21-05-2026, 08:02 PM
This is a 7 part series of how a housewife turns into a cheating whore and cucks her husband. This is strictly for those above 18 and those who like such fantasies
The exhaust fan in the kitchen was on and was swinging rapidly. It was a humid March afternoon. The house was quite silent despite being a Sunday. Normally three people are present in the house on weekends but it seemed like the house was empty except for one. Here, she was, the beautiful MILF, Soumya.
But wait, she wasn't alone.. infact she was on her knees. Her bra straps were down as her nighty was on the floor. In front of her stood Sharath, a burly man slightly overweight but with tall with nice shoulders. He was completely naked and his 8 inch cock disappeared into Soumya's mouth
"Gluckk.. gluckkkk... gluckkk" her sounds were not loud but enough to tempt Sharath to fuck her mouth faster. Just as she was about to take his dick out of her and into her pussy was when her husband and son came home from shopping.
"We need to stop, Sharath" she whispered.
"I don't care about your husband, bitch. Stand up and keep your mouth shut" He demanded
"Please.... I can't control myself and will scream"
"A pativrata can keep herself calm to save her conservative character. Now spread your legs and lay down" ...
The banging began.... but how did it start?
Soumya, 45, a conservative Telugu housewife, was living in a bland family made up of her husband and two sons. Her sons were in college busy with their graduation degree. Her husband, Suresh, was your regular 50 year old telugu with a huge tummy and bald head.
Soumya, on the other hand, had some spark in her face despite her life as a housewife wearing mostly uninspiring saree that covers her whole. Behind it, though, she hid a treasure of some beautiful assets, her boobs, hips and ass. She never knew it herself until one fine day.
"Amma, the potatoes taste delicious," Vikrant said while eating his chapatti with his hands. His younger brother Surya immediately reacted to it by saying he too preferred it over pappu (lentils). Their father Suresh glanced at the newspaper without a thought in the world as his pot belly kept getting bigger.
Soumya didn’t react. She stood at the stove, stirring the sambar on a hot sunny morning. The kitchen was already boiling and sweat fell from her milky cheeks down her blouse as she kept on working to prepare the food. The boys would leave soon to their hostels while pursuing their engineering degree. Her husband is already assigned a contract and will leave to Pune to finalize it ....and she would scrub the dishes in silence, just like every other housewife.
The clatter of plates being stacked too loudly made Soumya's shoulders tense. Vikram was in a hurry, late for his bus again and she could already see it in the way he'd sprint down the street, his luggage in one hand and bag on his shoulders. She turned just in time to see Suresh fold his newspaper and was about to get ready for his assigned task. He turned to Soumya and said "Soumi, I'm going now. I'll return in a couple of days. Make sure you lock all doors at the evening and stay at home". The last words sounded patronising to Soumya. After all, she had studied until graduation and gave up a lucrative job opportunity in exchange for the marriage with Suresh that her parents arranged. She always thought to herself what it would've been like had she pursued her career instead. She always felt bounded by the patriarchal social walls that expected her to be a good wife. Her thoughts were shattered with Suresh saying "Hey, where are you lost? Go bring me the file that I put in the bedroom". "Oh, okay andi (a Telugu word similar to "ji")... wait let me bring it". Soumya walked in and the file was open. She closed it and while checking for a bag to put it in, she came across a visiting card that said "ADGH Gym. Lose your weight and also gain mental strength". Soumya was taken aback as she never expected Suresh to be interested in Gym and all. She wanted to ask about it but thought against it. Her husband soon left and now she was all alone in her flat with the leftover plates. She soon went to the kitchen with them and while cleaning she suddenly noticed the name of the gym "ADGH Gym"
After cleaning she, hesitantly, reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She hadn’t searched for anything unrelated to recipes or household tips in years. The letters "ADGH Gym" were visible as if she knew it for years. She reminded herself of the words her husband spoke "Stay at home". For some reason, Soumya felt she finally needs to break the custom. She needed an outlet. Here was an opportunity that was presented to her.
She typed the name slowly, her heart rate increasing unexpectedly. The search results loaded, a simple website, smiling faces of men and women in workout gear, mostly boys in gym shorts and girls in sweat pants, a promotional video of someone lifting weights. Soumya’s eyes lingered on the address: it's very close to my house, tucked between a park and a tea stall. She has gone to the park before but never saw the gym. "Must've been new. But what is the visiting card doing in my husband's file?" She checked the established year and it was only a year or so ago. "Maybe a promotional visiting card"
Soumya hesitated, fingers tapping against the phone screen. She glanced around the empty house almost involuntarily but luckily there was no one to judge her curiosity. She then clicked on the pictures of the gym inside. The photos were bright, filled with people who looked nothing like her: young, confident, their bodies in ways she’d only seen in films. One image though caught her eye, a man with broad shoulders helping a woman on a bench press, his hands hovering near the bar but not touching it. His profile was sharp, his arms were strong with muscle, and something about the way he smiled made her feel attracted. The caption read: "Sharath, Head Trainer"
She closed the tab abruptly, as if her husband has just appeared behind her. But the thought lingered. The gym was close by. The afternoon ahead was completely empty as she finished all of her work. Before she had second thoughts, Soumya changed into a simple saree loose enough to hide her shape and tucked her hair into a bun. She didn’t have workout clothes, didn’t even know if women like her were allowed there. But the card had said "mental strength" too, hadn’t it?
The gym’s entrance smelled faintly of perfume and sweat, the kind of sharpness that made Soumya’s nose wrinkle before she could stop herself. The receptionist, a girl who is the same age as Vikrant, barely glanced up from her phone as Soumya was near the desk, clutching her bag. “First time?” the girl asked. The girl looked attractive but somehow soumya didn’t like the way she was dressed as she was in a simple T-shirt and short jeans. And yet, forgetting it, Soumya nodded, suddenly aware of how out of place she looked in her very old looking saree, the pallu tucked too tightly over her chest.
“Trial session is free,” the girl said, sliding a clipboard across the counter. “Sign here.” Soumya hesitated, then scribbled her name in the sheet. She looked up and could see a few names of women. Then the other column asked for her phone number. She hesitated a little but went ahead and put her number down. As she put the pen down and ask what came next, a deep voice cut through the room despite the noise from the distant treadmills. “New client?”
Sharath stood with his arms crossed, his tank top clinging to muscles Soumya had only ever seen in movies. His skin glistened under the lights, and when he smiled, a dimple appeared on his left cheek. "First time at a gym?" he asked, his voice warmer than she expected. Soumya nodded as she kept the clipboard in her hand. "Don’t worry," he said, plucking it from her hands and handing it back to the receptionist without looking. "I’ll take care of you."
She followed him past rows of machines and mirrored walls, her reflection somehow looking smaller and her thoughts more uncertain with every step. Sharath stopped near a corner where a yoga mat lay unrolled. "We’ll start slow," he said, kneeling to adjust the mat. "Just some stretches." Soumya hesitated, then sat, folding her legs beneath her. Sharath chuckled. "Not like that." He guided her ankles apart with two fingers, his touch despite being light was extremely firm and she almost felt a jolt inside her. "Breathe in." He said and she did, and when she exhaled, his palm was gently put on her lower back, urging her forward. The stretch burned in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
The stretch deepened as Soumya's breath was hitching as Sharath's fingers continued to rest on her spine. "You're flexible for a beginner," he murmured, his voice low but hearble enough. Soumya blushed despite being unsure if it was praise or something else. "I....I used to dance in college," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Sharath's eyebrows lifted. "Bharatanatyam?" he asked, his thumb slightly brushing her waist where her saree had slightly opened up to show her skin. Soumya let out a slow "ahhh" inside of herself.
"Beautiful," Sharath said, though he wasn't looking at her face. He shifted closer, the heat of his body almost noticeable even through her saree. "You should try some hip-opening poses. They'd suit you." It was an innuendo but she was getting slightly turned on by the entire situation. Soumya swallowed, suddenly aware of how alone they were in this corner. "I... I should go," she said, straightening abruptly. Sharath's hand caught her wrist, his grip just shy of painful. "So soon?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You haven't even told me about yourself."
Soumya hesitated, then looked around, "I'm married. Two sons, both in college." The words she thought were a shield to protect her from all the corrupt thoughts, a reminder to herself about the life that she has. Sharath's grip loosened, but his expression did change. A flicker of surprise, then something darker, calculating. "Married?" He let the word linger, his gaze slowly dropping below to her mangalsutra. "And yet here you are." He said quietly, almost too quiet
Sharath leaned back on his heels, pretending to study the yoga mat. Inside, his mind raced. "Married slut? Easy to tap." He'd seen it before bored housewives looking for adventure, their morality as flimsy as their excuses. The tryst he had with Radha, the 35 year old he had fucked so badly that she almost left her husband for him. But Soumya was different. The way her saree clung to her hips, the nervous bite of her lower lip, she wasn't here for validation. She was hungry. And Sharath knew exactly how to feed that hunger.
"Tell me, Soumya," he said, deliberately using her name, "when was the last time someone touched you just for you?" The question hung between them, it appeared vulgar but Sharath's handsome body and face made it look like a straightforward question. Soumya's breath caught. Suresh's hands were practical quick gropes in the dark, his focus always on his own release. Sharath saw the answer in her silence. He stood, offering a hand to help her up. When she took it, he didn't let go. "Come back tomorrow," he said, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "I'll show you what your body's really capable of"
Soumya left the place and went home. She couldn't understand what just happened. How did she leave the peaceful no nonsense life of her own and ended up getting involved in flirting with a much younger guy. In the evening, after a call from her husband, she lied on her bed. Just then, she thought of the episode at the gym. Sharath tracing his fingers around her waist. Instead of getting angry she got aroused and within a minute or so she had an absolutely incredible orgasm without anyone even touching her, something Suresh never ever did..
Meanwhile in the gym, it was pitch dark and Ravali was getting absolutely fucked in doggystyle. Her screams were too loud and there was none who could hear it out. Just as Sharath was increasing the pace, Ravali turned towards him changing position to face him... "So...uhhh... Sharath... what you think of ahhh... the women who just signed up?"
"Nothing special about any of them. Certainly not as good as you, you slut". He put his 7 inch dick deeper and deeper as she started biting his biceps..
"Ahhh... ohhhh... fuck me Sharath. Not even that married lady?"
"Who?"
"The one in Saree. I know you love fucking married women"
"So when are you getting married you whore"
"Soon..."
"Now turn around, whore, I need your ass"
Ravali's screams now echoed the entire room as Sharath was merciless. "I'll fuck you better than this Soumya. Wait and watch"..
For comments and suggestions as well as married women and cucks who are located in Hyderabad, ping me Ksarathyu;.
Discreet fun.
The exhaust fan in the kitchen was on and was swinging rapidly. It was a humid March afternoon. The house was quite silent despite being a Sunday. Normally three people are present in the house on weekends but it seemed like the house was empty except for one. Here, she was, the beautiful MILF, Soumya.
But wait, she wasn't alone.. infact she was on her knees. Her bra straps were down as her nighty was on the floor. In front of her stood Sharath, a burly man slightly overweight but with tall with nice shoulders. He was completely naked and his 8 inch cock disappeared into Soumya's mouth
"Gluckk.. gluckkkk... gluckkk" her sounds were not loud but enough to tempt Sharath to fuck her mouth faster. Just as she was about to take his dick out of her and into her pussy was when her husband and son came home from shopping.
"We need to stop, Sharath" she whispered.
"I don't care about your husband, bitch. Stand up and keep your mouth shut" He demanded
"Please.... I can't control myself and will scream"
"A pativrata can keep herself calm to save her conservative character. Now spread your legs and lay down" ...
The banging began.... but how did it start?
Soumya, 45, a conservative Telugu housewife, was living in a bland family made up of her husband and two sons. Her sons were in college busy with their graduation degree. Her husband, Suresh, was your regular 50 year old telugu with a huge tummy and bald head.
Soumya, on the other hand, had some spark in her face despite her life as a housewife wearing mostly uninspiring saree that covers her whole. Behind it, though, she hid a treasure of some beautiful assets, her boobs, hips and ass. She never knew it herself until one fine day.
"Amma, the potatoes taste delicious," Vikrant said while eating his chapatti with his hands. His younger brother Surya immediately reacted to it by saying he too preferred it over pappu (lentils). Their father Suresh glanced at the newspaper without a thought in the world as his pot belly kept getting bigger.
Soumya didn’t react. She stood at the stove, stirring the sambar on a hot sunny morning. The kitchen was already boiling and sweat fell from her milky cheeks down her blouse as she kept on working to prepare the food. The boys would leave soon to their hostels while pursuing their engineering degree. Her husband is already assigned a contract and will leave to Pune to finalize it ....and she would scrub the dishes in silence, just like every other housewife.
The clatter of plates being stacked too loudly made Soumya's shoulders tense. Vikram was in a hurry, late for his bus again and she could already see it in the way he'd sprint down the street, his luggage in one hand and bag on his shoulders. She turned just in time to see Suresh fold his newspaper and was about to get ready for his assigned task. He turned to Soumya and said "Soumi, I'm going now. I'll return in a couple of days. Make sure you lock all doors at the evening and stay at home". The last words sounded patronising to Soumya. After all, she had studied until graduation and gave up a lucrative job opportunity in exchange for the marriage with Suresh that her parents arranged. She always thought to herself what it would've been like had she pursued her career instead. She always felt bounded by the patriarchal social walls that expected her to be a good wife. Her thoughts were shattered with Suresh saying "Hey, where are you lost? Go bring me the file that I put in the bedroom". "Oh, okay andi (a Telugu word similar to "ji")... wait let me bring it". Soumya walked in and the file was open. She closed it and while checking for a bag to put it in, she came across a visiting card that said "ADGH Gym. Lose your weight and also gain mental strength". Soumya was taken aback as she never expected Suresh to be interested in Gym and all. She wanted to ask about it but thought against it. Her husband soon left and now she was all alone in her flat with the leftover plates. She soon went to the kitchen with them and while cleaning she suddenly noticed the name of the gym "ADGH Gym"
After cleaning she, hesitantly, reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She hadn’t searched for anything unrelated to recipes or household tips in years. The letters "ADGH Gym" were visible as if she knew it for years. She reminded herself of the words her husband spoke "Stay at home". For some reason, Soumya felt she finally needs to break the custom. She needed an outlet. Here was an opportunity that was presented to her.
She typed the name slowly, her heart rate increasing unexpectedly. The search results loaded, a simple website, smiling faces of men and women in workout gear, mostly boys in gym shorts and girls in sweat pants, a promotional video of someone lifting weights. Soumya’s eyes lingered on the address: it's very close to my house, tucked between a park and a tea stall. She has gone to the park before but never saw the gym. "Must've been new. But what is the visiting card doing in my husband's file?" She checked the established year and it was only a year or so ago. "Maybe a promotional visiting card"
Soumya hesitated, fingers tapping against the phone screen. She glanced around the empty house almost involuntarily but luckily there was no one to judge her curiosity. She then clicked on the pictures of the gym inside. The photos were bright, filled with people who looked nothing like her: young, confident, their bodies in ways she’d only seen in films. One image though caught her eye, a man with broad shoulders helping a woman on a bench press, his hands hovering near the bar but not touching it. His profile was sharp, his arms were strong with muscle, and something about the way he smiled made her feel attracted. The caption read: "Sharath, Head Trainer"
She closed the tab abruptly, as if her husband has just appeared behind her. But the thought lingered. The gym was close by. The afternoon ahead was completely empty as she finished all of her work. Before she had second thoughts, Soumya changed into a simple saree loose enough to hide her shape and tucked her hair into a bun. She didn’t have workout clothes, didn’t even know if women like her were allowed there. But the card had said "mental strength" too, hadn’t it?
The gym’s entrance smelled faintly of perfume and sweat, the kind of sharpness that made Soumya’s nose wrinkle before she could stop herself. The receptionist, a girl who is the same age as Vikrant, barely glanced up from her phone as Soumya was near the desk, clutching her bag. “First time?” the girl asked. The girl looked attractive but somehow soumya didn’t like the way she was dressed as she was in a simple T-shirt and short jeans. And yet, forgetting it, Soumya nodded, suddenly aware of how out of place she looked in her very old looking saree, the pallu tucked too tightly over her chest.
“Trial session is free,” the girl said, sliding a clipboard across the counter. “Sign here.” Soumya hesitated, then scribbled her name in the sheet. She looked up and could see a few names of women. Then the other column asked for her phone number. She hesitated a little but went ahead and put her number down. As she put the pen down and ask what came next, a deep voice cut through the room despite the noise from the distant treadmills. “New client?”
Sharath stood with his arms crossed, his tank top clinging to muscles Soumya had only ever seen in movies. His skin glistened under the lights, and when he smiled, a dimple appeared on his left cheek. "First time at a gym?" he asked, his voice warmer than she expected. Soumya nodded as she kept the clipboard in her hand. "Don’t worry," he said, plucking it from her hands and handing it back to the receptionist without looking. "I’ll take care of you."
She followed him past rows of machines and mirrored walls, her reflection somehow looking smaller and her thoughts more uncertain with every step. Sharath stopped near a corner where a yoga mat lay unrolled. "We’ll start slow," he said, kneeling to adjust the mat. "Just some stretches." Soumya hesitated, then sat, folding her legs beneath her. Sharath chuckled. "Not like that." He guided her ankles apart with two fingers, his touch despite being light was extremely firm and she almost felt a jolt inside her. "Breathe in." He said and she did, and when she exhaled, his palm was gently put on her lower back, urging her forward. The stretch burned in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
The stretch deepened as Soumya's breath was hitching as Sharath's fingers continued to rest on her spine. "You're flexible for a beginner," he murmured, his voice low but hearble enough. Soumya blushed despite being unsure if it was praise or something else. "I....I used to dance in college," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. Sharath's eyebrows lifted. "Bharatanatyam?" he asked, his thumb slightly brushing her waist where her saree had slightly opened up to show her skin. Soumya let out a slow "ahhh" inside of herself.
"Beautiful," Sharath said, though he wasn't looking at her face. He shifted closer, the heat of his body almost noticeable even through her saree. "You should try some hip-opening poses. They'd suit you." It was an innuendo but she was getting slightly turned on by the entire situation. Soumya swallowed, suddenly aware of how alone they were in this corner. "I... I should go," she said, straightening abruptly. Sharath's hand caught her wrist, his grip just shy of painful. "So soon?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You haven't even told me about yourself."
Soumya hesitated, then looked around, "I'm married. Two sons, both in college." The words she thought were a shield to protect her from all the corrupt thoughts, a reminder to herself about the life that she has. Sharath's grip loosened, but his expression did change. A flicker of surprise, then something darker, calculating. "Married?" He let the word linger, his gaze slowly dropping below to her mangalsutra. "And yet here you are." He said quietly, almost too quiet
Sharath leaned back on his heels, pretending to study the yoga mat. Inside, his mind raced. "Married slut? Easy to tap." He'd seen it before bored housewives looking for adventure, their morality as flimsy as their excuses. The tryst he had with Radha, the 35 year old he had fucked so badly that she almost left her husband for him. But Soumya was different. The way her saree clung to her hips, the nervous bite of her lower lip, she wasn't here for validation. She was hungry. And Sharath knew exactly how to feed that hunger.
"Tell me, Soumya," he said, deliberately using her name, "when was the last time someone touched you just for you?" The question hung between them, it appeared vulgar but Sharath's handsome body and face made it look like a straightforward question. Soumya's breath caught. Suresh's hands were practical quick gropes in the dark, his focus always on his own release. Sharath saw the answer in her silence. He stood, offering a hand to help her up. When she took it, he didn't let go. "Come back tomorrow," he said, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "I'll show you what your body's really capable of"
Soumya left the place and went home. She couldn't understand what just happened. How did she leave the peaceful no nonsense life of her own and ended up getting involved in flirting with a much younger guy. In the evening, after a call from her husband, she lied on her bed. Just then, she thought of the episode at the gym. Sharath tracing his fingers around her waist. Instead of getting angry she got aroused and within a minute or so she had an absolutely incredible orgasm without anyone even touching her, something Suresh never ever did..
Meanwhile in the gym, it was pitch dark and Ravali was getting absolutely fucked in doggystyle. Her screams were too loud and there was none who could hear it out. Just as Sharath was increasing the pace, Ravali turned towards him changing position to face him... "So...uhhh... Sharath... what you think of ahhh... the women who just signed up?"
"Nothing special about any of them. Certainly not as good as you, you slut". He put his 7 inch dick deeper and deeper as she started biting his biceps..
"Ahhh... ohhhh... fuck me Sharath. Not even that married lady?"
"Who?"
"The one in Saree. I know you love fucking married women"
"So when are you getting married you whore"
"Soon..."
"Now turn around, whore, I need your ass"
Ravali's screams now echoed the entire room as Sharath was merciless. "I'll fuck you better than this Soumya. Wait and watch"..
For comments and suggestions as well as married women and cucks who are located in Hyderabad, ping me Ksarathyu;.
Discreet fun.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)
