[Suresh@123]

The airport arrivals hall felt colder than it should have been, even with the tropical heat pressing against the

glass doors. Adithi stepped through the sliding panels, carry-on rolling behind her like an afterthought. Her

eyes—red-rimmed, shadowed—found Kamal almost instantly.

He stood near the barrier, still wearing the same navy shirt from three days ago, sleeves rolled unevenly. The

moment their gazes locked, something in his posture collapsed. He didn’t wave. He didn’t call her name. He

simply moved—fast, blind, through the sparse midnight crowd—until his arms were around her.

The hug was violent in its tenderness. His shoulders shook against hers; she felt the wet heat of tears soak

through her blouse at the collarbone. Adithi buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in laundry

detergent and airport coffee and the faint metallic scent that was simply Kamal after too many sleepless

nights. Neither of them spoke. Words had become too heavy, too dangerous.

They walked to the parking garage like that—joined at the hip, his arm locked around her waist, her fingers

curled into the back pocket of his jeans—silent except for the soft squeak of her suitcase wheels and the

occasional ragged breath one of them tried to hide.

In the car, Kamal drove with both hands high on the wheel, knuckles white. Adithi watched streetlights slide

across his profile and said nothing. The radio stayed off. The only sound was the low hum of tires on asphalt

and the irregular rhythm of their breathing slowly beginning to match.

When they crossed the threshold of their apartment, the door clicked shut with the finality of a vault. The

hallway light was still burning from when Kamal had left; it painted long shadows across the living-room floor.

Adithi turned to him.

She didn’t ask how he was. She didn’t say I’m sorry or I missed you or any of the fragile sentences they had

both rehearsed in their heads during the endless hours apart. Instead she stepped forward, cupped his face

with both hands, and kissed him—slow at first, then desperate, teeth catching his lower lip as though she

needed to taste proof that he was still real.

Kamal groaned into her mouth, hands sliding up her back, bunching the fabric of her travel-worn shirt. She

walked him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the sofa. He sat heavily. She followed,

straddling his lap without breaking the kiss.

Her fingers found the hem of his T-shirt and dragged upward. He lifted his arms like an obedient child; the

shirt came off and landed somewhere behind the couch. She pressed her palms flat to his chest—felt the

frantic thud of his heart, the tremor that lived just beneath his skin—and then she leaned in and bit gently

along his collarbone, tasting salt and skin.

Kamal’s hands shook as he unbuttoned her blouse. Each button felt like it took a century. When the fabric

finally parted he simply stared for a moment—at the black bra, at the faint red marks the straps had left on

her shoulders after twelve hours in the air—then he dipped his head and kissed the valley between her

breasts, open-mouthed, reverent. She arched into him, fingers threading through his hair, urging him closer.

She slid off his lap only long enough to tug his jeans open. He lifted his hips to help her; the denim and

boxers came down together in a hurried tangle around his ankles. Adithi kicked off her own shoes, peeled

away her trousers and underwear in one impatient motion, then climbed back onto him.

Skin met skin.

She reached between them, wrapped her fingers around him—hard, hot, already slick at the tip—and guided

him to her entrance. They both exhaled sharply when she sank down, taking him inch by slow inch until he

was buried completely. For a heartbeat they simply stayed like that: motionless, foreheads pressed together,

breathing each other’s air.

Then she began to move.

At first it was languid—long, rolling rolls of her hips that made him curse softly against her throat. But grief

and relief and weeks of terror had stripped away every layer of restraint. Soon she

[Suresh@123]

Soon she was riding him harder, faster, palms braced on his shoulders, nails digging half-moons into muscle.

Kamal’s hands clamped onto her waist, helping her rise and fall, thumbs pressing into the soft hollows above

her hipbones. Each downward stroke dragged a broken sound from his throat.

She leaned forward, changed the angle, and he bucked up into her so sharply she gasped. The new friction

sent sparks racing up her spine. She did it again—deliberately—grinding her clit against his pelvis on every

downstroke until her thighs began to tremble.

Kamal’s mouth found her breast; he sucked hard enough to leave a mark, tongue flicking over the nipple until

she whimpered. One of his hands slid between them, fingers circling where they were joined, slippery and

insistent. The added pressure made her inner walls flutter around him.

“Adi—” His voice cracked on her name, the first word either of them had spoken since the airport.

She answered by kissing him fiercely, swallowing the rest of the syllable, and then she was coming—sudden,

shattering, thighs clamping around his hips as she pulsed around him. The rhythmic squeeze pulled him over

the edge a moment later; he arched beneath her, hips jerking erratically as he spilled inside her with a low,

guttural moan that vibrated against her lips.

They stayed locked together for long minutes afterward, sweat cooling on their skin, breaths gradually

slowing. When she finally lifted her head, Kamal’s eyes were wet again—not from sorrow this time, but from

something softer, something closer to gratitude.

Adithi eased off him carefully, wincing at the sudden emptiness, then curled against his side on the wide

sofa. He reached for the throw blanket dbangd over the backrest and pulled it over both of them. She tucked

her face into the curve of his neck; he wrapped both arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her

head as though she might vanish again if he let go.

They sat like that—naked, tangled, quiet—until the first gray light of dawn began to seep through the curtains.

Neither of them had said “I love you.”

They didn’t need to.

The embrace said it louder than any words could have.

[Suresh@123]

The blanket had slipped to their waists. Sweat had dried into a faint sheen that caught the first pale light

leaking through the curtains. Adithi lay half across Kamal’s chest, one leg hooked over his thigh, her fingers

tracing absent circles on the skin above his heart. The room smelled of sex and airport perfume and the
ghost of airplane coffee still clinging to her hair.

Kamal’s voice came first—low, cracked, almost apologetic.

“I know, Adithi,” he said into the quiet. “It’s all my fault.”

She lifted her head slowly. Her eyes met his—steady, dark, still carrying the weight of whatever had happened

on that island. She didn’t interrupt. She simply watched him, letting the words spill.

“No,” she said at last, voice soft but certain. “It’s not. We both wanted this. I wanted this.”

She shifted, propping herself on one elbow so she could see his face clearly. The blanket pooled around her
hips. Her breasts brushed his ribs as she moved.

“I wanted to be more open with you,” she continued. “To finally say the things I’ve kept locked inside for

years. I know what you like, Kamal. I’ve always known. The way your eyes linger on women in their late thirties

—those confident aunties with soft curves and knowing smiles. I’ve seen the tabs you leave open when you

think I’m asleep. The videos. The stories. I know you fantasize about me… about me being seen. About me

crossing that thin, dangerous line where exposure becomes something electric. Not fully naked in public, no—

but close. Teasing. Letting someone glimpse what’s yours.”

Kamal’s throat worked. He didn’t deny it. His hand came up, fingers threading gently into her hair, holding her

there so she wouldn’t look away.

“When I stepped onto that island,” she said, “everything changed. Gupta had already trapped you—he’d

trapped us both. I could feel it the moment I saw the way he watched me. He wasn’t going to ask permission.

If I resisted, they would have taken what they wanted anyway. So I decided I wouldn’t be prey. I would be the

one setting the rules.”

She paused, letting the silence stretch. Kamal’s breathing had grown shallow.

“I found his laptop,” she went on. “By some miracle—or maybe just his arrogance—he’d left everything open. Chats with you. Messages to the crew. And long, intimate conversations with his wife, Shailaja. They have an open marriage, but she’s painfully shy. She’s never actually met anyone outside their little circle. Gupta always tells her when he chooses a woman—every detail, every fantasy. It’s their ritual. And that gave me the opening I needed.”

Adithi’s fingertips drifted lower, brushing the line of hair below his navel—more to ground herself than to arouse.

“I planned every step. Cautiously. Methodically. I knew you would be thrilled if I let Rahul have me. One man—clean, controlled, exciting. But two at once… I wasn’t sure how that would sit with you. I didn’t want to break us. So I turned it into seduction instead of surrender.”

She smiled then—a small, fierce curve of lips that made Kamal’s pulse jump.

“First I took Rahul. Let him think he was the one in control. I performed for Gupta—made sure he saw exactly how good I could be, how much pleasure I could give and take. I turned myself into something he couldn’t resist. Something he would do anything to taste. And when he was desperate, when he was practically begging, I made my demand. Shailaja. If he wanted me, he had to give me his wife first.”

Kamal exhaled roughly. His hand tightened in her hair—not pulling, just anchoring.

“He had nothing to lose,” Adithi said. “No real risk. So he agreed.”

She leaned down, pressed her forehead to his for a moment, breathing him in.

“But watching you with her…” Her voice cracked for the first time. “That curvy, shy little bitch with her soft

eyes and her trembling hands. The way she melted under you. The way you looked at her—like she was

something fragile and precious. For a moment I was terrified. I thought maybe you would fall in love with her

gentleness. That she would be the one who finally unlocked something in you I could never reach

[Suresh@123]

Kamal shook his head—small, urgent. “Never,” he whispered. “Never.”

Adithi kissed the corner of his mouth, tasting salt—hers or his, she couldn’t tell.

“By God’s grace it ended,” she said. “Gupta will never come near us again. Rahul stays on that island; he has

no reason to leave. And the videos…” She reached across to the side table where she’d dropped her phone

earlier. The screen lit her face blue. “He gave me copies. Every angle. No faces blurred. Nothing held back. If

we ever want to remember—if we ever want to relive it while we fuck each other senseless—we can. No one

can blackmail us. The power is ours now.”

She set the phone down again. Then she slid fully on top of him, breasts pressing to his chest, thighs straddling his hips. He was already stirring beneath her—thickening against her still-sensitive folds.

Kamal looked up at her, eyes glassy with something between awe and relief.

“You played them all,” he said hoarsely.

“I played to win,” she corrected. “For us.”

She rolled her hips once—slow, deliberate—feeling him harden fully beneath her. A low sound escaped his throat.

“Tell me,” she whispered, lips brushing his ear. “Tell me you’re still mine.”

“Always,” he answered instantly, hands sliding down to grip her ass, pulling her tighter against him. “Only yours.”

Adithi smiled against his skin.

“Then prove it,” she said.

And this time, when she sank down onto him—slow, claiming, unhurried—there were no ghosts in the room. No island. No Gupta. No Shailaja.

Just the two of them.

Finally, fiercely, completely honest.

[Suresh@123]

The phone buzzed on the coffee table like an intruder.

Kamal had just reached for another kiss—slow, lingering, the kind that promised round two—when the screen

lit up with an unknown number. Adithi froze mid-breath, eyes flicking to the device. Kamal picked it up,

thumb hovering, then answered on speaker without thinking.

“Hello?”

A soft, almost hesitant voice drifted through the line.

“Hi Kamal… it’s Shailaja.”

The room tilted.

Adithi’s hand clamped over her mouth. Kamal’s spine straightened as though someone had yanked a string

attached to his shoulder blades. For three full heartbeats, no one breathed.

“Hi, Shailaja,” he managed at last, voice rough. “What… what is the matter?”

“I want to meet you, Kamal.” A pause, then softer, “I want to meet Adithi also.”

They dressed in silence—jeans, shirts, the armor of ordinary clothes. Adithi’s fingers shook as she buttoned

her blouse; Kamal kept glancing at her, searching for permission or warning or anything at all. Neither spoke

until they were in the car, until the engine hummed and the city lights began to smear past the windows.

The restaurant was quiet, mid-afternoon empty except for waiters folding napkins. Shailaja arrived like a vision stepping out of a painting no one had the courage to finish.

She wore a deep maroon Kanjivaram saree, silk so rich it caught every stray beam of light and turned it liquid

gold. The pallu dbangd over one shoulder in perfect pleats, the blouse hugging curves that looked almost

unreal—soft, generous, glowing with the quiet confidence of someone who had finally decided to be seen.

Her hair fell in a thick braid down her back; a single jasmine strand tucked behind her ear trembled when she smiled.

Adithi felt the jealousy rise like bile—sharp, hot, immediate. Kamal felt it too; he felt Adithi’s body stiffen

beside him, felt the way her fingers curled into fists on the tabletop.

Shailaja slid into the chair opposite them. She folded her hands in her lap, eyes down for a moment before

lifting them—first to Kamal, then to Adithi.

“Hi,” she said simply.

Then the words came, quiet but unstoppable.

“The last few days… my life has changed, Kamal.” She swallowed. “I always told Gupta he could be with

anyone. He gave me the same permission. But I never went to any other man. I couldn’t. Since I was a child

I’ve craved… soft touches. Gentle ones. Gupta—he’s always been a little rough. I was afraid. But those three

days with you…” Her voice cracked, eyes glistening. “You treated me like I was something holy. You found

every secret place on my body where pleasure hides. You drew it out so slowly, so carefully… I felt worshipped.

I’ve been thinking about it every night since. I can’t sleep without remembering.”

She looked straight at him now, tears brimming but not falling.

“I need you, Kamal. Not as a toy. Not for one night. I need your soul. Your heart. I’m not asking you to leave

Adithi. I’m not asking for marriage. Just… once or twice a month. A weekend. That’s enough. I spoke to

Gupta. He was shocked. Angry. But in the end he agreed. Our marriage will stay intact for society. He keeps

doing what he does—with my permission now. And I… I get this.”

Kamal’s gaze slid to Adithi.

Her face had gone dangerously still. Cheeks flushed. Eyes glittering with something close to fury.

When she spoke, her voice was low, venomous, each word carved.

“With all due respect, bitch,” she said, leaning forward, “your husband trapped us. He humiliated Kamal. That’s the only reason I ever let you step foot near my home. I wanted to see my husband happy again. If

you’re so desperate for soft touches, go stand on the road. Plenty of men there. Or ask your pimp husband to

arrange a whole lineup for you. My husband is my pride. My everything. He will never—never—touch another

woman apart from me. Now leave.”

Shailaja’s lips parted, but no sound came. She looked once at Kamal—searching, pleading—then rose without

another word. The silk of her saree whispered against the chair as she walked away, head high, spine straight,

dignity intact even in retreat.

[Suresh@123]

The drive home was silent again. Different silence this time—charged, electric.

The moment the apartment door closed, Adithi threw herself into Kamal’s arms. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed—great, wrenching sounds that shook her whole body.

“How dare that bitch talk like that?” she choked. “How dare she come to us and beg for you like you’re

some… some prize she can borrow?”

Kamal held her tightly, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing slow circles on her back.

“Adi,” he murmured after a long while, when her sobs had quieted to hiccups. “I know you like women too. I

saw it on the island. The way your eyes followed her. The way you watched us. Shailaja… she needs someone

gentle. Someone who’ll touch her with love, not just hunger. Why don’t you take her as your second partner?”

Adithi pulled back, eyes red, mascara smudged, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“What?”

“I promise,” he said quickly, raising both hands, “I will never touch her. Not a finger. We dragged her into this
mess too—knowingly or not. We owe her some kindness. Some gratitude. What do you think?”

Adithi blinked. Once. Twice.

Then, slowly, a wicked little smile curled the corner of her mouth.

“You cheat,” she whispered.

Kamal raised an eyebrow.

“Me?”

“You absolute bastard.” She poked his chest. “You just want to watch me with her, don’t you? You filthy,

scheming man.”

He grinned—sudden, boyish, guilty. “Maybe a little.”

Adithi laughed then—sharp, surprised, real. The sound burst out of her like sunlight after rain. She grabbed

his shirt collar, yanked him down, and kissed him hard—teeth and tongue and laughter all tangled together.

“Okay,” she said against his lips, breathless. “She’ll be my second partner. But first we have to convince her.

And one more thing.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, mischief dancing there. “Are you sure—

absolutely sure—you can keep your hands off her? Not even a brush? Not even by accident?”

Kamal leaned in, nose brushing hers.

“If my wife accepts it,” he said solemnly, “I will touch.”

Adithi gasped theatrically, swatting his chest.

“You bastard! I’ll kill you!”

They dissolved—both of them—into helpless, shaking laughter. Foreheads pressed together, tears of mirth mixing with the earlier tears of rage. Kamal scooped her up, spun her once, set her on the kitchen counter. She wrapped her legs around his waist, still giggling.

“Call her,” Adithi said, reaching for his phone on the counter. “Right now. Before I change my mind and go hunt that saree-wearing angel down myself.”

Kamal took the phone. Dialed. Put it on speaker.

The line rang twice.

Then Shailaja’s voice—wary, small—“Hello?”

Adithi leaned close to the speaker, voice soft now, almost tender.

“Shailaja,” she said. “Come back. We need to talk. Properly this time.”

A long silence.

Then, quietly, hopefully: “Okay.”

Kamal ended the call.

Adithi looked at him, eyes shining.

“You’re still mine,” she whispered.

“Only yours,” he answered.

And when they kissed again—slow, deep, laughing into each other’s mouths—the apartment felt, for the first

time in weeks, like home.......

[Suresh@123]

twist after twist... But its not ur original writing writer Ji. Its look different.

Ya thank you... Little twist...... by others... I will reveal in last

[Suresh@123]

Shailaja

[Suresh@123]

Pls add pic of sex in between it would spice up the reader experience

Thank you... Sure I will add sex gif

[Suresh@123]

Things turned into their pluser now wow

Superb details excellent proceedings with the character

Waiting for the next story update bro

Thank you bro..

[Suresh@123]

Update tomorrow

[Suresh@123]

U did not added pics in 3 days session, pls add them

OK sure bro coming episodes I can add images

[Suresh@123]

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of Kamal and Athidhi's spacious Mumbai apartment, casting a

warm glow over the king-sized bed where the couple had just finished a heated reconciliation. Athidhi's body

still tingled from Kamal's touch, her mind racing with the revelations of the past few hours. She had returned

from the island, her body marked by the rough encounters with Gupta and Rahul, but armed with their

incriminating videos—and her own bluff about having footage of Kamal ravishing Gupta's wife, Shailaja. It had

worked; she'd seized their files and fled back to her husband.

As they lay entangled, Kamal's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He glanced at the screen—Shailaja. Athidhi's

eyes widened as he answered, putting it on speaker without a word. Shailaja's voice was breathy, desperate:

"Kamal... I can't stop thinking about that night in Mumbai. Your hands on me, the way you made me scream...

Shall I meet you again tomorrow? For more? I haven't slept properly since, my body's aching for you."

Athidhi froze, her heart pounding. Betrayal stung, but as Kamal's eyes met hers, a wicked smile curved his

lips. He mouthed, "Trust me." To Shailaja, he replied smoothly, "Yes, come tomorrow afternoon. To my home.

There's a surprise waiting for you—one that'll make you beg even louder."

The call ended, and Athidhi's shock melted into a mix of jealousy and intrigue. Kamal pulled her close,

whispering his plan: a threesome, a way to turn the tables, to indulge and erase the secrets. After a tense

discussion, Athidhi nodded, her body igniting at the forbidden thrill






Fine," she murmured, "but make it unforgettable."

The next day arrived with electric anticipation. Kamal had prepared the apartment—dim lights, soft music, a

bottle of chilled wine on the coffee table. Athidhi wore a sheer red lingerie set that hugged her curves, her

long hair cascading down her back. She paced nervously, her mind flashing back to the island's wild nights,

but this time, she was in control.

The doorbell rang at exactly 2 PM. Kamal opened it, revealing Shailaja—stunning in a tight black dress that

accentuated her voluptuous figure, her dark eyes smoldering with lust. She stepped in, her heels clicking on

the marble floor, and immediately wrapped her arms around Kamal, pressing her full breasts against his

chest. "I've been dreaming of this," she purred, her lips brushing his ear. "Fuck me like last time, Kamal. Make

me yours again."

But as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes caught movement in the living room. Athidhi stood there, arms

crossed, a sly smile on her face. Shailaja gasped, pulling back. "Athidhi? What... what's going on?"

Kamal chuckled, closing the door behind her. "The surprise, darling. My wife knows everything. About us in

Mumbai. And she's... intrigued. Aren't you, Athidhi?"

Athidhi stepped forward, her voice steady but laced with thrill. "I saw the video, Shailaja. The one where my

husband had you moaning like a whore on that hotel bed. But don't worry—I have my own secrets from the

island. Gupta and Rahul... they thought they could blackmail me, but I turned it around. Now, we're all in this

together. Or you can leave, and those videos go public."

Shailaja's face flushed, a mix of fear and arousal. She glanced at Kamal, who nodded encouragingly, his hand

already sliding down her back to cup her ass. "Stay," he whispered. "Let us show you how good this can be."

The air thickened with tension, the thrill of the unknown sending shivers through all three. Shailaja hesitated,

then bit her lip, her nipples hardening visibly through her dress. "Fine," she breathed. "But make it worth it."





Kamal led them to the bedroom, where candles flickered, casting shadows that danced on the walls. He

poured wine, and they sipped in awkward silence at first, the alcohol loosening inhibitions. Athidhi made the

first move, setting her glass down and approaching Shailaja. "You've had my husband," she said softly, her

fingers tracing Shailaja's collarbone. "Now, let's see what makes you so irresistible."

Shailaja trembled as Athidhi's hands roamed lower, unzipping her dress slowly. The fabric pooled at her feet,

revealing lacy black lingerie that barely contained her ample curves. Kamal watched, his cock stirring in his

pants, as Athidhi leaned in, their lips meeting in a tentative kiss. It deepened quickly, tongues exploring, soft

moans escaping Shailaja's throat. "Mmm... oh God, Athidhi... that feels..."

Kamal joined them, his strong hands on both women, pulling them toward the bed. He stripped off his shirt,

revealing his toned chest, and pushed Shailaja down gently. "Lie back," he commanded, his voice husky.

Athidhi climbed beside her, their bodies pressing together as Kamal knelt between Shailaja's legs, hooking

his fingers into her panties and sliding them off. Her pussy was already glistening, shaved smooth, begging

for attention.


He dove in without warning, his tongue flicking her clit, making her arch off the bed. "Ahhh! Kamal... yes, just

like that... oh fuck!" Shailaja moaned loudly, her hands gripping the sheets. Athidhi watched, her own arousal

building, then leaned over to suck on Shailaja's nipple, biting gently. Shailaja's cries grew louder, a thrilling

symphony: "Mmmph... Athidhi, suck harder... oh God, I'm so wet... don't stop!"


The room filled with the sounds of wet licks and gasps as Kamal ate Shailaja out, his fingers sliding inside her,

curling to hit her G-spot. She bucked against him, her body thrashing. "Fuck... I'm gonna cum... ahhh, yes!

Kamal, you bastard... make me cum!" Her orgasm hit like a wave, her moans echoing—deep, guttural,

"Ooooh... yesss... fuuuck!"—her juices coating his chin.


But they weren't done. Athidhi stripped fully now, her perky breasts and trimmed bush on display. She

straddled Shailaja's face, lowering herself. "Your turn to taste me," she demanded, thrilled by the power shift.

Shailaja, still panting from her climax, obeyed, her tongue lapping at Athidhi's folds eagerly. "Mmm... you

taste so sweet... oh, Athidhi..." Athidhi ground down, moaning in response: "Yes... lick me deeper... ahh,

Shailaja, you're good at this... mmmph!"


Kamal positioned himself behind Athidhi, his hard cock—thick and veined—pressing against her ass. He thrust

into her pussy from behind, filling her completely. Athidhi cried out, "Oh fuck, Kamal... yes, pound me while

she eats me... ahhh!" The bed creaked under the rhythm, Shailaja's muffled moans vibrating against Athidhi

as she licked and sucked.


They switched positions in a haze of lust, the thrill intensifying with each moment. Shailaja lay on her back,

legs spread wide, as Kamal entered her missionary style, his thrusts deep and deliberate. "Take it, Shailaja...

feel how hard you make me," he growled. She wrapped her legs around him, nails digging into his back.

"Harder... fuck me harder, Kamal! Ahhh... yes, right there... oh God, you're so big... mmmph!"


Athidhi knelt beside them, fingering herself as she watched, then joined by pinching Shailaja's nipples and

kissing her neck. Shailaja's moans turned frantic: "Don't stop... both of you... I'm yours... ahhh, fuck! I'm

cumming again... ooooh!" Her body convulsed, pussy clenching around Kamal's cock.


The climax built to a fever pitch. Kamal pulled out, positioning the women on their knees facing each other.

They kissed passionately, breasts pressing together, as he stroked himself. "Open your mouths," he ordered.

They did, tongues out, moaning in unison. He exploded, hot cum splattering their faces and chests. "Ahhh...

take it all... yes!" The women licked each other clean, their moans soft and satisfied: "Mmm... so good... oh,

Kamal..."


As they collapsed in a tangle of limbs, the thrill lingered—the secrets shared, the boundaries shattered.

Athidhi whispered to Shailaja, "Welcome to our world." And in that moment, amid the heavy breathing and

lingering moans, they knew this was just the beginning.












To be continued........

[Suresh@123]

Awesome update along with hot pics, request u to pls add pics to Adithi 3 days session so reader get real experience n spice up the story

Thank you dear.... Yes I have day 3 imagesand gif .. But I can't add images because story updated after can't post images.... If you want then I can send you gif...

[Suresh@123]

Excellent update

Thank you very much..

[Suresh@123]

The three some sex
What happened when Gupta knows what would be he's do after all

Quite interesting narration bro the story turn another dimensional

Thank you very much bro. Yes Gupta will execute one plan against Kamal and Athidhi

[Suresh@123]

Very hot

Thankyou

[Suresh@123]

Sorry to delay... Today I will update before 11 pm

[Suresh@123]

As the sky over Mumbai deepened into indigo, streaked with the last fading embers of sunset, Shailaja

slipped out of Kamal and Athidhi's high-rise apartment. Her legs still trembled faintly from the hours of

relentless pleasure, her inner thighs slick and sensitive beneath the hastily pulled-on salwar. She had

showered quickly in their luxurious bathroom—Kamal's strong hands soaping her back one last time while

Athidhi watched with lazy, possessive eyes—but the scent of their combined arousal clung to her skin like a

secret brand. She adjusted her dupatta, smoothed her hair in the elevator mirror, and practiced a neutral

expression. By the time she reached home in Bandra, the city lights glittering mockingly below, she looked

almost composed.

Gupta was waiting.

He sat in the dimly lit living room of their sea-facing flat, the television muted on some mindless news

channel. A half-empty glass of whiskey rested on the side table, ice melting into amber rings on the coaster.

His phone lay face-up beside it, screen dark now, but Shailaja knew he'd been checking it obsessively. The

moment she stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click, his head snapped up.

"You're late," he said flatly. No greeting, no warmth. His voice carried the clipped edge of a man who had

been simmering for hours.

Shailaja forced a tired smile, kicking off her sandals. "Traffic was horrible, jaan. And then the rain started

again. I got stuck near Worli." She moved toward the kitchen, avoiding his gaze, busying herself with pouring

a glass of water. Her heart hammered; she could feel his eyes boring into her back.

Gupta rose slowly, the leather sofa creaking under his weight. He was still in his office shirt, sleeves rolled up,

tie loosened—like a man who had come home early expecting answers. "You said you were meeting your

college friend for coffee. In Andheri. That was at three. It's past nine now."

Shailaja turned, glass in hand, and shrugged lightly. "We lost track of time. You know how it is—old gossip,

laughs. She insisted on dinner. I didn't want to be rude."

He stepped closer. The air between them felt charged, not with passion, but with suspicion. "Which friend?"

"Priya. From St. Xavier's. You met her at the Diwali party last year."

Gupta's jaw tightened. "Priya's in Delhi this week. Her sister posted pictures on Instagram. Family vacation."

Shailaja's stomach dropped, but she kept her face smooth. "Must be someone else then. No—wait, it was

Meera. Meera from the boutique. Sorry, my head's spinning from the drive."

He studied her for a long moment, eyes narrowing. Then he picked up his phone, scrolled, and held it out. A

photo: Shailaja's silver SUV parked in the basement of Kamal's building—time-stamped 4:47 PM. Another: her

entering the lobby, dupatta fluttering, unmistakable even from the security camera angle he'd somehow

accessed through a contact.

"You went to Kamal's place," Gupta said quietly. Deadly quiet. "Again."

Shailaja set the glass down with a clink. Denial died on her lips. She lifted her chin instead. "Yes. I did."

Gupta's face darkened, veins standing out on his neck. "After everything? After the threats, the photos, the

way they humiliated us last time? You walked back in there willingly?"

"It wasn't like that," she began, but he cut her off.

"Don't lie to me, Shailaja. Not tonight." He paced once, twice, then stopped. "What did you do there? Tell me

exactly."

She hesitated. The memories flooded back unbidden—the weight of Kamal's body pinning her to the sheets,

Athidhi's wicked smile as she held the vibrator to her clit, the way they'd taken turns owning every inch of her

until she screamed herself hoarse. Her cheeks flushed despite herself.

Gupta saw it. His laugh was bitter, hollow. "You fucked them. Both of them. Didn't you?"

Shailaja met his eyes, defiance flickering. "Yes."

He exhaled sharply, as if punched. For a moment she thought he might hit something—the wall, the table—

but he only turned away, rubbing his face with both hands. "How long has this been going on? Be honest for

once."

"Since the island trip," she admitted softly. "But today... today was different. Intense. They didn't force

anything. I wanted it."

Gupta spun back. "You wanted my business partner's cock in your mouth while his wife watched? You wanted

them to treat you like their personal toy?"

Shailaja's voice dropped to a whisper. "I wanted to feel something. Anything. You haven't touched me in

months, Gupta. Not like that. Not like they do."

He stared at her, hurt flashing beneath the rage. Then resolve hardened his features. Without another word,

he grabbed his phone and dialed.

Athidhi answered on the second ring. Her voice came through the speaker, lazy and sated, still carrying the

husky edge of post-orgasm glow.

"Hello?"

"It's Gupta," he said, voice like gravel.

A soft, amused laugh on the other end. "Ah, the jealous husband. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where's my wife?" he demanded, though he already knew.

Athidhi's tone turned mocking. "Oh, she's gone home. Left about an hour ago, looking thoroughly... satisfied.

We had quite the afternoon. She came to us, you know. Knocked on our door all eager and wet. And we

fucked her fully. Every hole, every way she begged for. Kamal especially enjoyed stretching that tight little ass

of hers while I made her squirt all over our sheets." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Ha. Ha." The

laughter was high, arrogant, dripping with triumph. "She's a greedy one, your Shailaja. Screamed our names

louder than she ever screamed yours, I bet."

Gupta's grip on the phone turned white-knuckled. Shailaja stood frozen, hearing her own degradation laid

bare so casually.

"You bitch," Gupta snarled. "You think this is a game? You seduced her, blackmailed us, and now you're

laughing?"

Athidhi's voice sharpened, all playfulness gone. "Seduced? She begged to be fucked, Gupta. And she loved

every second. If you're so angry, maybe look in the mirror. A man who can't satisfy his wife shouldn't be

surprised when she finds someone who can."

"You'll suffer for this," he hissed, voice trembling with fury. "Both of you. I'll ruin you. Your reputation, your

business, your precious little marriage. I'll make sure everyone knows what kind of whores you are."

Another soft chuckle. "Threats? How original. Try it. We'll be waiting." The line went dead.

Gupta hurled the phone across the room. It shattered against the wall, screen cracking like his composure.

He turned to Shailaja, eyes wild.

"You heard her," he said, voice breaking. "She laughed at me. At us."

Shailaja stepped forward, reaching for him. "Gupta, please—"

He recoiled. "Don't touch me." He paced again, breathing hard. "This ends tonight. No more lies. No more

sneaking around."

But even as he said it, Shailaja felt the pull—the ache between her legs, the phantom echo of Kamal's thrusts,

Athidhi's commanding whispers. She hated herself for it, yet the thrill lingered.

Gupta stopped, staring out at the dark sea. "Tomorrow," he said quietly, "I call my lawyer. And then I call

Kamal's biggest clients. The ones who still trust him because of our partnership. By next week, his deals

collapse. Athidhi won't be laughing when the money dries up and the whispers start."

Shailaja swallowed. "And me?"

He looked at her then—really looked. Pain, betrayal, and something darker. "You? You stay. But things change.

No more freedom. No more 'coffee with friends.' And if I ever catch you near them again..." He let the threat

hang.

She nodded mutely, but inside, rebellion stirred. The night with Kamal and Athidhi had awakened something

insatiable. Gupta's anger might chain her for now, but chains could be broken. Or enjoyed.

As Gupta disappeared into the study to make calls, Shailaja slipped into the bedroom. She stripped slowly,

examining the faint marks on her breasts, the redness on her inner thighs. Her fingers drifted down, brushing

her still-swollen clit. A soft moan escaped.

She texted Athidhi from a hidden app—one Gupta didn't know about.

"He knows. He's furious. Threatening everything."

The reply came almost instantly.

"Good. Let him rage. We like it when they fight back. Makes breaking them sweeter."


To be continued......

[Suresh@123]

And Gupta thinking hardly to destroy them and make Athidhi his personal bitch..... And want to fuck her in all


holes in front of Kamal....

Later 2 hours thinking and finally made a plan to take revenge on Athidhi......