Why this? What makes it... bold?"

Raghavan met her gaze, his eyes steady and encouraging, a hint of intensity beneath the surface. "Bold dressing isn't about flaunting, Nivi. 

It's about reclaiming your power. At home, you feel overlooked—Anand doesn't see the woman you've become, the strength in your curves, the fire in your eyes. 

Clothes like this? They remind you of that fire every time you move. The V-neck isn't for show; it's for you—to walk taller, to feel the fabric against your skin and know you're in control. 

When you dress bold, you become bold. It starts outside, but it sinks in, changes how you carry yourself. Trust me—try it, and you'll see."

His explanation was simple, persuasive, wrapping around her like the silk she'd just tried. Innocently, she believed him, wanting that power he described; knowingly, she felt a pull to his wishes, a desire to see the approval in his eyes. 

"Alright," she said, a small smile tugging her lips. "I'll give it a go."

In the trial room, the curtain whispering shut behind her, Nivi slipped out of her kurti and into the emerald one. 

The fabric glided over her skin, cool and smooth, the V-neck dipping low enough to hint at the swell of her breasts, the material clinging to her waist before flaring gently. She turned in the mirror, her reflection showing a woman who looked... alive. 

The thrill was there, subtle but growing, as she adjusted the neckline, feeling the exposure but also the empowerment he’d promised. Stepping out, she posed with a slight turn, her hips shifting naturally. "What do you think?" she asked, her voice a touch bolder, meeting his eyes directly.

Raghavan's gaze swept over her, lingering on the V-neck before returning to her face, his throat working subtly. "Nivi... it suits you perfectly. 

See how it frames you? That's the boldness—it's not screaming; it's whispering your strength. When you wear this to the office, you'll feel eyes on you, but more importantly, you'll feel your own power. 

Anand's neglect fades when you dress like this; you stop waiting to be seen and start seeing yourself."

She nodded, his words pulling her deeper. 

Innocently, she saw the logic—dressing bold to build bold; knowingly, she craved the way his approval made her feel desired, even if unspoken. "It does make me feel... different. Stronger."

Encouraged, he selected the next: a crimson kurti with high side slits, the fabric rich and flowing. 

"This one for your legs and hips," he said, pressing it against her, his hand brushing her waist lightly, sending a warm flutter through her.

"The slits let it move with you, show your grace without trying."

"Why slits?" she asked, taking it, her fingers lingering on his.

He stepped closer, his voice low. "Because boldness is freedom, Nivi. 

You've been trapped at home—kids, bills, Anand's silence. Slits like these? They let you stride without restriction, remind you you're not confined. 

Dressing bold breaks those chains; it makes you walk like you own the room, feel the air on your skin and know you're alive. It's not for others—it's for the woman inside you, waiting to emerge."

She believed him fully now, innocently embracing the idea of freedom through fabric, yet knowingly yielding to his push, wanting to see that spark in his eyes again. In the room, the crimson slipped on, the slits flashing her thighs as she walked, the material hugging her curves. She stepped out, turning slowly, the slits parting with each step. "It feels... liberating," she said, her tone warmer, a subtle sway in her hips.
Raghavan's eyes traced the slits, then met hers, his voice rougher. "See? That's the power—bold clothes make you bold, Nivi. You believe it now, don't you?"
"Yes," she admitted, falling for his wishes, the innocence in her trust blending with a knowing desire to please him.
He handed her the black deep-back kurti next, his thumb brushing her hand. "For mystery—exposes your back, leads the eye to your strength." 

His explanation followed: "Boldness is owning your body, not hiding it. This cut says you're confident, unafraid. After what you've shared about home, you need that—to feel in control, to step out of the shadows."

She tried it, the back dipping low, teasing her spine. Stepping out, she arched slightly. "It makes me feel... exposed, but powerful."

"Good," he murmured, his gaze lingering. "That's how it works—you dress bold, you become bold."
The royal blue came next, cinched at the waist. 

"Highlights your hourglass—tight where it counts." He pressed it to her, knuckles grazing her stomach. "This one's about balance—bold dressing reminds you of your shape, your grace. 

It builds inner boldness, makes you unafraid of eyes on you."

In it, she felt the cinch emphasize her waist, and she posed, believing his vision.

Finally, the white chiffon, semi-sheer. "For the tease—hints at everything." His eyes burned. "Bold isn't loud; it's subtle confidence. Wear this, and you'll know you're seen—on your terms."

She tried it, the fabric teasing shadows, and stepped out, bolder than before. "I see it now," she said, her voice convinced. "Dressing bold... it changes everything."

Raghavan smiled, satisfied. "You're falling for it because it's true, Nivi. And it looks incredible on you." She let his wishes win, innocently trusting the transformation, knowingly drawn to the heat in his gaze.

Continues...

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 11: Stains of Desire


The boutique's counter was a quiet island in the dimly lit store, the cashier scanning the five kurtis and the wine-red saree with mechanical efficiency. Nivi stood beside Raghavan, her body still buzzing from the trial room teases, her pussy tingling with the heat sparked by each piece. 

The emerald V-neck had framed her full tits, the deep cut teasing her hardened nipples through the sheer fabric; the crimson slits had flashed her thick thighs, the material riding up to hint at her round ass; the black back-cut had bared her smooth spine, dipping low enough to make her feel exposed and alive; the royal blue cinched her slim waist, flaring over her hips like a second skin; and the white chiffon had teased the shadows of her curves, her nipples poking faintly against the thin layer. 

Each kurti had ignited a fire in her core, the mirror reflecting a woman whose body screamed desire—breasts straining, ass curving, pussy growing wetter with every glance from Raghavan. Anand's neglect seemed a distant memory; this was her awakening, her clit throbbing as she imagined wearing them, his eyes devouring her at work.

Raghavan handed over his card, his voice casual but low, edged with a growl. "These will look fucking incredible on you, Nivi. Can't wait to see you strut into the office, tits and ass on display like that." 

His eyes met hers, a spark there—subtle but burning, making her pussy clench. He knows I'm soaked from trying them on, she thought, her wetness seeping through her panties, thighs slick. 

Imagining his cock hardening under that desk when I walk in tomorrow, my ass swaying in the crimson slits, tits bouncing.

She leaned against the counter, her 38-inch ass shifting, the leggings tight against her curves, drawing his gaze. "You're spoiling me, sir," she said, voice soft but teasing, her nipples hardening under her kurti, pressing against the fabric like they begged for attention. She didn't hide it, letting him see how he affected her. My body's his canvas now, her mind purred.

He chuckled, deep and rough, signing the receipt. "Spoiling? This is just the start. You deserve to feel seen, Nivi—your tits full, your ass round, your pussy aching for eyes on it." 

His gaze raked her body—breasts, waist, hips—and her pussy throbbed harder, a fresh gush of wetness soaking her panties, smearing her thighs. The cashier handed back the bags, oblivious, but Nivi felt the heat—his words a promise, her clit pulsing with need. 

He's thinking about grabbing my tits, fucking my ass in these, she thought, a slow burn building: I'm not just flirting anymore. This is real, dangerous, and my pussy's dripping for it.

They walked out to the car, the night air cool against her flushed skin, the bags swinging in his hand. Coimbatore’s streets buzzed with life—scooters whizzing, the distant sizzle of bhajjis frying—but Nivi's focus was on the ache between her legs, her panties sticking to her wet folds. 

"Thank you," she said, sincere now, the temple’s warmth lingering. "Not just for the clothes, but... for today. For listening." Her voice softened, deepening: He sees my pain, my fire—makes me feel whole, my pussy wet from his care.

He opened the door for her, his body close, breath warm on her neck. 

"You don't have to thank me, Nivi. Just wear them. Let those tits bounce, that ass sway." 

His eyes dropped to her cleavage, then her thighs as she slid in, the seat leather cool under her ass. Fuck, I'm so wet, she thought, shifting, feeling the dampness spread, her pussy lips slick against the fabric. If he knew how soaked I am, he'd pin me here, fingers sliding into my dripping cunt.


The drive was silent at first, the city lights blurring past, tension thick like the wetness between her thighs. Raghavan's fingers tapped the wheel, his gaze flicking to her legs, her side view.

 "Tell me," he said, voice low and rough, "which one's your favorite? The black back-cut? Bet it makes your ass look irresistible." His tone teased, but his eyes were dark, hungry.

She crossed her legs, the movement pressing her swollen clit, a jolt of pleasure shooting through her. "The crimson slits," she admitted, voice sultry, indirect. "Feels like it'll ride up, show too much thigh, make every man stare at my ass, want to grab it." 

Her pussy throbbed harder, dripping onto the seat, the leather warming under her leaking wetness. He's imagining it, his cock hard, throbbing, wanting to bury it in my soaked pussy.

He groaned softly, shifting in his seat, his bulge visible. 

"Damn, Nivi. You'd kill me in that." His hand brushed her knee, accidental but electric, sending a fresh gush from her pussy. "But that's the point—make them want your tits, your ass, but you're untouchable." Except for you, her mind whispered: I want him to touch, to claim my wet cunt. 

Her wetness spread, soaking the seat, her scent faint in the air, her clit aching for friction.

By the time they reached her gate, her pussy was throbbing, thighs slick with her juices, the leather marked with her arousal—a damp spot where she'd sat, grinding subtly against the seat. 

"Goodnight, sir," she said, stepping out, bags in hand, her ass bouncing as she walked away. 

He watched, she knew, his eyes on her curves. Fuck, I left my pussy juice on the seat, she thought, wicked thrill: Will he notice? Smell my wet cunt?

Inside, her mother-in-law greeted her with a knowing smile, eyes on the bags. "Shopping? You look... flushed, dear."

Nivi's cheeks burned: She suspects, but she supports. 

"Just some new things," Nivi said, voice light.

Upstairs, on the balcony, Nivi glanced down at the car, heart pounding. 

Raghavan was still there, bent over the passenger seat, his face close—sniffing the damp spot, then licking it? Her breath caught, pussy clenching hard, a fresh drip soaking her panties. He's tasting my pussy juice, she thought, wild heat surging. My cum on his tongue, his cock hard from my scent. Fuck, that's filthy, hot—my clit throbbing just watching.

She fled inside, body on fire: He craves my wet pussy like that—raw, desperate. That night, in bed, Anand snoring oblivious, Nivi's fingers slipped under her nightie. 

She touched her swollen clit, rubbing slow, then fast, picturing Raghavan's tongue on the seat, the gang's silent want. 

I'm a slut for this, she thought, her pussy clenching as she came hard, juices gushing, shaking. And I fucking love it.


Continues....

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 12: Teasing the Flames


The office thrummed with its usual rhythm, the clatter of keyboards blending with the distant honks of Coimbatore’s morning traffic—autos weaving through streets, a vendor’s call for fresh idlis slicing through the humid air. Nivi stepped in, her familiar green kurti hugging her figure, leggings clinging comfortably. The new kurtis—emerald, crimson, black, royal blue, white chiffon—waited at home, their promise burning in her mind. After yesterday’s boutique, she felt a shift: the mirror had shown a woman who commanded attention, and Raghavan’s encouragement had ignited a spark. She wasn’t the same Nivi anymore; the boldness from trying those pieces lingered, making her walk taller, her confidence a quiet flame. Anand’s neglect felt farther away; this was her space, and she was ready to own it, step by step.

As she crossed the lobby, a new clerk glanced her way, his eyes catching her silhouette before he fumbled with his files. The look sent a small jolt through her, a subtle thrill at being noticed. At her desk, she settled in, the hum of the AC cooling her skin, but her mind was on the gang—Ashwin’s grin, Dinesh’s quips, Ashok’s quiet stares. They’ve always seen me as one of the boys, but soon they’ll see more, she thought, her heart quickening at the thought of salary day, when she’d unveil the new her.


At the tea station, the gang swarmed, their banter warm and familiar. Ashwin leaned on the counter, waving a biscuit. “Nivi, you’re glowing today. What’s the secret? Spill.” His eyes flicked to her briefly, the kurti pulling tight as she reached for a tumbler.

Dinesh smirked, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, you’re looking too good for a Monday. Got something up your sleeve?” His tone was playful, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer.

Ashok stood back, his eyes on her, face flushing as she turned. “You seem… different,” he said softly.
“Just happy to be here,” she said, her voice low, steady, letting her kurti ride up slightly as she leaned for sugar. The move was subtle, but Ashwin’s story paused, Dinesh’s smirk softened, and a passing delivery guy outside the window glanced her way, his eyes on her form before he hurried off. The strangers’ looks added to her growing spark, her confidence blooming from the boutique’s mirror.

“Happy, huh?” Ashwin said, recovering, his grin sharp. “You’re up to something, Nivi. Got a surprise for us?”
She tossed her hair, her tone playful but with a new edge. “Maybe. Salary day’s coming—you’ll see a different me then. Not the old Nivi.” 

Her heart raced at the promise, imagining walking in bolder, the kurtis hugging her curves, drawing eyes. “My treat won’t be lunch or dinner,” she added, eyes flicking to Ashok. His hands shook on his cup, his shy stare holding hers a beat longer.


Mid-morning, Raghavan called her to his office, the door clicking shut. He leaned back, eyes tracing her—chest, waist, hips—with that mix of warmth and intensity from yesterday. 

“Nivi,” he said, voice low, “still in the old kurti? I thought you’d try the emerald today. It suited you… perfectly.”


She stepped closer, hips swaying subtly, her confidence from the boutique pushing her. “Sir,” she said, leaning on his desk, her figure outlined against the light. 

“We left together yesterday—temple, shopping. If I walk in now with a new kurti, the gossip will fly. I’m saving them for salary day. A bolder me—you’ll see what I mean.”


His throat bobbed, eyes darkening as he took in her stance, the way she held his gaze. “Smart. But I’m impatient. That crimson one—the slits, the way it moves with you—it’d change everything here.” 

His words carried a subtle charge, and she felt his appreciation, the spark from the boutique alive between them.
“After salary day,” she said, her voice teasing, leaning closer. “My treat to the team. They’ll see a Nivi they can’t ignore.” A courier guy passed the office window, his eyes snagging on her silhouette, fueling her thrill. 

Raghavan’s gaze seared her, noticing the change in her—the bolder tilt of her chin, the confidence in her posture.

He nodded, a slow smile spreading. “Tease them, Nivi. Let them feel it building.” His eyes held hers, acknowledging her evolution, the boldness he’d helped unlock.

Through the week, Nivi wove her teases into every moment. At tea breaks, she’d lean against the counter, her kurti riding up to show a hint of her waist, Ashwin’s eyes lingering, Dinesh’s quips sharper, Ashok’s shy stare desperate. “Boys,” she’d say, voice low, “salary day’s my show. Wait for it—something different.” A street vendor outside glanced as she adjusted her dupatta, his eyes on her hips, adding to her spark. Lunch was electric, the gang pulling her to their table, their banter laced with curiosity. “What’s this treat?” Dinesh asked, smirking. “Better be worth the wait.”

She smiled, crossing her legs, her kurti tight. 

“It will be,” she teased, her confidence growing, picturing their reactions to her new look. The week’s highlight was a lunch bet—rock-paper-scissors for a bike ride home. 

Ashwin won, grinning. “My day!” Outside, she climbed onto his bike, her body pressing close, the wind whipping her hair as she leaned in, whispering, 

“Hold on tight.” The closeness sent a quiet thrill through her, her evolution from the boutique making her feel alive, ready for more.


Continues....

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 13: Bonds and Whispers

Coimbatore’s evening market buzzed with energy as Nivi and the gang stepped out of the office, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over stalls piled with fresh curry leaves and gleaming steel utensils. 

The office had been a whirlwind of deadlines, but Dinesh had suggested a quick trip to buy supplies—notebooks, pens, a new coffee maker for the break room. “Nivi, you’re the tiebreaker,” he’d said at lunch, grinning. “Pick the good stuff, or Ashwin’ll get us glitter pens.” 

The outing felt like a break from routine, and Nivi’s green kurti, snug against her curves, carried the spark from the boutique—those kurtis waiting at home, each one a promise of the bolder her she’d unveil on salary day. Her thoughts, once curious about being noticed, now burned hotter, her pussy tingling at the idea of the gang’s eyes on her new look, their cocks stirring when she strutted in, tits and ass commanding the room

. Anand’s whiskey-soaked silence was a fading echo; here, she was alive, her confidence a growing flame.
But as they weaved through the market, the air thick with the scent of roasting corn and jasmine garlands, Nivi felt a sudden wave of heat between her thighs, her pussy getting wet so quickly it caught her off guard. Why am I reacting like this? It's been so long since I felt excited—dry, untouched, ignored by Anand for years. These new desires, this exploration... 

they're making me extremely horny, overwhelming me, but I want to understand them, to dive in. A young vendor glanced her way, his eyes lingering on her hips before he turned back to his fruit cart. The look sent a jolt through her, her clit aching softly, a faint dampness starting in her panties. They’re seeing me, not just the old Nivi, she thought, trying to make sense of the urge surging through her.


At a stationery stall, Ashwin haggled over pens, his voice booming. “Nivi, back me up—blue ink’s better than black, right?” His grin was wide, but his eyes flicked to her chest, the kurti pulling tight as she reached for a sample.


Dinesh smirked, adjusting his glasses. “Careful, Ashwin, you’re distracted. Nivi’s got you picking sparkly ones already.” His tone carried a naughty edge, his gaze sliding to her waist, implying more than he said. Her pussy pulsed, the tease making her wetter, but she paused internally: Why is this turning me on so fast? It's like my body's waking up after being starved, these urges confusing but thrilling—I need to figure them out.

Ashok, trailing behind, clutched a notebook, his shy eyes locked on her as she turned to check prices. He’s picturing my tits in that emerald kurti, his cock hard, helpless, she thought, her pussy clenching, a fresh wave of heat soaking her panties. “What do you think, Ashok?” she asked, her voice low, playful, leaning closer to show a hint of her neckline. “Good deal?”

He flushed, stammering. “Y-yeah, looks good.” The group laughed, but the air crackled, their banter laced with unspoken desire.

Back at the office, the canteen hummed with gossip. Two junior accountants at a corner table whispered, their eyes darting to Nivi: “She’s different now… that walk, those curves.” 

The words hit her like a spark, her nipples hardening under her kurti, her pussy aching as she imagined the office’s buzz with her name. They’re talking about my tits, my ass, wanting me, she thought, the explicit thought sending a gush to her core. 

But why am I getting so wet from this? Anand left me dry for years—no excitement, no touch. These new explorations are making me horny beyond control; I have to understand these urges, embrace them.


Saritha and Lakshmi waved her over, their smiles warm but teasing. “Nivi, you’re causing a stir,” Saritha said, grinning. “The boys can’t stop talking about you.”

Lakshmi nodded, eyes gleaming. “You’re not just back—you’re stealing the show, girl.” Nivi sat, crossing her legs, the kurti tight against her curves. 

Their support grounded her, but the gossip fueled her heat, her pussy wet with the thrill of being the office’s obsession.

Mid-afternoon, Raghavan called her to his office, the door shutting softly. He leaned back, his eyes tracing her—breasts, waist, hips—with a hunger that made her clit pulse. 

“Nivi, you’re carrying yourself differently,” he said, voice low, rough. “That confidence—it’s magnetic. Still holding off on those kurtis?” He leaned closer, his gaze on her neckline, the air thick with tension.

She stepped nearer, hips swaying, her boldness from the boutique pushing her. “Saving them for salary day, sir,” she said, leaning on his desk, her breasts subtly outlined. “I want them to see the real me—bold, like you said. The crimson slits, the chiffon—they’ll notice everything.” Her pussy throbbed, wet with anticipation, imagining his cock hard under the desk, wanting her tits, her ass. Why is my pussy dripping so fast? she wondered, the dryness from Anand's neglect hitting her—starved for excitement, now these urges are flooding me, confusing but irresistible.

He smiled, eyes dark. “They’ll notice, Nivi. You’re already stirring whispers out there.” He nodded toward the glass, where a junior accountant glanced her way, whispering to a colleague about “Nivi’s new vibe.” The gossip made her pussy drip, her panties soaked. “Keep them waiting,” he added, his voice a low growl. “Make them want more.”


“I will, sir,” she said, her tone teasing, eyes locked on his. He’s hard, imagining fucking my tits, bending me over, she thought, her pussy aching as she walked out, hips swaying, knowing his eyes followed.

That evening, the gang lingered at the tea station, their banter naughtier. “Nivi, this treat better be big,” Ashwin said, winking. “You’re hyping it too much.” Dinesh leaned in, smirking. “Yeah, that glow’s dangerous.

 Hope it’s as good as you look today.” The implication sent a fresh gush to her pussy, her clit begging for friction. Ashok’s shy stare burned, his hands shaky. 

He’d cum just seeing me in those slits, she thought, her thoughts fully explicit now, her boldness blazing. Why am I this horny? Anand left me dry—no sex, no spark. These new desires are overwhelming, but I crave understanding them, exploring every urge.

At home, her mother-in-law caught her glow. “You’re shining, dear,” she said, stirring sambar. “Work’s waking you up.” Nivi nodded, her pussy still warm, thoughts of salary day—tits out, ass swaying, cocks begging—making her ready to own the office’s desire.


Continues...

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 14: Day One - The Emerald Unveiling


Salary day pinged on Nivi’s phone Saturday morning, the notification a spark of freedom as she played with her kids, Anand’s indifference a dull hum in the background. 

Her mother-in-law caught her smile, stirring chutney in the kitchen. “Big plans, dear?” she asked, eyes twinkling. Nivi nodded, her body stirring at the thought of Monday. 

The boutique with Raghavan had shattered her dryness—years of untouched, unexcited days under Anand’s neglect now flooded with desire. 

Why am I so turned on just thinking about it? she wondered, her pussy tingling, her body taking charge. Those kurtis—emerald, crimson, chiffon—had shown her a woman who could own a room, and she craved it, struggling to understand the urges overwhelming her mind.

Monday, Nivi strode into the office, the emerald V-neck kurti clinging to her full breasts, the deep cut teasing a hint of cleavage, the sheer fabric brushing her nipples, hardening them with every step.

Her leggings hugged her hips, her ass swaying subtly. From the front, she was polished; from behind, a quiet fire, her curves demanding eyes. Her pussy burned as she crossed the threshold, wet from imagining the office’s reaction. Why is my body controlling me? Anand left me dry for so long—no spark, no touch. Now these urges are wild, and I can’t stop them, she thought, grappling with the heat driving her.


The office hushed, heads turning—Ashwin’s grin faltering, Dinesh’s coffee cup frozen, Ashok’s shy stare wide. A junior clerk by the copier paused, eyes on her neckline before he dropped his papers. The attention sent a spark through her, her pussy dampening fast. Why am I so wet already? The shopping broke something—my body’s awake, and I don’t know how to handle it, she thought, her mind racing to catch her urges.

At the tea station, the gang pounced, their banter lively with a naughty edge. Ashwin leaned close, tossing a biscuit. “Nivi, this kurti’s trouble—that neckline’s got us all distracted.” His grin was bold, eyes lingering on her chest, implying more.

Dinesh smirked, glasses glinting. 

“Salary day’s off to a hell of a start. You’re making it tough to work, Nivi.” His tone teased, his gaze on her hips hinting at desire. Her pussy ached, the heat overwhelming. Why is this turning me on so much? It’s like my body’s starving, craving their eyes, she thought, trying to understand.

Ashok flushed, eyes on her curves. “It’s… really nice,” he mumbled, hands shaky. He’s dying to see more, she thought, her clit pulsing, her body leading her mind. 

“Like the treat, boys?” she teased, pouring tea, leaning to show a hint of cleavage. “Told you it’s not just lunch.” Their laughter crackled, but the air was charged, their eyes hungry.


In the lunchroom, gossip swirled. Two accountants whispered nearby: “Nivi’s changed—look at that kurti. She’s with Raghavan too much.” The words hit her, her nipples tightening, her pussy burning. They’re talking about me, wanting me, she thought, her body urging her to lean into it. 

Saritha and Lakshmi waved her over. “Nivi, you’re the talk of the office,” Saritha said, grinning. “That emerald’s a statement.” Lakshmi teased, “Keep this up, and the boys won’t survive.” Nivi smiled, crossing her legs, her ass shifting. Their support warmed her, but the gossip fueled her fire, her body craving more.


Mid-morning, Raghavan called her to review a client file, his office quiet, the door shutting softly. He leaned back, eyes tracing her—breasts, waist, hips—with a slow, hungry smile. “Nivi, this kurti’s perfect—shows your fire,” he said, voice low, stepping closer. “You’re owning it, aren’t you?” His fingers brushed hers as he handed her a file, the contact electric, making her pussy clench.


She leaned on his desk, her breasts subtly forward, boldness surging. “Trying to, sir,” she said, voice teasing, holding his gaze. “You were right—bold clothes make me feel bold.” 

Why is my pussy so wet from his look? The shopping broke my dryness; now my body’s in charge, and I can’t control it, she thought, her urges overwhelming.

He chuckled, eyes on her neckline. “You’re more than bold—you’re dangerous. Keep them guessing.” The gossip outside grew—a clerk whispering, “Nivi’s in there again with the boss”—and her pussy dripped, her body thrilled by the attention.


Later, Mohan, a senior accountant with a confident charm, joined the gang at lunch, pulling his chair close to Nivi. “You’re shaking things up, Nivi,” he said, his voice smooth, eyes lingering on her curves.

 “That kurti’s a game-changer.” His tone was playful but suggestive, his knee brushing hers under the table, sending a spark to her core. He’s trying to get close, wants me, she thought, her pussy aching, her body driving her. 

Why am I so horny for this? Anand starved me; now every touch, every look sets me off.

“Glad you approve,” she teased, leaning forward, her neckline dipping. Ashwin whistled, Dinesh smirked, and Ashok’s stare burned. 

The table buzzed with naughty banter, Mohan adding, “Hope this treat keeps getting better.” Her pussy pulsed, wet and eager, her body outpacing her mind. 

I need to understand these urges—they’re too much, but I want them, she thought, her boldness blazing as she left, the office’s whispers trailing her.


Continues...

[nivithenaughty]

Chapter 15: Day Two - The Crimson Tease


Tuesday morning pulsed with heat as Nivi glided into the office, the crimson kurti with high side slits clinging to her curves like a second skin. 

The fabric hugged her full breasts, teasing their shape, while the slits flashed her thick thighs with each step, her leggings tight, accentuating her hips and round ass. From the front, she was sleek, professional, her face serene; from behind, she was a wildfire, her body a deliberate tease. 

Her pussy sparked as she crossed the office doors, already wet from imagining the gang’s eyes on her, their cocks stirring. Why is my body craving this so much? she wondered, her mind racing to keep up. It’s like I’m waking up to myself, my curves, my power—after years of fading, these urges are taking over, and I don’t know how to stop them. The boutique with Raghavan had unleashed her, each kurti a key to her rediscovered allure, and she craved the office’s reaction, her body leading the charge.


The office stilled, heads turning—Ashwin’s grin sharpening, Dinesh’s coffee cup frozen, Ashok’s shy stare wide. A junior clerk by the printer paused, eyes on her thighs before he dropped his files. 

The attention sent a jolt to her pussy, her panties dampening fast. Why am I so turned on already? My body’s alive, hungry for their looks, she thought, grappling with the urges driving her. She adjusted her dupatta, letting it slip to tease her neckline, her nipples hardening.


At the tea station, the gang swarmed, their banter lively with a naughty edge. Ashwin leaned close, tossing a biscuit. “Nivi, those slits are deadly—look at you, all curves now!” He grinned, eyes on her thighs. “Remember when you were stick-thin, blending into the walls? Now you’re killing us.”

Dinesh smirked, glasses glinting. “Yeah, you used to be all bones, Nivi. Now that kurti’s showing off… everything.” His tone teased, implying desire, his gaze lingering on her hips. Her pussy pulsed, the playful mockery sparking her heat.

Why is my body reacting like this? Their words make me wet, like I’m discovering my own skin, she thought, her urges overwhelming.

Ashok flushed, eyes on her slits. “It’s… really nice,” he mumbled, hands shaky. He’s picturing me naked, his cock hard, she thought, her pussy clenching, panties soaked. “Enjoying the treat, boys?” she purred, leaning to pour tea, the slits flashing thigh.

 “Day two’s better than lunch, right?” Their laughter crackled, but their stares were hungry, cocks likely twitching.


Mohan, the senior accountant, joined them, his confident smile sharp. “Nivi, you’re turning this place upside down,” he said, his voice smooth, eyes tracing her curves. He stood close, his arm brushing hers as he grabbed a cup, sending a spark to her core. 

“Those slits are trouble.” His tone was suggestive, and her pussy ached. He’s getting closer, wants my thighs, my ass, she thought, her body driving her. At a work table later, Mohan paired with her on a client report, his shoulder grazing hers as they reviewed numbers. 

“You’re sharp, Nivi,” he said softly. “Lean on me if home gets heavy—heard it’s been tough.” His support warmed her, his closeness electric, pulling her in.

In the lunchroom, gossip buzzed. Two clerks whispered: “Nivi’s new look—those slits! And always with Raghavan or Mohan now.” The words made her nipples ache, her pussy dripping. They’re talking about my tits, my ass, she thought, her body urging her on. 

Why am I so horny for this? It’s like my body’s alive for the first time, and I can’t control it. Saritha and Lakshmi waved her over, grinning. “Nivi, you’re the office star,” Saritha teased. 

“Those boys are useless today.” Lakshmi added, “Keep shining, girl.” Nivi sat, crossing her legs, the slits teasing thigh, her pussy wet with their support and the gossip’s thrill.

Mid-afternoon, Raghavan called her to his office, his voice steady but eyes dark, raking her—tits, thighs, ass—as she strutted in, slits flashing. 

“Nivi,” he said, leaning forward, “the crimson’s a killer. Those slits… they’re teasing everyone.” His gaze lingered on her thighs, and her pussy burned, soaked panties sticking. He’s hard, imagining fucking me, she thought, her body in charge. 

“Like it, sir?” she teased, leaning on his desk, the kurti tight, slits parting. He handed her a file, his fingers lingering on hers, the contact sparking her clit. “You’re owning this place,” he murmured, his voice a growl. “Keep them burning.” Gossip swirled outside—a clerk whispering, “Nivi’s in with the boss again, look at her”—and her pussy dripped, her body thriving on the attention.

Later, Mohan caught her by the break room, offering to carry her files. 

“You’re doing great, Nivi,” he said, his hand brushing her arm, eyes on her curves. “If Anand’s stressing you out, I’m here—work or otherwise.” His support felt personal, his closeness stirring her pussy. 

Why is my body so out of control? she thought, her urges wild. Anand ignored me; now Mohan’s touch, Raghavan’s eyes—they’re waking me up, and I need more.

At home, her mother-in-law smiled, stirring rasam. 

“You’re glowing, dear. Work’s bringing you back.” Nivi nodded, her pussy warm, thoughts of tomorrow—tits teasing, thighs flashing, cocks begging—driving her, her body leading her into the unknown.


Continues...