[SilverArrow]

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[SilverArrow]

On the night of the wedding which was next day , The heavy beat of the dhol vibrated through the floorboards of Bheem’s mountain home, competing with the crackle of open bonfire pits and the rich aroma of slow-cooked mutton curry and marigold garlands. The wedding celebrations had reached their glorious, chaotic peak. Lanterns swung from the pine beams above, casting a warm golden glow over the crowded courtyard.
Monica wore a sleek designer lehenga that clung to her curves, her phone held high in her other hand as she recorded the vibrant mountain dancers.
Monica laughed, leaning back into Rakesh, who was standing beside her in a fitted black sherwani. "Rakesh, why didn't our Delhi wedding have this much energy? This is wild!"
Rakesh smiled "Because my mom would have had a heart attack if someone brought a live brass band into the marriage hall, sweetheart."
Bheem,  pushed his way through the crowd toward them, clutching three fresh drinks. "Having fun, you two?"
"Fun is an understatement, Bheem," Monica purred, taking a fresh glass from him and tapping it against his. "The traditions you guys have is gorgeous. But honestly... what are we supposed to do tomorrow once all this frenzy dies down? The wedding is over, the guests are leaving, and Rakesh and I are stuck here for another two days. We’re going to die of sheer boredom"
Bheem threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Bored? In these mountains? Not a chance! If you want real scenery—you should visit Ustad’s ancestral village. It’s barely an hour's drive down the valley trail!"
"Ustad Miyan has a village near here?" Monica blinked, turning her head toward Ustad, who was leaning against a wooden pillar a few feet away
"Oh, it's a stunning place," Bheem added, oblivious to the sudden shift in Ustad’s posture. "Lush land, orchards, Though... Ustad Miyan here acts like it doesn't exist. He hasn't set foot there in ages!"
Monica’s eyes locked onto Ustad, a sharp, curious smirk playing on her lips. "Is that so? Ustad Miyan... why are you hiding a secret paradise from us?"
Ustad took a slow sip of his rum "It's nothing special, Monica. Just a very remote village prone to dangerous landslides!”
He turned and walked away toward the bonfire.
The next morning, Rakesh had quickly booked a beautiful Homestay amidst the higher reach of the mountains. He had booked two rooms – one for himself and Monica and another for Ustad and Bheem. But Bheem politely declined citing lot of post wedding rituals he had to take care
As, Rakesh drove the SUV along a narrow, winding mountain road toward the secluded homestay on the far side of the valley, Monica stretched out lazily on the seat next to Rakesh and Ustad royally lifted his body on the backseat of the car.
“So, Ustad Miyan,” Monica asked, her voice dropping into a smooth, inquisitive purr. “Are you going to tell us why you dodged the question yesterday? Bheem said your native village is barely an hour from here.”
Ustad stared out at the passing pine trees, taking a slow breath. “It’s an old, complicated story, Monica. Nothing worth dragging you two into.”
“Oh, please,” Monica scoffed playfully, rolling her eyes. “We’re trapped in a car with you for the next two hours. We have all the time in the world. Spill.”
Rakesh glanced sideways from the rear-view mirror. “Yeah, Ustad. What’s the secret?”
Ustad smiled “No mystery here Rakesh Bhai. Just some tiff with my family”
Rakesh nodded “We can go and sort it out for you Ustad Bhai..”
Ustad cleared his throat “ No Rakesh , nothing to sort that way , anyway I’m an orphan …so it’s not exactly my parents” he said simply, his rough voice cutting through the hum of the engine.
“Oh then ?” Monica looked back at him
“My uncle and aunt raised me in the village until I turned eighteen. After that, I packed a bag and went to Delhi to build my own life.”
He paused, resting his thick arm on the door frame.
“A few years ago, my uncle took a massive mortgage loan from a family in the village. When he couldn’t pay it back, they struck a deal: they’d write off the debt if I came back, married their daughter, settled down, and start farming because they don’t have a son of their own”
Monica’s jaw dropped slightly. “A forced village marriage? You?”
“I run a business in Delhi; I had zero interest in becoming a village farmer”
Ustad grunted. “So to shut them down once and for all, I lied. I told my uncle I had already done a secret love marriage with a city girl in Delhi. My aunt and uncle demanded I bring her home to prove it. Since no such girl existed, I haven’t stepped foot in my own ancestral village for a year”
Monica laughed “ Lol… Please you are so obsessed with your betting ring, when will you have time to marry and settle down Ustad Miyan”
“That’s wild,….you had to shut yourself off from your own roots ..That’s quite unfortunate” Rakesh muttered, navigating around a sharp turn. “So what happened to your share of the family property?”
“They confiscated it,” Ustad replied darkly. “My uncle locked up my ancestral land, claiming that since I abandoned the family and broke the village honor, I get nothing.”
Monica leaned further back, her eyes sparkling with indignation. “That is utterly nonsense! They stole your own land over a  debt which they took? That’s weird ..really ”
Ustad smiled “ Yea…so point going to my village guys , we would enjoy in the homestay”
Rakesh paused for a while before speaking “ Ustad Bhai, Do you need us to help anyway ? I mean we can try talking to your uncle or aunt”
Ustad laughed “ It’s tribal village Rakesh.. not any sophisticated town, they won’t listen ..Anyway”
Monica tapped her chin, a sly, dangerous smirk spreading across her lips. “Wait… so if you walked into that village today with a gorgeous Delhi wife on your arm…”
“ Yes…then the problem disappears,” Ustad finished calmly.
“My aunt and uncle lose their excuse, the other family backs off, and I claim my rightful land back before severing ties with them forever.”
Silence fell over the car for a long moment, broken only by the crunch of tires on gravel.
“Wait…” Rakesh stammered, his eyes widening in the rear-view mirror as he looked at Ustad. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Ustad didn’t turn around. “ Rakesh…I’m not asking for anything. I’m just telling you the situation”
“Monica?” Rakesh asked nervously. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?”
“Why not?” Monica shot back smoothly, her tone laced with pure city audacity. “Ustad Miyan is getting cheated out of his own inheritance by a bunch of greedy village elders. I just need to pretend to be Ustad Miya’s newly married wife for a day.. or may be two at max!”
“Monica, this is crazy risky!” Rakesh argued, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “In this digital age, what if someone looks you up? What if they find out you’re actually married to me?”
Ustad let out a deep, booming laugh.
“ Well…Rakesh, my village doesn’t even have a stable mobile tower, let alone 4G internet. Half the elders don’t even know how a smartphone works. It’s completely off the grid.”
“Still…” Rakesh hesitated, visibly sweating under the tension “ You don’t know who gets to know what ?”
Seeing Rakesh’s anxiety, Ustad’s expression hardened into his usual dominant authority
“ Hey Look, both of you—if you’re uncomfortable, forget I ever mentioned it. Lets drop the topic right now.”
“No, Ustad, don’t be like that,” Rakesh stammered, flustered. “Well I really want to help you out in this situation…I’m not trying to be the bad guy! I just… I am…just that ..I don’t think this will work out!! ”
“Relax, Rakesh,” Monica chimed in, leaning over to pat her husband’s shoulder with a condescending, maternal sweetness. “You won’t even be in the crosshairs. The acting bit is difficult for me ..No ? You can just play the role of Ustad’s close friend who witnessed our ‘marriage’ and brought us here.”
“A witness?” Rakesh blinked.
“Well..Yes Monica  .Exactly ..I thought the same” Ustad added “Having a gentleman city friend like Rakesh vouch for us makes the story ten times more believable. They won’t question a single word.”
Rakesh hesitated “ Yea..I mean what about details if they ask me?”
Ustad scoffed and gave him a violent look “ How difficult is that Rakesh ? Just tell a believe able story of where me and Monica met.. ..and then tell some stuff about court marriage only when they ask… Don’t screw things up if not asked or probed”
Rakesh nodded like an obedient anxious kid “ O..Ohoo…okay “
Monica smirked, her inner drama queen fully awakened. “How far is this village of yours, Ustad Miyan?”
“About forty miles down this trail,” Ustad replied “But Monica don’t think newly married bride move around in tight jeans and Top in our village… Do you have a proper saree the one newly married wears ?”
Monica smiled “ Oh guess what .I actually got a red bridal saree ..thought it will be good for the wedding… but did not feel like wearing eventually..guess I can make that count now”
“Rak, pull the car over in that quiet clearing ahead,” Monica ordered with a commanding flick of her wrist. “You two boys get out. I will wear the saree in the car itself”
Ustad nodded “ Yes that’s better..so that my folks don’t see you in these skinny jeans at all”
Rakesh pulled the SUV onto a deserted, dirt turnout surrounded by towering mountain pines. He and Ustad stepped out into the crisp mountain air, as Monica smiled and said “ Guys please don’t peep inside..I will be changing and I hardly have any cover inside the car”
Rakesh and Ustad walked down the gorge and leaned against a culvert..
“Ustad Miyan..... man, tell me the truth," Rakesh muttered under his breath "Are you sure about this? Look at her... she doesn't look like any village girl. She looks every bit a snooty corporate girl! "
Ustad let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated in his chest. "That's the whole point, Rakesh. My uncle expects some quiet, meek girl he can bully. Bringing a woman like Monica—confident,  unbothered—will freeze the blood in his veins before he even opens his mouth."
Rakesh looked nervously, the sheer absurdity—and hidden, forbidden thrill—of his wife transforming into his best friend’s bride on a deserted mountain road turned his blood into liquid fire. He kept telling himself
“Whats happening is not correct. I should stop Monica.. these lies are dangerous… I must stop this crazy shit”
Rakesh nervously fidgeted with his wrists and kept hitting a loose rock with his feet ..he kept repeating in his head
“No way he is actually seeing this happen..Ustad and his family story just not seem quite innocent… he should stop this “
Ustad shook him off “ Rakesh bachcha…what is making you so worried…idiot ? It’s just an act …just think how my chutiya uncle had been cheating and blackmailing me ..and Monica is a smart girl …she won’t give away .why are you so scared ?”
Rakesh adjusted his voice “ No .Ustad Bhai.. nothing let’s go ….Is she done yet?” Rakesh swallowed hard.
When Monica stepped out into the mountain sunlight, both men froze dead in their tracks.
She was breathtaking. Monica had dbangd herself in a heavy, deep crimson bridal silk saree with intricate gold zari work. The deep red fabric contrasted wildly against her fair, creamy skin. But it was the blouse that stole the show—tailored for a traditional look, the tight blouse strained violently against the sheer volume of her 36D tits…The plunging neckline offered an unapologetic, jaw-dropping display of deep cleavage that heaved with every breath she took.
Ustad was first to compliment “ you look stunning sweetie”
“Good lord, Monica,” Rakesh whispered, his eyes wide, instantly noticing how his wife kept trying to pull the silk blouse up over her cleavage, only for her massive breasts to spill right back out.
“How are you going to walk into an old-fashioned village looking like that? Your blouse is so tiny…Your cleavage is on full display!”
“Oh, shut up, Rakesh don’t be such a prude..” Monica cooed, adjusting her heavy gold earrings with a cheeky grin. “Newlywed city brides dress to impress. Besides Ustad Miya’s wife shouldn't look like she's hiding under a blanket. That won’t rub any salt on his uncle’s face..No ?
She turned toward Ustad, holding out a delicate gold chain mangalsutra.
"I am not able to put this properly” Monica whispered, her eyes locking onto Ustad
"Tie this around my neck, Miyan Saab. Properly."
Ustad didn’t hesitate. He stepped into her personal space, his massive, dark frame towering over her..  “ Yea..Turn around” he rumbled softly.
Monica turned her back to him, lifting her dark hair over her left shoulder, exposing her slender neck and bare upper back.
Rakesh stood just two feet away, watching in mesmerized, agonized silence. Ustad reached out, his massive, calloused, dark hands wrapping around her fair throat to clasp the gold chain. His large fingers deliberately lingered against her warm skin, his broad palms brushing heavily against the tops of her exposed breasts as he secured the knot.
Monica didn’t shrink back; she leaned subtly into his touch, letting out a soft, contented sigh as the symbol of marriage settled against her deep cleavage.
Rakesh observed how Monica’s cleavage was so close to Ustad’s hands, the sacred symbol of marriage how possessively Ustad was tying across Monica … that possessive spark spoke a thousand unsaid words as Rakesh kept repeating in his confused horny head
“No I should have never allowed this ..This so called best friend of mine is so possessive about my own wife..just look at the way he is tying the mangalsutra on her neck… he should never ever allowed this ..does not matter how noble the cause was..this is dangerous game..”
“Thanks, Miyan Saab,” Monica purred softly, glancing up at him through thick eyelashes before turning to Rakesh with a mischievous wink. “It fits perfectly.”
Ustad took the driver’s seat, his large hands gripping the steering wheel with effortless command. Monica slid into the front passenger seat right beside him, smoothing her red silk saree over her thighs.
Rakesh was relegated to the back seat, sitting directly behind them like a quiet, bewildered guest.
As the SUV bumped down the dusty, unpaved trail into the heart of the remote mountains, the air inside the car changed completely. The quiet boundary between them dissolved into an intoxicating, kinky game of pretend.
“Now remember, sweetie” Ustad teased, glancing at Monica’s chest as the rough road made her heavy breasts bounce rhythmically under the thin silk. “In my village, a loving wife doesn’t call her husband by his name. You have to be respectful.”
Monica let out a loud, sassy laugh, turning in her seat to rest her arm on Ustad’s shoulder. “Oh, really? Should I touch your feet every morning, Miyan Saab? Or maybe massage your massive shoulders when you come back from the fields?”
Ustad grinned, Rakesh observed how he reached over with his left hand, casually resting his large, heavy palm directly on Monica’s thigh, his fingers tracing slow, possessive circles. There was something so possessive and intensely uncomfortable with that scene that Rakesh head was almost spinning..
His mind screamed in full volume
“ No Rakesh ..you should not have let this happen… you should not trust your best friend..No you should not..he is your best friend..but afterall he is a rogue betting goonda ..no Rakesh you should have stopped this …right away you should have stopped..”
Watching his sexy glamorous wife snuggle up against Ustad, listening to her stroke his ego with lazy, romantic purrs, sent a searing wave of heat straight down between his legs. His trousers felt unbearably tight. He was terrified, utterly confused, and intensely aroused by the sheer scandal of what they were about to pull off. He was rock hard underneath fearing it would show if either Ustad or Monica turned back… his mind again and again screamed in silence ..he was having a defeaning headache …
Ustad slowed the SUV to a crawl, resting his hand firmly over Monica’s soft, silk-clad thigh one last time before pulling into the central courtyard of his ancestral home.

[SilverArrow]

As the car wind up near their modest house, standing near the courtyard porch were Ustad’s uncle and aunt.
"Ustad! My boy!" his uncle called out, his sharp face instantly softening into a proud, beaming smile as he stepped forward with open arms.
Ustad kept his left arm locked tightly around Monica’s waist, holding her close as he greeted them.
"Tauji, Taiji..." Ustad rumbled, his voice filled with calm confidence. "Meet my wife, Monica. And this..." Ustad gestured carelessly back toward the SUV, where Rakesh was stepping out looking pale and flustered, "...is Rakesh. A friend from Delhi who came with us for Bheem's sister's wedding”
"Ahai! Look at her!" the aunt gasped lovingly, entirely ignoring Rakesh and rushing straight to Monica. She took Monica’s hands, beaming with rural pride. "So glowing! She looks like a pretty queen Ustad Beta! Ustad, you brought such a beautiful bahu home!"
The uncle chuckled warmly. "You were speaking the truth after all, Ustad Beta! A girl like this... no wonder you turned down the village proposals!"
Conscious of rural modesty, she quickly raised her fair hands, trying desperately to pull her crimson silk blouse up over her heaving 36D breasts. She adjusted her dupatta, pulling it tightly across her front to cover the deep cleavage.
But the tailored silk was far too tight; the plunging neckline strained violently against her volume, and her heavy breasts spilled right back out over the border. Her earnest attempt at modesty only made her look  more provocative.
Ustad noticed her struggle. "Don't bother, Monica," he murmured against her ear. "You look perfect."
Monica bit her lower lip as she smiled blushingly at his aunt.
The aunt, beaming with affection for her new niece-in-law, quickly fetched a wide brass platter filled with blood-red kumkum water for the traditional entry ritual.
"Come, beta” the aunt said softly to Monica.
As the aunt placed the brass dish on the threshold, she suddenly glanced over her shoulder at Rakesh, who was standing awkwardly near the front of the car, his face sweating under the rising heat.
"Hey" the aunt barked at Rakesh. "Don't just stand there staring! Unload those heavy leather bags from the boot and carry them inside. Hurry up, we can't leave the luggage out in the courtyard!"
Rakesh froze, looking desperately at Ustad, waiting for his best friend to intercede.
Instead, Ustad didn't even glance back.
"Go on, Rakesh Bhai," Ustad rumbled casually, his voice laced with smooth, terrifying dominance. "Put our bags in the bedroom"
Monica didn't stop it either. She offered Rakesh a quick, pitying look before turning all her sweet attention back to Ustad, resting her hand on his chest. "Should I step into the red water now, Miyan Saab?" she purred, her voice dripping with obedient affection.
"Hold your saree, Monica," Ustad commanded softly.
Rakesh stood at the rear of the car, hauling two heavy leather suitcases, his chest heaving. He watched in agonizing silence as his wife stepped onto the white marble threshold, leaving wet, blood-red footprints side-by-side with Ustad, who guided her inward with his hand resting firmly on her bare lower back.
“This is not right. I should have just stopped Ustad and Monica right there” Rakesh had this continuously running in his head..
Inside the main timber-beamed hall, the uncle welcomed Ustad and Monica, offering them seats on the low silk cushions.
"You brought us a priceless bride, Ustad," the uncle said warmly. "She lights up this old modest home. But court papers don't satisfy village tradition. Before I hand over your father's land deeds, mark her hair with sindoor in front of us."
Ustad smiled—a low, confident expression. "Whatever you say, Tauji."
The aunt turned to Rakesh, who was standing near the doorway, his fingers raw from carrying the heavy luggage.
The aunt ordered briskly, pointing to the family altar. "Hey you again ….Pick up that silver bowl of vermilion powder and bring it here! Hold it steady for the groom!"
Rakesh’s legs felt like lead. He walked over to the shrine, picked up the cold silver bowl filled with bright red powder, and shuffled toward the couple. His heart hammered so violently he felt sick, while his manhood throbbed painfully hard inside his tight trousers—a humiliating, shameful reaction to his absolute subjection. His mind screamed violently…
“He was doing Sindoor daan of his own wife…and both his best friend and his wife is just so casually enjoying all this .how can he just allow this to happen right under his nose…”
He stood mere inches from them, holding out the silver bowl with trembling hands.
Ustad stood up, stepping directly in front of Monica.
"Look at me, Monica," Ustad rumbled, his voice dropping into a thick, hypnotic command.
Monica raised her face. Her beautiful eyes were wide, glowing with a strange excitement. She rested both her soft hands flat against Ustad’s heavy chest, her breath coming in quick, shallow hitches that made her breasts push provocatively against her tight blouse.
Ustad dipped his thick thumb deep into the silver bowl held by Rakesh.
Without breaking eye contact with Monica, Ustad brought his hand to her face. He cupped her delicate chin firmly with his left hand, tilting her head back, and pressed his thumb loaded with deep red powder right onto her forehead. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his thumb deep into her hair parting.
Loose red powder spilled over her skin, trailing down her nose!
Monica’s breath hitched in her throat. A visible shiver ran down her entire body. She closed her eyes, letting out a soft, shuddering moan that sent a jolt of pure fire straight into Rakesh's gut.
Rakesh stood there quietly shaking his mind defeaning from his internal conflicts and deep seated insecurity as he with disbelief saw Monica smiling at Ustad’ arms with the red sindoor shining on her forehead.
The aunt and uncle clapped lovingly, delighted by the ritual. The uncle reached into his coat and laid a stack of ribbon-tied land papers on the wooden table, fully satisfied.
"Wonderful! The lineage is blessed!" the uncle declared warmly.
Rakesh stood paralyzed, holding the silver bowl, his thumbs stained red.
The traditional post-ritual dinner finally wound down. Ustad’s aunt announced that because the main ancestral house had only one primary living quarter occupied by the elders, the "newlyweds" would stay in the guest cottage just across the courtyard—a wooden structure separated from the main house by the dark, still water of the pond. Thankfully, the cottage had two bedrooms.
As they stepped onto the cold stone porch to bid good night to the elders, the sheer reality of what was about to happen crashed over Rakesh. Anxiety surged through his chest…
"Wait... what's the sleeping arrangements going to be over there?" Rakesh blurted out, his voice laced with an unmistakable, nervous tremor
Ustad’s aunt froze on the step, turning around slowly. Her sharp eyes narrowed in deep, suspicion… "Sleeping arrangements? What do you mean? A husband and his newlywed bride sleep together in the main bedroom, and you take the guest room! What kind of question is that?"
Rakesh’s stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.
Before the aunt could press further, Ustad let out a chuckle, casually "Nothing, Taiji!!  Rakesh is used to the comfort of the city ….He’s just worrying if the guest cot has enough heavy blankets for him..Aree don’t worry Rakesh, we will give you blankets ..come now!"
"Hmph! You are quite delicate son….." the aunt muttered, humiliating Rakesh for one last time in the day ..
The instant they entered the dark wooden cottage, Monica spun around
"What Rakesh! You were almost giving it off right at the doorstep!" Monica snapped "Were you trying to ruin everything after we came this far?"
Ustad leaned back, His dark face was unreadable, his eyes locking onto Rakesh with stern reprimand. "I managed my aunt, but a disaster could have happened, Rakesh. If my uncle suspects for a single second that this marriage is a sham, he’ll tear those land deeds to pieces."
Rakesh stood near the doorway, pale and sweating, feeling like an reprimanded child caught between the two of them. "I... I just... I was anxious..."
"Anxious about what?" Monica scoffed "We are playing a role, Rakesh! A newly married couple cannot sleep in separate rooms on their first night in the village. Any other arrangement will create a massive scandal if someone steps out in the morning. We have to spend the night in the room together”
Rakesh felt alarm raising violently in his chest, his mind screaming in sheer, deafening terror: “No! How can I let my wife sleep in one room with another man right under my nose?”
Yet, looking at Ustad’s towering, uncompromising authority and Monica’s cold expression, Rakesh felt completely emasculated. He couldn't find the words, the courage, or the standing to protest. He just nodded like a helpless, obedient sheep.
"Fine..." Rakesh nodded.
Trying to ease the suffocating tension, Ustad walked over to a carved wooden cabinet. He pulled out an expensive, dark bottle of whiskey
"Drink something, Rakesh Bhai," Ustad offered casually. "It’ll settle your nerves."
Rakesh looked at the glass, his hands trembling slightly. A crushing sense of inadequacy washed over him.
"Not feeling like..." Rakesh shook his head, shrinking into himself. "I'm really tired."
Monica stretched her arms over her head, letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh. "This bridal saree is just too heavy. Wearing this  outfit for such a long time is such a pain. I need to change into something comfortable!”
She disappeared into the main bedroom.
Monica changed into a thin, sleeveless gray top with a plunging neckline and soft sweatpants.
It was glaringly apparent that she had taken off her bra too.
Without any support underneath, her firm 36D breasts hung natural, full, and unconstrained, swaying noticeably.
Noticing Rakesh’s wide eyes, Monica made a half-hearted effort to pull up the neckline, but the loose fabric instantly slid right back down, leaving her massive cleavage again on display.
Rakesh’s head was spinning. The whole day had been a agonizing series of losses for him. He wanted to crash into bed; he felt sleepy, lost, and overwhelmingly inferior to Ustad.
"You're not drinking, Rakesh?" she asked softly.
"Not feeling like... am really tired," Rakesh mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes.
Monica sighed "Okay... you must sleep then. You look really tired... and you seem so low on energy today, too. Have some supplements, Rakesh, you look really tired."
Every word felt like a physical blow, stripping away whatever fragment of his pride remained.
"Yeah..." Rakesh nodded numbly, swallowing his pride. "You guys?"
Ustad took a slow sip of his whiskey "Yeah, we will sleep in a while... Monica?"
"Yeah, in a while is okay," Monica replied softly.
She turned toward the large glass door leading out to the private wooden balcony, looking out into the mountain darkness. "The sky is so clear... Let's go out in the courtyard and do a bit of stargazing, Ustad Miyan?"
She then turned back to Rakesh, giving him a dismissive wave. "Rak, you go and sleep. We will talk in the morning... and do take the pills before you sleep."



PART 2


The cold inside the guest room was oppressive, but inside Rakesh’s chest, a suffocating fire burned.
When fitful sleep finally claimed him, it brought no peace—only a twisted loop of Ustad’s thick thumb repeatedly dragging blood-red  Sindoor across Monica’s forehead while she moaned in breathless submission, the sound echoing endlessly through his head!
Rakesh jerked awake in the pitch darkness, his heart hammering violently against his ribs. He was drenched in a cold, sticky sweat, his throat dry as dust, and his bladder aching with a sharp, uncomfortable pressure. He just had a bad nightmare!!
He sat up on the stiff wooden cot, rubbing his face with trembling hands. The cottage was dead silent.

What time of the night is it ? Rakesh wondered..
Rakesh quietly slipped his feet into his slippers, unlocked the creaking wooden door, and stepped out into the crisp mountain air.
But as Rakesh took three steps onto the gravel path, his feet froze as if rooted to the frozen earth.
There, in the center of the quiet, moonlit courtyard beneath the open sky, sat a wide, traditional wooden khatiya (woven cot)
Lying together propped up against a couple of heavy bolster pillows, were Ustad and Monica.
They were in a state of casual, undeniable physical intimacy. Ustad was reclining comfortably, one long leg hooked up, his broad dark arm wrapped heavily and possessively around Monica’s waist. Monica was tucked tight into his side, her body relaxed, her head resting intimately right on Ustad’s broad shoulder as they both stared up at the mountain stars.
Rakesh’s breath caught in his throat, a cold spike of pure shock running straight down his spine. It wasn’t just that they were together!
Because of how loose her gray sleeveless top was, combined with the fact that she had taken off her bra, the straps of her top had completely shifted as she leaned against him. In the bright silver moonlight, her full, unconstrained breast and deep, shadowy cleavage were almost entirely exposed to the night air, spilling out over the loose border of her top. It just appeared that the sleeve less top was just a mere formality, considering the size of her tits and her posture that loose dress was not meant to cover any of her modesty.
Rakesh stood paralyzed on the gravel path, his mind shattering at the sheer, possessive closeness of the man holding his wife in the dark .They were laughing and giggling as if that’s the most natural thing to do in the middle of the night.
A loose stone crunched under Rakesh’s trembling foot. Monica’s head snapped toward the sound.
Quickly but without panic, she lifted her head off Ustad’s shoulder, sitting up slightly. A sudden flush rose to her cheeks as she instinctively reached up the straps of her top with two fingers, pulling the fallen shoulder strap back up and tugging the loose, plunging neckline high over her breasts to salvage her modesty.
“Rakesh? Oh… You couldn’t sleep?” She asked Rakesh checking if the top was still showing her massive cleavage it was showing moments earlier…
Rakesh stammered, his mind bursting from the casual intimacy between his best friend and his wife.
“No…Just thought of using the ..wash….ahh washroom!”
Ustad didn’t move away. He didn’t pull his arm back either; his large, dark hand simply shifted from her shoulder to rest with heavy, unbothered ownership right over her bare lower back. Monica signalled with her eye to Ustad not to hold her waist right in front of Rakesh.. and then sitting straight said to Rakesh
“It was getting a bit stuffy inside the timber room… and we both wanted to smoke. So we just thought to come out” She reached down and picked up a black packet of cigarettes and showed to Rakesh. As if to show they were just there sharing a cigarette and nothing more.
Rakesh squirmed inside….
“Smoking does not require you to slide off your already revealing top and expose your full tits to my best friend, Monica …and how could you even put your head on his shoulders like that”   Rakesh internal monologue screamed to his head like a surging jet plane. What was this happening right in front of his eyes ? His wife and his best friend? Have they just fallen for each other ?
Ustad let out a low, gravelly chuckle—a deep, confident rumble that echoed through the quiet courtyard.
“Aree, Rakesh Bhai…” Ustad rumbled, his voice dripping with calm, terrifying authority. “Why are you standing all the way over there in the dark like a ghost? Come here.”
Ustad patted the woven edge of the khatiya right near their feet.
“Come, sit down for a minute,” Ustad invited casually, his dark eyes fixing onto Rakesh with absolute dominance. “You will love the stars !!”
Rakesh stood rooted to the spot, his knees shaking so violently he felt his legs might buckle under him. His face burned with a sickening mixture of shock, emasculation, and intense insecurity.
“N-No…” Rakesh stammered out, his voice cracking weakly  “N-No… washroom…”
Monica looked at Rakesh, a soft, amused smile playing on her lips.
“Look at him, Ustad Miyan,” Monica said softly, her tone carrying a light, teasing laugh. “He need to rest… he is exhausted and looking so pale.. Why are you making him sit outside in this cold Ustad Miyan”
Rakesh felt even more emasculated!!
Monica tilted her head toward Rakesh
“I told you earlier, Rakesh… you look so low on energy today,” Monica said, her voice mock-concerned. “Did you even take those health supplements and the sleeping pills I kept near your water pitcher? Look at you… you look like you’re going to collapse right here on the gravel.”
“I… I took them…” Rakesh choked out, feeling entirely reduced, spoken down to like an ailing, fragile third wheel while his wife sat without a Bra seducing his goonda best friend!!
“Good,” Monica replied with a light, dismissive nod, settling her weight collapsed comfortably back toward Ustad’s side again .. “Then don’t stand around here freezing. Use the washroom and head straight back to bed. We’ll finish our cigarettes and sleep in a bit.”
Rakesh stumbled toward the outdoor washroom, his head spinning. When he emerged two minutes later, he kept his eyes locked firmly onto the ground, shuffling straight past the khatiya without looking up.
He could distinctly hear Monica giggles though, but he did not have courage to look at the ill fated khatiya again.. no ..he did not possess that courage !
Quietly , he slipped into his cold guest room, locked the door, and onto his cot in the pitch darkness
Monica and Ustad finished their cigarettes and walked back to their bedroom. The whole wooden house has a quiet eerie vibe.
Monica asked “ Ustad Miyan we close the door?”
“ Yes, it’s a village..not safe !!”
The heavy wooden door clicked shut, and Ustad slid the solid iron bolt into place, sealing the master bedroom off from the rest of the dark cottage. A flaring hurricane lantern was there at one corner of that village room and a bed which was itself quite tiny for two people to sleep on.
Monica felt a strange excitement as the door was bolted. She had a bit of whiskey, and had long intimate conversation with her husband for a day – her husband’s best friend, but being together in a room was altogether different. She felt what if she is today crossing the boundaries she should never cross. She sat on the bed confused yet horny from the scandalous whiskey she had with Ustad.
“This bed is so small, this is the kind of bed you guys spend your suhaagraat on ?” Monica playfully whispered..
Ustad looked at her “ Yes we don’t have large beds in the villages .look like you have to adjust!!”
Monica smiled “ Atleast let me put some new bed sheet please ? See if you have one in there?”
Ustad pulled out a brand new bedsheet from the side and tossed towards Monica…
Ustad grinned “ you can use the complete bed for yourself Monica…I can use the floor …I am used to it”
Monica looked at him intently “Do you think that’s a good idea ? … The floor is just so cold and there can be insects down there !”
Ustad put out his phone torch “ No… I think I can manage”
Monica looked a bit guilty “I don’t know what to say . If the bed was little larger …”
“ Hey Monica please … you are overthinking… I am just okay”
Ustad adjusted himself on the cold stone floor and reached out to extinguish the flame of the hurricane lantern. The whole room plunged into absolute darkness…
Monica said once more “ Ustad Miyan, I am just feeling bad , can I shift to Rakesh’s room then? You..and him can adjust in this room ?”
Ustad let out a sharp reply  “ The whiskey has clearly got into your head Monica..This is a village..imagine the scandal that will happen if the bride does not sleep with her husband!!...I am just fine here… let us try and sleep”
Monica lay back on the narrow mattress, staring up at the shadowy ceiling beams. Her mind was still buzzing from the whiskey, her thoughts racing. Down on the floorboards, she could hear Ustad’s heavy, slow breathing, along with the occasional rustle of the thin cotton sheet he was using.
Then, a sharp, distinct scratching sound cut through the quiet.
It was tiny at first—a fast, rhythmic pitter-patter over the dry wooden floorboards right next to Ustad’s head.
"Ustad...?" Monica whispered, sitting up slightly. "What was that?"
Before Ustad could answer, he suddenly sat up in the dark. A low curse escaped his breath as he felt a sharp, prickling sensation drag across his bare ankle. He reached over instantly, clicking on his phone's torch.
The bright, stark beam of light cut through the gloom, illuminating the cold stone and timber floor. Right at the edge of his thin blanket, a massive, thick-shelled black village centipede—at least five inches long—was scurrying rapidly
Ustad acted on pure instinct. With a swift flick of his broad hand, he swiped the venomous creature away, sending it flying across the window….
Monica gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she saw the sheer size of the thing in the torch beam.
"God, Ustad!" Monica blurted out, her voice rising in genuine shock. She leaned over the edge of the cot, her eyes wide as she looked from the crack in the wall back to him. "Did it bite you?!"
"No," Ustad rumbled calmly, brushing off his leg and shaking out the cotton sheet. "Just a centipede. They like the cold corners."
"Just a centipede?" Monica scoffed
"That's it. Enough," Monica said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Come on the bed. No more heroics, Miyan Saab."
Ustad looked up at her in the beam of the torch. "I told you I'm fine, Monica."
"You are not fine! If that thing bit you , we would have been stuck in your Village for God knows how long and playing Miyan Biwi …Don’t you get that Ustad ?!" Monica shot back, her sassy, commanding vibe flaring up. "I am not going to lie up here under a warm blanket while you get stung by scorpions... Get up here right now."
Ustad stared at her for a long second, taking in her determined posture, The narrow wooden bed creaked heavily as Ustad climbed on. Because the mattress was barely three feet wide, there was no room for distance. The moment he settled in beside her, his broad, bare shoulders and muscular frame filled nearly the entire space.
Monica pulled the heavy wool quilt over both of them, dragging the thick fabric right up to their waists.
"See?" Monica murmured, her voice dropping into a raspy, intimate whisper as the trapped heat of the blanket instantly enveloped them. "Was that so hard? You don't have to play the tough village hero twenty-four hours a day."
"I wasn't playing a hero, Monica. I was trying to keep my hands off my best friend's wife."
Monica let out a soft, wicked hum, her breath fanning hot against his neck in the small, warm space beneath the quilt. She slid her fair hand flat across his broad, warm chest, feeling the heavy, steady thud of his heart.
"Well, Miyan Saab..." Monica purred softly, her sassy confidence melting into a thick, intoxicating challenge as she looked right into his eyes. "...Let's see how long you can keep that promise."
The heavy razai settled over them, trapping the dense warmth of their bodies against the freezing mountain air.
"You know, Monica..." Ustad rumbled low, his dark eyes fixing on her “...I have to hand it to you. You handled my family today like you’ve been my wife for years."
Monica turned her head, a cheeky, amused smile curling her lips  "Oh, really? And here I thought I was laying it on a bit too thick for your Taiji."
"Thick? Please," Ustad teased smoothly, his thick fingers lightly pinching her hip through her sweatpants under the quilt. "The way you bit your lower lip and blushed when Taiji called you a 'pretty queen'... you looked downright thrilled. I think you actually enjoyed being introduced as my bride."
"Thrilled?" Monica scoffed with a sassy laugh, “Miyan Saab, I was saving your ass! If I hadn't played the shy, obedient bahu, your Tauji would have torn those land deeds into pieces and thrown us out. You should be thanking me on your knees."
"On my knees?" Ustad growled softly ”The last person on their knees today was your husband, sweating like a pig while holding that heavy luggage. Besides... you weren't acting when I put that sindoor on your forehead. Your whole body let out a shiver."
“That wasn't a shiver of fear, Miyan Saab! Your hands are like sandpaper. You dragged that thick thumb across my parting like you were breaking a wild horse."
"And yet you moaned right in front of Tauji," Ustad countered smoothly, his grip on her waist tightening just enough to pull her hips an inch closer. "A deep, filthy little moan. Tell me, .Monica... was it the sindoor, or was it the fact that your husband was forced to stand there holding the silver bowl while another man marked his wife?"
"Maybe a little bit of both," Monica confessed dirty, her voice dropping into a raspy, intimate murmur. . "Although... I did notice how quickly your hand slid down to my bare lower back the second Taiji turned around. You didn't waste a single second taking advantage of the situation."
"Can you blame me?" Ustad rumbled, his voice thick with playful arrogance. "You were practically bursting out of that tight silk blouse all afternoon. Every time you tried to pull it up to 'salvage your modesty,' those heavy breasts just spilled right back over the border. I was just being a dutiful husband, keeping my hand on you so you didn't lose your balance."
"A helpful village hero, huh?" Monica teased back
Ustad came closer to Monica …
"You keep testing a dangerous man , Sweetie. What happens when I stop pulling your leg and start taking my rights as your husband?"
Monica’s breath hitched in her throat .. “ This fake marriage thing was just to help you Ustad Miyan.. Don’t expect more favours ..Right ? Now can we sleep ?”
Before the last word fully left her mouth, Ustad suddenly grabbed her.
His large hand locked around the back of her neck. Monica’s eyes widened. She tried to twist away, one hand pushing hard against his  chest.
“Ustad—wait—what are you doing?!”
He didn’t answer. He pinned her down against the narrow cot, his heavy body covering hers. The heat of his massive rough body builder like frame pressed against the thin fabric of her top.
Monica struggled harder this time. She turned her face sharply to the side and shoved at his shoulder with both hands.
“Stop it! Get off me Ustad—Rakesh is right next door—”
Ustad’s mouth came down hard on hers.
Monica sealed her lips tight and made a muffled sound of protest. She tried to push his face away with one hand while the other kept shoving against his chest.
“Mmm—no—don’t—” she managed when he briefly broke contact. “Ustad, I’m serious—stop..please..—”
He followed her mouth again, catching her lower lip between his and sucking hard. Monica’s body tensed. She twisted her hips under him, trying to create space, but the weight of his body held her firmly in place.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered against his lips, still resisting. “We can’t… we shouldn’t… Please…”
Ustad didn’t answer with words. He simply pressed his mouth more firmly against hers and forced his tongue past her lips.
Monica’s resistance lasted a few more seconds. She pushed, she turned her head, she made soft, angry sounds against his mouth. But the heat of his tongue, the rough scbang of his stubble, and the slow, deliberate way he was claiming her mouth began to break her down. His huge scary frame had now completely penned her down!
Her pushing hands grew weaker. Her breath changed. The tension in her body softened inch by inch.
Then she stopped fighting.
Her hands slid up his back instead of pushing him away. Her thighs parted. She kissed him back.
What followed was a filthy, animalistic, spit-slicked kiss that lasted an eternity
Ustad took full control. He licked deep into her mouth with long, heavy strokes, tasting every corner. Monica answered with equal hunger, her tongue sliding against his, wet and greedy. Saliva began to pool between them. Every time he sucked hard on her tongue, she moaned into him, the sound vibrating against his mouth.
They didn’t break for air. Instead, they played with each other’s spit.
Ustad pulled back just enough to let a thick string of saliva stretch between their lips. It hung there, glistening in the dark, before he pushed it slowly back into her mouth with his tongue.
“Take it,” he growled against her lips, voice thick and filthy. “Swallow my spit like the dirty little wife you are. Taste how hard you make me.”
Monica moaned and did exactly that. She sucked the string of saliva into her mouth, then pushed her own thick spit back into his.
“Mmm… Ahhhhhh” she whispered, her voice already husky and shameless.
Ustad took it greedily, sucking hard on her tongue, then let another heavy string of spit drip from his mouth into hers. Monica opened wider, accepting it, moaning as the warm, wet mess mixed between them.
“Fuck… look at you,” Ustad murmured, breaking just enough to speak. “ You love this, don’t you?”
“You know I love it why you asking !,” Monica whispered back, already leaning up to catch his mouth again.
They kept going — open-mouthed, tongues deep, spit dripping down their chins and down. The wet, dirty sounds of their mouths — loud smacks, deep slurps, the wet clash of tongues — filled the small wooden room. Every time one of them pulled back, a thick, glistening string of saliva stretched between their lips before the other one sucked it back in.
“I want more,” Monica gasped, pushing her spit into his mouth again. “I want you to keep feeding me your spit until I forget who I’m married to.”
The cot creaked and shook under them as their bodies moved. Ustad’s hand slid under her thin top and roughly squeezed her heavy, braless breast, kneading the soft flesh while he continued to fuck her mouth with his tongue. Monica arched under him, grinding her hips against the thick hardness she could feel through his clothes, her soft, desperate whimpers mixing with the filthy wet sounds of their kiss.
They stayed locked like that for a long time — mouths open, tongues deep, spit dripping down their chins — kissing like animals who had been holding back for days.
When they finally broke for air, both were gasping. Thick strings of saliva still connected their swollen lips. Monica’s eyes were dark and glassy in the moonlight.
She smiled, breathless and filthy.
“You’re a fucking animal, Miyan ..…”
Ustad didn’t answer with words. He simply leaned down and took her mouth again. They smooched again till they were either tired or one of their lips were badly swollen or bruised.. They both were panting under the crazy physical intimacy they just witnessed..
Monica smiled groggily “ Don’t tell me Ustad Miyan!! Don’t tell me was I too aggressive for your liking ?”
Ustad grunted back “Don’t think you just smooched a college kid… I just love city whores like you who are so aggressive sweetie!”
“Ustad Miyan.. Language please.. kuch to izzat rakhie” They both laughed and again locked their lips in another long round of smooch!

[SilverArrow]

In the adjoining guest room, the stillness was suffocating.Rakesh moved uncomfortably on the narrow, stiff cot, the rough cotton sheet twisted tangled around his legs. Sleep was completely out of his reach. The cold mountain air bit at his face, but inside his chest, a sickening, feverish panic kept his blood boiling. The heavy, hundred-year-old timber walls were thick—stacked cedar logs sealed tight with dried mud—designed to keep out the mountain wind and deaden sound. Yet, in the dead of the night, Rakesh felt a strange, rhythmic vibration humming through the wood near his head.

It wasn't a clear sound, but a muffled, continuous murmur. A faint rustle of bedsheets, a low male rumble, and the soft, breathless pitch of a woman’s voice.
*Are they talking in the middle of the night?* Rakesh’s mind raced frantically. *Why would they still be awake?* He thought
Driven by a sudden, desperate urge to know, Rakesh slowly turned onto his side. Trembling, he pressed his ear directly against the cold, rough timber log wall. He couldn't make out a single word, but the rhythm of it made his stomach drop into a bottomless pit. It sounded like hushed, breathless murmurs interrupted by long silences, followed by the soft, distinct creak of the wooden cot shifting under heavy weight. It felt, beyond a doubt, like the two of them were up to something right on the other side of that wall.
Cold sweat broke out across Rakesh’s forehead. His hands shook uncontrollably against the rough blanket, a wave of sickening humiliation washed over him.
He wanted to get up, kick their door down, and demand answers. But the sheer terror of facing Ustad’s towering, dangerous authority—combined with the crushing realization of his own utter powerlessness—paralyzed him completely. He just lay there in the dark, quiet as a lizard!


Inside the master bedroom, the wild, breathless kissing finally ground to a slow, reluctant halt.
Their mouths parted with a loud, wet smack. A glistening thread of saliva stretched between their swollen lips before snapping in the dark. Both of them were gasping for air, their chests heaving in heavy, uneven sync beneath the thick wool quilt.
Ustad fell back onto his side, resting his heavy, shoulder against the narrow mattress, Monica lay beside him, her dark hair tangled wildly across the pillow, her face flushed red in the silver moonlight. She wiped her damp chin with the back of her hand, turning her head to look at him with a mischievous, sassy gleam in her eyes.
"How come you're panting so hard, Ustad Saab?" Monica purred teasingly "I thought village heroes had endless stamina."
"I’m not panting, Monica," he rumbled roughly. "Just catching my breath after swallowing half your spit."
Monica let out a soft, delighted laugh, her fingers reaching out under the blanket to trace a slow line over his neck "Oh, don't lie! Your heart is pounding . You're completely out of breath."
"Keep talking, Monica," Ustad growled low, his broad hand sliding over her waist, his thick fingers digging into her ass through her sweatpants. "And see how long you last in this bed."
Monica smirked, her dark eyes flashing with shameless, flirtatious confidence. "I'm not going anywhere."
Ustad’s gaze dropped down to her chest. Beneath her loose, sleeveless gray top, her heavy 36D breasts were rising and falling rapidly, the thin cotton fabric completely useless against her stiff, erect nipples pushing through.
"This top of yours is coming in the way," Ustad rumbled,
Monica tilted her head back, a seductive, slow smile curling her lips. "You wanna take it off, Ustad Saab?"
Before she could finish the sentence, Ustad lunged forward with sudden, aggressive hunger, his large hands reaching to grab the hem of her top and drag it upward.
"Wait—hold on!" Monica gasped softly, placing her fair hands flat against his bare chest to pause his sudden rush.
Ustad growled in annoyance, his dark brows furrowing. "What now?"
"Close the window first," Monica whispered. "The shutters have gaps. What if someone walks by in the night and peeks inside?"
Ustad let out a low breath, but he didn't argue. He swung his long legs off the edge of the narrow cot and stood up. The room was now completely sealed off, plunged into near-total, private darkness.
Ustad turned around and walked back to the bed. Without a second of hesitation, he lunged right back over her, his massive frame looming over her body as his hands grabbed the hem of her top once more.

Monica let out a soft, melodic laugh. "Ustad! I told you to remove it, not tear it! Imagine Rakesh finding this torn in the morning... be gentle! The straps are delicate..."
"Don't make me wait, Monica," Ustad rumbled darkly, his voice thick with unyielding authority. "Because I will very well tear it right off your body."
"Badmaash..." Monica whispered playfully, her heart hammering with a dirty thrill.
She shifted her hips on the narrow mattress, raising her arms over her head and allowing him to pull the thin gray top up over her stomach, and completely off her body.
Ustad took the loose gray garment in his calloused fist and tossed it violently across the dark room.
Monica sat completely topless on the narrow bed, her heavy, unconstrained 36D breasts fully exposed in the faint shadows. Her fair skin practically glowed against the dark room, her full, rounded breasts swaying slightly with her heavy breathing, her dark areolas tight and erect from the chill.
Ustad leaned back slightly, taking in the sight, a low, appreciative laugh rumbling in his deep chest. "Your tits looked awesome in that bridal dress today, Monica... but they look ten times better sitting naked on my bed."
Before she could respond, Ustad lunged forward and buried his broad, rough hands right into her bare flesh, grabbing both her heavy breasts with sudden, crushing force.
"Ah—!" Monica let out a soft, sharp shriek, her back arching off the mattress as his calloused palms squeezed her plush volume. "Be gentle, Ustad Miyan! God... you have such crazy, rough hands!"
Ustad didn't lighten his grip. He fondled her heavy breasts like a man possessed, his thick fingers kneading the soft, warm mass, lifting their heavy weight and molding them in his palms while Monica whimpered softly under his touch.
"Can Rakesh cup these tits properly?" Ustad growled "With those small, pathetic hands of his?"
Monica let out a raspy, breathless giggle "You can ask that to your best friend tomorrow, Ustad Saab..."
Ustad let out a dark chuckle and leaned his head down, burying his face right into her deep, warm cleavage. The heavy scent of her skin, whiskey, and raw female warmth filled his senses. He moved his head to the side, his rough jaw scbanging over her soft breast before his lips locked onto her right nipple.
Monica moaned louder, pulling his head tighter against her breast. "… God, your mouth feels so fucking good…"
Ustad didn’t wait for her to finish. He opened his mouth wide again, taking her entire large, dark areola into his mouth, and began sucking her like a hungry, depraved animal.
*Slurp... smack... gluck... slurp...*
The closed, dark room echoed with the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth working on her breast. Ustad didn’t just suck — he fed on her. He sealed his lips tightly around the full, puffy areola and drew hard, cheeks hollowing, pulling as much of the soft, heavy flesh into his mouth as he could. His tongue lashed and swirled aggressively over the stiff nipple, pressing it against the roof of his mouth, then sucking again with long, wet, rhythmic pulls that made loud, obscene  sounds
Saliva quickly coated her breast. Thick strings of spit stretched from his lips to her glistening boobs every time he pulled back slightly before diving in again. The rough, prickling scbang of his heavy beard stubble dragged repeatedly over her sensitive areola and the soft underside of her tit, leaving faint red marks and sending sharp, electric sparks of pleasure down her spine.
Monica’s hips shifted restlessly on the bed, her hands clutching his thick neck, pulling his head tighter against her chest.
"Mmm... Ahhh…ahhhhhhh.. Uma aaaa.... Ustad...!" Monica moaned uncontrollably, her voice echoing softly off the timber walls. "God... your beard... it's driving me crazy... ahh!"
Ustad kept going, louder and filthier. He switched breasts without warning, burying his face into the left one and repeating the same wet, animalistic suction — long, deep pulls that made her heavy flesh bounce and jiggle against his face, loud wet smacks and slurps filling the room as spit ran down the soft curve of her breast and onto the sheets.
Then, without any warning, Ustad suddenly pulled his mouth off her wet nipple with a loud, wet pop
Before Monica could even catch her breath, Ustad lunged forward again. He opened his teeth and clamped them firmly down on her swollen, dark areola, biting into the soft, sensitive flesh with sudden, punishing pressure.

"Ahhh—!" Monica let out a sharp, breathless cry,
She caught herself instantly, remembering Rakesh in the next room, and bit her lower lip hard to stifle her voice.
"Gawd... fuck your teeth, badmaash!" Monica whimpered in a raspy, intoxicated whisper, her body trembling under his weight. "You... you just don't know how much I love this biting..."
Ustad let out a low, animalistic growl against her skin. He didn’t stop. He began a filthy, deliberate cycle of torment — sucking her nipple deep into his mouth with wet, greedy passion, then releasing it just enough to sink his teeth into the stiff peak, biting and tugging, then dragging the edge of his teeth slowly across the sensitive areola before clamping down again harder.
In the adjacent room ,  the mountain air was bone-chilling, but inside Rakesh's chest, panic burned like acid. He couldn't lie on that stiff cot a second longer. The subtle rhythm from the adjoining room was relentless—a faint, continuous creak-creak of old timber, accompanied by low, hushed vibrations of breath and movement that defied any attempt at denial.
He slipped off the bed and crept down the pitch-black corridor. Standing mere inches from the master bedroom's heavy wooden door, his hands trembled as he pressed his ear toward the frame. The door was bolted shut, but the muffled sounds seeping through were undeniable. Desperate for proof—or perhaps hoping to prove himself wrong—he quietly unlatched the front door and stepped out into the icy courtyard, circling around toward the side window.
The timber shutters were shut tight, but even through the wooden slats, the faint, persistent sounds reached him in the dark stillness of the night. They were wide awake, locked together in that narrow room. He went through to the courtyard only to find the window also shut. Tightly!
Rakesh’s legs gave out beneath him. A wave of sickening humiliation washed over him, making his vision blur with cold tears. He stumbled backward, dragging his numb feet through the gravel, slipping back into his cold guest room. He collapsed onto his cot like a dead body, burying his face in the rough pillow, paralyzed by his own helplessness.
Inside the master bedroom, the air was dense and scorching under the heavy wool quilt.
Monica lay propped up on her elbow, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
"God, Ustad... you're a fucking raw bull," Monica whispered breathlessly, her voice raspy and trembling with a mix of exhaustion and wicked thrill. She leaned over, showing him the dark pink impressions left by his teeth and stubble. "Look at this! My whole body is aching and burning right now."
Ustad lay flat beside her. "Good," he rumbled smoothly,  "You'll remember it every time you try to wear a dress, Sweetie."
Monica let out a sassy gasp and slapped his bare shoulder with a playful smack.
"Baadmash ..!" she hissed playfully, dropping a low, raspy Hindi gaali right against his neck. "Saale madarchod..... look at what you did! You made my tits so red I can't wear anything with a low neck for days now. How am I supposed to step out in front of your Taiji tomorrow with these marks?"
Ustad smirked, his large hand reaching over to trace the curve of her ass under the blanket. "Taiji will just think her nephew knows how to keep his bride happy."
Monica let out a soft, delighted giggle, rolling onto her side to face him, her fair fingers tangling in the dark hair on his chest.
"You have no shame, Miyan Saab," she purred dirty.
"Neither do you, Monica," Ustad countered, his voice dropping. "You remember the first night Rakesh brought you to that pub in Delhi? The moment you walked in wearing that black dress, the whole gang lost their damn minds over your tits."
Monica’s dark eyes flashed with playful, shameless curiosity in the dark. She leaned closer, her warm breath fanning across his jawline.
"Oh, really?" she purred, a wicked smirk spreading across her swollen lips. "And what exactly were you guys discussing, Miyan Saab? Tell me the truth."
Ustad let out a low laugh, remembering that night vividly.
"Truth?" Ustad rumbled smoothly. "Rakesh was sitting there telling stories, completely unaware that four guys at the table weren't listening to a word he said. We were all eyeing that plunging neckline of yours. Bheem whispered to me under the table that your breasts looked like they were ready to burst right out of the top. Every time you leaned forward to take a sip of your drink, the whole table went dead silent."
Monica let out a loud, raspy laugh, shaking her head as her cheeks flushed even darker. "I knew it! I knew you bastards were staring! You know, that very night in the car, I told Rakesh, 'Your friends are completely shameless! Which friends sit there staring at their friends girl like she's on display?'"
"And what did Rakesh say?" Ustad teased, his thumb running slow, heavy circles over her ass under the quilt.
"He made excuses for you guys!" Monica scoffed playfully, leaning in until her lips almost touched his ear. "He said you were just poor guys who aren't used to city fashion.' If only he knew that his wife is now lying naked with the biggest ‘poor’ predator’ of them all.."
Ustad got ahead and smooched Monica again

[SilverArrow]

Marvelous update.
The atmosphere inside the room is so fucking steamy, boss!

Thanks for your support

[SilverArrow]

Woww...Kya baat hai !!!Superb update, keep writing dude, ur doing great.

Thanks...Next update will come in few hours ...
Keep yourself tuned 
Thanks again

[SilverArrow]

You are hell of a teaser rather master of erotic narration. There are very few story writer in the Adultery category who described the psychological tussle of the characters. Your heroine, the way you described her figure, dress, the teasing etc in minute details is really high standard. The small small incidents, the casual sex scenes are really class apart.

Your presentation of not only characters but also the surroundings helped in a big way to visualise the entire situation. I must say the easy flow and the continuation of erotic events possibly glue the readers. Great writing and Thank you very much for entertaining us Erotic Queen or King whoever you are! Salute to your efforts and looking forward towards another blockbuster update.

Cheers!

Thanks for being my longest support cheer leader and mentor

[SilverArrow]

[SilverArrow]

Rakesh sat upright on the edge of the cot, bare feet flat on the freezing floorboards. The thick timber walls still muffled most of the noise, but what leaked through was no longer ambiguous.

Not loud enough to be clear words. Not faint enough to dismiss. The old wooden cot on the other side kept creaking in a slow, steady rhythm that matched the moans.
He knew.His wife was being taken.


Rakesh’s hands gripped the edge of the mattress so hard his knuckles ached. Every muffled rise of her voice sent another wave of nausea through him. He wanted to shove his face into the rough pillow and hold it there until the sounds stopped, until the shame stopped burning through his chest. Instead he just sat there, eyes open in the dark, listening to every soft, helpless sound while his own breathing stayed shallow and broken.
Inside the master bedroom the air was still thick with the leftover heat of their earlier kissing and the wet, marked state of Monica’s naked breasts.

Ustad sat up slowly on the narrow cot, a wicked, satisfied smile already forming on his face.  Monica lay half-propped against the thin pillow, her heavy tits still glistening faintly with spit and carrying the clear red impressions of his teeth and stubble.

She looked at him, still breathing a little hard, and gave a low, sassy laugh that didn’t quite hide the heat still simmering under her skin.

“Ustad Miyan Stop laughing … we should sleep now..Its late ….”
Ustad’s eyes dropped deliberately to her marked Breasts. “Are you really sleepy ? Look at you once. Those nipples are still so hard ...”

Monica shifted…..The cot creaked under her. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m still deciding whether to let you keep looking… ”

Monica tried to reach out for her top, Ustad fiercely kicked it with his legs , the top flung further away at the corner .

"Ustad Please give back my top, I can’t sleep all naked throughout the night!!”
Ustad laughed and pushed her crumpled top even further away, disposing it off like a piece of discarded item.
Ustad’s gaze stayed on her for a long moment, measuring the challenge in her eyes. Then he reached down without hurry and began unfastening the front of his trousers. The sound of the zipper sliding open was loud in the quiet room — a slow, deliberate zzzip that made Monica’s breath catch and her eyes drop.
Her earlier teasing confidence flickered

“Ustad—no… not that, please—”

He didn’t answer. He simply hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pushed everything down in one smooth motion.

His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, and already fully hard. It rose against his lower stomach with a weight that made the air in the small room suddenly feel tighter. The dark shaft was thick enough that Monica’s eyes locked onto the girth first. Veins stood out along the length like ropes. The head was swollen, shiny with precum, and looked almost too big to be real. It hung there, heavy and demanding, the kind of size that made her mouth go dry even as a dirty heat pulsed between her legs.

Monica stared, her mouth slightly open.

“What… what the fuck are you doing?” she said, voice low and charged. “Ustad… I—I’m not… not ready for that yet”
She swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on the thick length of him. Her husband had never been built like that. None of her ex boyfriend before him also would not beat Ustad for sure. The sheer girth of Ustad’s cock was hard to believe honesty even for a woman like Monica who had her fair share of flings and relationship before marriage.

"Wear your pants back,” she said, sharper this time. “Ustad, put that thing away. I’m serious. You can’t just pull that out like it’s nothing.”

Ustad only laughed. He wrapped one large hand around the base of his snake and gave himself a slow, deliberate stroke, making the heavy cock bounce once.
A bead of precum stretched and broke.

“Take a proper look at this,” he said. “I don’t even know how I kept it trapped inside my pants all day while you were walking around in that tight blouse, teasing everyone like a little slut.”

Monica shook her head, still staring, but a reluctant, wicked smile tugged at her swollen lips. “I’m not doing anything with that, Ustad. I’m exhausted. Really. Put it back please….”

Ustad shifted on the cot so the full length of his erection was on clear, arrogant display between them. The head glistened. The weight of it was obvious even in the dark. He gave it another slow stroke, letting her watch.
“You’ll enjoy this,” he said quietly, almost gently, but the dominance underneath was pure filth. “Look at how hard you made it. Now stop pretending you’re not wet looking at it.”

Monica’s gaze stayed locked on the heavy, veined shaft. A small, almost angry sound left her throat
“God… the size of you…” she muttered, still not looking away. “That’s not normal. What are you really ? Some fucking primitive medieval age animal ? Wear your pants, Ustad. I’m telling you I’m tired and little mad at you also!!! Don’t force me into doing something I am not ready yet”

Ustad only smiled wider, keeping the thick cock fully on show in the dim light of the sealed room. He didn’t move closer yet. He simply let her look — Monica’s eyes still hadn’t left his cock even while her mouth kept fighting.
Outside, Rakesh still sat frozen on the edge of his cot, listening to the sudden silence that had fallen!

Ustad shifted closer on the narrow cot. The thick, heavy length of his cock brushed lightly against Monica’s arm as he moved. Now he was inches away from Monica’s eyes and face. Monica’s eyes snapped up to his face.
“Ustad I dare you.. please don’t come near to me…”

Ustad came dangerously close. Monica was now shocked to see the raging erection he had got. She knew Rakesh would not have anything close to that even if put on multiple Viagra’s..
“Ustad…Please…What is this ?  Wear your pants back and give me my top,” she said. “I’m serious. You’ve already treated my tits like a free buffet. That’s more than enough charity for one night.”

Ustad did not flinch.He only moved closer still, until the dark, swollen head of his cock rested right on her collarbone!
“You’re still looking at it,” he said quietly.

Monica let out a short, sharp breath and wrinkled her nose with exaggerated disgust
“Of course I’m looking. . ITS FUCKING HUGE and right in front of my eyes….”
“yea so open your mouth and taste it” Ustad voice was cold and ruthless…

Monica blurted out “ Are you crazy ? You wanna put this inside my mouth ?  Do you know how much that thing stinks?  When did you last wash your underwear….. last year? . How can you even think I’m going to put that in my mouth?”

Ustad’s low laugh filled the small room. He gave the thick shaft a slow stroke, bringing the head even closer to her. “It’s clean enough. You’ve already had my spit all over your tongue tonight. This is just the next step.”
Monica raised an eyebrow with pure biting sarcasm

“Oh, wonderful. Your spit was the warm-up act and now I’m supposed to upgrade to the main course …. I’m not some desperate girl who opens her mouth the second a man waves his cock around. Put it away before I shove you off”

Ustad’s voice stayed calm, but that cold menacing vibe made him such a dangerous man. He did not rush!
“You’ve been staring at it for a while now, Monica. Your nipples got harder the second it came out. Every time I stroke it you stop breathing for a second. You’re not disgusted. You’re deciding how long you can keep up the act….Good take your time sweetie… tell me when you are ready ” Ustad spoke with commanding authority and that cold blooded menace which can send chill to anyone’s spine!

Monica shook her head… “I’m deciding whether to kick you off this bed and make you sleep with the centipedes . Your thing is ridiculous. Look at the girth. My jaw will lock and I’ll sue you for medical expenses. And the smell… God, Ustad pathetic!!!”

“Yet I bet your panties are dripping wet sweetie, I am loving what a great drama you are putting up ….”
Ustad shifted even closer. The swollen head now rested against the soft underside of her left breast, leaving a faint wet trail of precum on her skin.

“Okay sweetie ! Let’s play some deal ? Let me set some rules... Only the head. Only for a short while. You can stop the second you want. But we both know you’re curious how something this thick will feel stretching your mouth… ”
Monica stared at the heavy cock. A long silence stretched. Her breathing had gone shallow.


"You’re such a complete bastard… Saale….” she muttered

. “Using the ‘you made me this hard’ card on the love of the life of your best friend….. You men are all same ….Have you no shame left at all, or did you leave it in Delhi?”

Monica’s tongue briefly touched her lower lip. She looked up at him, eyes dark and still full of challenge.
“Ok” Monica looked up “ This would be a little dirty secret between us if I eventually do this”

“ Yes, sweetie…secret !!!!  now.. open your mouth..?”

“Wait Ustad …If I do this — and I’m still not saying I will — it’s only the head. And only for a short while. The second I say stop, you stop. No forcing, no holding my head down, Clear? Or do I need to write it down for you?”
Ustad’s smile was slow and filthy. “Now Start …”

Monica still hesitated, staring at the thick cock like it was both a personal insult and a dare.
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” she muttered. “You’re a complete animal”
Monica looked across to the wall towards Rakesh’s room. “Sorry Rakesh ,I don’t think your best friend will leave me without this tonight , just forgive me” She made a playful gesture …

Then, after another long beat, she shifted on the narrow mattress, still completely topless,  She leaned forward just enough. Ustad did not thrust. He simply held the thick cock steady and waited.
She opened her mouth.

The first contact was slow and deliberate. The swollen head pressed against her soft lips. Monica’s tongue touched the underside….. The strong, musky taste of him flooded her mouth — exactly as strong as the smell had promised. She made a small, involuntary sound of disgust mixed with something darker, then pulled back just enough to speak.

"Fuck…Yuckkkkkk…… it tastes exactly like it smells,” she whispered

“Shut up and suck it properly “ Ustad barked ..

Then she took him again quietly
The thick head filled her mouth completely. Her lips stretched around the girth. She sucked slowly, carefully, cheeks hollowing as she adjusted to both the size and the dirty salty taste. Saliva immediately began to gather and spill from the corners of her mouth.

Ustad stayed still for the first long moments, letting her set the pace. Then he began to move — slow, shallow thrusts that pushed the thick head deeper against her tongue and the soft palate of her mouth. Each time he withdrew, a wet, filthy slurp filled the small room. Spit strings stretched from her lips to the shiny head.
Monica’s hands came up and braced against his strong thighs. She did not pull away. Instead she took him deeper on the next stroke, the thick shaft sliding over her tongue until the head nudged the back of her throat. She gagged softly, eyes watering, but recovered and sucked harder, and then ever harder  and more intently!
Ustad’s breathing grew heavier.

“Fuck… look at you,” he murmured
. “My best friend’s wife is such an expert …Woow…....”

Monica moaned around the thick length, the vibration making Ustad’s hips twitch. She pulled back just enough to breathe, a long string of spit connecting her swollen lips to the glistening head of Ustad’s massive cock.
Ustad then violently gripped Monica’s hair and started fucking her mouth properly. Deep, hard strokes. The thick head kept hitting the back of her throat. Monica gagged, eyes watering, but she didn’t pull away. She sucked harder instead, trying to keep up even as spit ran down her chin and onto her naked breasts.
The wet sounds filled the room. The cot creaked under them.
Ustad looked down at her, breathing harder.

“Fuck… you’re taking it better than I thought,” he said between thrusts
“Rakesh get this from you?”
Monica tried to answer around him. The words came out wet and broken. Ustad pulled back just enough to let her speak.
“Not like this,” she gasped. “Never this rough. I know you are being a bastard on purpose….”

“Maybe.” He pushed back in, even harder this time, watching her lips choke. “You keep going even when you choke. That says a lot.” He held himself there for a second, then pulled out again. “Your boss ever get this?”
Monica’s eyes flashed.

“Fuck No … Ustad ..what kind of question is that ?” She barely got the words out before he slid back in.

"Because you’re soo… good,” he said simply. “The way you use your tongue when you pull off… you don’t stop even when your eyes water. Either someone taught you or you like it more than you say.” He thrust deeper, then pulled back again so she could hear him clearly. “You should blow the entire floor at your office. Start with your boss and work your way down. Half those men already think about these lips.”

Monica pulled off hard, spit running down her chin. Her voice came out sharp and hoarse, yet playful …
“Saale madarchod… I’ll kill you. I’m not some office whore for you to imagine. Keep my profession out of your filthy mouth.”

Ustad only laughed and pushed back between her lips before she could say more.
“Okay Relax… don’t get angry … you are doing an awesome job……. but your boss must be fantasizing a blowjob from you every time he sees you……”

Ustad pushed her onto her back and swung a leg over so he was above her face. His cock hung over her mouth, dripping. “Open wider. I want to feel your throat fully”

Monica’s eyes went wide at the new angle. She gagged hard when he went deeper. Her hands pushed at his thighs, but he held her head steady.

“Ustad—wait—”

“You can still talk,” he said, thrusting in shorter strokes. “Means you can still take more.” He pulled out just enough for her to breathe. “Tell me to stop if you mean it. Otherwise stop acting like I’m forcing you.”
Monica’s voice came out rough and angry, but the heat was clear.

“You’re such an asshole. I should bite you.”

“But you won’t.” He pushed back in. “Because part of you wants to see how far you can go.” He fucked her mouth from above now — slower but deeper, grinding against the back of her throat ..This new angle had depravity written all over it.

Ustad held Monica on the edge of the cot and sat tightly over her mouth. With his entire brute force, he thrust his big black dirty monster cock inside her soft sexy mouth. He pinned her down with his hips and continued mouth fucking her with so much force the cot violently creaked and shook. Monica could not breathe but still kept on sucking his cock as Ustad reached her throat with every deep thrust…Monica was feeling nauseated with the smell of his big black cock and the thick bush of his pubic hair… her entire soft mouth not only had the Ustad’s dirty monster cock inside her but also his dirty pubic hair as well ….

Spit ran down Monica’ cheeks into her hair. Monica gasped and moaned , almost tears coming out due to Ustad’s raw violent thrust…

Slrup…slrup..slurp ..slurp …the sucking sound loudly echoed inside the dark stone walls making it sound even more filthy and carnal!!

“Look at your face Monica. Rakesh would lose it if he saw you like this.”

Monica made a muffled sound around him. She still moaned uncontrollable gasping for hair…..When he pulled back she was panting for air, eyes wet.

“Don’t talk about him right now Ustad,” she managed. “Just… don’t.”

Ustad wiped spit from her cheek with his thumb and pushed it back between her lips. Again. This time even harder.
“Why not?” He slid back into her mouth and kept going, watching her face. “You’re doing well. Keep your tongue like that… yeah… like that …What an absolute slutty wife you are Monica… ,.' ..where did you learn this from ? “

Monica’s hands had stopped pushing. They rested on his thighs now, gripping. She felt like puking every time he went deep, but she kept taking him. She was now lost in the most absolute pleasure a woman can think of. She could not believe how thick and huge Ustad was actually… His cock had actually owned her mouth today and was brutally fucking her mouth now… Monica was dripping wet by now , her panties soaked beyond imagination….
Ustad’s aggression began to reach climax..You have to give the man…Not many men would last if they get to see a married hottie like Monica’s huge naked tits right in front of him….But Ustad was built different …His thrusts got longer and harder and faster, one last time….

“I’m close,” he said, voice tight. “You swallowing, or should I finish on your tits?”

Monica couldn’t answer with words. She only moaned around him, the sound broken and wet. That was enough.
He pushed deep and came.

Thick cum flooded her mouth. Monica swallowed hard, but some still spilled from the corners of her lips and ran down her chin. Ustad pulled back just enough to let the last few spurts land across her breasts, mixing with the spit already there.
Monica lay gasping, lips shiny, eyes glassy. She swallowed what was left, then wiped her mouth with a shaky hand.
Ustad sat back, still breathing hard.
Monica’s voice was completely hoarse, but the edge was still there.

“You absolute animal. Madarchod …Yuckkkkkkk…Saale….….. How dare you cum inside my mouth …yuuuuckiiiiiiii…..chiii …. I had to swallow that shit!!!”

Ustad gave a low, satisfied laugh.

“How does it taste…? Look your tits are also smeared”

“ shut up …and pass me something I can use to clean myself , I will have to clean this mess quickly or else I will throw up…”
Ustad got up , his cock still semi erect and he gave her the crumpled Top she was wearing a while ago…
“ Fuck .Fuck..I can’t believe I actually gave you that long blowjob !!” Monica shook her head with a playful disgust …
“ Sweetie…. You were the one who was not stopping “ Ustad said while Monica was trying to wipe off the cum from her tits!!
“ you can flatter yourself as much as you want … Bastard… how dare you made me swallow so much cum …chi..I am so done with you…” Monica smiled playfully…

Ustad came closer and smooched Monica hard , Monica responded with another round of deep intimate smooch ..This was  was gentle and intimate and showed how fond they were of each other!!!
“Ustad Miyan.. now wear back your pants and let’s sleep… I m really very exhausted “

Outside the thick walls, Rakesh sat motionless in the dark, listening to the sudden silence that had fallen after the long, wet sounds finally stopped..

[SilverArrow]

Guys updated ..please let me know how the story is progressing ?

[SilverArrow]

Monica lay on her back on the narrow cot, still naked from the waist up. She had wiped off the cum with the crumpled top, but the faint sticky feeling remained. Ustad lay beside her, one arm folded under his head, the other resting loosely near her ass. His trousers were back on, though not fully fastened.

He reached for the packet of cigarettes on the small wooden stool, lit one, and took a slow drag before passing it to her. The smoke mixed with the leftover smell of sex and sweat in the sealed room.
“I can’t believe I did that,” she said finally, voice still rough. “I actually let you… finish in my mouth”
Ustad took the cigarette back, smoked once, and returned it to her!

“You didn’t ‘let’ me,” he said calmly. “You kept going.”

Monica gave a short, humourless breath of a laugh.

“That’s not the point.  I’m lying here naked with my husband’s best friend, tasting you, and he’s ten feet away thinking God knows what. I feel sick about it..I feel like a monster!”

“Monster ?” Ustad muttered “ This does not make you a monster Monica, you just did what every woman actually deserve!”

“Don’t turn that around Ustad, We did not do this right!” Monica said throwing the cigarette stub
“Does he ever stand up for anything, Monica? Really stand up?” Ustad asked
She frowned.
“What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything.” Ustad explained “ He watched me put sindoor on you and held the bowl. He carried the bags while Taiji ordered him around.  That’s who he is. A man who doesn’t fight for what’s his.”
Monica shook her head, “That’s not fair. He’s not like you. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t… take.”
“Ok and you think that’s how a man should be?”

Monica’s jaw tightened. She took out another cigarette, lit it and  then spoke quieter.
“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s not a coward. He’s just… different.”

“Different” Ustad repeated. “Okay if you say so…”

“ Ustad I don’t want my marriage on the brink, I mean it!” Monica said with a serious face…
Ustad laughed!
“ Why are you laughing ?” Monica scoffed

Ustad sat up straight and asked “ Has he ever celebrated one of your promotions? Really celebrated it? Or does he just nod and go back to whatever he’s doing while you keep working twice as hard as half the men around you?”
Monica was silent for a few seconds. The cigarette burned lower.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?” Ustad’s voice remained agitated. “Your in-laws. Do they care about your job? Your career? Or do they only care that you’re the bahu who shows up looking proper and cooks food for them? Rakesh never pushes back on any of it. He never makes space for what you actually want”

Monica turned her head toward him, eyes narrowed.
“You’re twisting things, Ustad!! ”

“I’m saying you finally did something for yourself,” Ustad replied. “Even if it was messy. Even if you feel guilty right now. You’ve been the responsible caring one for years. The one who adjusts. The one who smiles and manages. When was the last time anyone adjusted for you?”

Monica looked away again. She finished the cigarette and crushed it out in the small metal ashtray on the stool. Smoke still hung in the air between them.

“I hate that you’re saying these things,” she muttered. “And I hate that some of it sounds true.”
Ustad shifted closer so her bare shoulder touched his chest.

“Just stop carrying all of it alone… I can just be a friend that’s it..”

Monica was quiet for a long time. The only sound was their breathing and the faint creak of the old timber house settling in the cold.

Finally she moved. She turned onto her side, still fully naked and rested her head on Ustad’s shoulder. Her huge breasts pressed softly against his hairy chest.

“Can I trust you Ustad ?” she whispered, already half-asleep

Ustad’s hand came up and he locked his huge face on her lips.. They smooched really hard this time like passionate lovers till they got really tired…

“ I meant can I trust you as a friend Ustad?” Monica clarified after the long smooch…
Ustad grunted “ Yea.. help me build my betting business.. Monica… together we can build a successful business… I need that support from you sweetie”

Monica smiled “ I will be there… not many men aspire this big Ustad”







Rakesh woke with a violent start.
The cold mountain air bit at his face. For a second he did not know where he was. Then the memory of the previous night crashed over him in a single sick wave — the muffled creaking of the cot, the wet sounds, Monica’s broken moans, Ustad’s low grunts. His head spun. The sleeping pills and supplements from the night before still clouded his thoughts. He sat up on the edge of the cot, bare feet on the freezing floorboards
Was it real?*  
Or did I imagine everything?*
He stood, legs unsteady, and walked out into the courtyard. The master bedroom door was shut tight. No sound came from inside. He waited. One hour passed. Then another. The sun climbed higher. Still the door did not open. Finally he turned away and went toward the kitchen to eat something .
Ustad stirred first. He turned onto his side and found Monica still half-asleep beside him, naked from the waist up, the thin sheet tangled around her hips. Her heavy breasts lay soft and full against the mattress, nipples already faintly tight from the cool air.
He leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“Good morning, sweetie.”
Monica’s eyes opened. A small, sleepy smile curved her lips.
“Good morning…”
Ustad brushed a strand of hair from her face. “We should get up. Tauji and Taiji will be waiting.”
Monica’s arm slid around his neck. She pulled him closer and rested her face against the broad curve of his shoulder.
“Five more minutes, Ustad…” she coaxed sweetly, her voice raspy. “I just want to stay like this a little longer. Let me sleep on your shoulder.”
Ustad’s hand settled on the bare skin of her waist. He looked down. Her nipples were fully hard now, dark and tight. The soft weight of her breasts shifted with every slow breath.

“Look at these,” he said, voice low and rough with morning hunger. “Your nipples are so tight and erect. Those tits look even bigger in the morning light."

Monica made a small face, half embarrassed, half amused.
“Don’t start pls”

Ustad did not listen. He climbed over her, settled his weight between her thighs, and lowered his mouth to her boobs like a man who had been waiting all morning. He took one full breast in both hands, pushed it up, and latched onto the stiff nipple with open, wet hunger.
Monica’s back arched sharply off the mattress.
“Ustad—”
He sucked harder, tongue working the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. The wet *schlurp* of his mouth filled the quiet room. He switched sides without warning, burying his face in the other breast, sucking deep and loud while his free hand roughly kneaded the soft flesh he had just left.
Monica’s hands flew up and gripped his hair. Her hips shifted under him. A moan rose in her throat — too loud for the thin walls.
Ustad reached for the crumpled top lying near the pillow, wadded it into a rough ball, and pressed it firmly over her mouth. Monica’s eyes widened, but she did not fight him. She only arched higher, offering her breasts more fully while the cloth muffled every desperate sound that tried to escape.
He stayed there for a long time — sucking, biting, licking the wide dark areolas until both nipples were swollen and shiny with spit. Only when her breathing had turned into short, broken gasps against the cloth did he finally lift his head.
Ustad sat back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and watched her for a moment with dark satisfaction.
“Get dressed,” he said. “Before I start again.”
Monica sat up slowly, still dazed. She pulled the thin grey top over her head, then wrapped a thick shawl tightly around her shoulders and across her tits, hiding every curve.
When they finally opened the bedroom door, the main hall was already full.
Tauji and Taiji sat near the low table. Several cousins and distant relatives occupied the remaining seats. Rakesh stood near the wall, face pale, eyes fixed on the doorway.
Monica stepped out first. The shawl covered her breasts, but the soft grey sweatpants clung to the full curve of her ass and the long line of her thighs. In a house where women usually appeared in sarees or loose salwars, the modern shape of her body was impossible to ignore.

Tauji’s gaze dropped immediately.

He had been watching her since the moment she arrived the day before. Now, with the morning light on her and the fitted pants outlining every soft, heavy curve of her huge ass, the hunger in his eyes sharpened. He tracked the sway of her ass as she walked across the room, then the way the fabric stretched when she sat. His “bahu” was a far finer prize than he had first realised.

Rakesh’s heart hammered so hard he felt sick. He stared at Monica’s face, searching for any sign of the previous night. She met his eyes only briefly, then looked away and accepted a cup of tea from Taiji with a polite smile.
After breakfast Ustad was called to the far side of the courtyard by one of the cousins. The moment he disappeared, Rakesh followed Monica back into the master bedroom. She was already seated on the edge of the cot, laptop open on her thighs, checking mail.

He closed the door behind him harder than necessary.

“I heard you last night.”

Monica looked up slowly. Her expression was calm, almost concerned.
“Heard what?”

“You and Ustad. The sounds. The moaning. Don’t lie to me, Monica. I know what I heard.”
She closed the laptop and set it aside. When she spoke her voice was soft, steady, and completely certain.
“Rakesh… you were half-asleep and full of those pills I gave you. Nothing happened. Ustad slept on the floor at first. There was a centipede — a big one. I told him to get on the bed so he wouldn’t get bitten. We talked for a few minutes and then we both fell asleep. That’s all.”

Rakesh’s hands curled into fists.

“I heard you. I heard the bed. I heard—”

“You heard the wind and the old timber creaking,” Monica interrupted gently. “And whatever your mind invented because you were already anxious. Look at yourself. You look sick. Your eyes are red. You’re shaking.” She stood, crossed the small space, and laid a cool hand against his cheek. “Please. Take the medicine properly today. You’re scaring yourself over nothing.”

Rakesh stared at her. The certainty in her voice, the soft concern, the complete lack of guilt on her face — it all felt real. Doubt began to eat at the edges of his memory. Maybe the pills *had* twisted everything. Maybe the sounds had been ordinary night noises turned ugly by fear.

He swallowed hard.

“…Okay,” he said finally, voice thin. “Maybe… maybe I imagined it.”

“ ofcourse Rakesh, you just imagined it.. nothing happened between us!”
Monica gave him a small, reassuring smile and guided him toward the door.
“Go sit with everyone. I’ll come in a minute. And please eat something. You look terrible.”
Rakesh nodded once and left.

Monica closed the door softly behind him. For a long moment she stood alone in the quiet room, one hand still resting on the wood. Then she exhaled, slow and controlled, and returned to the laptop as if nothing in the world had ever been wrong.

[SilverArrow]

[SilverArrow]

After breakfast Taiji placed a gentle hand on Monica’s arm.
“Beti, you should go and bathe. We have to leave for the village ceremony soon. I have got your new red saree, petticoat and blouse for the ceremony…you will look really pretty like always !”
Monica smiled “ Thank you Taiji”
Taiji added “ the bathroom is in there ..be careful..it’s lot slippery …I will keep your new clothes on the partition of the bathroom… in our family , Newly married Bahu wear red saree and offer prayer at the village ceremony.. Go quickly or we will be late!”
Monica nodded. “Okay, Taiji.”
A short while later Ustad, Taiji and Rakesh left together for the village ceremony. The heavy courtyard door closed behind them. The ancestral house fell into silence.
Monica walked to the old bathroom, locked the door…and looked at the dilapidated door …
“Gawd.. this bathroom is like really ancient…God knows if someone will peep!”
She looked around and stripped off her top and sweatpants and down to her black lace bra and matching panties… Considering it’s a village she did not want to bath completely naked in a bathroom she can hardly trust ..there are thousands open spots …
She began bathing……Cool water ran over her shoulders, down the heavy curve of her breasts, along her stomach and thighs. She took her time, the wet Bra growing heavier and more transparent with every pour. Her panties became all the more tiny after getting wet.
When she finished she reached for the towel. She kept her hand on the partition… Shit!
Empty. Tauji told she will keep a dry towel and her new saree on the partition..there was absolutely nothing .
Monica stood in the centre of the small stone room, water still sliding down her spine. The soaked minimalist black bra clung to her boobs barely,  cups pulled downward, exposing the deep upper swell of her breasts and the tight peaks of her nipples. The panties had turned nearly sheer. Expensive panties turn completely transparent when wet. It showed her camel toe clearly and shaved pussy quite distinctly..
She called once. “Taiji …Taiji ..Where is my saree ?”
No Response !
She stepped closer to the door.
“Is anyone there? Please Can someone bring me the saree before I freeze?”
After a moment of silence ..Slow, heavy footsteps approached, followed by the dry tap of a walking stick. A firm knock.
“Bahu? I have your clothes. Taiji forgot them on the bench. She asked me to give them to you.”
Monica’s mouth curved in a dry irritation “ What the fuck..how can she just forget ..Shit how can I open the door now in just these ?..”
Tauji impatiently knocked again “ Bahu quickly take it”
Monica sharply asked “ Where is Taiji ? How come she just forget ?”
“Bahu..she is also an old woman..must have forgotten..she has already gone to the ceremony..beti..” Tauji defended Taiji …
Without any option, Monica unlocked the latch and opened the door only wide enough to extend one bare, wet arm.
“Thank you, Tauji. Just hand them over. I’m not exactly dressed ..so give me quickly .”
Tauji pushed the folded red silk through the gap. As she took it and began to close the door, his broad palm stopped it.
“Bahu… one more thing!”
“ What now Tauji ?” Monica was clearly irritated ..
“Bahu..My diabetes. The bladder is completely full. I cannot hold it long enough … there is no other bathroom... Let me use the one inside.”
Monica stared at the crack in the door. A drop of water ran slowly between her breasts.
“Tauji,” she said, voice light and sharply amused, “I am standing here in a wet bra and panties. You are asking to come in and use the toilet. Do you hear the sentence you just said out loud?”
“You are family,” he answered. “Bahu… I am an old man ..like your father … what harm will I do ? Do you want an old man to wet his dhoti in the hallway?”
“ Tauji just wait for five minutes..I will get dressed !!”
“ Bahu… I can’t wait .. my abdomen is bursting ..I will wet my dhoti!!” Tauji said desperately half moaning..
She stepped back. “Fine. Be quick. And try to keep your eyes on the wall instead of on me”
She hesitantly opened the door…. The old man had a wicked horny look on his face…he was holding one knot of his dhoti ..
He entered and closed the door. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller.
Monica turned her back to him and faced the damp wall, giving him a clear view of her ass — the wet black panties clinging tightly to the full, firm cheeks of her ass, the thin fabric outlining every curve. Her panties hardly could cover her huge full ass… the transparent material of her expensive branded panties clearly showed her naked ass fully to the old man..the tiny fabric of her panties were completely nestled inside her ass cheeks and hence not protecting any modesty of the newly married city bahu. In the wet Bra and panties, Monica looked like a beautiful foreigner in the sea side after bathing wearing a tiny bikini which covers practically nothing!!...
She could feel his eyes. She knew the old man would be seeing her naked ass with full of his evil lusty dirty eyes. There is nothing more sexy than to find a newly married sexy city bahu naked for a old family male member!
Monica heard the unhurried rustle of cotton. Then the heavy, steady sound of urine hitting the toilet.
Monica kept her eyes on the wall, a sharp little smile playing at her mouth.
“You really couldn’t wait two more minutes,” she said. “I’m genuinely impressed by the urgency. Now please do it quickly tauji !”
Tauji released a long breath. His eyes moved openly over the wet lace that hugged her ass.
“Old age, Bahu. When the bladder is full, even a king has to bend.”
“Then the king needs better planning,” Monica replied without turning. “Or atleast two  bathroom in their home.. Or both.”
The stream of urine slowed and stopped. There was the sound of him shaking himself — deliberately slow — and then the struggle of cloth.
Monica turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder. The old man was still holding his thick erect black cock in his hand.. Monica could not believe he would be that thick and hard even at this age… these village bastards …Fuck !!!
“Bahu… my hands are shaking from the sugar. I cannot manage the knot. Help me tie it.”
Elegant disbelief and sharp amusement mixed in her expression.
“You cannot be serious.”
“My fingers will not work in this light,” he said, the loose dhoti still revealing his dark erect cock . “Do you want me to walk out into the courtyard like this?”
Monica faced him fully, chin slightly lifted, the wet black Bra leaving very little of her breasts to the imagination.
“Tauji … I am your bahu…. What sort of manner is this ? Is this what you do to girls in the village ? First you need the toilet while I’m half-naked. Now you need me to dress you while I’m still half-naked. Is there a third request coming, or should I be worried?”
Tauji smirked “ Beti I am not doing it on purpose”
She stepped forward anyway. The Bra was hardly able to hold her soaked breasts … The Bra clearly showed her erect nipples and chocolate colour large areolas.
All of Monica’s lovers were crazy for her Boobs.. it was partly due to her large areolas. Because men loved licking and sucking around large areolas …
Tauji was stunned to see the size… Village girls can never match her in Boobs size.. plus she was fair..milky white … Plus she loved wearing such skimpy Bra where good cleavage is seen even when she was in saree!!
“What!!! His nephew Ustad fucks this girl everyday… What a luck his nephew has got while he was just playing hide and seek with his land in the village… He makes her nude everyday and fucks her every night … what a luck Ustad behenchod..” Old Tauji thought and got erect …
He looked down to her pussy…He was trying to figure out if Bahu shaves her cunt ..city girls often shaves their cunt because of hygiene… Tauji has read in the erotic magazines he read every night .. Yes he understood Monica had shaved her cunt clean… yes expected from a highly educated modern city Bahu!! Ustad get to lick that cunt everyday … lucky Ustad!!!!!!!!!

..As she reached for the ends of the dhoti, Tauji’s foot slipped on the wet stone. His thick hand landed on her bare, wet shoulder. His thumb brushed the thin strap of her bra. The straps were almost peeled off …The heavy, damp weight of her breasts was only inches from him.
“ Be careful Tauji … my Bra straps are really delicate”
Monica felt the heat of his palm and the clear intent behind it. She did not pull away at once. She looked straight into his face, eyes cool and cutting.
“I repeat ….Careful, Tauji. If you fall, I am not carrying you out of here. And I am absolutely not explaining to Taiji why her husband needed me to hold you up and tie your clothes.”
“ Ok Beti…tie two knots”
She held up the dhoti to tie up.. before she could tie the old man muttered ..” Bahu ..can you spray some water .. I have to wash my this ..there is pee all over “
Unbelievably, the old man flashed his cock out and asked Monica to spray water on it. Monica was stunned at his audacity ..
“ What the fuck Tauji, do this yourself quickly ..how can you just flash that in front of me? Have you left your brain in your dick , moron ?”
Tauji casually lifted the water mug and washed his cock. “ Bahu.. you have to understand what diabetes do to your body “
“ Really? Diabetes is making you oogle at my ass and tits you mean to say ? How disgusting is this really ? Now are you done splashing water on your whatever !”
Tauji casually shook his massive cock and said “ Yes Bahu… please ..tie the dhoti now .tightly “
Monica mocked “Yea thank you for being so quick”

She tied the knot with two firm, efficient tugs, then deliberately lifted his hand from her shoulder and stepped back.
“ Now Tauji please leave immediately….. before you would want my help to pee again ”
Tauji’s eyes made one last slow pass over her body.
“ bahu I will go and wait for you ..we will go to the ceremony
After breakfast Taiji placed a gentle hand on Monica’s arm.
“Beti, you should go and bathe. We have to leave for the village ceremony soon. I have got your new red saree, petticoat and blouse for the ceremony…you will look really pretty like always !” 
Monica smiled “ Thank you Taiji” 
Taiji added “ the bathroom is in there ..be careful..it’s lot slippery …I will keep your new clothes on the partition of the bathroom… in our family , Newly married Bahu wear red saree and offer prayer at the village ceremony.. Go quickly or we will be late!” 
Monica nodded. “Okay, Taiji.”
A short while later Ustad, Taiji and Rakesh left together for the village ceremony. The heavy courtyard door closed behind them. The ancestral house fell into silence.
Monica walked to the old bathroom, locked the door…and looked at the dilapidated door …
“Gawd.. this bathroom is like really ancient…God knows if someone will peep!” 
She looked around and stripped off her top and sweatpants and down to her black lace bra and matching panties… Considering it’s a village she did not want to bath completely naked in a bathroom she can hardly trust ..there are thousands open spots …
She began bathing……Cool water ran over her shoulders, down the heavy curve of her breasts, along her stomach and thighs. She took her time, the wet Bra growing heavier and more transparent with every pour. Her panties became all the more tiny after getting wet.
When she finished she reached for the towel. She kept her hand on the partition… Shit!
Empty. Tauji told she will keep a dry towel and her new saree on the partition..there was absolutely nothing .
Monica stood in the centre of the small stone room, water still sliding down her spine. The soaked minimalist black bra clung to her boobs barely,  cups pulled downward, exposing the deep upper swell of her breasts and the tight peaks of her nipples. The panties had turned nearly sheer. Expensive panties turn completely transparent when wet. It showed her camel toe clearly and shaved pussy quite distinctly..
She called once. “Taiji …Taiji ..Where is my saree ?” 
No Response ! 
She stepped closer to the door.
“Is anyone there? Please Can someone bring me the saree before I freeze?”
After a moment of silence ..Slow, heavy footsteps approached, followed by the dry tap of a walking stick. A firm knock.
“Bahu? I have your clothes. Taiji forgot them on the bench. She asked me to give them to you.”
Monica’s mouth curved in a dry irritation “ What the fuck..how can she just forget ..Shit how can I open the door now in just these ?..”
Tauji impatiently knocked again “ Bahu quickly take it”
Monica sharply asked “ Where is Taiji ? How come she just forget ?” 
“Bahu..she is also an old woman..must have forgotten..she has already gone to the ceremony..beti..” Tauji defended Taiji …
Without any option, Monica unlocked the latch and opened the door only wide enough to extend one bare, wet arm.
“Thank you, Tauji. Just hand them over. I’m not exactly dressed ..so give me quickly .”
Tauji pushed the folded red silk through the gap. As she took it and began to close the door, his broad palm stopped it.
“Bahu… one more thing!”
“ What now Tauji ?” Monica was clearly irritated ..
“Bahu..My diabetes. The bladder is completely full. I cannot hold it long enough … there is no other bathroom... Let me use the one inside.”
Monica stared at the crack in the door. A drop of water ran slowly between her breasts.
“Tauji,” she said, voice light and sharply amused, “I am standing here in a wet bra and panties. You are asking to come in and use the toilet. Do you hear the sentence you just said out loud?”
“You are family,” he answered. “Bahu… I am an old man ..like your father … what harm will I do ? Do you want an old man to wet his dhoti in the hallway?”
“ Tauji just wait for five minutes..I will get dressed !!”
“ Bahu… I can’t wait .. my abdomen is bursting ..I will wet my dhoti!!” Tauji said desperately half moaning..
She stepped back. “Fine. Be quick. And try to keep your eyes on the wall instead of on me”
She hesitantly opened the door…. The old man had a wicked horny look on his face…he was holding one knot of his dhoti ..
He entered and closed the door. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller.
Monica turned her back to him and faced the damp wall, giving him a clear view of her ass — the wet black panties clinging tightly to the full, firm cheeks of her ass, the thin fabric outlining every curve. Her panties hardly could cover her huge full ass… the transparent material of her expensive branded panties clearly showed her naked ass fully to the old man..the tiny fabric of her panties were completely nestled inside her ass cheeks and hence not protecting any modesty of the newly married city bahu. In the wet Bra and panties, Monica looked like a beautiful foreigner in the sea side after bathing wearing a tiny bikini which covers practically nothing!!... 
She could feel his eyes. She knew the old man would be seeing her naked ass with full of his evil lusty dirty eyes. There is nothing more sexy than to find a newly married sexy city bahu naked for a old family male member!
Monica heard the unhurried rustle of cotton. Then the heavy, steady sound of urine hitting the toilet.
Monica kept her eyes on the wall, a sharp little smile playing at her mouth.
“You really couldn’t wait two more minutes,” she said. “I’m genuinely impressed by the urgency. Now please do it quickly tauji !” 
Tauji released a long breath. His eyes moved openly over the wet lace that hugged her ass.
“Old age, Bahu. When the bladder is full, even a king has to bend.”
“Then the king needs better planning,” Monica replied without turning. “Or atleast two  bathroom in their home.. Or both.”
The stream of urine slowed and stopped. There was the sound of him shaking himself — deliberately slow — and then the struggle of cloth.
Monica turned her head just enough to look at him over her shoulder. The old man was still holding his thick erect black cock in his hand.. Monica could not believe he would be that thick and hard even at this age… these village bastards …Fuck !!! 
“Bahu… my hands are shaking from the sugar. I cannot manage the knot. Help me tie it.”
Elegant disbelief and sharp amusement mixed in her expression.
“You cannot be serious.”
“My fingers will not work in this light,” he said, the loose dhoti still revealing his dark erect cock . “Do you want me to walk out into the courtyard like this?”
Monica faced him fully, chin slightly lifted, the wet black Bra leaving very little of her breasts to the imagination.
“Tauji … I am your bahu…. What sort of manner is this ? Is this what you do to girls in the village ? First you need the toilet while I’m half-naked. Now you need me to dress you while I’m still half-naked. Is there a third request coming, or should I be worried?”
Tauji smirked “ Beti I am not doing it on purpose”
She stepped forward anyway. The Bra was hardly able to hold her soaked breasts … The Bra clearly showed her erect nipples and chocolate colour large areolas.
All of Monica’s lovers were crazy for her Boobs.. it was partly due to her large areolas. Because men loved licking and sucking around large areolas …
Tauji was stunned to see the size… Village girls can never match her in Boobs size.. plus she was fair..milky white … Plus she loved wearing such skimpy Bra where good cleavage is seen even when she was in saree!! 
“What!!! His nephew Ustad fucks this girl everyday… What a luck his nephew has got while he was just playing hide and seek with his land in the village… He makes her nude everyday and fucks her every night … what a luck Ustad behenchod..” Old Tauji thought and got erect …
He looked down to her pussy…He was trying to figure out if Bahu shaves her cunt ..city girls often shaves their cunt because of hygiene… Tauji has read in the erotic magazines he read every night .. Yes he understood Monica had shaved her cunt clean… yes expected from a highly educated modern city Bahu!! Ustad get to lick that cunt everyday … lucky Ustad!!!!!!!!!

..As she reached for the ends of the dhoti, Tauji’s foot slipped on the wet stone. His thick hand landed on her bare, wet shoulder. His thumb brushed the thin strap of her bra. The straps were almost peeled off …The heavy, damp weight of her breasts was only inches from him.
“ Be careful Tauji … my Bra straps are really delicate”
Monica felt the heat of his palm and the clear intent behind it. She did not pull away at once. She looked straight into his face, eyes cool and cutting.
“I repeat ….Careful, Tauji. If you fall, I am not carrying you out of here. And I am absolutely not explaining to Taiji why her husband needed me to hold you up and tie your clothes.”
“ Ok Beti…tie two knots” 
She held up the dhoti to tie up.. before she could tie the old man muttered ..” Bahu ..can you spray some water .. I have to wash my this ..there is pee all over “
Unbelievably, the old man flashed his cock out and asked Monica to spray water on it. Monica was stunned at his audacity ..
“ What the fuck Tauji, do this yourself quickly ..how can you just flash that in front of me? Have you left your brain in your dick , moron ?”
Tauji casually lifted the water mug and washed his cock. “ Bahu.. you have to understand what diabetes do to your body “
“ Really? Diabetes is making you oogle at my ass and tits you mean to say ? How disgusting is this really ? Now are you done splashing water on your whatever !” 
Tauji casually shook his massive cock and said “ Yes Bahu… please ..tie the dhoti now .tightly “
Monica mocked “Yea thank you for being so quick”

She tied the knot with two firm, efficient tugs, then deliberately lifted his hand from her shoulder and stepped back.
“ Now Tauji please leave immediately….. before you would want my help to pee again ”
Tauji’s eyes made one last slow pass over her body.
“ bahu I will go and wait for you ..we will go to the ceremony together”
“Okay Please.. I will come out in ten minutes “
The old limped ahead to leave ..he was being careful about the slippery floor …
He turned around slowly and asked Monica “ Bahu..your panties are falling off ..Do you need any help?” 
Monica was about to close the door on him “ I… that’s not necessary, Tauji. They’re fine. You really don’t need to point it out so directly.” 
She slammed the door on Tauji who was almost about to lose balance

[SilverArrow]

I haven't read the latest updates yet, but I'd like to share my thoughts on the previous ones. 
Damn, what a fucking awesome update that was. 

Thanks your encouragement means a world to authors like us who toil through days and midnight to write ..
Thanks as always 
Your suggestion are always welcome 
Love much

[SilverArrow]

Superb setup, build up n climax to the long and sensual night &&and very smart n well written addendum with the Tharki Tauji erotica.

Thanks because you loved Tauji introduction 
Lot of readers did not quite enjoy it
You tell did you like it

[SilverArrow]

The update will come today afternoon or Evening 
Before that just want you all to visualise Monica up close and personal 
Let me know if she fits 

[SilverArrow]

:The village Sunday ceremony was already in full swing by the time they arrived. The air smelled of dust, frying pakoras, and incense from the morning rituals.
Monica sat between Ustad and Rakesh on a long wooden bench near the middle. She had changed into the new red silk saree Taiji had given her. The saree clung to her curves in the heat, the blouse cut just low enough to show the soft upper swell of her breasts when she moved. A thin gold chain rested against her collarbone. She looked every bit the proper new bahu
Rakesh was trying to look interested in a group of children performing a short play.
Monica leaned sideways, her lips almost brushing Ustad’s ear.
“This is fucking boring,” she whispered. “When does this nonsense get over?”
Ustad’s mouth curved. He turned his head just enough that only she could hear.
“You are the chief guest Monica..bear it”
“Chief guest!! Oh yea” mocked Monica!
Ustad paused and whispered  “I can arrange some great village stuff for you ..… gaanja. Wanna try?”
Monica’s eyes flicked sideways,
“Gaanja? Come on!! What if people find out the newly married bahu is smoking joints in the middle of the village mela?”
Ustad’s voice stayed calm, almost lazy
“No one will know.”
He waited until the children’s performance ended and the crowd clapped politely. Then he stood, walked over to the Village Pradhan who was supervising the programme, and spoke to him in a low, respectful tone. Monica watched from the bench as the Pradhan’s face lit up. A moment later the old man stepped onto the stage and announced
“Today we have a special honour. Our guest from the city, Rakeshji, will judge the children’s performances. He is first time in our village — please welcome him!”
Rakesh looked startled, then pleased in a nervous way. People around them began clapping and urging him forward. He glanced at Monica, who gave him an encouraging little smile, and then he was led to a chair at the front of the crowd.
The moment the attention shifted, Ustad’s hand found Monica’s wrist.
They stood quietly and slipped away between the tents, walking at a normal pace so no one would notice. A battered old Bolero was parked under a neem tree at the far edge of the ground. Ustad unlocked it. Monica climbed in
“ Gawd Ustad Miyan, you always make Rakesh the scapegoat!” giggled Monica
Ustad danced his eyebrows “ He will be busy for next two hours!”
After ten minutes Ustad slowed near a small, low house sitting alone in the middle of a wide green stretch of crops. He parked, told Monica to wait, and disappeared inside for a few minutes. When he came back he was carrying a small newspaper packet.
“This is good potent stuff,” he said as he got in and started the engine again. “Fresh.”
Monica looked at the packet, then out at the empty fields.
“What if I get high and Tauji or Taiji or Rakesh starts looking for me? What if someone notices we’re both gone?”
“They can’t leave the mela. Rakesh won’t be allowed to move a bit!  Taiji and Tauji are stuck with the organisers. No one is coming after us for at least two hours.”
Monica bit her lower lip, still not fully convinced.
Monica looked out at the empty fields, then up at the blazing afternoon sun.
“It’s too hot to sit anywhere outside,” she said. “My blouse is already sticking to me. And if someone sees us…”
Ustad glanced at her, then at the road ahead.
“Then we go back to the house.”
Monica’s head turned sharply.
“Are you crazy? What if Taiji or Tauji or someone comes looking? What if Rakesh finishes early?”
Ustad kept driving, calm.
“No one is leaving that mela for at least two hours.  The back side of the haveli will be empty. We’ll use the rear gate.”
They drove the long way around and entered through the narrow rear gate of the ancestral house. The courtyard on this side was quiet and deserted.
Monica sat down, the red silk saree spreading around her full hips. The blouse was already slightly damp from the heat, the fabric stretched tight across her heavy breasts. Ustad sat close, his thick thigh pressing against hers. He rolled two joints with steady fingers, lit one, took a deep drag, and passed it to her.
Monica inhaled.
The village gaanja hit her hard and fast. A heavy warmth spread through her chest and up into her head within seconds. Her shoulders dropped. She exhaled a thick stream of smoke and gave a low, surprised laugh.
“Fuck… this shit is strong.”
Ustad took the joint back, smoked, then poured clear desi liquor into the small steel cap and handed it to her. Monica drank. The burn went straight down her throat and settled hot in her stomach. Within minutes both of them were properly high — eyes heavier, bodies looser, the usual restraint thinning fast
They passed the joint in silence for a bit.
The village gaanja hit her hard and fast. A heavy warmth spread through her chest and up into her head within seconds. Her shoulders dropped. She exhaled a thick stream of smoke and gave a low, surprised laugh.
“Fuck… this shit is strong.”
Ustad took the joint back, smoked, then poured clear desi liquor into the small steel cap and handed it to her. Monica drank. The burn went straight down her throat and settled hot in her stomach. Within minutes both of them were properly high — eyes heavier, bodies looser, the usual restraint thinning fast.

They passed the joint in silence for a bit. The red blouse clung to Monica’s chest, a thin sheen of sweat making the fabric stick to the soft upper curve of her breasts.

Monica spoke first, voice lower and less careful.

“Rakesh is probably still sitting there trying to look important while those kids dance. Poor guy.”

Ustad exhaled smoke and laughed.

“He looked happy when they made him judge.”

Monica gave a short, crooked smile.

“He always looks happy when people give him something to do. You are such a bastard, Ustad… I know your plan.” She giggled, the sound loose from the high.

Ustad’s mouth curved.

“I thought he would be a bit suspicious… but your husband is really a good boy.”

Monica hit his arm playfully.

“You are such a dirty bully, Ustad Miyan. Is this how you treat my husband?”

“He deserves this bit, no?” Ustad laughed, low and unapologetic.

Monica laughed with him, voice thick and intoxicated.

“Shut up, Ustad. Be nice to him, you dirty bully.”

Ustad poured another measure of the raw village liquor into the cap and held it out.

Monica’s eyes widened slightly.

“Ustad… eww, another glass? I will be out for hours now. What will happen when Tauji and everyone comes back?”

Ustad pushed the small steel cap gently against her lower lip.

Monica let out a short laugh, shook her head, and drank it anyway with sassy ease.

“Ustad, don’t get your hopes so high, dirty bully.” She laughed again, the sound stumbling. “I am not so drunk also… see, I am stro… stro… strong!” She stuttered, then giggled at herself.

Ustad’s eyes moved over her flushed face and the way the blouse stuck to her skin.

“It’s hot outside. Look, you’re sweating. Let’s go inside.”

Monica protested immediately, words slightly slurred.

“Us… Ustad… no… no, not now. Whatever you… you are planning!”

Ustad leaned in close, voice a low, playful hiss.

“Shhh. Let me carry you inside.”

Monica tried to stand, still arguing.

“You’re very confident for a man who just got his dick sucked once… We are not doing anything now!”

Ustad didn’t answer with words. He simply slid one thick arm under her knees and the other around her back and lifted her off the khatiya in one smooth motion. Monica’s world tilted. Her arms instinctively went around his neck. The red saree shifted, one leg exposed high up her thigh as he held her against his chest.

“You’re such a bastard when you’re high, Ustad,” she said, but the words came out breathless rather than angry.

She was already pulling him in.

While he still held her suspended in his arms, Monica grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and crushed her mouth against his.

The kiss was immediate and messy.

Ustad’s grip tightened, one hand spreading wide under her thigh, fingers sinking into soft flesh, the other locked firmly around her back to keep her from slipping. Monica’s lips parted against his with no hesitation. Her tongue pushed into his mouth first — hot, wet, tasting of smoke and liquor. Ustad met it with equal hunger, sucking on her tongue, then sliding his own deep into her mouth.

The angle was different with her in his arms. Monica’s heavy breasts were pressed flat and high against his chest, the tight blouse leaving almost nothing between them. Every time she shifted, the soft weight of them dragged across his body. Her breath came in short, warm bursts against his face. Spit quickly made the kiss slick; a thin string of it connected their lips when they briefly broke for air before crashing back together harder.

Ustad adjusted his hold, lifting her slightly higher so her face was level with his. The movement made Monica gasp into his mouth. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck and the hard muscle of his shoulder. She kissed him like she was trying to crawl inside him — open-mouthed, continuous, making small desperate sounds every time his tongue stroked against hers.
His cock, already thick and fully hard, pressed against the side of her thigh through his trousers. Monica felt the heat and size of it and moaned, the sound vibrating between their mouths. Her hips shifted restlessly in his arms, the saree riding higher.

[SilverArrow]

Ustad carried her through the doorway without putting her down.

The moment they crossed the threshold he kicked the door shut behind them. The solid wood slammed with a heavy, final thud that rattled the frame. He did not reach for the latch. He walked straight to the narrow cot, floorboards creaking hard under his weight, and dropped Monica onto the thin mattress from a short height.

She landed on her back with a sharp bounce. The red silk saree spread out under her in messy folds. Her hair fanned across the pillow. For a second she lay there looking up at him
Then he climbed onto the cot.
One knee on either side of her thighs, pinning her legs closed. The mattress dipped hard under his weight. Monica’s hands came up against his chest, but there was no real resistance in them. Her eyes were still hazy from the gaanja and liquor, lips slightly swollen from the courtyard kiss.
Ustad’s hands shot to the front of her blouse!!!
He did not try to open the hooks. He grabbed the two edges of the fabric near her collarbone in both fists and yanked outward with sudden, brutal force.
The first hooks exploded open with sharp, violent pops.
Monica’s breath caught in her throat.
He did not pause. He yanked again, harder, ripping the remaining hooks free in a continuous, savage series of tearing sounds. The blouse split down the middle with a loud, ugly rip as the fabric gave way under his strength. The blouse was ruined in less than three seconds — torn wide open, exposing the black bra and the deep swell of her cleavage.

Monica stared up at him, heaving.
“You fucking animal—That Blouse was new…..Your Taiji gave me in the morning…..”
Ustad laughed. Saliva dripping from his hungry mouth. He grabbed the torn halves of the blouse, yanked them down her arms with the same rough force, and pulled the entire thing free. He crumpled the blouse in one fist and threw it hard toward the corner of the room.
Now only the bra remained.
Ustad laughed like a hyena…
Monica was shocked at Ustad’ raw force. As Ustad stared at her Bra filled tits, Monica snapped “ Ustad …No .wait ..you are not going to tear off my Bra.. it’s fucking expensive ..you chutiya!!”
Ustad laughed hard!
He hooked two thick fingers under the centre of the bra and yanked upward in one sharp, powerful motion. Luckily it did not tear but The hook gave away instantly… The delicate fashionable Bra was not meant for a savage like Ustad! The straps slid down her shoulders. The cups flipped up and over her breasts, freeing them completely.

Her heavy 36Ds tits spilled out obscenely into the cool air of the room — flushed, full, and soft, the dark nipples already tight and raised. They settled against her ribs, rising and falling with every rapid breath.
Ustad stared down at them, breathing hard.
Then he lowered his head and took the right breast into his mouth.
He opened wide and sucked as much of the soft, heavy flesh as he could fit, tongue pressing hard against the nipple, cheeks hollowing deeply. The wet, loud sound of suction filled the small room at once.
Monica’s back arched hard off the cot.
“Ahhh— fuck… Ustad—”
He sucked without mercy — deep, strong, continuous pulls that drew the nipple and a large portion of her breast into his mouth. Spit quickly made the skin shiny. He released her with a wet pop only to latch on again harder, then moved to the left breast and repeated the same hungry, open-mouthed suction.
Monica’s moans grew louder, higher, almost continuous.
“Nnngh… ahhh… you’re going to leave marks… you bastard… ahhh—”
He spat directly onto the right nipple, watched the thick drop run down the full curve of her breast, then smeared it with his thumb before sucking it back into his mouth with a loud, filthy sound. He did the same to the other side. The room filled with the wet, obscene noises of his mouth working her tits — long, deep pulls, soft bites, the rough scbang of his stubble against the sensitive underside of each breast.
“ Ustad ..ahhh.. stop biting with your teeth …madarchod…aahh “
Monica’s hands pushed weakly at his shoulders. Her moans kept spilling out, broken and shameless.
Monica’s head rolled to the side, mouth open, eyes glassy from the high and the overwhelming sensation. Even as the moans tore out of her, she was just lost in absolute pleasure of the merciless boobs suck.
Ustad finally released her breast with a last wet, dragging suck. Both nipples were dark, stiff, and shiny with spit. Red marks from his teeth and stubble already showed on the soft skin.
“Happy now…?” she breathed. “Or are you going to keep using them until I can’t wear anything tomorrow…”

[SilverArrow]

Ustad sat back on his knees between her spread legs and looked down at her.
“Stay exactly like that. ”
He reached over to the small wooden stool, grabbed the jar of thick, warm honey, and opened it. The golden liquid was almost fluid from the heat of the room.
Monica watched him through half-lidded eyes, still breathing hard.
“What the fuck are you doing now…?”
Ustad didn’t answer right away. He shoved his trousers down just enough to free his cock. It was already thick, fully hard, the dark head swollen and shiny. He gripped it at the base and tilted the jar.
A slow, heavy stream of warm honey poured onto the head of his cock.
Monica’s eyes widened as the golden liquid coated the sensitive tip and ran down the thick shaft in sticky, glistening strands.
“Ustad… are you fucking serious right now? You’re pouring honey all over your cock?”
He kept pouring until his cock was heavily coated and dripping onto her stomach. The sweet smell mixed with the scent of sex and smoke already in the room.
“Open your mouth,” he said, voice low and rough. “Wide. Now.”
Monica let out a short, breathless shock!
“You’re going to make me suck honey off your cock… You can’t be serious ?”
“Yes.” He shifted closer, the honey-slick head hovering right at her lips. “Open. I want that pretty mouth wrapped around my sticky cock.”



She held his gaze a second longer, then parted her lips with a defiant little smirk.
“Fine. But if you get this sticky mess in my hair I’m biting your fucking dick.”
Ustad pushed the sticky, warm head into her mouth.
The thick, sweet honey spread across her tongue instantly, mixed with the salt of his skin. Monica made a small sound of surprise. He fed her more, sliding deeper so the honey-coated shaft pushed past her lips.
“Suck it clean,” he told her. “Every fucking drop. Don’t waste any of it. I want that cock licked and sucked until it’s shining again.”
Monica closed her lips around him and started sucking. The honey made everything wetter, slipperier. Loud, sticky, filthy sounds filled the room as she worked her mouth up and down the coated length. Honey dripped from the corners of her lips onto her chin.
Ustad watched her with dark eyes, one hand buried in her hair.
“Suck it harder you beautiful Randi biwi of Rakesh!!! Ahhhh ahhh” Rakesh groaned like a pig!






Monica pulled back just enough to speak, lips already shiny and sticky, a thick string of honey still connecting her to him.
“You’re disgusting,” she breathed, but she didn’t pull away.
“I am.” He pushed back into her mouth, slower this time, letting her feel every sticky inch. “Now take it deeper. Clean the shaft properly. Use that tongue. Lick every drop of honey off my cock.”
Monica did. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, tongue working along the underside, gathering the warm honey as she went. The sweet taste mixed with the heavier taste of him. More honey escaped her lips and ran down her chin, dripping onto the upper curves of her still-wet breasts.
Ustad’s breathing grew heavier.
“That’s it… good girl. Keep sucking. I want that cock clean. Every sticky fucking inch. Look at the mess you’re making — honey and spit all over your face and tits.”
Monica moaned around him, the sound muffled and wet. She took him deeper, the sticky sweetness making it easier to slide. Her hands gripped his thighs while he slowly fucked her mouth with the honey-coated length.
When he finally pulled out, a thick string of honey and spit stretched from her lower lip to the shiny head of his cock. Monica was breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening, eyes still locked on him.

“Not finished yet. There’s still honey on the underside and around the base. Open again. Get every drop.” Ustad yelled at Monica..
Monica stared up at him, chest rising and falling, then slowly opened her mouth once more,
“You’re such a filthy fucking animal,” she muttered, voice husky. “Making me clean your sticky cock with my mouth like some cheap whore.”
“You love it.” He rubbed the head against her lower lip, smearing more honey across it. “Say it. Tell me how much you like sucking honey off my cock.”
Ustad pushed back in, deeper this time, until the honey-coated tip brushed the back of her throat. Monica gagged softly but didn’t pull away. She sucked harder, noisily, greedily, letting more of the warm, sticky mess drip down her chin and onto her already ruined breasts.
“Fuck… listen to those wet, dirty sounds,” he growled.
Monica pulled off just long enough to breathe and fire back, voice thick and defiant.
“Then stop talking and fuck my mouth properly, you bastard. Or are you just going to stand there dripping honey on me all night while I wait?”
He pushed back in, fucking her mouth in slow, sticky strokes, watching every filthy string of honey and spit stretch between them every time he pulled out. Monica took it, moaning, sucking, occasionally pulling off just long enough to mutter something sharp and breathless before opening for him again.
“Still some left on the base,” he said, voice rough. “Get it. Use your tongue. Lick it clean. Don’t leave a single drop.”
Monica leaned in, tongue dragging slowly up the thick, honey-slick shaft, eyes on his the whole time.
“Good. I want you tasting me every time you swallow tomorrow. Now clean it properly… suck harder… and don’t you fucking stop until I say so.”
Monica’s only answer was another wet, defiant moan as she went back to work, sucking him cleaner, dirtier, louder —

[SilverArrow]

Next part to be posted by 11AM