[SilverArrow]

Good story silver arrow....
But i thunk there are some hidden truths which will be revealed later on during confession from Monica.... Confession/explanation for Monica suddenly starting exercise with Ranga..... Tthe entangled shorts and track paint in the room......
Going for walks with Ranga..... Maybe Monica is being dominated by Ranga hidden from Rakesh's knowledge..... Cannot digest that dangerous goons being so gentle and polite with Monica and Rakesh.... Coming to Delhi/Noide is also some sort of plan between Ranga and Selvam

It's a long winding plan ...
May be Monica is also involved in all this ?
May be not ?
Who knows ?
No one is innocent in my story including Rakesh ..
Pls keep supporting

[SilverArrow]

Absolutely super...so fresh n exciting,keeps me wanting more n more.

Thanks... You have been my supporter all the year round 

Do suggest for improvement please ..it will help as an author and as an individual

[SilverArrow]

Fantastic....
I think rakesh is unnecessarily stressed about monica's Instagram video; it was just a workout video, like two workout buddies doing workout ;)

Yes ... Kinda echo your thoughts ...but probably you also know the dynamics are not so naive and innocent...
The reality of everyday rigmarole forces us however to downplay incidents towards accidental ocassion which is never the case ..

But thank you for reading and supportinf to the core 
Will update by day end

[SilverArrow]

Chapter 14: The confrontation

Rakesh walked into the apartment shoulder dropped after a great ejaculation in the car, fatigue building clearly all around.

Monica walked out of the kitchen carrying a ceramic serving dish. She looked entirely refreshed, her damp hair falling over the lapels of a pink silk robe tied loosely at her waist. The fabric parted with her unhurried movements, offering an unbothered view of her collarbone and slight cleavage.  

"You're very late, Rakesh," she said softly "Was the highway traffic very bad?"
Rakesh didn't move from the hallway edge. He swallowed hard, "Yes almost 2 hours of gridlock”
“ Oh okay.. Come ..Dinner is served!” Monica said

Rakesh turned towards her “ Mon…Monica ..what was that ?”

Monica paused near the head of the table "What is it?"

Rakesh stammered “The video Monica ?”

Monica shrugged “ Wait.. Which video you are talking about ?”

Rakesh pulled his smartphone from his pocket “The Instagram story. Half an hour ago. Explain to me why you were standing in our living room wearing nothing on top but a tiny, Black lace bra while Ranga stood behind you with his hands planted squarely on your bare waist"

His voice grew tighter as the humiliation spilled over. "And why did you have that flirty, sultry smile right into the camera lens while his chest was pressed against your back?"

Monica listened without interrupting once.

"Lower your voice, Rakesh," she said quietly. "And sit down so I can explain what actually happened."











https://ibb.co/rGWsCCC2


Rakesh didn't move at first, but under her steady gaze, his posture broke, and he sank into one of the wooden dining chairs. Monica walked over, pulling out the adjacent chair and s I itting close.

"I was already finishing my evening exercise set in the living room when Ranga Saab dropped by to return the spare garage key," Monica explained smoothly, her voice completely calm. "He saw me lifting the fifteen-pound dumbbells and casually commented that my wrist alignment looked off. I asked him inside for two minutes to help me on the posture”

"And that required taking your clothes off?" Rakesh asked bitterly.


"I didn't take anything off, Rakesh," Monica replied sharply. "I was already training in my Bra because it's soft and lightweight. It isn't even lingerie—it’s an unlined seamless bra. When you work out intensely, the fabric stretches, and because I was drenched in sweat, the straps loosened and it hung down a bit lower than usual. That’s all."
"And Ranga’s hands on your waist?" Rakesh pressed, leaning forward. "That bra looked completely skimpy on camera."


"He was standing behind me to help my posture”  Monica countered without blinking. "He told me to hold the position while he recorded a four-second clip so I could look at my own posture afterward"
She leaned closer, her tone shifting into a sharp, logical summary.


"And as for the upload? My hands were slick with sweat from the set. When I grabbed the phone to save the clip, my thumb slipped on the wet screen and hit the quick-share button to my public story. The second I realized it, I deleted it. Immediately after he stopped recording, I threw my oversized grey hoodie right back on over my shoulders. You're building a massive conspiracy out of thin air because of your own random insecurities."
Rakesh sighed “Monica did you read those comments? They were literally calling you a dirty tease ?”
Monica scoffed “ Rakesh… I don’t know what’s wrong with people ..We just shot as Gym buddies.. Yes I was in a skimpy Bra…and that’s why I deleted it thinking it would be inappropriate that’s all Rakesh!”
“Monica.. Ranga is a dangerous history sheeter… I mean you ought to be careful around him”
“ Rakesh.. It was just a small exercise we did together…stop over thinking for God sake….Now wash your hands and let's eat," Monica said softly, reaching across the corner of the table to dish out a portion of rice onto his plate.
They sat down over dinner still not talking to each other due to the tension.
Then as her silk sleeve brushed against his arm, her hand casually rested against his outer thigh. Suddenly, her fingers paused. Through the light cotton of his trousers, she felt a thick, crumpled lump in his pocket.
Without thinking Monica asked “ Why have you dumped used paper tissues in your pocket ?”
Rakesh stammered “ It’s nothing ..”


Slowly, without a word, Monica pulled out the ball of car wet-wipes he had used on the expressway.
She unfolded one of the tissues. A sharp, unmistakable scent of fresh ejaculate, mixed with cheap car sanitizer, immediately drifted into the warm air under the dining lights.
There was a big stain over Rakesh’s grey office trousers. The stain was clear and vivid.
Monica’s eyes snapped up to his….

"Are you serious, Rakesh?" Her voice dropped into a dark, lethal whisper. " You were sitting in your car doing this……?"
Rakesh went pale as death. All the air left his lungs as a wave of suffocating shame washed over him. "Monica... Its just sweat…"

“Rakesh.. please ..this stain on your pant is sweat ? Really”

“No ..I mean…!” Rakesh stammered badly

"Look at me!" she demanded sharply, slamming the damp wipe onto the glass table. "You walk shouting at me, acting like the moral, offended husband—and all the while, you were driving home with your trousers unbuckled? Answer me! Where did you do it?"

“Monica… it’s not what you think..”
“Rakesh…stop it … You really was shagging watching my video clip with Ranga Saab?”
Rakesh kept silent…

Monica asked calmly “ Where..where did you do it ?.. Now speak up Rakesh!”
"In... in the car," Rakesh choked out, unable to meet her gaze, tears of pure humiliation stinging his eyes. "On the expressway... When I was stuck in the grid lock."

"How?" Monica pressed mercilessly. "Tell me exactly what you did."

"I opened Instagram in the traffic," Rakesh confessed, his voice breaking, every shameful detail forced out under her fierce glare. "I saw the clip... I saw his hands on your waist... I couldn't stop looking at your body. My cock went rock hard... I unbuckled my belt right there in the car and stroked myself as fast as I could... staring at your clip until I came all over my steering wheel and my hands... I'm sorry, Monica... I'm so sorry..."




Monica stared at him in total silence.

For a long, agonizing minute, the room was dead quiet save for the hum of the air conditioner. But as Rakesh sat with his head bowed, She looked at the damp tissue on the table, then at her husband’s trembling, broken posture.
He wasn't genuinely angry about Ranga. His moral outrage was just a desperate cover for his own dark, uncontrollable arousal.

She picked up the dirty tissue by its edge, tossed it into the bin  "Finish your food, Rakesh ..I don’t know what to say!!” she said quietly, her voice entirely devoid of heat as she walked into the kitchen
The apartment was filled with uncomfortable silence. Monica had to check her official mail after dinner.
Rakesh walked in.

"Monica... please," Rakesh began, his voice raspy "I'm... I'm really sorry."
Monica didn't turn immediately.

"Sorry for what, Rakesh?" she asked softly. "For shouting at me or for getting caught ?"
"For everything," Rakesh admitted, swallowing the lump of burning shame in his throat. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I was embarrassed... terrified... and so deeply ashamed of what I did in the car. I took all my self-loathing out on you."
He paused and then said " The truth is, I was overwhelmed. Seeing you look so impossibly sexy in that black lace bra on a public screen... it drove me out of my mind."

Monica raised a single eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. She was listening closely now.
"Monica …You're my wife. Seeing another man's hands anywhere near your waist... it triggered something primitive in me. It made me furious, but it also made me dangerously horny for you. That’s why I couldn't stop looking at the clip on the expressway”

"I don’t know what to say Rakesh honestly” she murmured, “So you weren't disgusted by me? You were just wild with jealousy?"

"Yes," Rakesh breathed out "Yes, exactly."

"You really are something else, Rakesh," Monica giggled softly, shaking her head as she brushed past him toward the bedroom. "Freshen up. You look exhausted."

An hour later, the bedroom was pitch black,

Rakesh lay on his back quietly. Beside him, the mattress shifted. Monica rolled over, the soft silk of her nightgown rustling against the fitted sheet.
"Still awake?" she whispered

"I can't sleep," Rakesh rasped “ I keep thinking about the misunderstanding”
"It wasn't a misunderstanding, Rakesh," she whispered, back "You were just reacting to what you saw"
“ Yes I know …So you guys train together everyday nowadays?”
"Hmm… yea .. I mean whenever we both get time! His stamina is out of the world.. I can’t match him for sure”
“ You mean like a wrestler ?”

"More than a professional wrestler Rakesh…”

“ Oh really ?” Rakesh smiled

“Today For a split second, my heart stopped," Monica whispered playfully. "Because his hands were so massive, and my bra was so thin and drenched in sweat... I genuinely had this brief, ridiculous thought that if he pulled just a little harder to adjust my back, he might accidentally yank the straps right off my shoulders and tear it straight off me."
Rakesh’s heart hammered violently against his ribs. The visual she planted in his mind was raw, forbidden, and terrifyingly vivid.

Monica felt the sudden, rigid shift in his posture instantly. Her hand slid lower, her fingers effortlessly gliding beneath his waistband to wrap around his rock-hard shaft.

"Look at you," Monica purred, a subtle, triumphant smirk spreading across her lips in the dark as she gave him a slow, agonizingly firm squeeze. "You pretend to be horrified, Rakesh... but the second I tell you how massive his hands felt... you go rock hard "

"Monica... stop... that's not..." Rakesh groaned

"Don't lie to yourself," she whispered, her thumb massaging the tip of his erect cock…
She tightened her grip slightly, setting a slow, agonizingly steady pace that made Rakesh gasp into the dark, before her voice dropped into a feather-light, ambiguous whisper right against his lip.
"Next time you meet Ranga Anna ..just check his hands Rakesh"
“ Monica.. you seem to have become a fan of his hands!” Rakesh joked..
“Because his hands were the thickest I have ever seen in life Rakesh! Now sleep ..we both have office tomorrow “

[SilverArrow]

[SilverArrow]

[SilverArrow]

At four-thirty in the morning, long before the first hint of daylight filtered through the bedroom blinds, Rakesh sat wide awake. The room was chilly from the air conditioner, yet a cold sweat coated his neck. Beside him, Monica was sleeping peacefully

Moving with agonizing care, Rakesh eased himself up off the mattress. He reached silently toward her nightstand, his trembling fingers wrapping around the cool glass of her smartphone. His thumb traced the reverse ‘L’ pattern across the glass.
The device unlocked, casting a faint blue glow over his pale face.

With his heart hammering violently against his ribs, he opened WhatsApp and tapped straight into the chat thread with Ranga Saab. He saw that Monica had sent him the deleted Instagram video.
Rakesh scrolled up and down through the rest of the thread, searching for even a single hint of inappropriate messaging. There was nothing. No sexting, no coy emojis, no flirtatious banter. Just terse, professional lines about work and exercise schedules.

Rakesh slowly locked the phone and slid it back onto the nightstand in the exact position he had found it. A crushing wave of profound guilt and absolute inadequacy washed over him.

He felt pathetically small. Ranga hadn’t even attempted to seduce his wife; he simply possessed a natural, overpowering physical presence that didn’t require effort. The complete absence of secret flirting didn’t relieve Rakesh—it exposed how sordid and pathetic his own actions were.

By snooping through Monica’s private messages out of paranoid jealousy, Rakesh had only highlighted his own inferiority. He sat on the edge of the mattress, burying his face in his cold, trembling hands, overwhelmed by self-loathing.

[SilverArrow]

Chapter 15: The Land Registry


Next evening , Rakesh reached home early and walked toward the elevators, Bahadur, the head society watchman, stepped out from the security desk holding a yellow delivery slip.


"Rakesh Saab! Good evening," Bahadur greeted cheerfully "Glad you're back on time today. Just wanted to update you about the large parcel—a heavy wooden crate of cafe samples came around two o'clock."


"Oh, thanks, Bahadur," Rakesh said, reaching out his hand. "I'll carry it up now."
"No need, Saab! It's already inside your flat," Bahadur replied "Ranga Saab was just coming down the lift when the courier arrived. He saw the boy struggling and took care of it immediately. He pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocked your door, and carried the crate inside so that Monica bhabhi wouldn't have to strain herself when she got home. Very helpful gentleman!"


Rakesh froze in his tracks, all the air abruptly leaving his lungs.

"He... he pulled out a key?" Rakesh asked, his voice strained  "To my flat?"

"Yes, Saab! The spare key may be!" Bahadur added "He locked it right back up after putting the box inside."
Why would Monica give him a key? The question burned in Rakesh's brain. She hadn't mentioned a single word about handing over the key.


Bahadur saw Rakesh’s tense looks. Leaning casually against the security desk, Bahadur told Rakesh
"Actually, Rakesh Saab... I was a bit surprised myself when I saw Ranga Saab pull out that key," Bahadur murmured
"You know Mrs. Sharma from 402? She was standing right near the lift lobby when Ranga Saab unlocked your front door at two o'clock. She pulled me aside and asked, 'Bahadur, since when does this new man have the key to Rakesh’s flat? Does Rakesh even know about this?'"

Bahadur shook his head with a fake look of troubled sympathy.

"I tried to defend you, Saab! I told her it's just for your  business partnership. But you know how these building aunties talk... She just smirked and said, 'Business files or not, when another man walks into a house with his own key while the husband is at office, the husband is usually the last one to find out.' I told her to mind her own business."
The words struck Rakesh like a physical blow.

Rakesh nodded “Okay..Bahadur Thank you .. I will go up”


The evening Rakesh reached the apartment early, he walked straight into the silent foyer before Monica arrived. The wooden key holder by the entrance confirmed his worst fears—the spare key was gone. The watchman’s story was entirely true. A cold drop of humiliation settled in his chest, but he forced himself to stay quiet, his mind clogged by nasty insecure thoughts!

He sat quietly in the dark waiting for Monica. He did not bring the topic of spare key with her. But his internal heat simmered badly!

A few days later, the morning sun poured through the dining room windows. Rakesh sat at the wooden table over his morning tea and breakfast. Monica fresh out of the shower,  stood near the mirror putting on her office makeup. She wore only a thin, powder-blue robe tied loosely at her waist, its delicate fabric clinging softly to her damp skin.
The chime of the doorbell cut through the quiet apartment.

Rakesh set his teacup down, walked to the door, and pulled it open.

Without waiting for an invitation, Ranga stepped right past Rakesh

"We pulled it off, Rakesh!" Ranga announced, his heavy voice booming through the apartment with theatrical pride. "The land registrar cleared the entire file this morning!"

Monica gasped, her lipstick brush freezing in her hand. "Are you serious, Ranga Anna?!"
Overjoyed by the massive breakthrough for their joint venture, Monica didn't hesitate for a second. She lunged forward in pure excitement, throwing her arms tightly around Ranga’s neck.

Rakesh stood frozen just two feet away, his heart hammering violently against his ribs.
Ranga caught her smoothly, his massive arms wrapping around her waist to lift her slightly off her feet. Through the paper-thin silk of her robe, the contact was raw and immediate. As Monica laughed happily against his shoulder, Ranga’s broad, dark hand glided downward from her waist, moving freely and firm across the full curve of her ass.
"I told you I'd handle the government offices, Monica ji," Ranga chuckled

Monica turned to Rakesh, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Rakesh! Do you realize what this means? The Café project is now a reality…seriously!"

Rakesh swallowed hard, his voice raspy as he forced a tight smile. "That's... that's incredible news, Ranga saab."
"Incredible doesn't even cover it, Rakesh," Ranga said, slapping Rakesh heavily on the shoulder, his dominant presence filling the room. "You guys must consider yourself truly lucky .. understand ?"

“ Yes Ranga Saab seriously Thank you… can’t say you thanks enough” Monica blushed …
That evening, Monica had changed out of her work clothes into a soft, oversized jersey dress that slid easily off one shoulder. She sat close to Rakesh, her bare feet tucked under her on the chair

"I still can't believe the layout got cleared without a single query," Rakesh said "The municipal office usually drags commercial zoning files for at least four months”
Monica leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as she took a slow sip of red wine. "I know. My boss was stunned when I told him about the pre-approval letter this afternoon. He thought we were months away from breaking ground"


"Let’s go somewhere nice on Friday night to celebrate this Monica!"


"God, yes," Monica sighed  "I desperately need a distraction. Between the endless pitch decks and office politics, my brain is fried”


“ Will book a cozy table for us “ Rakesh said


Monica thought for a moment  "We should probably ask Ranga Anna along too, right? He put in so much legwork with the local officers to get those stamps signed off."


Rakesh did not react. Yes Ranga did put quite a bit.


"Of course," Rakesh agreed  "It’s his win as much as ours. We wouldn’t have the clearance deed sitting on our table without him”

[SilverArrow]

Chapter 16: The Tough Gym Day


2 days Later:

The steady drumming of rain against the balcony glass made the apartment feel completely detached from Sector 128. Rakesh had left early for his district audit, and by two in the afternoon, Monica had shut her laptop, completely done with her official calls. The lingering grey boredom settled fast. Looking at the empty hallway, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Ranga: . Was planning a proper workout! You wanna quickly join?

Ranga’s reply came back five minutes later: Give me an hour. I am still at the Registry office!”

Monica replied “Ok don’t get late”

When the doorbell chimed, Monica opened it to find Ranga standing in the doorway wearing a sleeveless black vest that stretched tight across his chest, making him look ominous and big. In each of his massive hands, he carried a heavy gym bag clanking with cast-iron dumbbells, a collapsible barbell, and extra weight plates.


"What is all this?" Monica asked, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. "Are we opening an underground gym now?"

"You complained your light pink dumbbells weren't giving you results," Ranga grunted, stepping past her and heading straight for the spare room. "You can't build a proper frame with those tiny pink rubber dumbbells you keep in the corner, Madam”

"Those pink ones keep me in shape just fine Ranga Saab" Monica replied, following him in. She wore a tight grey sports tee and high-cut shorts that left the full, toned length of her thighs bare. Her hair was pulled back into a loose topknot, a few stray dark strands resting against her collarbone.

Ranga dropped the gear onto the floor with a dull thud, turning slowly to look her up and down. His gaze didn't rush; it moved from her bare waist up to her chest, where the grey fabric held her full breasts tightly.

"We'll see about that," Ranga said, pulling out a solid steel barbell .."Warm up. Goblet squats first. Go down. Deep"
Monica dropped into a low squat, her thighs coming parallel to the floor.

"You're stopping two inches high," Ranga murmured. Before she could rise, his heavy, warm hands settled firmly on her waist. His thumbs pressed into the small of her back, locking her in place at the bottom of the movement. "Hold it right there."









Monica gasped slightly at the sudden, firm grip “Its hurting now, I am getting up!”
"Not yet, I did not say that yet !” Ranga commanded

She pushed up, re-racking the kettlebell, her skin flushed and glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. "You're a tyrant. My thighs are already aching by now!”

After the squats, Ranga ordered “ Lie down on your back now on the mat. QUICK!”
Monica laid down on her back, resting the padded barbell across her protruding soft ass. Ranga knelt beside her, bracing one broad palm firmly on her inner thigh to keep her knee from turning inward as he loaded an extra plate.

"That’s excessive, Ranga Anna," she said, looking up at him from the mat. "Are you trying to break me?"
" Just do as I say… don’t interrupt me.. You can handle it," he said

Monica drove her hips high into the air. The heavy movement forced her chest upward, the thin fabric of her top straining against her curves. As she held the position, Ranga’s hand didn't leave her thigh—in fact, his thumb moved slowly, deliberately pressing into the soft, naked skin just beneath the hem of her shorts.
"Hold at the top," he commanded. "Two seconds"

"I can’t hold more Ranga Anna…aahhh”  Monica panted, her breath coming short, though she didn't pull away from his touch.

"I'm just making sure you do the work," Ranga said, his eyes dropping to where his thumb rested against her inner leg.
"Give a man a mirror and two dumbbells, and he thinks he's an Olympic trainer," Monica mocked with a playful smile
Ranga didn't step back. "Last set. Seated fold. Let's stretch out those hamstrings."
Monica sat up on the mat, extending her legs forward and reaching for her toes. Ranga sat directly behind her, his large frame straddling the mat. He leaned forward, his chest pressing lightly against her bare back, his hands sliding down her arms to guide her posture deeper down. The heat radiating off his body enveloped her completely.
"Deeper, Monica," he whispered close to her ear.

"If I go any deeper, I'm going to fall" she muttered, but she allowed him to push her further, letting out a low exhale.
His hands slowly shifted from her wrists, sliding up the sides of her arms to her waist, and then rising just enough for his fingers to graze the underside of her heavy tits through the damp fabric. He kept her pinned in the stretch, his touch firm, steady, and unhurried.

Monica’s eyes remained open, fixated on the wall mirror right in front of them. She watched his dark, heavy hands resting against her skin, a contrast which looked wrong and forbidden to the core.
Ranga loaded a heavier, solid-iron dumbbell and handed it to her with a low grunt.
"Single-arm rows," he ordered, “Brace your knee on the leather. Pull straight to your hip, not your shoulder."
Ranga stood uncomfortably close behind her, his large hand hovering just an inch off her lower back to monitor her form. "Hey…hey .More control on the way down, Monica. You’re dropping it too fast."

I’m not dropping it fast Please" she panted, her lips curling into a stubborn smile as she completed the eighth rep.

After she finished, Ranga took the heavy dumbbell from her hand. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached down, grabbed the hem of his vest, and peeled it over his head in one motion. He didn't pause. Holding the heavy dumbbell in his right hand, Ranga began curling the iron with a steady, effortless rhythm—The thick veins across his bicep stood out like ropes under his skin. He knocked out fifteen crisp, flawless repetitions
Monica leaned against the wall mirror, one hand resting on her waist as she watched him work.
"Showing off now, are you?" she teased,

"These took years to build, Monica ji for your information!”
"I could see that" she smirked softly.

"I built most of this inside."

Monica’s eyebrows lifted, her curious gaze lingering on his broad torso. "Inside?"

"Jail," he said flatly, “Four years. There's nothing else to do in there except lift whatever scrap iron they let you have and make sure you don't go soft. You either stay strong, or you become someone else’s problem."
"That must be difficult no?" she asked softly, her eyes holding his in the mirror's reflection.
Ranga didn't pull away. He let her hand stay right where it was on his bare triceps, feeling the heat of her touch. "Loud. Boring. Political," he murmured. "You learn real fast who to stand next to and who to ignore. The food was garbage. The sleep was worse. The only thing in that place for me was the routine—wake up and work out and think of business plans when I will be out”

Monica kept her palm resting against his skin for a lingering second longer before slowly letting her hand drop back to her side. she murmured, a faint smirk returning to her lips. "No wonder you're so ruthless now."
When they finally called a halt, Monica let out a long exhale, rolling her shoulders and wincing with theatrical dramatic flair.

"Ahhh…God, everything hurts," she groaned, touching the top of her neck and right shoulder "Especially right here in the shoulder. You’re an absolute sadist, Ranga Anna.

Ranga picked up a small towel from his bag and wiped his face and neck. "It’ll settle by tomorrow morning. Your body just needs to calm down."

Monica tilted her head. "I don't have time until tomorrow morning. I have a dinner tonight with my college gang. If I show up moving like an old lady, Neha will never let me live it down."

Ranga paused, looking at her flushed face and damp hair. "You actually have a dinner tonight?"
"Yes .Baba …Neha’s in-laws are visiting Delhi," Monica explained, leaning back against the wall to catch her breath. "She invited the old group over. I said yes long before I knew you’d try to kill me with your exercise regime”
Ranga was quiet for a moment. "I have a solution for that."

"What solution?"

"Eucalyptus oil," Ranga said simply. "Proper, raw stuff from Tamil Forests. Cuts through muscle pain better than any chemical ointment you buy at the chemist. We use it on the site after heavy labor."


Monica hesitated, picking up her water bottle and taking a slow sip. "I can just spray some Volini or put a heat patch on it."

Ranga shook his head firmly. "Ointments just sit on the top layer of skin. This oil goes deep into the muscle tissue. It’s sticky as hell, but it works instantly. Only way to make it absorb right is a proper, hard massage."
Monica studied his broad, shirtless frame, still flushed from the brutal workout and feeling the lingering heat radiating between them. "Do you even have that oil with you?"

"It’s at my place," Ranga said, gesturing toward the balcony
Monica gave a small, reluctant nod. "Fine. Go bring it. But don’t get any ideas, Ranga Anna... it’s strictly for my shoulders."

"Five minutes," he repeated, his deep voice carrying a quiet, unmistakable weight as he stepped out into the hallway.

[SilverArrow]

Chapter 17: The massage

Ranga returned within five minutes, holding a heavy amber glass bottle with no commercial label, filled with a thick, golden-green liquid.

"What is that?" Monica asked, her eyes falling on the glass container as he stepped into the hallway. "It looks like raw engine oil."

"Pure eucalyptus extract from down south,"
Ranga said, unhooking his heavy watch and setting it on the side table. "It’s thick, dark, and sticky as hell. You put this on, and the muscle pain dies in ten minutes."

Monica frowned slightly, inspecting the viscous liquid inside the bottle. "Where are we supposed to do this? Definitely not on the bed or the sofa. If a single drop gets on the leather couch, Rakesh will spend three days crying about this”
Ranga gave a short nod. "Bathroom is better. Easy to rinse off."

"And where am I sitting in the bathroom? On the cold floor tiles?"

"Let's go and have a look," Ranga rumbled, grabbing the bottle by its neck and stepping down the hallway toward her bathroom.

In the center sat a deep, oval ceramic bathtub, completely dry and clean.
Ranga pointed one thick finger at the dry tub. "In there. It’s smooth, dry, and we can flush the oil down the drain when we're done."

Monica let out a breathy, incredulous laugh. "You're joking, right? You expect both of us to fit inside the bathtub? It’s a tub, Ranga Anna, not a Jacuzzi for two."

Ranga didn't bother arguing. He simply swung one heavy leg over the porcelain edge, stepping right into the tub and sitting down against the curved backrest, his broad, bare chest taking up half the space. He patted the smooth porcelain in front of his knees. "Get in, Monica. Stop wasting time."

Monica looked at his shirtless frame, his dark shoulders, and the amber bottle in his hand. Shaking her head with a dry, helpless chuckle, she stepped over the high porcelain ledge and slid inside, settling down right between his spread knees.

Her back sat just inches from his chest, the heat radiating off his skin warming her shoulders. Ranga popped the cork from the bottle, and the sharp, intoxicating fumes of eucalyptus instantly filled the enclosed bathroom.
"Your top is going to get completely ruined with this stuff," Ranga said, his deep voice vibrating right behind her spine. "It stains fabric permanently."

Monica twisted halfway, making a face. “Ranga Anna…”








He gave a low, unapologetic laugh. “You have a bra underneath. Nothing to worry about. Take it off or the oil will soak straight through”

She held his gaze for a beat, then exhaled and reached for the hem of her grey sports tee. She peeled it up and over her head in one smooth motion. The fabric left her skin with a soft sound. Ranga took it from her hand and tossed it into the far corner of the bathroom without looking.

The bra she wore underneath was thin black cotton one, the fashionable minimalist Bra which Monica loved wearing. It sat obscenely low on her tits. The underband cut across the fullest part of her massive breasts, pushing the soft upper flesh up and out so that more than half of each heavy tits sat completely exposed, the dark edges of her areolae just visible where the cups failed to cover. The straps were narrow, delicate, already digging faintly into her shoulders from the earlier sweat.


Ranga’s eyes dropped once at Monica’s hot half naked tits, openly, then he poured more oil into both palms and rubbed them together until they shone.

“Ranga Anna..Please be careful with the straps,” Monica said quietly, almost a warning. “They’re thin. You’ll snap them if you pull.”

Ranga only grunted in answer. He placed both hands on the back of her neck.
The first contact made her spine straighten.

The oil was so thick it dragged. His thumbs pressed into the tight muscle at the base of her neck and began to work outward in slow, heavy circles. Every stroke left a shining trail. The eucalyptus scent bloomed hotter between them, sharp enough to sting the inside of the nose

“Relax your shoulders,” he murmured near her ear. “Sit comfortable” Ranga said
“I’m trying,” she breathed. “Your hands are… heavier than the dumbbells.”
He didn’t answer. He simply poured another slow stream of oil directly onto the slope of her right shoulder. It sat there in a golden pool before his palm spread it down across the shoulders, fingers sliding under the thin bra strap and lifting it just enough for the oil to slip beneath. The fabric darkened instantly. When he let the strap settle again it clung wetly to her skin, almost transparent.

Monica’s head tipped forward a fraction. “It’s so sticky… God, it’s actually sticking to your fingers.”


That’s why it works,” Ranga said.  Both hands now moved in long, deliberate strokes from the base of her neck out to the points of her shoulders, then down the upper arms and back again. Each pass made a soft, wet sound. The oil turned her skin into something glossy. In the mirror above the sink she could see the shine spreading, the way his dark hands looked against her lighter skin, the way her expensive minimalist bra straps now glistened like wet ink.
He shifted closer. His bare chest pressed fully against her back. The oil transferred, making their skin stick and unstick with every small breath. His thumbs dug deeper into the knots along her shoulder blades. Monica let out a low, involuntary sound.

“Ahh…” the unmistakable pleasure made Monica ask for more  

“There,” Ranga said. “That’s the one that was locking up.”

“Gawd ..Anna .. this oil is so refreshing..,” she whispered, almost against her will.
Ranga’s hands slid forward over the fronts of her shoulders. His fingers brushed the upper curves of her breasts where the bra left them naked. He didn’t pull away. Instead he gathered more oil and began to work it into that soft, exposed flesh in slow circles, thumbs stroking just above the cups, pushing the fabric a fraction lower with every pass.

Monica’s breath caught. “Ranga… the straps…”

“I’m being careful.” His mouth was close enough that she felt the words against the shell of her ear. “But the oil is making everything slide. Look.”

She did. In the mirror she watched his hands, shiny and deliberate, moving over the heavy upper swells of her breasts. The thin black fabric of her Bra had soaked through completely in places. The outline of her nipples pressed visibly against the damp cotton. A thin rivulet of oil escaped his fingers and ran down into the deep valley between her breasts, disappearing under the underband.

Ranga’s palms cupped the outer curves more openly now, thumbs sweeping inward across the soft, oiled skin. The sticky resistance made every movement feel heavier, more intentional.

“Your skin is taking all of it ..That’s very good” he murmured. “No more dry patches. Look at the shine.”
Monica’s head rested back against his shoulder. Her eyes stayed half-open, watching them in the mirror—the contrast of his rough, veined hands on her, the way the oil made everything look wetter


“This is… very warm as well.. the oil is just so heavy… Ahhhhh..” she said, voice quieter.
Ranga’s answer was a low hum against her neck as His hands never stopped moving. Fingers slipped under the thin straps again, easing them outward so the cups shifted lower still. More of her breasts spilled free, heavy and gleaming. He poured a final slow stream of oil directly into the valley between them and began to work it over the newly exposed skin with both palms, careful not to snap the delicate straps, yet deliberate enough that every stroke pushed the fabric further from what it was meant to cover.








Monica’s breathing had gone shallow. The bathtub felt smaller. The eucalyptus scent was everywhere now—sharp, cooling, and somehow filthy the way it mixed with the heat of their bodies.

“Ranga Anna…” she whispered.

He didn’t stop. His hands kept moving in slow, heavy circles, spreading the thick oil until her chest and shoulders shone like polished wood under rain, until the thin black bra was nothing more than wet, useless lines cutting across gleaming skin.

“Let the oil gets deep… that’s when the real pain relief with happen Monica!” Ranga said …

Monica’s head tipped forward a little more.


“It’s actually working… the pain feels controlled now Ranga Anna .. Shoulders aren’t locking the same way.”
Ranga’s hands kept moving, slow and heavy. “It’ll absorb deeper. Give it time.”
He poured another thin stream of the thick oil across the tops of her shoulders. His fingers found the thin black straps, slid underneath them, and began easing them outward. The wet fabric stretched and then slipped down her arms in one smooth motion.

Monica’s body stiffened.
“Ranga Anna—what are you doing? My straps—”

“It’s better,” Ranga said calmly, voice close to her ear. “Your Bra is absolutely already soaked. It’s just Useless now Monica”

The cups had nowhere to go. They settled loosely against the lower curves of her breasts, resting right on her nipples while her large Chocolate brown areolas sat fully exposed above the wet edge of the Bra. Her areolas were the sexiest part of her Breasts

Now, she was effectively topless, the heavy soft weight of her tits gleaming under the bathroom light, oil running in thin shiny lines between them.


Ranga’s palms returned to that newly bare skin without pause, spreading more oil in wide, deliberate circles. The sticky drag of his hands made every stroke feel heavier. Monica’s breath shortened. The muscle pain had faded into the background. What replaced it was a low, spreading heat that had nothing to do with eucalyptus. Monica was beginning to moan by the impact of pleasure.. She knew her moans were getting heavy inside the four walls of the bathroom. Her moans echoed and that made it sound filthy dirty and erotic inside the bathroom. Ranga heard it nonchalantly absolutely not giving any respite to Monica from the undeniable pleasure of the oil massage.


“I learned this inside,” Ranga murmured, thumbs sweeping under the full underside of each breast. “the Jail. Old guy from Madurai taught a few of us. Said nothing empties the head faster than proper oil massage. He wasn’t wrong. Right Monica ?” Ranga was now torturing Monica with the carnal pleasure he was giving to her.
Monica’s eyes were half-closed in the mirror. A soft sound escaped her throat when his thumbs brushed closer to her nipples. “ Ahhhh…ahhhh”

The pleasure peaked when Ranga’s fingers played with her areolas.. Monica had such sensitive areolas only she knew ..how much she loved such treatment of her areolas .


“Ranga Anna… at least… put…put the bra back… you’re making me—”


The sentence broke into another low moan as he cupped her more firmly, lifting the weight of her tits in both hands, testing how much they overflowed his palms. She tried again, voice uneven.
“Put it… back… you’re almost… ah—”


Ranga’s mouth stayed near her ear. “How’s the pain now?”


She forced the moan down long enough to answer. “It’s gone. Just… put the bra in place..please”
He didn’t. Instead he hooked his fingers under the loose, oil-soaked cups and slowly peeled the entire bra forward and off her body. The wet fabric clung for a second, then came free.


Monica’s protest came louder this time. “Ranga— I’m not getting nude for a massage—”
“No one’s walking in,” he said, calm as ever.

“ Ranga  No..please what the fuck!!!!! “

Monica watched as he tossed the soaked bra toward the far corner of the bathroom. It landed with a soft, heavy slap against the tiles. “This is far better for the oil. Nothing blocking it now Monica.”
Her tits sat fully free, large, heavy, and shining with the rough sticky oil. The oil made them look almost polished. Ranga’s hands returned immediately, open and hungry, spreading more of the thick liquid over every inch, lifting them, squeezing, watching them move.

“Woww.. you have such beautiful breasts …Best I’ve seen,” he said, voice lower. “Even for my hands they’re huge.”
“Ranga.. What you think you are doing..This is just fucking inappropriate!” Monica breathed hard while speaking …
Ranga chuckled “ Relax! You can thank me later when the pain vanishes . Right now enjoy the art I learnt in the prison “

“You are impossible”

Monica twisted just enough to half-heartedly shove at his shoulder with one oily hand.
“I asked for a gym session, not to sit naked in a bathtub with you, you asshole.”
Ranga laughed, thumbs circling her nipples now, slow and deliberate, coating them until they stood tight and glossy under his touch. Her head dropped back against his shoulder enjoying his touch to the core . The protest stayed in her voice, but her body had already stopped fighting the way his hands claimed every oiled curve.
The cramped porcelain tub creaked subtly as Ranga shifted his heavy frame. Without breaking eye contact, he swung his leg over, turning around to face Monica directly face to face. His broad, dark chest filled her entire field of vision, the sharp, medicinal scent of the warm eucalyptus oil radiating off his skin in waves.


Ranga... wait, what are you doing?" Monica gasped, her breath catching as his dark knees pinned her legs against the smooth white porcelain..



"Can't reach the tension in the chest from behind, Monica" Ranga rumbled smoothly, his voice dropping into a thick, raspy murmur.


Before she could process a reply, he tipped another heavy pool of dark oil onto his palms, rubbed them together with a friction-filled slide, and slammed both broad,  hands flat over her exposed breasts.
"Ranga! Ah— stop!" Monica choked out, her hands flying up to grip his thick wrists. "This isn't... this isn't just a shoulder massage anymore!"


Ranga didn't back off even an inch. His dark eyes locked onto hers, a wicked, unyielding smirk tugging at his lips as his hands began to knead her heavy breasts, squeezing and molding her breasts with brutal, unhurried dominance.
"You said your body was sore, didn't you?" Ranga grunted softly “You want the pain gone or not?"
"Ranga, please— mmff..." The protest died in her throat, dissolving into a low, shuddering moan that echoed softly off the bathroom walls.


Her fingers, which had initially gripped his wrists to push him away, suddenly lost their strength, sliding down to clutch the smooth rim of the bathtub for support.

She bit her lower lip hard, trying to hold back the sounds, but Ranga’s hands were merciless.
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Monica," Ranga commanded softly, his voice a low vibration over the sound of her rapid breathing...


Monica opened her heavy, half-closed eyes, looking sideways at the vanity mirror across the room. Her cheeks were burning red, her hair tumbling out of its topknot, her flushed, half-naked body pinned helplessly beneath Ranga’s shirtless, dominant frame. Her chest was completely covered in dark green, glistening oil, held and crushed inside his dark, calloused hands.


"You're... you're unbelievable, Ranga Anna," Monica whispered, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as she arched her back into his touch, completely surrendering to the dirty, thrilling heat filling the small room.
From that moment, Ranga’s hands  never left her.


“Look at your big tits, Monica. Shining from my oil. You want to wash this off now?”
Monica’s head was still tipped back against the porcelain, chest rising fast. Her voice came out uneven, thick with the same heat that had already soaked through her.


“I… I don’t know. This isn’t right. You should leave now, Ranga Anna.”
He smiled, slow and knowing, thumbs still brushing over her tight, glossy nipples.
“You didn’t answer. Shall we rinse the oil off?”


She let out a short, frustrated breath


“I don’t know, okay? I didn’t expect the massage would turn into… this.”
Ranga’s eyes stayed on her face. “I can help you wash it off if you need.”

Monica’s fingers flexed against the edge of the tub.

“What now?”


“Look.” That was all he said before he dropped his head and took her right nipple into his mouth.
Monica’s whole body jerked.

“Ranga—fuck—what are you—”


The protest was weak, almost automatic, and it died the second his tongue dragged hard over the oiled peak. He sucked strongly, wet and greedy, cheeks hollowing, while one hand kept mauling the other breast without mercy. The filthy, rhythmic sound of his mouth filled the small bathroom.


“Ahhh—shit—Ranga Anna—stop—mmhh—”


She kept trying to form sentences, but every one broke apart into louder, longer moans. Her hands came up to his head—not pushing, only holding—as he switched to the left nipple and sucked even harder, teeth grazing, tongue swirling through the thick eucalyptus. Oil and saliva mixed and ran down the underside of her breast. He followed the trail with his mouth, biting softly at the soft lower curve before returning to the nipple again.
Monica’s moans climbed. They bounced off the bathroom wall, raw and uncontrolled, the kind of sound that could be easily heard by a neighbour.


“God—your mouth—Ranga—this is so fucking—ahhh—”


He didn’t answer with words. He just kept sucking, long filthy pulls that made her back arch and her thighs tighten around him. One of her hands slid from his head to his shoulder, nails digging in. The other stayed locked on the tub rim like it was the only solid thing left...


The protests were completely gone and only the broken, hungry sounds of two people who had stopped pretending remained.

[SilverArrow]

Excellent update..... Ranga is going to blend Monica into having the pleasure with him.... i think next will be a blowjob from Monica to him after he has sucked onto the tits to his hearts content.....
Thank you SilverArrow for this wonderful update.....

Thanks ..but will that not be very direct too soon ???

[SilverArrow]

What...A.....update.

Thanks for your support

[SilverArrow]

Ranga’s mouth was locked on her right nipple, sucking hard and wet, the thick eucalyptus oil mixing with his saliva and running down the underside of her breast in shiny trails. He wasn’t gentle. He pulled the tight peak deep into his mouth, cheeks hollowing, tongue dragging in slow, filthy circles before he sucked again—long, rhythmic pulls that made wet, obscene sounds fill the small bathroom.


Monica’s head was thrown back against the porcelain, one hand tangled in the short hair at the back of Ranga’s head, the other gripping the edge of the tub so hard her knuckles were white.

“Fuck… Ranga… your mouth—”

He switched to the left nipple without warning, biting down just enough to make her jolt, then sucking even harder. His free hand crushed the other breast, fingers sinking into the soft, oiled flesh, squeezing and lifting it so he could get more of it into his mouth. The sticky oil made every movement louder, wetter. Spit and oil coated her areolas, making them glisten under the bathroom light.

Monica’s moans had turned raw and broken. Every strong suck pulled another sound out of her—low, helpless, filthy. Her hips kept shifting restlessly against the floor of the tub. She could feel how hard he was through his shorts every time he leaned in closer.

Ranga released her nipple with a wet pop, looked up at her flushed face for a second, then dragged his tongue slowly from the underside of her breast all the way up to the tip again before taking it back into his mouth. He sucked like he was trying to leave a mark, greedy and relentless, while his hand kept mauling the other breast without mercy—pinching the nipple, rolling it, then crushing the full weight of it in his palm.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Monica gasped between moans

He kept sucking, switching from one nipple to the other, leaving both of them red, wet, and throbbing. The bathroom smelled thickly of eucalyptus and sex. Monica’s moans were getting louder, echoing off the tiles, when—
The doorbell rang—sharp, loud, twice in a row.

Monica panicked hard. This was unexpected.

“Shit!! Who the hell is that?” she hissed, voice still rough from moaning. “Ranga—stop. Now. Ranga I said stop!!”
He released her slowly. A thin string of oil and saliva stretched between his lip and her glistening nipple before it broke. Monica grabbed her phone from the side of the bathtub with sticky fingers. The screen lit up:
Three missed calls from the intercom.  

One fresh message:

**Delivery Attempt Failed for Order #90412. Recipient unavailable. Item [Designer Silk Saree – Express Delivery] returning to warehouse.**


“No, no, no—” Her voice cracked. “That’s the saree for tonight. Neha’s dinner. If he takes it back I have nothing to wear.”
She lunged for the bath towel to cover her nude tits. Ranga’s hand closed around her wrist before she could pull it free.

“Don’t.”

“Ranga, let me go! He’s leaving!”

“Look at your skin.” His voice stayed completely calm. “That oil is thick as pitch. If You throw a towel on, it will stick to your skin badly,  ruins the fabric, and leaves lint everywhere”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” she whispered.. her tits still shining and slightly swollen from his mouth.
Ranga’s oil-slicked fingers rested on her hip

“You don’t have to put anything on. Go to the door. Keep the chain on. Open it two inches. Sign, take the parcel, then just close it.”

Monica stared at him. “Are you insane? I am completely topless.. I will open the door like this?”
“He can’t see through the wooden door.. Can he ? Why harm your skin .” Ranga murmured,  “Unless you open it wide”


The doorbell buzzed a third time. Footsteps started moving away down the corridor.
“Dammit!”

She didn’t argue further. Driven by pure panic and leftover heat, Monica walked naked down the hallway wearing only her gym shorts and having her entire top part of the body fully naked!  Every inch of her torso gleaming under the apartment lights. The heavy scent of eucalyptus followed her.

At the front door she pressed her back flat against the wall, slid the safety chain into place, and opened the door exactly three inches.









Bright corridor light cut a thin vertical strip across her collarbones and the outer curve of one breast.
“Ma’am? Monica Sharma?”








A middle aged  delivery man stood in the blue uniform in the corridor with a scanner in hand.
“Yes,” she said, voice tight, body pressed hard into the shadow. “I’m right here. Just… give me the parcel quickly.”
“Need your signature first, ma’am. It’s a Company policy.”

He stepped closer and tried to slide the paper for signature through the narrow gap. The pen caught on the chain and slipped from his fingers. Instinctively he leaned in to catch it, shoulder pressing against the door leaf.
The angle widened.

The courier guy looked up—and froze.

Through the gap he had a clear, unbroken view of Monica standing completely naked. Thick eucalyptus oil coated every inch of her torso, turning her skin glossy and wet under the light. Her full, heavy breasts shone; the nipples still tight and slightly swollen, a thin line of oil running down between them. The sharp medicinal scent drifted into the hallway.

The delivery guy’s mouth opened. His eyes locked onto her nude tits and stayed there.
“I… uh…” he stammered.

Monica’s face burned. She could feel exactly where he was looking.

“Just—hand me the paper,” she said, voice rushed and breathless. “Please.”

He blinked, still staring. “Ma’am… so..sorry ..…”

“I was bathing,” she cut in quickly, cheeks on fire. “

Just give me the papers so I can sign and you can go.”
The courier’s face turned deep red, but his eyes flicked down to her glistening breasts one more time before he forced them up.

“S-sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to—here.”

He pushed the paper through the gap. Monica reached out with her oily arm, the side of her breast briefly catching more light as she moved. She scribbled her signature in one jagged stroke.
“Done,” she said, almost pushing the tablet back at him

“Yes, ma’am—sorry again—here your parcel”

He shoved the heavy cardboard parcel through the opening without looking directly at her. Monica grabbed it with both hands and pulled it tight against her bare, oily tits, using it as a shield.
“Thank you. You can go now,” she said, already starting to close the door.

“Y-yes, ma’am. Have a good day,” he managed, still flustered, before the door shut hard in his face.


The heavy teak door closed with a sharp, resonant thud, the lock turning automatically as Monica slumped back against the wood.

"He saw everything, Ranga..." Monica gasped out, "God... he literally saw everything."
Ranga didn't step back. “Everything means what, Monica "

Monica glared at him, a nervous laugh escaping her lips as she adjusted hair. "Don't play innocent with me! You know exactly what! He got the full premium package — tits, nipples, oil shine, the complete set!  He didn't just glance—he stared right at them!"


"And what did you tell the poor guy?"

Ranga asked softly, his tone dripping with quiet sarcasm.

"I told him I was bathing!" she hissed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of crimson. "What else was I supposed to say? 'Excuse me, my business partner was eating my tits out in the bathtub, so please ignore my naked tits'?"

Ranga let out a low, deep chuckle that vibrated through the quiet foyer. "At least you got your saree. If you’d listened to your own brilliant idea and spent ten minutes finding a towel, that box would be on its way back to the warehouse right now."

Monica rolled her eyes

"Look at the clock," she sighed, running a hand over her forehead. "I have to leave for Neha’s dinner in less than an hour. It’s going to take me at least twenty minutes under scalding water just.

Any help needed with the rinsing part?" Ranga asked smirking

Monica turned around, shooting him a sharp, sarcastic look, though her lips twitched with a reluctant smile. "Help? The last time you offered to 'help' with my muscle stiffness, you ended up eating my tits like you hadn't eaten in a week. No thank you, Ranga Anna. Your idea of 'help' is a complete hazard."
Ranga laughed out loud, a short, booming sound "The shoulder pain is gone, isn't it?"
Monica paused, rolling her left shoulder in a slow circle.

To her annoyance, the sharp knot that had been locking up during her workout had completely vanished, replaced by a deep, heavy warmth.
"Yes" she muttered, adjusting the saree box under her arm. "The pain is gone. Now get out of my house before  someone else find us together like this!”

"Okay see you soon Bhabhi" Ranga rumbled, giving her one last sweeping look from her bare waist to her eyes before turning the deadbolt. "Enjoy your college reunion”

Monica paused at the bathroom doorway, looked back over her shoulder, and gave him one last dry, pointed smile.
“You’re a complete asshole, Ranga Anna.”
“I know.”
He watched her disappear into the bathroom, then quietly collected his vest and the empty oil bottle. By the time he opened the front door, the sound of the shower was already running.

[SilverArrow]

Great going.....keep it up

Thanks...what did you like most ? Any ideas to move ahead ?

[SilverArrow]

Great story!! Keep it up!!!

Thanks sir
Any suggestions to move ahead

[SilverArrow]

What? That's it?

Not proceeding further? Waiting for next read already.....

What you mean by thats it ? If you would clarify will be helpful thanks 
Thanks for your support and your reading ....:)

[SilverArrow]

Great narration! Details of gym along with posture correction, muscle strength…hmm you really mixed well the reality with eroticism.

The massage episode was really very well written possibly will give ideas to the readers how to enjoy the private moment :)
the last voyerism to the delivery guy is an extra spice to this episode.


At the end i would say this female centric stories heroine the way you have depicted is really class apart. It felt so natural and easily comparable to lot of females of metros that is the mental tussle, the word usage, the dresses….its never felt out of the place or vulgar…the depiction is so engaging that once readers starts, he or she will only finish the entire episode…such was the description. Thats the reason readers wants the next episode so do I:)

Thank you for entertaining us with skilful writing and i am sure you have earned a place in the mind of lot of readers. Keep this up and we are there to consume in true spirit?

Thanks...do keep the suggestions coming

[SilverArrow]

Chapter 18: The Slum


Night had settled hard over the narrow lane behind Sector 128.
Inside one of the smaller shacks, a single bare bulb hung from a wire. Bahadur, the society watchman, sat on a broken plastic chair, his uniform shirt half-open. Across from him, on an upturned crate, sat Feroze, the middle-aged delivery man, still in his blue uniform pants, company shirt now unbuttoned and hanging loose.

“So tell me properly,” Bahadur said, voice already thick. “What exactly did you see?”
Feroze took a long swallow

“Behenchod… I still can’t get it out of my head. I went for the delivery, had been calling three times continuously! She opened finally. I thought it was normal. Then the pen fell, I bent to catch it, door moved a little… and there she was.”
He shook his head, eyes wide.

“Completely naked from the waist up. No top, no bra, absolutely nothing! Just those heavy, full tits right in front of me. And shining, yaar. Like someone had poured oil all over them”

Bahadur’s throat moved. He refilled both glasses.

“Naked? In the afternoon? With the door open?”

“Chain was on, but the gap was enough. I saw everything. She had massive tits!  She didn’t even look properly scared. A bit surprised, yes, but she kept her voice steady. Told me ‘I was bathing’ snatched the paper, signed it fast, and pulled the box in. When she reached out, one of her tits came fully into the light for a second. She didn’t try to hide it much. Just used the box to cover herself at the end and shut the door.”

Bahadur let out a low, dirty laugh and drank.

“Saala .. Madarchod…. You got so lucky today yaar!! Uhaaaa”

Feroze grinned, showing stained teeth.

“You should have seen those nipples, Bahadur. Still looking like someone had been sucking them hard. Reddish, wet. I kept thinking what she was doing inside before I rang the bell”

Bahadur leaned back, the chair creaking.

“ Monica madam is a top maal Feroze bhai… lot of men like us in the society use their hands imagining her every night” Bahadur laughed .

Feroze laughed and poured more daru.

“Next time I get a delivery for that flat, I’m going to take my time. Maybe she’ll open the door like that again. Those tits… fuck, I can still see them when I close my eyes. And the way she looked at me… not shy at all. Like she knew exactly what I was seeing and didn’t care.”

Bahadur clinked his glass against the other man’s.

[SilverArrow]

**Chapter 19: Pub**


The land registry office had finally passed the preliminary sanction that Friday — the first real breakthrough for the café project. By Saturday evening the three of them needed a place to sit properly, go over the next steps, and also celebrate a bit.

The pub sat alone on a dark stretch of the Delhi–Jaipur highway, a low concrete building with red neon and a gravel parking lot that smelled of dust and diesel. It was the kind of place that only filled up after ten, when the city felt far away.

Monica came from home while Rakesh and Ranga reached there straight from work.
Monica felt a little odd going inside. The black dress she was wearing looked hot under the neon lights—thin straps, a neckline that plunged almost to the waist, a small red knot holding the two sides together just below her breasts. The fabric clung to her curves and ended high on her thighs. When she walked, the soft weight of her tits moved freely, the deep cleavage on full display.


Monica caught both Ranga and Rakesh looking and only raised the eyebrow.

“What?” she said. “It’s a celebration. Or should I have worn a salwar suit?”


Ranga gave a short, low laugh. “No complaints from me, Bhabhi.”
They went inside. They took a corner booth that gave a clear view of the floor but kept them slightly apart from the rest of the crowd. Monica slid in first, the dress riding higher on her thighs as she settled.

As the drinks arrived, Monica took a sip, then looked around and let out a short laugh.

“Remind me again why we’re celebrating in the middle of a forest? This place is so far ..it’s practically in another state”
Ranga smirked. “ This place is quieter. Plus my guys tells me this place is known for something special”
“How thoughtful,” she said dryly. “Tell me what’s so special here?”

“You will get to know!”






Rakesh said to Ranga. “The land deal closed. Municipal validation is the only thing left. We are going well Ranga Saab!”

Monica turned her glass slowly. “Why do you have any doubt?”
Ranga leaned forward and said “Registry office was a circus. That clerk kept asking for one more affidavit and we had none!”

Monica smiled “And yet you still managed to walk out with the clearance. Amazing what persistence can do.”





“Persistence and the right tone,” Ranga replied. His eyes dropped briefly to the open neckline of her dress, then came back up.

Rakesh cleared his throat. “The café interiors are almost locked. Kitchen equipment will arrive next week. If the municipal file moves in the next fifteen days, we can look at a soft launch by end of next month.”

Monica nodded “Capital is still the problem. I can get one more investor meeting, but they’ll want to see the municipal letter first. No one writes a cheque on a ‘pending’ stamp.”

Ranga took a slow sip of whiskey. “Then we make sure the stamp arrives. I’ve already spoken to two people inside. They know the file.”


Monica’s mouth curved. “Of course you have.”

“This place is known for something better than the whiskey,” Ranga said casually
Monica raised an eyebrow “ What’s that ?”

"It's the only reason people drive forty kilometers past the toll plaza to sit in this place, Monica. It’s a special Hookah mix—tobacco, crushed spices, and a heavy touch of local green”…He looked at her, his dark eyes holding hers .."Not for lightweights, though”

Monica let out a dry, breathy laugh, leaning forward so the plunging front of her dress dipped even lower over the edge of the table. "Lightweight? Is that a dare, Ranga Anna?"

"Is that so?" Ranga chuckled "We'll see how bold you are when the smoke hits."

He turned his eyes to Rakesh "What about you, Rakesh Saab?" Ranga teased softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You going to join us, or are you staying on the  drinking menu tonight? Don't want you passing out tonight though”
Rakesh straightened his posture, adjusting the collar of his formal shirt and waving a dismissive hand with a forced laugh. "Please, Ranga Anna. I handled four years of engineering hostel parties. A hookah isn't going to knock me out. Bring it on."

Ranga took the long, leather-bound hose first. He drew in a deep, slow breath. The water in the base bubbled rapidly, a deep gurgle-gurgle-gurgle echoing in the booth. He held the smoke for three long seconds before exhaling a thick, dense white cloud that drifted lazily toward the red neon light above them.
Without a word, he passed the silver tip directly to Monica.
Monica took it, her fingers brushing Ranga's  hand as she took the mouthpiece. She locked her eyes on his, brought the tip to her lips, and pulled hard. The water churned wildly. She held the thick, sweet smoke in her chest, feeling a sudden, intense rush of heat spread from her throat straight down to her belly.
When she exhaled, a cloud of aromatic smoke enveloped the table. Her head instantly swirled, a heavy, velvet-like buzz settling behind her eyes.

"God..." she gasped out, a lazy, gorgeous smile spreading across her face “That’s... that hits instantly."
"Told you," Ranga murmured


She passed the hose to Rakesh, who took it eagerly, determined to match them. He pulled a massive drag, but  immediately burst into a harsh, wheezing cough, his face turning bright red as he gripped his whiskey glass for relief.

Monica burst into a low giggle "Look at the engineering hostel veteran!"
"It's... it's strong," Rakesh wheezed "Very strong."

As the hose rotated between the three of them over the next half hour, Rakesh’s speech began to slur as he sank deeper into his corner, his laugh coming out louder and more unfocused as he babbled on about municipal permits and lease agreements.






By the third round of the brass pipe, the spiced green blend had completely taken over the booth.
Ranga and Monica felt heavy but across the table, however, Rakesh was in absolute shambles. His eyes were shot through with thick red veins, his eyelids drooping.
"Look at you!" she purred softly, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Two drinks and three puffs, and you are about to slide under the table”

Rakesh tried to blink his eyes open, forcing a weak, crooked smile .."I'm... I'm completely fine," he slurred, . "Just... the AC in here is very low"


"Yeah, must be the AC," Ranga mocked dryly, a low chuckle rumbling .."Come on, Rakesh bro. Time to head back."
Rakesh tried to stand up, but his knees buckled slightly,

Ranga stepped closer, extending a broad, dark arm. "Need a hand, bro?"
"No! No, no, I've got it," Rakesh insisted cockily, waving Ranga's hand away with an clumsy shake of his wrist. "I'm completely fine. Just need... need some fresh air."
Monica rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she slid out after him, her short dress clinging to her ass as she adjusted her posture in her heels.


They stepped out into the night air. The sudden rush of the cool highway wind hit Rakesh like a brick wall. He stumbled over a patch of rough stone, his foot catching the edge of a tire stop. He would have hit the dirt face-first if Ranga hadn't casually caught him by the collar of his shirt.


"Steady," Ranga murmured

"God, Rakesh," Monica said under her breath "You're embarrassing us. Give me the keys."


She snatched the keys from Rakesh's jacket pocket and tossed it to Ranga "You drive. He can barely stand."
"Yea Sure," Ranga said, unlocking the car






She slid into the front passenger seat right beside Ranga, the short hem of her dress riding high up her thighs as she settled into the leather contour. Ranga climbed into the driver's seat, his broad frame filling the space.
Within three minutes of hitting the open road, they heard the rhythmic snoring coming from the back seat.


Ranga laughed “He is out”

Monica shook her head “ Obviously..God knows what hookah you gave him!”

[SilverArrow]

The dark, unlit stretch of the Delhi–Jaipur highway swallowed the vehicle. Inside the cabin, the heavy, rhythmic sound of Rakesh’s snoring echoed from the back seat, loud and unbroken, punctuated only by the quiet hum of the air conditioner.

Ranga kept both hands on the wheel, his broad shoulders relaxed, but his eyelids flickered heavily every time a passing truck’s headlights swept through the windshield.


The highway stretch was desolate and dark with forest on either side of the road.
"Ranga," Monica murmured, turning her head towards him, her dark curls spilling over her bare shoulder. "Watch the lane. You're drifting a bit to the left"


Ranga smiled and continued driving, but just then he veered dangerously to the left only to ignore a sharp right turn. He managed to steady the car at the last moment but not before the vehicle almost brushed aside the side railing of the road.

Monica yelled “Ranga what are you doing?”

Ranga adjusted the speed, tightening his grip on the wheel. "That hookah mix is bad. It hits the head, then it sits right behind the eyes”

"Don't tell me you big buy is getting sleepy," Monica teased, a lazy smirk curving her lips. "You were the one boasting about the pub's hookah”

"Well I am trying” Ranga rumbled  "Just that my eyes keep closing due to the bad hangover of the hookah"
“Well then let me drive then Ranga Anna, you do look sleepy!” Monica offered


Ranga shook his head “Monica? You think you don’t have a hangover? Look at your own eyes! Plus you hardly know the turns.. it’s not a straight highway sweetheart!”


Monica scorned “Shit! Don’t tell me we have to wait here in the middle of the forest because we three are not in a position to drive!”.


Ranga was quiet for a few seconds. The dashboard light cut across his jaw.
“We can’t stop the car in the middle of the highway ..that’s a serious offense …this hookah have started hitting really bad” Ranga spoke rubbing his eyes


Monica let out a dry breath. “Fuck! Even I am feeling dizzy now..Should I turn the radio to full volume? Will that help ?”
“come on, music only makes me more sleepy” Ranga smirked. He paused, then added, almost thoughtfully, “There are ways to stay awake on long drives when the smoke hits like this.”


“Like what?" Monica asked, her voice a bit shaky due to the hangover from the hookah. Monica tried to steady her mind and asked “Then what brilliant idea do you have to stay awake, big man?”
Ranga kept his gaze on the road.


“Something that keeps the blood moving. Keeps the mind locked on one thing instead of drifting. Works better than coffee when the hookah hits this bad” Ranga spoke softly and then slowly moved his fingers over his crotch… he stopped his hand and then again moved his fingers over his crotch..


Monica stared at him trying to figure out what he was hinting. “You’re not seriously about to suggest what I think you’re suggesting”

He didn’t look at her. “I’m saying the only thing that will keep me properly awake for the next half hour is if you take care of it. In fact it keeps both of us awake ..He’s finished back there. No one’s watching”
Monica let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You seriously want me to suck you off so you don’t fall asleep at the wheel. How insane does that sounds ?”


The dark deserted highway gave an eerie mysterious vibe as Ranga looked at Monica.


“I’m telling you what will actually work if we really need to reach back home safely” Ranga replied calmly. “Everything else is riskier right now. Is it not ? If you drive? You don’t know the turns. If we stop? There’s nothing safe on this stretch. This place is notorious for dacoits.. plus strictly the law says you can’t stop on this highway…You know how heavy our heads feel because of the Hookah.. this road needs some focus sweetheart ...So look…you help me stay awake the fastest way…”

She looked at the dark road for a long moment, jaw tight, the buzz still warm under her skin.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know.” He glanced at her once, then back at the highway. “I’m not going to force anything. Your choice afterall.. you know the situation”


In the back seat Rakesh snored on, completely unaware.

Monica stayed silent for another stretch of road. “ Ranga how? How can I just do that? I am happily married… my husband is right here…We discussed we will keep things between us strictly professional only!”

"We discussed many things Monica… right now, I may ram the car if we don’t ‘engage’ ourselves properly… you know it… plus you know how the hookah has made both of us so fucking horny! The hookah is known to do that ..that’s why people try out that a lot…”

“ what you mean I am horny ? How on earth you know that ?”

“ The hookah makes that .. you are bad at lying Monica!”

The only sounds were the engine, the tyres, and the steady breathing from behind them.
Monica shook her head “This ..This is insane!”

Then, without looking at Ranga, she unbuckled her seatbelt.

She hesitated a bit and then leaned across the centre console, she could not believe she was actually doing this unbelievable thing. Her left hip stayed on her own seat while her upper body stretched over the console, bringing her face level with Ranga’s huge lap. The short black dress rode high on her thighs with the movement, and the deep plunging neckline fell open even further under the dashboard light. The dazzling high beams of an oncoming sixteen-wheeler swept past, flooding the cabin in a split-second flash of light that made the deep plunge of her dress look so indecent.

“Ranga, wait,” Monica whispered sharply. She clutched the plunging front of her dress against her full breasts, trying to hold the soft weight of them in place. “This is a bad idea! There are way too many trucks on this stretch. Half those drivers were already staring straight down my chest at the last junction. If one of them sees this—”


"They can’t see anything, Monica” Ranga cut in softly, “The glass is tinted. Stop overthinking and focus at what you’re doing.”.
“Ranga please don’t make me do this..I will seriously regret this later” Monica spoke seriously trying to still avoid the inevitable

Ranga commanded in an icy cold voice “The hookah is hitting my head badly .. don’t delay this sweetheart.. open my pants!”

Monica still hesitated “Ranga No .We…we are business partners!”

“Monica quickly … open my pants”

Monica bit her lower lip, still lingering in the shadow of the dashboard, heart drumming hard against her ribs. Seeing her motionless, Ranga reached down with his left hand, took her wrist, and guided her fingers over the front of his trousers — resting her palm directly over the thick, solid ridge that strained against the jeans.
The sheer heat and hardness radiating  made Monica draw a sharp, shallow breath. Her fingers instinctively curled around the heavy shape. She looked up at him, lips curving into a daring, cocky smirk to mask the sudden flutter low in her stomach...


“You really are a menace, aren’t you?” she murmured dryly


With a soft, deliberate metallic clink she unbuckled the heavy buckle of his leather belt. Her manicured fingers moved to the metal teeth of his zipper and drew it down slowly in the quiet cabin. She pushed the dark jeans aside and peeled his underwear down just enough to free what had been trapped beneath.
In the dim, shadowed space of his lap she froze for a moment. The sight of him — thick, dark, heavily veined, and completely unpolished — sent a genuine jolt of shock straight through her.
His cock was thick — darker than the rest of him, heavy, fully hard, the broad head already shiny. It rose against his stomach with a solid weight that made her fingers look small. A dense, black, untamed bush of coarse pubic hair framed the base and spread across his groin, thick and wild.

Monica stared in shock even in that intoxicated state, lips slightly parted.


“Hey Bhagwan …What is wrong with you?” she whispered. “It’s… this huge. And so thick. My fingers won’t even close around it.”

Ranga’s mouth curved, still watching the road.

“You sound surprised?”

“Yes with that size of yours, who won’t be surprised?” she shot back, still staring. “This is not a normal size” She gave it a tentative stroke, feeling the heavy pulse under the skin. “And this bush… God. It’s like a forest. I can already feel it scratching. Do you even know what does a razor do?”

Ranga laughed “You will love it Monica!”

Monica wrinkled her nose, but her hand didn’t leave him.

“ Where is your hygiene? Idiot!! This smells. … it smells like you’ve not taken proper bath in months..Sweat and… everything else. It’s dirty, Ranga.”

Ranga’s voice stayed low and cocky.

“You can still put it back and sit properly, sweetie. No one’s forcing you..Just that I don’t know how will I keep myself awake for the next 30 kms…”

Monica let out a short, incredulous breath, eyes still fixed on the thick, dark cock and the wild bush around it.
“Oh, I’m aware. I’m just taking a moment to appreciate how completely insane this is… sitting here with my husband’s snoring in the back, about to put this thick, hairy, sweaty thing in my mouth.”


She pushed her dark curls back from her face with her free hand, still holding him loosely at the base.
Then, without another word, she lowered her head.


Monica hovered over him for one more second, the thick head of his cock only inches from her lips. She turned her head slightly toward the back seat where Rakesh lay snoring, mouth open, completely gone. She looked at Rakesh with deep pity and guilt. She lowered her face in shame.

“Sorry, jaan,” she whispered “Your wife is about to do something extremely unprofessional. Try not to wake up.”
Then she lowered her head and took Ranga into her mouth.

The first contact was slow. She sealed her lips around the broad, warm head and simply held it there, breathing through her nose, letting the heavy musk and the salty taste settle on her tongue. Ranga’s hips shifted once. She pressed her free hand firmly on his thigh, pinning him still.

“Don’t move,” she muttered around him, the words muffled and wet. “You’re still driving.”
Ranga’s right hand stayed locked on the steering wheel. His left hand rested lightly on the back of her head.  
“I’m not moving. Just… keep doing”

Monica took him deeper in long, wet millimetres, tongue pressing flat against the thick underside, until the head nudged the back of her throat. She held him there, throat fluttering, spit already gathering and running down the shaft into the dense black bush. Then she pulled back just as slowly, lips dragging tightly, until only the shiny head remained between them.


A soft, wet sound filled the vehicle.


She stopped completely, lifted her head a fraction, and checked at Rakesh.

Only then did she sink down again, taking more of the thick length, cheeks hollowing as she sucked with focused, lazy greed. Spit coated him thoroughly now. It made every slow stroke louder and filthier.
Ranga’s breathing grew heavier. When a curve approached he had to adjust the wheel with small, careful movements. A low, rough moan escaped his throat as he flicked the indicator on for a moment, then off again.
“Fuck, Monica… your mouth is so nice. Don’t stop.”

She pulled off with a wet pop and wiped her lower lip with her thumb, still stretched across the console.
“Someone could be watching,” she said quietly, glancing at the road ahead. “Any truck with a high cabin will see exactly what I’m doing…. .”.

Ranga checked both mirrors quickly, then the road.  

“Nothing close by Monica…  Put it back in”

Monica went back down anyway, even slower this time, forcing herself to take him deeper until her nose brushed the thick, sweaty bush. A thick stench of unbelievablly dirty smell swept her off! Monica could not believe herself how she was adjusting to that dirty smell if not anything else. That’s the dirtiest cock she can even think of forget giving a blowjob to. She never knew how men can remain so very dirty, so unhygienic without bathing for days and months. Still she stayed buried there for several long seconds, throat working around him, before she had to rise again, gasping quietly.

“You’re too thick,” she said, voice already rough. “It’s stretching my jaw.”

Ranga’s hand tightened slightly on her hair.  

“And yet you’re still sucking it. Keep going. Long stretch ahead.”

Monica gave a tiny, sarcastic huff and returned to the thick cock, sucking him with the same torturous, wet pace — long downward slides, tight upward pulls, spit running freely over her fingers and into the coarse pubic hair. Every time Ranga had to correct the steering or tap the indicator, a deeper moan rumbled out of him.
“That’s it… just like that,” he groaned under his breath. “Take it deeper than that!”

She did, forcing another inch, eyes watering, then pulled back again to breathe.
“You’re enjoying this way too much for someone who’s supposed to be concentrating on the road,” she whispered, stroking him slowly with her hand while she spoke.

Ranga’s voice came out strained but still cocky.  

“I am concentrating. Don’t worry on how I am driving…you don’t stop for even a fucking second!”
Monica shook her head once, half in disbelief, half in arousal, and lowered her mouth onto him again.