English Sex Story The Mask of Desire 🎭

[skyrim]

Chapter 6: Tease and Blow
Subchapter 6.3: The Game of Exposure​

"I got this," she whispered, adjusting her saree—her blouse tight, nipples faintly outlined—and her heart raced, a cocktail of dread and thrill pulsing through her veins, hungry for proof.

Madhuri carried the tray of steaming chai cups into the living room, approached Abhi and Ishaan sprawled on the couch. She handed Abhi his cup first, then turned to Ishaan.

As she extended the cup, her fingers brushed his, deliberate and slow, lingering just a beat too long. His skin was warm, rough at the edges, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers—sharp, glinting, unreadable. She pulled back, a shiver snaking down her spine, and turned away.

The cupboard loomed across the room, an excuse she’d seized. “Need to tidy this up,” she muttered, loud enough for Abhi to hear, positioning herself behind him, facing Ishaan.

She reached up, arms stretching high, the light fabric of her saree pulling taut against her body. Her blouse strained, the faint outline of her nipples pressing through, her chubby waist spilling softly over the edge of her petticoat.

She felt Ishaan’s gaze before she saw it—his eyes locked on her. Her breath caught, but she didn’t falter, raising her arms higher. Ishaan leaned back, sipping his chai, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Abhi, your mom’s got this place looking spotless—almost too good, huh?” he said, his voice casual, but his eyes never left her, the words dripping with a taunt meant only for her. Abhi nodded absently, engrossed in his phone, oblivious to the game unfolding.

She understood what he meant, but tugged the saree lower, a calculated tease, her navel winking at him now, and kept wiping the shelves, her shame filling her, her movements slow, deliberate.

Ishaan’s gaze darkened, his fingers tapping the cup. “Takes real skill to keep everything… in place,” he added, his tone lazy but pointed, and she felt the heat crawl up her neck, her resolve wavering under his stare.

The chai drained, he set the cup down and stood, stretching with a yawn that felt too performative.

She kept her eyes on the cupboard, pretending not to notice as he ambled toward her, his steps unhurried, fearless.

Her heart hammered—she wiped the same spot twice, three times, feigning bravery, but her hands trembled.

He was close now, too close, the air between them crackling. She braced herself, refusing to turn—then he jerked suddenly, bending low. Her breath hitched, and she flinched, yanking the saree up to cover herself, fear spiking through her veins.

But he only grabbed the Rubik’s cube sitting by the cupboard’s base, straightening with a lazy grin.

Their eyes locked—his steady, hers wide—and he turned back to the couch without a word.

She stood frozen, clutching the fabric, her chest heaving as he flopped down and started twisting the cube. Click-click-click—the colors aligned in seconds, his fingers a blur.

Abhi looked up, amazed. “How’d you do that so fast? Looks fresh and colorful for the first time in ages.”

Ishaan shrugged, tossing the solved cube onto the cushion. “No big deal. Just practice. Though…” He paused, glancing at Madhuri sidelong. “It’s missing the best color—purple. Makes it less… attractive, don’t you think?”

His voice was smooth, the jab subtle but piercing, and her cheeks burned, the deep plum of her saree suddenly a spotlight.

She bolted for the kitchen, her bare feet slapping the tiles, the air cooler there a refuge. Leaning against the counter, she pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow.

“He’s toying with me,” she whispered, the realization sinking in—he’d dodged her trap, flipped it, left her exposed instead.

But the fire in her gut flared brighter, shame and thrill twisting into something sharper. “No,” she hissed, straightening her pallu, her jaw set. “I’m not done.”

That night after the dinner, Madhuri lay on her bed, the sheets cool against her skin, her mind a restless tangle. The phone beside her glowed faintly—no messages from the stalker, just Ramesh’s morning text about his return in three days and a few chirpy notes from friends.

She sighed, tapping out quick replies, her fingers hovering over the stalker’s chat. Empty. Silent. Then, a spark flickered—an idea, sharp and sudden. She locked the screen with a decisive click, the phone’s glow fading to black. Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood up, her bare feet pressing into the cool floor.

The muffled shouts of Abhi and Ishaan drifted up from the living room. She slipped off the bed, smoothing her nightgown, and padded downstairs.

The boys’ Gaming Night turned the living room into a frenzied combat zone, the PS5 alive with Call of Duty: Warzone action.

Abhi sprawled on the floor, controller in hand, yelling, “Die, bro!” while Ishaan lounged beside him, legs kicked out, smirking. “Aunty, you joining us? We need a cheerleader,” he called, his voice teasing, those deep eyes flicking to her as she stepped in.

She forced a smile, settling onto the couch near Ishaan’s side. “No… just gonna watch,” she said, her tone light, but her gaze darted to his phone, resting face-down on the cushion beside her.

Her heart thudded as she edged closer, her fingers brushing the device. She flipped it silently, the screen dark, locked. A pinprick of disappointment stabbed her—she’d hoped for an easy crack, a glimpse into his world.

She shifted to leave, ready to retreat, but a sharp ding cut through the noise. The lock screen lit up: an Instagram notification from Shreya—“Miss you”. Madhuri froze, sinking back, her eyes narrowing, "Must be his girlfriend."

Before she could process it, another chime—Snapchat this time, from “Divya”: “How do I look handsome?” with a snap attached. "Who's this now?" she muttered.

The boys’ shouts drowned out her quickening breath as she stared, the messages stacking up—flirty, familiar, a parade of girls vying for his attention.

Her mind flashed to her own texts to the stalker, the same coy tone, the same game.

Suspicion coiled tighter, but she kept her face blank, watching the screen like a hawk.

More pings: “Hey cutie,” from Priya, “Wanna ft?” from Leela.

"Girls these days," she thought, a flicker of disdain curling her lip, but it couldn’t smother the itch of curiosity burning inside her. "Who was he to them? What's he hiding?"

Minutes later, the phone rang, loud and sudden—“Miss Sherley” flashing across the screen. She blinked, "Is that the dean?" imagining what trouble he’d stirred at school.

Ishaan paused the game, removed his headphones, grabbed the phone, and silenced the call with a flick. He unlocked it—her eyes traced the pattern, a quick zigzag—texted something, then slid it into his pocket, locking her out again.

She bit her lip, frustration simmering. The game resumed, Abhi oblivious, Ishaan’s focus back on the screen, but she felt his presence like a weight.

She kept an eye on his pocket, waiting for his phone to slip, but the gripping gameplay soon dragged her in.

Hours later, the controllers clattered down—11 PM glowed on the clock. Ishaan stretched, yawning. “Aunty, mind if I crash here tonight? Too late to head back.”

Her stomach twisted, but she nodded, voice tight. “Sure… Abhi can set you up.”

She rose, escaping upstairs, the creak of the steps matching her racing pulse.

 

[sanusab]

Chapter 6: Tease and Blow
Subchapter 6.2: The Seeds of doubt​

The late afternoon sun dipped low, casting golden streaks through Madhuri's bedroom window as she sat on her bed, in a lavendar cotton saree—its fabric draping her curves, her thick waist peeking out, a fragile armor against the chaos in her mind.

Ishaan's departure lingered—his playful jabs a new ache, glinting eyes searing her soul, a mirror to the Devil on the bus, fingering her to ruin.

She paced, the saree swishing, her bare feet soft on the tiles—every step a battle to shake it.

"What's going on?" she muttered, shame curling in her gut—she'd melted for the stalker, begged him, and now Ishaan's flirtatious charm twisted the knife, his eyes a haunting echo she couldn't unsee.

"I need to find out," she vowed, voice firm, but her knees quaked, the bus flashing back—his grip, her surrender—and she sank onto the bed, her saree slipping, her nipple hardening under the blouse, her need a beast she couldn't cage.

She replayed it—Ishaan's arm brushing her hip, his scent hitting her, her hand drifting to her thigh, tracing the curve—wetness seeped through, her shame warring with a wild urge to test it, find him out, unravel the mask, reclaim her control.

Ishaan's face merging with the stalker's shadow, "Him or not, I'll know it myself," she thought, her plan forming—wild, risky. His tease a spark she'd turn against him.

Monday morning hummed, the house quiet save for the ceiling fan's whir as Madhuri stood in her kitchen.

Her phone sat silent on the counter and her anger at his tease fueled her, her shame a whisper she drowned with resolve. "I'll find you at any cost, Mr.Devil," she murmured, adjusting her pallu—her thick ass outlined, her blouse tight—and her heart thudded, a mix of dread and thrill pulsing through her veins.

The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden—Abhi yelled, "I got it, maa!"—and Ishaan strode right into the kitchen.

"Hey, aunty—no office today?," he said, his grin wide as usual, his deep eyes locking hers.

"No… I’m off work for now. Just… exhausted. Want some chai?" she replied, voice soft, turning to the stove—her saree slipped, flashing her waist—and she caught his glance, testing him.

"Chai? You're spoiling us, aunty—bet it's as sweet as you look today," he purred, leaning against the counter, his tone thick.

"You can't stop talking, can you, big guy?" she teased back, bolder now, bending to grab a cup—her saree dipped, her cleavage spilling, deliberate—and his eyes flicked down.

"Only for a woman who’s worth it—purple's lethal on you, aunty, got me dizzy," he shot back, stepping closer, his scent—sweat, musk—hitting her, and her nipples hardened, her plan teetering—"Was he flirting or playing me?"

"Abhi's out in the living room—go sit there," she said, dodging, but her voice wavered—his presence stirred her, too close to the stalker's fire.

"Nah, aunty—think I'll stay and watch the magic. Tell me if you need a hand," he grinned, brazen, and she went still.

"Actually… my shoulders are killing me," she lied, turning, and she met his gaze, daring him.

"Can you… massage them, Ishaan?"

He raised a brow, smirking. "Massage? Anything for you, aunty—those shoulders need a hard grip," he said, voice low, stepping behind her—his hands settled, firm, kneading slow—and her breath hitched, a soft "Ohh" slipping free.

His fingers dug in—rough, confident, like in the bus, but the doubt still lingered.

"Feel good?" he murmured, his breath on her neck.

She nodded, shaky— "Yeah… good"—her trap tightening, stirring the tea.

Abhi bounded in—"Chai ready, Maa?"—and she jolted, stepping away, her saree snapping back.

"Almost—go sit, both of you," she snapped, normalcy a mask, and Ishaan grinned, unfazed.

"Thanks for the warm-up, aunty—chai's gonna taste even better now," he quipped, winking, and sauntered off with Abhi—his touch lingered on her skin.

"This isn't done yet," she hissed, pouring chai into cups.

She'd push harder—test deeper—her shame buried under a wild need to know, his flirt a tease she'd match. Her trap a game he might already own, two steps ahead in her own dark dance.

Best sex story ever but chapter 6 feel lagging

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 6: Tease and Blow
Subchapter 6.4: The Return of the Mask
​

The night cloaked Hyderabad in a humid hush, the clock ticking past 11:30 PM as Madhuri lay sprawled on her bed. She slipped into a nightdress—a loose top and pajamas hugging her figure.

Her plan had crashed, but she knew Ishaan's phone a chamber of his secrets left locked.

"It’s starting to make sense. Is he the one running that stalker account this whole time? I need to check his phone tomorrow," she whispered,

A buzz jolted her—her phone lit up, DevilzMask: "Missed me, Madhuri?"

Her heart slammed, her breath catching—his tease roared back, a blade to her shame.

"Where were you the past few days? And.. how could you leave me like that on the bus!" she replied, anger rushing in. His next line: "Forget about it, why you teasing that poor boy, darling?"

Her stomach dropped, guilt crashed, her seduction of Ishaan a secret he'd pierced. "I… wasn't," she typed, shaky.

He fired back, slow, wild: "Don't lie, my sweet—I see it all. Don't worry, I'll prove I'm not him tonight—get ready, your real king's coming for you."

Her knees trembled, a soft "Oh no" escaping her lips—fear tangled with excitement, her pussy pulsing, wet and eager—his return igniting a spark in her abyss.
"How do you know?" she gasped, typing the words, but he didn’t reply, the chat silent, her mind spiraling—Prove he’s not Ishaan? Tonight?

Her loose dress clung to her skin, her nipples hardening, and she paced—his words a promise, a threat, her volcano flaring, craving his proof.

"Should I face this?" she whispered, shame battling her need—her teasing had backfired, but his return stoked her, a wild thrill she couldn’t extinguish.

Downstairs, Abhi and Ishaan crashed but her heart raced—"If he’s here, and Ishaan’s there…"—her doubt flickered, his tease a game she’d lost control of.

She sank onto the bed, remembering the previous night on the bus and how she teased Ishaan that morning. "Why am I behaving like this?" she hissed, shame flooding, her volcano roaring, unquenched, his return a trap she’d walk into, willingly or not.

Stiff on her bed, Madhuri replayed the stalker’s message: "I'll prove I'm not him tonight" Her heart hammered, a wild drumbeat of fear and excitement, her juicy lips parted, panting shallow breaths as she stared at the ceiling, "What’s his game now? I’m done falling for it, he’s getting caught tonight," she whispered, her voice trembling, her volcano simmering, craving a proof.

A sharp knock jolted her—Abhi's voice, shaky, through the door: "Maa… I heard a sudden noise from the terrace." Her breath caught—his fear pierced her haze—and she sat up.

"Are you alright, my dear?" she called, forcing calm, but her heart raced—He's here.

"I'm a little afraid mom… heard a loud bang. Can you please go check?" he pleaded, and she stood, legs shaky.

"Okay, I'll look—go back to Ishaan, stay safe and dont step out," Her voice quavered—bravery a mask—deep inside, she knew: something bad, wild, was brewing, his proof a trap snapping shut. "Is he gonna be there?" she whispered, grabbing a flashlight, her body pulsing with fear and excitement.

She crept upstairs, the terrace door creaking open—cool air hit her, dark and silent. Her flashlight swept across empty tiles, a shattered pot at the far end, then—a rose on the floor, a letter tucked beneath.

“He’s here!” she gasped, kneeling to unfold the note: “Meet me in the backyard for a surprise.” Her heart lurched—danger and allure colliding. She gripped the rose, thorns pricking, a soft “Ohh” slipping out, his taunt fueling her fire. “Do I go?” she murmured, dread surging—her body urged yes, her mind screamed no.

"Its a chance to clear my doubts on Ishaan as well as find who the real culprit behind this" she thought, and stood, her flashlight flickered, casting eerie shapes—and crept back, pausing at Abhi's door, hearing him and Ishaan talking.

"Ishaan's in the room," she whispered, her doubt shifting—"Those eyes, are they not his?"

She silently opened the door and slipped to the backyard, flashlight in hand. Stepping into the dark, she gasped, her nightdress no shield against the wildness awaiting.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 6: Tease and Blow
Subchapter 6.5: The Backyard Shadow
​

The backyard loomed under Hyderabad's midnight sky, a tangle of shadows and rustling leaves as Madhuri stepped out, her curves outlined in that night dress, her thick ass swaying, her bare feet cold on the grass. The rose trembled in her hand, her flashlight beam danced—bushes, the fence and silence.

Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm of fear and thrill, her juicy lips parted, panting. "Where is he?" she whispered as she edged forward and froze: a rustle, sharp, behind her.

"Who was that?" she gasped, spinning—nothing but shadows—then a hand clamped her mouth, rough, silencing her, and an arm dragged her back, hard, into a dark corner by the fence in front of Abhi's room's window.

"Mmph!" she choked, muffled, her flashlight dropping—clattering, dead—and her fists flailed, beating air, her scream trapped—barely a whimper leaked.

His grip tightened, as she felt the presence of him behind, his scent—musk, heat flooding her, and her pussy gushed, her nipples stiffening—fear screamed fight, need screamed yield—her abyss snapping shut around her.

He released her mouth, slow—her breath ragged, "You?"—and shoved her down, kneeling her in the grass—his scarf gleamed, wolf-logo faint, and his eyes met hers—deep, commanding, the eyes from the bus—her heart stopped, a jolt of memory: fingering her, owning her.

The wolf logo scarf glinting faintly, his tall frame looming as he sat before her, "You almost ruined him, darling. Is the proof enough?" he rasped, voice low, thick—his fake bass, wild and raw. Voices drifted—Abhi's room, muffled laughs coming from Abhi's room. "Listen to them. Want me to ruin them instead, or you gonna behave?"

Her breath hitched, guilt hit her, the teasing of Ishaan a sin she committed.

She shook her head, trembling—"Please.. don't harm the kids.." She froze—"So its not Ishaan."—but his grin glinted, the faint hum of a voice recorder betraying his ruse. The clever bastard had tricked her, luring her deeper into his trap.

"Why are you doing this?" she panted, her hands pushing his chest—firm, unyielding—but he leaned closer, his breath hot, teasing without touch.

His hands hovering and brushing her thighs through the pajamas—and her pussy twitched, her nipples hard through the top.

"Please… stop this," she gasped, but her hips shifted—craving, yielding—and a soft "Ohh" slipped free, her control fraying, his tease a storm she couldn't weather.

He advanced—hands grazing her breasts,—and she jolted, a loud "Noo!" accidentally bursting out.

Lights flared from neighbors' windows and a shout—"Who's there?"—and she froze.

"What have I done?" she whispered, her shame surging—fear, excitement, a trembling night crashing around her.

The night pulsed with tension as Madhuri crouched in the backyard. The stalker's eyes, glinted with a calm that unnerved her.

A creak of a gate snapped her focus—Uncle Sharma, the nosy neighbor, emerged from his house, his flashlight bobbing as he shuffled toward the fence, his silhouette looming. Madhuri’s stomach churned, panic spiking—"What if he sees us?"

“Stay quiet,” the stalker whispered, his voice low, “I’ll handle this.” She nodded, hands flying to her mouth, muffling her ragged breaths, her eyes wide as she sank lower into the bushes beside him.

He stood up, a shadow against the fence, his form tall and unyielding. The uncle stopped on the other side, his flashlight flickering, catching only the stalker’s vague outline. “Who’s that?” the old man barked, suspicion thick in his tone.

The stalker’s voice came smooth, unruffled: “Sorry for the disturbance, sir. Mrs. Madhuri called me to fix a leaky pipe. She gave me the keys for the lawn, I am only free at night, you see.”

His words were a lie spun with ease, and Madhuri, crouched low, felt her heart lurch, her eyes darting nervously—then freezing. A bulge strained against his pants, unmistakable, bold. Her gaze locked on it, a flush creeping up her neck, her body betraying her with a twitch of desire she couldn’t explain. "Why can’t I look away?" she thought, her lips parting, her breath hitching.

Sharmaji grunted, “Bit odd, working this late,” and raised his flashlight, its beam threatening to pierce the dark. The stalker moved swiftly—his hand dropped to his pants, zipping them down in a bold, reckless motion.

Madhuri’s eyes widened, a gasp trapped in her throat as his dick sprang free—thick, long, pulsing in the dim light, inches from her face. Her hands fell from her mouth, shock and awe parting her lips, her body trembling as she stared, transfixed, her pussy clenching despite the fear.

"It’s… real", her thoughts spun wildly, breath catching in short gasps, the warmth between her thighs impossible to ignore as she gazed at it, no longer just an image on her screen.

He quickly tugged the scarf from his face, tossing it to the ground. Madhuri’s gaze flicked to the fallen cloth, her heart slamming—His face, finally!—her excitement surging, desperate to see the truth. She tilted her head up, but before she could catch a glimpse, his hand gripped her hair, pulling her forward. Her lips met his dick, a sudden, overwhelming warmth filling her mouth as she gagged, her eyes watering, her body caught between shock and a wild, shameful thrill. She couldn’t pull away, her mouth yielding, her mind a haze of fear and want.

The flashlight beam cut through the dark as the neighbor clicked it on, his voice sharp: “You dont look like a plumber. What was that noise earlier then?” The stalker didn’t flinch, his voice steady even as Madhuri’s lips trembled around him.

“Just some stray cats knocking things over in the yard,” he said, cool as ever. “No worries, I shooed them off.” His hand tightened in her hair, a silent command, and Madhuri’s body pulsed—fear, shame, and a dangerous heat crashing together as the night closed in around them.

Madhuri’s world spun, her lips stretched around the his thick cock, her throat constricting as she gagged.

A faint rustle of leaves broke the night’s hush, stirring from a shadowy corner of the bushes, but her mind couldn’t grasp it—too consumed by the pulsing warmth in her mouth, a wild thrill coursing through her veins.

Unknown to her, Ishaan had orchestrated a twisted game, hiding Abhi in that dark corner before everything. He is straining to stay silent, his eyes wide, enjoying the forbidden scene.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 6: Tease and Blow
Subchapter 6.6: Blowing Allegations
​

Sharmaji’s voice cut through, gruff but curious: “Thought I heard Mrs. Madhuri scream earlier. Sounded like someone broke in. She give you the house keys?” The stalker’s grip tightened in Madhuri’s hair, his voice smooth, unfazed: “Just the lawn keys for the pipes, sir. Why would she give me the house keys?” His tone was casual, but he caught a flicker of suspicion in the neighbor's face of disappointment.

The stalker pressed further, his voice teasing: “Why would anyone break in? She that wealthy?”

Sharmaji's face soured, disappointment flashing as he muttered, “Forget her wealth. Men around here go mad for her. With her husband gone, every bastard’s itching for a shot.”

Madhuri’s breath caught, shock rippling through her—"They all want me?"—her body trembling, her lips still wrapped around him, pushing back and forth. The stalker chuckled, low and dark. “Can’t blame ‘em. First time I saw her, that face—damn, it hit me hard.”

Uncle Sharma leaned closer, voice dropping to a leer. “Face? You gotta see her curves, boy. Her husband’s a lucky dog. Always bragging how he fucks her senseless, and how he keeps her satisfied on bed.”

Madhuri’s heart sank—she knew those were lies, her husband’s boasts hollow, her sex life a ghost of what he claimed. Her cheeks burned, shame and anger swirling as she processed the betrayal.

The stalker’s voice turned sly: “You jealous of him?” Uncle Sharma snorted, “Who wouldn’t be? I watch her every chance I get. Up on her terrace, strutting in a see-through saree the other day—damn, it nearly stopped my heart.”

Madhuri froze, her eyes widening, the revelation a punch to her gut—"He’s been watching me?"

Her mind screamed, but her body betrayed her, a fresh pulse of heat flooding her core. The stalker’s hand tightened, yanking her head forward, thrusting his dick deeper into her throat. She gagged, a choked sound escaping, her lips trembling around his length. Uncle Sharma’s flashlight swung toward the noise. “What was that?” he barked.

“Just the pipe slipping into the suction tube,” the stalker said, cool as ever, his grip unyielding as Madhuri’s eyes watered, her body caught between shock and a shameful, electric thrill. The rustle in the bushes went unnoticed and Abhi’s silent gaze burned from the shadows.

Sharmaji’s voice droned on, thick with gossip, slicing through the humid night. “One of my friends called me up the other night— said he saw her near KPHB colony, late, dressed like some tart, standing there like she was waiting for a john. By the time I reached there, poof, she was gone.” His tone dripped with judgment.

“Bet she’s got some office fling while her husband’s off. Corporate life, turning her loose.” Madhuri’s heart stuttered, her lips still stretched around the stalker’s pulsing cock, her throat tight from his thrust.

Relief flooded her as he didn't know what happened on that bus. Her body trembled, caught in a storm of shame and thrill, her nightdress damp against her skin.

Uncle Sharma leaned closer to the fence, his voice a conspiratorial hiss. “Whole colony’s itching to fuck her, you know. She’s got every man’s blood up.” The words hit like a slap, raw and vile, yet Madhuri’s pussy clenched, a traitorous heat pooling between her thighs.

Her hands, unthinking, drifted to her breasts, fingers grazing her hard nipples through the thin top, a soft “Mmm” muffled against the stalker’s dick as she fondled herself, her resolve crumbling under the weight of the slut-shaming. The accusations, the leering—she hated it, but her body drank it in, her hips shifting, her core dripping.

In the shadowed corner, Abhi’s breath hitched, his eyes locked on his mother’s writhing form, her lips around Ishaan's cock, her hands teasing her own curves. His hand moved in the dark, stroking his hardening meat, the sight of her—shamed yet yielding—igniting a twisted fire in him. He fought to stay silent, the leaves around him barely rustling, his gaze unblinking.

The stalker’s grip tightened in Madhuri’s hair, his dick pulsing deeper, her gagging muffled as Sharmaji’s flashlight bobbed, oblivious to the scene. Her mind screamed—"This colony is a bunch of old jerks, atleast this dick feels good in my mouth"—her body betrayed her, fingers pinching her nipples, the other hand inside her pajamas rubbing her soaking pussy getting closer to an orgasm, a sight Abhi cannot forget. The night a tangled web of fear, desire, and secrets closing in.

Sharmaji's voice slithered through the dark, low and greedy. “Try and get me those house keys before her husband’s back, yeah?” The stalker’s lips curled, his voice a smooth promise: “Consider it done.”

Madhuri, crouched in the bushes, her lips still tingling from his cock, imagined it pounding her pussy instead—her fingers slipped beneath her pajamas, rubbing her slick clit, her mind lost to the fantasy. Her body burned, control slipping, her breath hitching as she teetered on the edge of orgasm, her nipples straining against her nightie. The shame of the neighbor’s words only fueled her, her pussy dripping, her senses drowning in the heat.

A sudden flicker snapped her haze—streetlights blinked out, plunging the backyard into pitch black. Her heart lurched, fingers frozen against her clit. Seconds later, the lights buzzed back, but the stalker was gone—vanished like a ghost, leaving her throbbing, unsatisfied, teetering on the brink once more.

“Fucking bastard,” she whispered, fury and disappointment crashing through her, her body aching with unspent need. She waited, trembling in the bushes, until the neighbor retreated, his muttering fading as he shuffled back to his house.

Madhuri stumbled to her feet, the night surreal, dreamlike, her legs shaky as she crept inside. Passing Abhi’s room, she paused, heart pounding, and quietly opened the door. Abhi and Ishaan lay in their beds, sleeping soundly, their breaths even.

Relief flooded her—"He's not Ishaan. Thank G0d." But doubt lingered, a nagging itch. Her eyes fell on Ishaan’s phone, glinting on the nightstand. One last check, she thought, guilt prickling as she grabbed it, her fingers trembling as she punched in the password she’d memorized.

Instagram loaded—his profile, clean, ordinary, nothing like the stalker’s. She swiped to his DMs, her heart sinking at the unread messages from girls, a pang of betrayal she couldn’t place.

He’s got game, but not the one, she decided, locking the phone and slipping it back, unaware Ishaan had logged out of his stalker account before luring her into that twisted game.

She rushed to her room, locking the door, her mind a whirlwind of the night’s chaos. The stalker’s tease—leaving her on the edge again—infuriated her, yet her cheeks flushed pink, a shameful thrill at the neighbors’ lustful gossip.

"They all want me?" she thought, her pussy still pulsing. She washed herself, the cool water no match for the heat in her core, and slipped into fresh pajamas and a top.

Climbing into bed, she grabbed her phone, fingers flying as she texted the stalker: "I’m furious. You toyed with me, and left me hanging again, even if I… liked it." Her heart raced, hating herself for admitting it.

His reply pinged instantly: "How’s it feel, being the colony’s whore?" The words sent a jolt through her, a twisted mix of shame and excitement, her thighs clenching. “That's it, stop texting me,” she typed, her voice trembling in her mind. “No more games.” His response was swift, taunting: "We’ll see about that."

She stared at the screen, frustration boiling, guilt and desire warring as she buried her face in her pillow, the night’s wildness haunting her as she drifted into uneasy sleep.



(End of Chapter 6)

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 7: Twisted Juices
Subchapter 7.1: The Twisted Setup
​

The weekend morning broke over Hyderabad with a sluggish haze, the humid air pressing into Madhuri's locked bedroom as she slumped against her pillows. The clock ticked toward 8 AM, each second a taunt—her phone lay silent beside her, “Did he leave me again?”, the stalker's absence a void gnawing at her soul.

Her juicy lips parted, still tasting his 9-inch cock—salt, musk, a raw imprint from her first blowjob—and her pussy throbbed, wet and unspent, her brown eyes glassy—shame, anger, and a twisted craving tangled in her chest.
She'd barely slept—his vanishing replayed: his cock thrusting her throat, neighbors' filthy chorus and his tease leaving her trembling, close to climax, then gone.

But her pussy pulsed, wetter, craving that thick shaft. “It'd barely fit in my mouth—I wonder how it will feel inside me” she gasped, her hand drifting—brushing her shorts, grazing her clit—wet, tingling—and a soft “Ohh” slipped free, “Where is this going to end? Looks like I'm in a trouble” she hissed, shame surging—her life unraveling, her control slipping—and her volcano flared, unquenched, pulling her deeper.

Downstairs, Abhi's chatter with Ishaan—cricket scores, laughter—drifted up, grounding her.

She stood, shaky—tank top clinging, shorts damp—determined to bury it, her crave a beast she'd cage, though her body trembled, his shadow a spark she couldn't douse.

She splashed water on her face—cold, sharp—her reflection a stranger: lips swollen, eyes wild, “I need to snap out of it,” she whispered and got dressed—a blue saree, modest, hiding her thick thighs, her shame veiled.

Abhi's shout—“Mom, breakfast?”—pulled her down, but her crave lingered—Ishaan's tease a trap she'd fight.

Later in the evening, living room buzzing with Abhi's giggles and Ishaan's sly chuckles as Madhuri stood in the kitchen, rolling rotis, her hands dusted with flour, her blue saree swishing—modest, but clinging to her curves, her thick waist peeking, a shield against last night's wild heat.

The doorbell chimed, sharp and sudden, pulling her from her thoughts. “I got it!” Abhi called, his footsteps thumping toward the door. Madhuri’s heart gave a nervous twitch, her fingers pausing on the dough.

A clatter rang out—plastic thudding against the floor. Madhuri wiped her hands, and stepped out to the living room.

On the floor lay a white sheet, dotted with bright colored circles—red, blue, green, yellow—sprawled like a challenge. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice cautious, her eyes flicking between Abhi’s excited grin and Ishaan’s watchful gaze.

Abhi beamed, scooping up the sheet. “Thanks for letting us get this, Maa! It’s a Twister game. I’m so ready to beat Ishaan—he’s always mocking me, saying I’ll lose.” His enthusiasm was infectious, but Madhuri’s stomach tightened, her gaze lingering on the mat, a strange unease prickling her skin. “Twister?” she asked, stepping closer, her tone feigning curiosity to mask the flutter in her chest. “How do you play it?”

Ishaan stepped forward, his movements lazy but deliberate, his eyes glinting as he signaled Abhi. “Pump it up.” Turning to Madhuri, he said, “This isn’t any regular Twister, aunty. It’s 3D Twister.”

His voice was smooth, teasing, as he explained the rules: "You spin a wheel, it tells you where to put your hands and feet—right hand on red, left foot on blue, like that. Players crawl inside, contorting to touch colored circles on the walls, floor, and even the inner sides, following a spinner’s commands."

Abhi, meanwhile, pumped air into the deflated mass, and it began to take shape—a robust, cuboid structure, 12 feet long in each direction, with a cape grain finish. The cube stood open on its front face, the remaining sides sealed, their colored circles gleaming under the living room lights.

"You twist, you stretch, you try not to fall.” His lips curled, his gaze locking on hers, lingering a beat too long.

“It can get… really close.” His tone was teasing, but the air thickened, her nipples tightening under her blouse, her thighs pressing together as memories of his touch—his scent, his heat—flooded back.

Madhuri swallowed, her cheeks flushing, forcing a laugh to break the tension. “Sounds… interesting,” she said, her voice wavering, her mind screaming to retreat as Ishaan’s grin widened, promising trouble she wasn’t sure she could resist.

"Be safe and have fun", she said and fled back to the kitchen, her hands resuming their rhythm with the rolling pin, but her mind churned about the stalker who left her hanging in the DMs. The air felt thick, her saree clinging to her curves as she tried to focus on the rotis.

Minutes later, a sharp “Ouch!” from Abhi pierced the hum of the living room, yanking her attention back. Her head snapped up, heart lurching, and she wiped, hurrying to the doorway. “What happened now?” she called, her voice sharp with worry, stepping into the living room where the inflated Twister cube dominated the space, its colored circles glinting under the lights.

Abhi rubbed his elbow, wincing, while Ishaan lounged nearby, leaning against the cube—his gray tee hugged his abs, his shorts low, his smirk unshaken, eyes flicking to her with that unnerving intensity.

“I keep losing—Ishaan's too good!” Abhi whined, rubbing his elbow, and Ishaan smirked—“This idiot has no mobility—takes real skill to beat a player.”

Her brow arched “Huh? What did you call my son?” and he strode closer, his scent—sweat, spice—washing over her.

“Losers deserve it. But, you look like you might stand a chance aunty. Wanna join?” he purred, his tone flirting, bold—and her pussy pulsed—sudden—his challenge a blade to her pride.

“I am not playing any games with you, take back what you said about Abhi.” she snapped, turning—her saree slipped, flashing her navel—but he laughed, low, teasing. “Too serious, huh? Come on, aunty—loosen up, show us what you got—I'd hate to think you're scared of a little fun,” he taunted, nudging her ego, and her jaw tightened.

He won't stop flirting—her shame prickled, but her need flared. “If you win, I'll quit mocking Abhi—no more taunts, promise—you'd tame me quiet,” he murmured close to her ear, tossing a playful wink—“But you won't, ‘cause you’re too wound up.”

She looked at her son who is in plain. Her resolve cracked, his bait too sweet. “Alright... I'll play,” she agreed, voice shaky—rules half-known, her pride hooked—his grin widened.

“Abhi's the judge—he'll keep it fair,” Ishaan said, clapping Abhi's shoulder—Abhi nodded, sly—“I'll watch close, Ishaan. No cheating!”—and her confidence flared—"I'll win and shut him up"—unaware of the trap.

“Saree's tricky for this, aunty. Wear something snug if you wanna beat me.” Ishaan quipped, his eyes tracing her—bold, hungry—and her breath caught—He's right— “Wait, I'll be back,” she muttered, fleeing upstairs

Her saree fell, swapped a short kurti top and tight leggings, no bra, no panties—slinky for the game. "I'll win, no matter what", her twisted setup a game she'd master, or so she thought.

She returned with a dress hugging her thick ass. Abhi's “Ready, mom?” and Ishaan's grin—“Damn, aunty—you're a storm in that—gonna make me dizzy spinning you,” his tease a flame, her resolve a thread.

Abhi's wheel gleamed, her trap unwittingly set, her twisted juices a secret brewing, Ishaan's wild plan a shadow she'd dance in, blind to its heat.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 7: Twisted Juices
Subchapter 7.2: The Cube's Embrace​

The evening thickened, the living room humming with anticipation as Madhuri stood before the inflated cube, its grid of colored slots glinting. Her short kurti clung tight—leggings molding her thick thighs, the top hugging her curves

Abhi perched outside, wheel in hand—“I'm umpiring, no funny moves!”—his grin sly, eyes sharp, while Ishaan lounged beside the cube, gray tee stretched over his abs.

“Once Abhi spins the wheel, he'll let us know the colour, you call the spot—hand, leg, wherever—twist in, hold it,” Ishaan said, stepping close.

“Mm.. ok then, lets play,” she snapped, ducking into the cube along with Ishaan.

Madhuri's heart raced with a mix of apprehension and regret as she adjusted her kurti, and tugged at the waistband of her tight leggings, suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed she felt without a bra or panties. She’d chosen the outfit for flexibility, she told herself, but now, standing across from Ishaan, whose fitted tee stretched over his chiseled abs and shorts hugged his athletic frame, she second-guessed her decision.

Abhi sat on the couch, the spinner in his hands, his eyes darting between his mother and Ishaan with a mix of curiosity and something darker, something Madhuri couldn’t quite place.

“Alright, let’s start,” Abhi announced, his voice tinged with an eagerness Madhuri mistook for innocence. He spun the wheel, “Mom, right hand on red.”

She glanced around, spotting the closest red mark, reached up, placing her right hand on a red marker near the top of the cube. Abhi spun again “Ishaan, left hand on green.”

Ishaan followed, his movements confident, almost predatory, as he placed his right hand on a green marker just opposite hers.

“Now, right foot on yellow Mom,” Abhi said. Madhuri scanned the floor, saw a yellow circle close by, and stepped onto it. Within a few moves, she noticed she was drawing closer to Ishaan.

Their fingers were inches apart, and Madhuri’s breath caught as she noticed his gaze—intense, unyielding, his dark eyes locking onto hers. There was something in the way he looked at her, a hunger that made her skin prickle. She quickly averted her eyes, focusing on the colored markers, her cheeks warming with a flush she hoped no one noticed.

“Uh, Ishaan, left foot on blue,” Abhi called out, his voice steady but with a faint undercurrent of excitement. Ishaan shifted, his body moving with an easy grace as he placed his foot on a blue marker, bringing him slightly closer to Madhuri.

The cube was large but not spacious, and their proximity felt charged, like the air before a storm. Madhuri’s heart thudded, and she scolded herself silently. "Get a grip, Madhuri. He's just a boy," but the memory of her earlier attempt to seduce him, to test if he was the masked stalker, gnawed at her. "Hope I didn't plant any seed in his mind."

“Mom, left hand on yellow,” Abhi said, spinning the wheel again. Madhuri stretched to reach a yellow marker above her, her body arching slightly. Ishaan’s eyes followed the movement, lingering on the curve of her waist where the kurti rode up, exposing a sliver of skin.

She felt his gaze like a physical touch, and her stomach twisted with a mix of discomfort and something she didn’t want to name. “Ishaan, right foot on green,” Abhi continued, his tone almost mechanical now, as if he were reading from a script.

Ishaan complied, his body now positioned so close that Madhuri could feel the heat radiating from him. Their hands were both high on the cube, their faces mere inches apart. His eyes bored into hers again, and this time, she couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic in his stare, something that made her feel exposed, vulnerable, yet oddly alive. “You’re pretty good at this, aunty. By the way, you look gorgeous up close.” Ishaan said, his voice low, almost a purr, his words carrying a teasing edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Don’t say that,” Madhuri snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She forced a smile to soften it. “I mean, let’s just play.” Her heart raced, and she hated how her body betrayed her with that secret blush creeping up her neck.

Abhi spun the wheel again, his fingers lingering on it a moment too long, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Mom, right foot on red.”

She glanced down as she searched for a red spot. Her eyes darted to one just ahead, dangerously close to Ishaan, a knot tightened in her stomach.

Silently, she prayed for an escape. Her gaze swept the mat, and to her relief, another red spot gleamed behind her. A wave of relief washed over her as she stretched her left foot to claim it, her body tilting aside from Ishaan. Abhi's eyes locked onto her ass, where he noticed she wore nothing beneath her leggings.

The game pressed on, relentless. A few moves later, Madhuri found herself herself completely rotated, now facing away from the cube’s center. Ishaan, however, hadn’t shifted much—his frame still squared toward her, his eyes locked on her back.

She balanced awkwardly, her limbs splayed across the mat. But as she stood there, twisted into this new position, a realization crept in. Turning around is not seeming like a safe choice anymore. But she couldn’t back out now—not without looking foolish or, worse, suspicious.

The cube felt smaller, the air thicker. She could sense him behind her, his presence looming. “Ishaan, right hand on blue,” Abhi said, and Madhuri heard the rustle of fabric as Ishaan shifted, his body inching closer.

The game continued, each move bringing them into tighter quarters. Madhuri’s arms stretched overhead, her kurti riding up further, and she cursed herself for not wearing something more modest. Ishaan’s breath was warm against the back of her neck, and she fought to keep her focus on the game, on the colors, on anything but the tension coiling in her gut.

Suddenly, Madhuri felt something pressing against her from behind. Glancing back, she noticed a bulge in Ishaan’s shorts. “Oh no, he’s got an erection,” she whispered to herself, instantly regretting her choice of tight, revealing clothes. She couldn’t help but wonder if her teasing from the day before had sparked his attraction.

“Ishaan, you okay back there?” she asked, her voice tight, trying to sound casual.

“Fine, Aunty,” he replied, his tone smooth. “Just trying to keep up with you. You’re making this tough.” There was a hint of a smirk in his voice, and it sent a jolt through her.

Shame flooded her. "He’s innocent. I did this. I made him feel this way." She bit her lip, trying to focus on the game, but the heat of his body behind her was impossible to ignore.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 7: Twisted Juices
Subchapter 7.3: The Sensual Spiral​

The living room felt like it was shrinking, the 3D Twister cube a claustrophobic maze of colored markers and unspoken tension. Abhi’s next call came “Mom, right hand on green.”

She scanned above but found no accessible green markers. A lone green spot on the wall ahead caught her attention, and she leaned and reached for it. After a couple more turns, she realized she was bent over, her rear entirely open to Ishaan.

With her hands and feet planted on the floor, Madhuri’s legs stretched out, the leggings pulling taut against her skin. Ishaan’s hands rested on a side wall toward which she was oriented. Then, she felt it—a subtle but unmistakable pressure against her backside.

“Looking good, Mom, hang in there.” Abhi said, looking at his mom in a doggy-style stance, his voice oddly cheerful. “Ishaan, right hand, yellow.”

Ishaan shifted, and Madhuri felt his boner poke and rub between her ass cheeks. She jolts in shock. Ishaan’s body was pressed closer than necessary, and through the thin fabric of her leggings, she could feel the hard outline of his arousal.

"God, Ishaan is big," she swallowed hard, her mind screaming at her to stay composed. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp. Her mind screamed at her to stop the game, to walk away, but her body betrayed her with a rush of heat she hadn’t felt in years.

She glanced at Abhi, hoping for an out, but he was focused on the spinner, his expression unreadable. “Abhi, maybe we should take a break,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Aw, come on, Mom, you’re doing great!” Abhi replied, his enthusiasm sounding forced. “Just a few more moves. You gotta beat Ishaan today.”

Ishaan chuckled softly behind her, the sound vibrating through her. “Yeah, Aunty, you can’t let me win,” he echoed, his voice dripping with something that wasn’t just playful competition.

“Alright, next move,” Abhi called out, spinning the wheel with a flick of his wrist. “Mom, right hand on blue.” His tone was casual, but there was a calculated precision to his words that Madhuri didn’t catch, too caught up in her own turmoil.

She shifted, stretching a reach the blue marker next to her hand, her body lowering further. Ishaan moved with her, his hips aligning in a way that brought his arousal directly against her pussy through the leggings.

The contact was brief but deliberate, sending a shockwave of sensation through her core. She gasped softly, her body betraying her with a rush of heat that pooled low in her belly.

“Careful, Aunty,” Ishaan murmured, his voice barely audible, a playful lilt masking something darker. “You don’t want to lose your balance.” She could hear the smirk in his words, and it made her want to scream, to push him away, but her limbs felt heavy, her resolve fraying under the weight of his proximity.

Abhi spun the wheel again, his eyes flicking to his mother’s form. “Mom, left leg on red,” he said, his voice steady but his gaze sharp, taking in every detail. Madhuri hesitated, her breath uneven, but she complied, lifting her leg to place it high on the cube’s side wall.

The movement stretched the leggings even tighter. As she adjusted, she felt a dampness between her thighs, a telltale wet spot forming where the material clung to her. Her face flushed with mortification.

"No, no, please, not now," she prayed silently, hoping neither Abhi nor Ishaan would notice. Her choice of not wearing panties felt like a reckless mistake.

Abhi’s eyes flickered downward, catching the faint darkened patch on her leggings. A faint smirk crossed his face before he looked away.

“Wow, Aunty,” Ishaan said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re as flexible as a teenager. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

She tried to laugh it off. “Just… trying to keep up,” she mumbled, her voice shaky. The game continued, each spin drawing them into more compromising positions.

Madhuri’s muscles burned from the strain of holding her poses, her body stretched to its limits as Abhi’s voice droned on, calling out moves with a precision that felt almost rehearsed.

The air was thick with the scent of her own sweat and the faint musk of Ishaan’s cologne, a heady mix that made her head spin. She tried to focus on the game, but each further move seemed to pull her deeper into a situation she couldn’t control.

Abhi's voice remained steady but laced with something Madhuri couldn’t quite pinpoint. In a few moves, he had his mom standing, her hands gripping the side wall next to Ishaan, who's now arching his back and bending, facing the top, driving his hips up and knees bent. his hands braced on the cube’s side wall at respective colors.

Giggling at Ishaan’s strained position, Madhuri shook her head. “Tough luck today, Ishaan!” she said with a smirk. “That pose is way too intense—you’re done for, and I’m taking the win!” Yet Ishaan remained rock-solid, unshaken.

Abhi gave the wheel another spin. “Right leg, blue, Mom,” he called out. Madhuri searched for a blue marker, spotting one across from Ishaan. He shot her a sly grin. “Go on, make your move,” he said, chuckling.

Madhuri exasperated, sighing. “Seriously? This game hates me,” she grumbled. Reluctantly, she raised her leg, crossing it over him to land her foot on the blue circle.

Her body hovered above his, her crotch aligned with his. The bulge in his shorts pressed directly against her wet spot, and she stifled a gasp as a jolt of pleasure shot through her. Her nipples hardened, poking through her kurti, and she saw Ishaan’s eyes flicker to them, a hungry edge to his gaze.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down her temple, and she prayed—desperately—that neither Ishaan nor Abhi noticed the damp spot growing on her leggings or the way her body was reacting against her will.

“You’re doing great, Aunty. How intense is this?” Ishaan said, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

Madhuri’s face flushed deeper. “Just… focus on the game, Ishaan,” she managed, her voice trembling. But the way his erection pressed against her, rubbing slightly with every small movement, was driving her to the edge. She could feel herself getting wetter, her body responding despite her mind’s protests.

Abhi spun again lowering her hands bringing her body even closer to Ishaan’s.

She hesitated, her arms trembling as she slowly moved one hand down, then the other. Ishaan adjusted his legs, his boner now pressing firmly against her wet spot. She bit her lip hard, suppressing a moan.

Her breasts now dangerously close to his face, her hardened nipples almost grazing his lips through the thin kurti. She could feel his breath, warm and teasing, and her body screamed for release. "I can’t do this. Not in front of Abhi."

Abhi called again, his voice almost gleeful. “Mom, left hand red.”

If she did this, her nipples would brush against Ishaan’s mouth. The thought was unbearable—humiliating and thrilling all at once. She looked at Abhi, then at Ishaan, whose eyes gleamed with something dark and knowing. “I… I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m done.”

She collapsed on the floor of the cube, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Ishaan stood, stretching casually, a grin spreading across his face. “Good game, Aunty,” he said, his tone laced with triumph. “You almost had me. Better prep for next time.”

Madhuri stood, brushing off her kurti, her face burning with shame and confusion. “This was a stupid game,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze. “Anyways well done, Ishaan.”

She turned and hurried to her room, her heart pounding, her body still tingling from the contact. She didn’t see the way Ishaan’s grin widened, or the knowing glance he shared with Abhi.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 7: Twisted Juices
Subchapter 7.4: The Night's Prelude
​

That night, alone in her bedroom, Madhuri’s fingers hovered over her phone. Her dress replaced with another kurti. Her mind replayed the game, the way Ishaan’s body had pressed against hers, the way her own body had betrayed her.

She grabbed her phone, hoping for a message from the stalker, but found none.

Frustration surged through her. “This is your fault,” she typed, her fingers trembling. “Because of you, Ishaan’s acting strange. He… he was looking at me today during this game we played. Things got… weird. You need to do something before he tries anything.”

The response came quickly, the words dripping with malice. “Sounds like you’re turning into a real slut, Madhuri. Craving that boy’s dick already? From what you’re saying, seems like you want him just as much.”

Her face flushed with anger and shame. “No! He’s just a boy. There’s nothing like that,” she typed back, but the words felt hollow. Deep down, a part of her couldn’t stop thinking about Ishaan’s eyes, his body, the way he’d felt against her. She shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts.

DevilzMask’s next message was cruel. “You’re lying to yourself. You deserve to be kept on edge, teased like the needy little thing you are.”

Madhuri’s frustration boiled over. “If you keep me hanging like this, I’ll have to confront Ishaan myself,” she typed, her heart racing. No response came.

She stared at the screen, her mind spiraling back to the game, to Ishaan’s teasing words, his hardness against her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will herself to sleep, but the heat in her body refused to fade.

The next morning, Sunday, Madhuri woke with a start, her dreams a tangled mess of shame and desire. She dragged herself out of bed, splashing cold water on her face to clear her head.

Downstairs, the living room was empty—no Twister cube, no Ishaan. The absence was both a relief and a strange disappointment. She headed to the kitchen, tying her hair back as she began preparing breakfast, the routine grounding her.

The doorbell rang, and her heart leapt. "Ishaan?" She smoothed her kurti, a flicker of excitement betraying her resolve, and opened the door with a hesitant smile. But her face fell as she saw her husband, Vikram, standing there, his suitcase at his side, a tired but warm smile on his face.

“Surprise,” he said, stepping forward to hug her. “Missed you, Madhuri.”

She forced a smile, pretending to be thrilled. Her mind still reeling from the events of the past week. “I… I missed you too,” she said, her voice tight.


(End of Chapter 7)

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
SubChapter 8.1: The Husband's Return​

Sunday morning broke over Hyderabad with a lazy, golden haze, the sun spilling through the curtains of Madhuri's sprawling two-story home, casting long shadows across the marble floor.

The front door creaked open, and her heart jolted—Ramesh shuffled in, his suitcase dragging behind him, his tired frame slouched in a crumpled blazer. At 42, he was still handsome—sharp jaw, salt-and-pepper hair—but his eyes carried a weariness that matched his limp spirit.

"Home finally," he said, voice hoarse from jetlag, dropping his bag by the sofa. She straightened, smoothing her saree—her navel peeked out, a reflex—and forced a smile, her volcano simmering beneath the mask of a dutiful wife. "How was the trip, Ramesh? Wasn't expecting you this early." she asked, stepping closer, her scent—jasmine and sweat—wafting toward him.

He nodded, sinking into the couch, his gaze flickering over her curves, but it dulled fast—no spark, no hunger. "Thought of giving you a surprise, Madhu. Long flight... work was hell," he mumbled, rubbing his temples.

Abhi bounded down the stairs, his lanky frame in a loose tee, eyes lighting up. "Dad! You're back!" he grinned, hugging Ramesh, who ruffled his hair weakly.

"Missed you, Abhi," Ramesh said, then glanced at her. "Everything okay here?" She nodded quick—too quick—her saree swishing as she turned back to the kitchen, hiding the flush creeping up her neck.

"Yeah, all good," she lied, her voice tight, the stalker's texts, Ishaan's taunts, her own moans flashing through her mind. Ramesh didn't press, his exhaustion a wall she couldn't breach—not yet.

The doorbell chimed, sharp and sudden, and her pulse spiked—Ishaan. He sauntered in, all black tee and jeans, his athletic frame radiating that cocky heat, his deep eyes glinting as they flicked to her, then Ramesh.

"Uncle! Back from the States, already? Looking solid," he said, voice smooth, dropping onto the couch beside Ramesh like he owned the place. Madhuri froze, ladle in hand.

"Ishaan, how's it going my boy?" Ramesh smiled, weak but warm, oblivious to the predator lounging next to him.

"I'm doing great, uncle—how's the jetlag treating you?" Ishaan grinned, leaning back, his gaze sliding to Madhuri, her thick ass swaying as she moved to the kitchen to bring cookies to the boys.

"Good seeing you all together," Ishaan added, his tone dripping charm, and Ramesh chuckled, patting his knee. "Good to be home, but work... it's draining"

Madhuri plated a warm bowl of soup, her hands shaky and set it before them, avoiding Ishaan's stare. "Have it, Ramesh—you need it," she murmured, her voice soft,

"Aunty, the soup looks—spicy, just like you," he winked, and her knees quaked, a soft "haha" slipping free under her breath. Ramesh laughed, clueless, and she retreated to the sink.

Abhi grabbed a plate, chattering about school, and Ramesh listened, half-there, while Ishaan's eyes stayed on her reminding her of yesterday's game—and her nipples stiffened under her blouse, her saree no shield.

"Why is he staring like that?" she hissed to herself, scrubbing a pot—her husband home, yet Ishaan's heat pulled her deeper, a trap she'd walked into willingly.

Ramesh yawned, stretching. "I think I need a nap," he said, and Ishaan nodded, casual. "Take it easy, uncle—I'll keep things lively here."

Madhuri's heart slammed—"Is he staying even after my husband's home?" and her abyss widened, Ramesh's return a flicker against the wildfire Ishaan stoked, her shame a shadow she couldn't outrun.

Afternoon melted into a sticky haze, the living room quiet as Abhi dashed upstairs to his room, leaving Ramesh sprawled on the couch, his blazer off, shirt unbuttoned, a glass of water trembling in his hand.

Madhuri lingered in the kitchen, her black saree damp with sweat, as she chopped onions—her mind a storm, Ishaan's wink replaying, "Is he going to stay here?" she whispered, knife pausing, her brown eyes darting to the doorway—Ishaan hadn't left, his presence a pulse she couldn't shake.

He appeared then, leaning against the frame, his black tee tight over his abs, jeans hugging his bulge—too casual, too bold. "Aunty, need help?" he asked, voice low, stepping closer, and her breath caught—his scent, sweat and spice, washed over her.

"No, Ishaan—I'll manage," she snapped, sharp, but her hands shook.

He grinned, slow, wild. "You're tense, aunty—everything okay?" His eyes traced her saree—her navel bare, her curves screaming—and her shame crashing in.

"Ramesh is back, that's all," she mumbled, swiftly covering her navel and turning away, but he stepped into the kitchen, voice dropping.

"Uncle looks beat—guess the States didn't spark him up, huh?"

Her heart slammed—He's poking already—and she glared, weak.

"He's fine, Ishaan. He just need some rest," she hissed, but he shrugged, sauntering back to Ramesh, leaving her reeling, unquenched.

Ramesh sipped his water, eyes half-closed, and Ishaan dropped beside him, casual as sin. "Uncle, you're a legend—two weeks in the US, big deals, even with a hot wife waiting at home—how's it feel to meet her again?" he asked, tone smooth, probing, and Ramesh chuckled, tired.

"Feels good, Ishaan—everything's fine" But his voice cracked, faint, and Ishaan's eyes glinted—He smells it, the weakness.

"Really? ‘Cause aunty doesn't look... happy, you know?" Ishaan leaned in, voice soft, concerned—like a friend and Ramesh's smile faltered, his glass clinking on the table.

Madhuri froze at the sink, "What's he doing now?" carefully hearing whispers from the living room.

"She's fine, Ishaan," Ramesh muttered, but Ishaan pressed, slow.

"Nah, uncle—saw her this morning, she's fire and all, but something's off. Work stress getting to you?" Ramesh shifted, uncomfortable, and Ishaan's tone dipped lower. "Promise I won't tell a soul—just you and me, man to man."

The room thickened, silence stretching, and Ramesh sighed, heavy, drowning in it. "Listen, Ishaan... it's not work," he whispered, head dropping, shame flooding his sharp features.

"It's me—I can't... perform, you know? Madhuri's so hot, she's every man's dream wife, but I'm limp, useless."

His voice broke, raw, and Madhuri's knife slipped—"He's telling him?"—her heart racing, guilt and heat tangling wild. Ishaan nodded, all sympathy, but his eyes gleamed—Got you. "Damn, uncle—that's rough. She's a g0ddess, and you're stuck like that?"

Ramesh rubbed his face, drowning deeper. "Few years back, it was wild—Madhuri, she'd moan so loud, her body... G0d, insatiable. But now? I try, and nothing—she looks disappointed and hides it, but I see it. Last time, I couldn't even get hard—she just... sighed" His confession spilled, thick with shame, and Ishaan listened, slow, hungry.

"She deserves more, Ishaan—I know it," Ramesh gasped, and Madhuri's knees quaked—"He's right, but not like this"—her shame a blade twisting deeper.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
SubChapter 8.2: The Blind setup​

Ishaan leaned closer, voice a purr. "Uncle, I'll tell you one thing. You're lucky as hell—having her as a wife—but I get it, limp's a killer, and I know a fix. Wanna try?"

Ramesh looked confused and torn between agreeing or refusing. "Add a kink to spice it up uncle—she'd scream again" Ramesh looked, hesitant, "What do you mean my boy?"

Ishaan grinned, wild. "Blindfold her tonight—tell her it's a surprise, gift her a sexy dress. She won't know what's hitting her—imagine her guessing, squirming, that thrill might get you hard and satisfy her deep, trust me it can work." Ramesh's eyes widened, a flicker of hope.

Madhuri's breath hitched—"Blindfold? What is Ishaan talking?"

"Do you think it'll work?" Ramesh murmured, doubtful, but Ishaan clapped his shoulder, bold. "Trust me, uncle—thought of her not knowing who's fucking her? That's fire. She'll beg and you'll deliver—I'm telling you, it's the cure" Ramesh nodded slow, shame easing, gratitude spilling.

“Thanks, Ishaan. You could’ve told me sooner—I’d have picked up something spicy for her from the US,” Ramesh said with a chuckle. “Here, take my card. Can you grab a nice dress for her tonight?” he asked. Ishaan grinned, nodding. “Alright, I’ll see what I can find. Get ready for tonight!”

Madhuri gripped the counter as her mind swirled with unease, "What’s he plotting?" she wondered, feeling torn. She tried to keep her thoughts reserved around Ishaan, yet finding herself drawn to bolder, more seductive notions.

That evening, Ishaan showed Ramesh the dress he’d chosen.

A sultry black rhinestone-embellished bodycon mini dress with a halter cowl neckline and open back, paired with a red lace lingerie set featuring rhinestone accents, a garter belt, and fishnet stockings, finished with metallic silver stilettos, dangling crystal earrings, and a sleek silver clutch.

Ramesh’s eyes sparkled, picturing his wife in it. “Ishaan, this is perfect—she’ll look incredible,” he said, brimming with excitement.

Ishaan smirked, thinking to himself, "Yeah, perfect for me," and hands a purple satin blindfold.

Later that night, after dinner, Ramesh got up, a mix of nerves and thrill in his demeanor, and beckoned Madhuri. “Love, I’ve got a surprise for you. After your chores, put on this dress and wait in the bedroom by 11 PM. Make sure to wear the blindfold, okay? You’ll enjoy it.” His voice wavered with excitement. Madhuri turned, forcing a cheerful nod.

“Whatever you want, honey.” she said, her tone flat. Her thoughts spiraled "Ishaan’s playing him. Is this dress part of his scheme? What does he want from me?"

It's 10:30 PM, shadows dancing across the walls like secrets waiting to spill. Ramesh lounged on the couch, his shirt loose, a glass of whiskey trembling in his hand—Ishaan's doing, the bottle of Old Monk he'd “found” in the kitchen now half-empty.

Madhuri had slipped upstairs to change. Downstairs, Ishaan leaned closer to Ramesh, his deep eyes glinting as he poured another shot. "Uncle, you're living quite a dream huh? Hot wife, big house." he said, voice smooth, slow, a predator cloaked in charm.

Ramesh chuckled, tipsy, the liquor loosening his tongue. "Madhuri's... something, Ishaan—I feel so lucky," he slurred, sipping deep, and Ishaan grinned, wild, leaning in.

"Something? Uncle, she's a bomb—those curves, every time that ass sways under the saree—damn, you're blessed."

Ramesh blinked, a flush creeping up his neck, and Ishaan's tone dipped lower. "She's glowing today, huh? All tense and waiting for you."

Ramesh laughed, shaky, the whiskey hitting hard. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous—but I… I’ve been off my game lately,” he mumbled, shame flickering, and Ishaan pounced, subtle, hungry. "Nah, uncle—she's begging for it, you can tell. If I were in your shoes.." He paused, letting it hang, Ramesh, woozy, squinted at him. “Come on, my boy, out with it. You can be straight with me.”

Ishaan smirked. "I'd fantasize about her all day—pinning her down, that tight body squirming, her moans loud enough to wake the neighbors" Ramesh's glass froze mid-air, his eyes wide, and Ishaan's voice turned thick, teasing. "Bet that's what you're planning tonight, huh?"

Madhuri primped herself in the bedroom, slipping into the dress with care, but then it hit her—she’d forgotten to lock the storeroom. Wrapping herself in a soft, hooded long robe, she tiptoed toward the stairs. A chatter noise from the living room made her freeze. “What was that?” she whispered to herself.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
SubChapter 8.3: The Unveiled Game​

Ramesh hesitated, drunk, mumbling, "Maybe... the blindfold, yeah," and Ishaan pulled his phone out, casual, hitting record under the table.

"Tell me, uncle—how'd you fuck her if she's blindfolded?" he purred, Madhuri flinched, her mind racing. “What’s he talking about?” she whispered to herself, ears pricked for every word and Ramesh balked, slurring, "Ishaan, this is... too much my boy."

Ishaan replied, "Don't worry uncle. I'll just help you get that spark going," the liquor softened him, his resistance fading. "Okay, fine—just... don't tell," he gasped, and Ishaan nodded, recording every word.

"Blindfolded, I'd... touch her slow—her thighs, her breasts—say, ‘Madhuri, you're mine tonight,'" Ramesh started, voice rough, drunk, and Ishaan egged him on, low. "Yeah, keep going—make her squirm" Ramesh swayed, lost in it.

"I'd pull her close, say, ‘Feel me, baby—your husband's back,' spread her legs, fuck her deep—she'd scream, maybe" His words stumbled, raw, and Ishaan's grin widened—his phone catching every slur, every dirty thought. "That's it, uncle—hot as hell. She'd love that, begging for you," he said, pouring more whiskey, Ramesh gulping it down, eyes glazing.

Madhuri's knees quaked on the stairs, "Why's he recording him?" her heart slamming, shame and heat tangling wild.

Ramesh's head lolled, the liquor winning, and Ishaan murmured, "You're a king, uncle—she's lucky," his voice a lullaby as Ramesh dozed, glass slipping, out cold.

Ishaan paused the recording, a sly smirk spreading across his face. “Step one, done,” he muttered to himself, and glanced up, spotting her shadow.

"Hey aunty, uncle’s drunk—can you help me tuck him in?" he called, voice innocent, and her breath hitched—"Did he know I was listening?" she muttered under her breath, torn between dread and a strange pull as she descended the stairs, his eyes locking onto her with unsettling intensity.

The blindfold strip—dangled in her right hand, her juicy lips parted, her brown eyes darting to Ramesh, slumped on the couch, snoring soft, whiskey on his breath.

Ishaan lounged beside him, his black tee off now, just a vest and jeans, his abs flexing as he propped Ramesh up—too casual, yet too bold. "Oh no, did he have too much?" she asked, stepping closer, her dress swishing under the robe.

Ishaan looked up, slow, wild, his deep eyes tracing her. He grinned, standing, and her heart slammed, "He's drunk, Ishaan—it's your fault," she snapped, sharp, but her voice trembled—his heat too close, his scent washing over her, sweat and spice.

He shrugged, stepping nearer, voice low. "I was just helping him relax, aunty—he needed it." His eyes flicked to the blindfold, and her knees quaked—"He's testing me"—a thrill spiking, weird, dark and unstoppable.

She bent to shake him, "Ramesh, Get up—come on," she hissed, but he groaned, limp, and Ishaan chuckled, soft.

"He's gone, aunty—too much Old Monk. Shame, you look... ready for something" His tone dipped, sexy, and she straightened, glaring—weak.

"Enough, Ishaan—I know what you're doing," she snapped sharp, but her eyes betrayed her, looking at the bulge in his pants—wild and excited after the stalker's brainwash, Ishaan's tease, her volcano begging for more.

He stepped closer, towering her—and her breath caught, a soft "huhh" slipping free. "Do you, aunty? Then why're you still holding that in your hand?" he murmured, voice thick.

Her stomach dropped—"He knows I know it"—her mind racing, "I... it's for Ramesh," she lied, clutching it, her guilt a whisper she ignored.

Ishaan grinned, wilder. "Sure, aunty—but but I’m talking about that champagne in your left hand. Wanna have a round with me?"

"No thanks," her heart slammed—"He's testing me", she gasped, stepping back, but he followed, slow, predatory. "The night is long and cold, aunty—uncle's asleep, but you're awake. What'll you do?" His eyes pierced her, her knees buckled, her dress tight, her nipples hardened through the fabric.

She swallowed, hard, her mind a storm—Ramesh drunk, Abhi sleeping in his room, Ishaan here—and she decided.

"I'll... wait for Ramesh," she murmured, a lie, turning to the bedroom, blindfold trembling in her grip.

Ishaan watched her go, smirking, then slipped upstairs, finding Abhi in his room, headphones on, oblivious. He yanked them off, voice low, urgent. "Tonight's it—peek through your parents' door, 11 PM. Don't miss it."

Abhi's eyes widened, shock and thrill tangling, his cuckold heart racing. "For real?" he stammered, and Ishaan grinned, bold.

"She knows it's me, but she'll play along—watch her break" Abhi nodded, shaky, his dick twitching, for the moment he’d been craving for so long.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
SubChapter 8.4: The Midnight Masquerade​

Madhuri reached the bedroom, shutting the door soft, without locking it. She removed the robe, her skin glowing in the dim light, slipping the blindfold onto her eyes—surrendering into the darkness.

She slid under the bedsheet, her thick thighs parting, waiting—"He'll come, and I'll let him, I cannot wait any longer," her shame a flicker, her crave a wildfire roaring free.

Ishaan lingered downstairs, Ramesh snoring, his phone with the recording ready—"She'll pretend, I'll pretend, and we'll see who breaks first"—his cock hard, his game a trap she'd walked into, blindly and willingly.

The clock struck 11 PM, the house cloaked in a restless silence, the bedroom bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, its light spilling over Madhuri's trembling form.

She lay beneath the thin bedsheet, the embellished dress—a slinky, sinful thing—clinging to her curves, the plunging neckline teasing her cleavage, her thick thighs parted just enough to hint at the heat pooling between them.

The purple satin blindfold hugged her eyes tight, plunging her into darkness, her juicy lips parted, breathless—waiting, aching, her pussy starting to get wet with a wild, dark crave she couldn't kill.

"Is he going to come?" she whispered, her voice a shiver, her brown eyes hidden but burning beneath the silk, her desire roaring for him despite the shame clawing her soul.

The door creaked, slow, deliberate, and locked from inside, her heart slammed—"He's here"—her breath hitching as footsteps padded closer, the mattress dipping under his weight.

Abhi hid himself behind a curtain, turning on the lights and Ishaan slid beside her on the bed, shirtless now, his jeans swapped for loose shorts, his muscled chest bare, his 9-inch cock already stirring as he watched his prey—sleeping blind and vulnerable.

Noticing her breath getting heavy, he pulled his phone out, Ramesh's slurred recording ready, and hit play low, the voice crackling soft: "Madhuri, you're mine tonight."

Her head tilted, a soft "Ramesh?" escaping, but her pussy pulsed—She know it's him, Ishaan—her body knowing, her mind playing the game.

He smirked, sliding closer, his heat washing over her, "Baby... finally home for you," he murmured, Ramesh's voice looping through the phone, rough and drunk, and he tugged the bedsheet slow, peeling it off her like unwrapping a forbidden gift.

The sultry black rhinestone dress glowed in the light, her curves screaming, her nipples stiff beneath the fabric, and he growled low, the recording syncing: "Fuck, you're hot—look at you, all dolled up for me"

Her breath caught, a soft "Uhm, Ramesh... you're different tonight," slipping free—as his eyes devoured her, raw.

"I'm just hungry, baby—been dreaming of this, for last past two weeks," he purred, Ramesh's voice a mask, his own lust bleeding through, slow, seductive, oozing passion.

She squirmed, blind, her thighs brushing, her pussy gushing. Her hands twitching to stop him, guilt flickering.

"Ramesh, this is... new for me," she gasped, voice trembling, and he leaned in, his breath hot on her neck, the recording whispering "That's why its good, baby—wanna taste every inch of you."

His fingers grazed the hem of her dress, slow, teasing, lifting it just enough to bare her thighs, and her knees quaked—"Oh g0d," she whispered herself—her crave surging.

"You're so... naughty tonight," she murmured, acting shocked, her juicy lips quivering, her body begging despite her mind's weak protest.

Ishaan's hand slid higher, brushing her inner thigh, his touch rough, electric, and he growled through Ramesh's voice: "Anything for you, baby—this dress is a sin, it's begging to come off"

Her breath hitched, a soft "Ahh" slipping free. She knows he's going for it. The thought of her son's friend hands on her thighs drove her crazy, but her hands shot up, weak, grabbing his wrist.

"Ramesh, wait," she stammered, guilt spiking. He paused, then pushed her hands down, slow, firm, the recording purring, "A good wife fulfills her husband, Madhuri—let me have you." Her heart slammed—her resistance crumbling, while her body screaming yes.

Madhuri’s soft yelp, a trembling “Mmm,” slipped from her lips, her body caught between guilt and the fire pulsing through her veins. Blindfolded, her senses sharpened, every sound and touch electric against her skin. Ishaan’s voice, cloaked in Ramesh’s slurred recording, rumbled low and commanding.

“Get up, baby,” he said, the phone crackling with Ramesh’s voice. “Give me a lap dance. Show me what my wife can do.”

Madhuri froze, her breath catching. “A lap dance?” she gasped, her voice a mix of shock and hesitation, the blindfold hiding her wide eyes. “Ramesh, no, I… I can’t. I’ve never—”

“Come on, baby,” Ishaan purred, Ramesh’s voice looping through the phone, rough and coaxing. “I know my wife’s got it in her. Let’s see those hips move.” He reached for his speaker, playing a sultry Bollywood track—“Fevicol Se” blaring through the room, its pulsing beat filling the air with heat. The rhythm thumped, urging her body to move.

Madhuri hesitated, her hands gripping the edge of the bed, her heart pounding. She knew it was Ishaan, behind the voice—she’d caught his cologne, that sinful spice from last night’s game, but she played along, letting him think she was fooled.

“Oh, Ramesh, you're in a cheeky mood, aren't you?,” she murmured, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she stood, swaying slightly, trying not to stumble in her blindfolded haze.

Her hips twitched, tentative at first, mimicking the hook steps she’d seen in countless Bollywood films. She rolled her shoulders, her dress catching the light, her curves swaying to the beat.

Her hands grazed her sides, tracing her waist as she stepped forward, her movements stiff but loosening with every beat.

"Damn, Mom," Abhi muttered under his breath, hidden by the drapes.

Ishaan, sitting at the edge of the bed, leaned back, smirking, his eyes raking over her. “Fuck, baby, look at you,” he growled through Ramesh’s voice. “That ass, those curves—slutty and sexy as hell. You’re killing me.” The lewd edge in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, her pussy pulsing despite the flicker of shame in her chest.

Madhuri flushed, brushing off his words with a nervous laugh. “Stop it, Ramesh,” she teased, her voice playful but trembling, her hips swaying wider now, her legs stepping in rhythm, one foot crossing the other as she spun slowly, her dress flaring. She was getting into it, her shyness melting under the music and his praise.

Ishaan’s eyes flicked to Abhi, his face pale with nerves. Ishaan’s grin widened, and gave a subtle nod, signaling Abhi to join.

Abhi’s eyes widened, shaking his head frantically, but Ishaan’s stare was unrelenting. “Come on,” he mouthed, his expression firm. Abhi swallowed hard, his heart racing, and shuffled forward, reluctantly sliding into Ishaan’s spot on the bed as Ishaan stepped aside, still controlling the phone.

“G0ddamn, Madhu,” Ishaan continued, Ramesh’s voice dripping with lust. “Kareena wouldn't match you at all. Those curves can drive any boy crazy. Show me all you got.”

Madhuri giggled, her cheeks burning, her body buzzing with excitement. “You’re so wicked, Ramesh,” she purred, thinking it was Ishaan watching her, unaware her own son now sat in his place.

She swayed closer, her hips rolling in slow, sensual circles, her hands sliding up to her hair, tossing it dramatically as the music pulsed. She arched her back, her ass jutting out, then dipped low, her thighs parting slightly as she moved, the dress hugging every curve.

Abhi’s breath hitched, his eyes locked on his mom's body, guilt and arousal twisting in his gut. Her performance was hypnotic—her hips grinding to the beat, her legs stepping in sync, one hand trailing down her stomach as she fondled her breasts through the dress, squeezing them lightly, a soft moan escaping her lips. “Ahh.. like this?” she teased, her voice sultry, still playing the game, thinking Ishaan was eating it up.

“Fuck, yes,” Ishaan growled through the recording, his eyes glinting as he watched Abhi squirm. “Keep going, baby. Show me how bad you can be.”

Madhuri turned, her back to the bed, and gave her ass a playful spank, the sound sharp against the music. She stuck it out, swaying it side to side, her dress inching up to reveal a glimpse of her panties beneath her full curves.

Abhi’s excitement surged, recalling the incident on the bus, his shorts tightening as precum leaked, staining the fabric. His hands twitched, desperate to touch her, his mind screaming at the wrongness of it all.

On the other hand, Madhuri is craving Ishaan's touch and struggles to restrain her desire.

Ramesh's voice cut through. “Damn, now rub that ass on your husband’s thighs, baby. Let me feel you.”

Madhuri giggled, her voice breathy. “As you say, honey,” she purred, still believing it was Ishaan. She backed up, bending slightly, and lowered her ass onto Abhi's lap, grinding slow and deliberate, the dress sliding against Abhi’s shorts.

Her movements were teasing, her hips circling as she pressed herself against him, oblivious to the switch.

Abhi’s body tensed, his breath ragged, his arousal overwhelming as her warmth pressed against him. The wet spot on his shorts grew, and he bit his lip, fighting to stay silent.

Uncontrolled, he suddenly squeezed her ass through her dress, sparking her excitement, prompting her to arch her hips closer to his tiny erection.

She grinds against it, causing Abhi to sweat and quiver with arousal, but she senses nothing there. Confused by her blindfold, she reaches back to reposition herself.

Before Madhuri could sense anything amiss, Ishaan swiftly moved in, pushing Abhi aside.

Abhi, face red and pulse hammering, retreated to the curtain while Ishaan effortlessly took over.

Madhuri reached back obliviously to reposition herself again, grinding her ass against his cock. She then feels a thick, throbbing bulge pressing into her cheeks. “Looks like someone's enjoying the show,” she teased, her voice playful yet dripping with heat.

Ishaan smirked, leaning closer, Ramesh’s voice purring through the phone. “Baby, you have no idea how much I’m loving this. Keep going—make me lose my mind.”
She laughed softly, her body still moving, completely unaware of the twisted moment that had just unfolded.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
Subchapter 8.5: The Shameful Surrender​

Madhuri faced Ishaan again, her fingers tracing the outline of her breasts, squeezing them lightly through the shimmering fabric as she swayed to the beat. She dipped low, her knees bending, tossed her hair, teasing her cleavage, her head tilted, her lips parted, and she murmured, “Is this what you wanted, Ramesh?”

The recording purred, “More than I dreamed, baby—fuck, you’re perfect.” Her cheeks flushed, her body buzzing with the thrill of the game.

She straightened, her body swaying closer as she lifted one leg slightly, brushing her foot along the floor in a slow, deliberate slide. Her hands roamed her thighs, fingers tracing the stockings.

She swayed her hips to the fading notes of the song, letting her fingers glide up her inner thigh, teasingly close to the edge of her dress, her lips curling into a playful smile.

Fully aware of Ishaan’s attention, she longed to flaunt her beauty to the attractive guest in her home, teasingly playing along, her pulse quickening as she felt more alive and youthful than ever.

Ramesh’s voice, growled low through the phone. “I can't wait anymore. Strip for me, baby. Let me see every inch of you.”

Madhuri’s breath caught, a flush creeping up her neck. “Uhmm.. Ramesh,” she murmured, her voice trembling with a shy thrill, her blindfolded eyes hiding her excitement.

"Go on, I am dying to see what's behind it." he urged enticingly. She hesitated, her hands hovering at the hem of her dress, then began to peel it up, inch by tantalizing inch.

Her hips swayed gently, keeping rhythm with the music’s afterglow, as she lifted one leg, placing her foot on the mattress beside him, her fishnet-clad thigh brushing close to his knee.

Her fingers found the garter belt’s clasp, unhooking it with a soft snap, letting it fall to the floor. Then, bending slightly, she rolled down the first fishnet stocking, her hands gliding along her leg, peeling the sheer fabric off slowly, her curves illuminated by the dim light.

She repeated with the other leg, her foot still perched on the bed, her body exposed and vulnerable as she tossed the stockings aside.

The she lifted the dress over her thighs, revealing the red lace panties that outlined a cameltoe. She paused, one hand instinctively covering them, her shyness battling her arousal.

“Fuck, stop teasing me like that,” he purred, his tone dripping with lust.

She giggled nervously, then slowly reached for the halter tie at her neck, as she tugged the knot loose, the cowl neckline slipping down, revealing the red lace bra beneath, its delicate straps hugging her shoulders.

Her cheeks burning as she tugged the dress higher, slipping it over her waist, then her breasts, before she pulled it over her head.

The fabric fell to the floor, leaving her in the lingerie—bra barely containing her curves, panties hugging her hips. She crossed her arms over her chest, her legs shifting to cover herself, but her body betrayed her, her nipples stiff against the bra, her thighs slick with need.

Ishaan stood, his presence looming as he stepped closer. “Now it’s my turn, darling,” his voice low and commanding through the recording.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
Subchapter 8.6: The Pinned Temptation
​

Without warning, he pushed her gently but firmly onto the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight. She gasped, her body tingling as he climbed beside her, his rough hand gripping both her wrists, pinning them above her head with a single, strong hold.

“Ramesh,” she whispered, her voice quivering, “your hands… they’re so rough tonight.” The thought of Ishaan—her son’s friend—holding her down with her body exposed, sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She squirmed, her breasts heaving, her blindfold keeping her in a haze of anticipation.

“You have no idea how much you’re turning me on,” he growled, his free hand grazing her collarbone, slow and deliberate, sending shivers across her skin. His fingers trailed down, brushing the edge of her bra, teasing the sensitive skin just above her nipple. She gasped, her back arching slightly, her breath coming in short, heavy bursts.

“Oh g0d,” she moaned softly, her body trembling as his fingers danced unpredictably—skimming her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist, then dipping low to graze the inside of her thigh above the knee. Each touch was light, electric, leaving her guessing where he’d go next, her pussy throbbing with need.

Abhi, hidden behind the curtain, watched it all, his heart pounding, his shorts still damp from earlier. His mother’s body, barely covered, writhed under Ishaan’s touch, her soft moans filling the room. His excitement surged, guilt twisting in his chest, but he couldn’t look away.

Ishaan’s fingers circled her navel, then slid up to brush the underside of her breast, “Look at you, squirming for me.” he murmured through the recording, his voice thick with desire.

Madhuri’s lips parted, a shaky “Ramesh… you’re driving me crazy” slipping out, her voice laced with both shame and craving. She tugged against his grip, not to escape but to feel his strength, while her husband and son are lost in deep slumber.

His fingers grazed her inner thigh again, higher this time, brushing the edge of her lace panties. She let out a soft “Ahh,” her hips twitching, her breath ragged, completely unaware of Abhi’s eyes on her, his own arousal a silent storm in the shadows.

Ishaan’s eyes caught the growing wet spot on her panties, a smirk curling his lips. “Who's enjoying the show now, baby?” he teased, Ramesh’s slurred voice crackling through the phone, dripping with amusement.

Madhuri’s cheeks burned, her face turning away, the blindfold hiding her embarrassed flush. “Stop it, Ramesh” she whispered, her voice shaky but laced with heat, her thighs pressing together instinctively.

His rough hand grazed her inner thigh, slow and deliberate, inching closer to the damp lace. Her breath hitched, her head spinning as his fingers brushed her sensitive area over the wet panties, sending a jolt of dizzying pleasure through her.

“Oh g0d,” she moaned softly, her mind flashing to the first time she saw Ishaan at the door—his attractive boyish charm, now transformed into this bold, commanding presence. The idea that a man so young, so close to her son’s age, could want her this way was wrong but intoxicating.

His fingers pressed against her cameltoe, rubbing slow circles over the soaked panty, and she squirmed, her pussy pulsing under his touch. “Ramesh… you’re too much,” she gasped, playing along, her voice trembling with need.

Ishaan’s gaze dropped to her breasts, her nipples straining against the bra. Without warning, he leaned down, his mouth capturing one through the fabric, sucking gently.

Madhuri jolted, a louder moan escaping her lips. “Ohh!” she cried, shock and pleasure mingling as he held her wrists tighter, his fingers still teasing her wet panties. Abhi, hidden behind the curtain, watched, his hand moving frantically in his shorts, his breath ragged, guilt drowned by the sight of his mother’s writhing form.

Ishaan tugged the bra down with his free hand, exposing one breast, her dark nipple hard and begging. He latched onto it, sucking firmly, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud.

Madhuri’s breath came in heavy gasps, her body overwhelmed, her free breast heaving as she moaned, “Babe, oh g0d, you’ve never been this… passionate.” Her voice broke, her excitement surging as he kissed up her chest to her neck, his lips hot and relentless.

He pulled the other cup of her bra down, both breasts now bare, and fondled them, his rough fingers kneading her soft flesh, drawing another moan from her lips.

“Those plump lips of yours are absolutely irresistible,” he murmured through, his face hovering near hers, his breath warm against her mouth. Madhuri sensed him, her blindfolded world narrowing to his presence, her control slipping.

Unable to resist, she surged forward, her lips seeking his in a desperate kiss. Ishaan pulled back just enough to build the tension, then leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

Their lips moved hungrily, tongues tangling, and Madhuri felt a rush of youth, her body alive, her moans muffled against his mouth.

His hand drifted lower, slipping under the waistband of her panties. Madhuri tensed, her face turning away again, a shy “No, please,” escaping as she arched her back, trying to pull away. But Ishaan pressed on, his fingers grazing the soft stubble on her pussy, then finding her wet, pulsing lips, pausing there as her heat enveloped him.

She bit her lip, her body betraying her protest, and Ishaan kissed her again, deep and possessive, his fingers sliding into her warm, slick pussy, rubbing her clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Madhuri’s mind spiraled, a sudden flash to a moment on that crowded bus with the stalker. The memory felt eerily similar, but she shook it off, gasping, “I’m losing my mind.”

Her kisses grew frantic, struggling to match Ishaan’s rhythm as his two fingers plunged deeper, curling inside her, stroking her clit with expert precision.

“Ramesh..” she moaned, nearly slipping and saying “Ishaan” before catching herself, her voice breathless, “you’re… I can’t... breathe.”

Both were sweating now, their bodies slick, lost in the heat of the moment. Madhuri’s moans filled the room, her arms pinned above her head, her hips bucking against his hand, her breasts heaving under his touch. Abhi, still hidden, fapped furiously, his eyes locked.

Ishaan drove Madhuri deeper into ecstasy, her blindfold keeping her blissfully unaware of the eyes watching her unravel.

Her wrists still pinned above her head, her red lace lingerie barely clinging to her sweat-slick skin.

Ishaan’s lips pulled away from their fevered kiss, his breath hot against her ear, “Your lips are so tasty, baby… but now I’m hungry for those down there.” The words sent a jolt through Madhuri, her cheeks flushing as her pussy pulsed with anticipation.

Before she could respond, Ishaan reached for a pair of handcuffs from the bedside, his movements swift but deliberate. The cold metal clicked around her wrists, securing them to the headboard.

Madhuri’s breath caught, a strange mix of unease and surrender washing over her. “Ramesh… this is new,” she whispered, her voice trembling, too overwhelmed to protest, her body craving whatever came next. She tugged lightly against the cuffs, testing them, but her arousal drowned any hesitation.

Ishaan stripped off his shorts and shirt, his muscled frame now bare, his 9-inch cock hard and ready. He knelt on the bed, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her legs wide.

Madhuri gasped, her body exposed, vulnerable. With a quick, deliberate motion, he tore her bra, the fabric ripping away to reveal her full breasts, her nipples stiff in the cool air. Then, his fingers hooked into her soaked panties, yanking them off in one swift pull, leaving her completely naked.

Madhuri’s heart slammed, shock and embarrassment flooding her as she realized she was bare before Ishaan, her son’s friend, despite the pretense of Ramesh.

“Oh g0d, you are wild!” she said, her voice thick with shame, her body squirming, trying to cover herself, but the handcuffs held her fast, her legs spread helplessly.

Abhi, hidden behind the curtain, froze, his eyes wide, mouth dry, as he saw his mother’s naked body splayed on the bed, her curves glistening with sweat, her wrists bound. His hand slowed in his shorts, his arousal warring with shock, unable to look away.

Ishaan’s smirk deepened, his eyes drinking in Madhuri’s exposed form—her full breasts, the soft stubble above her glistening pussy, her thighs trembling. He lowered himself between her legs, his hands sliding up to press her breasts, kneading them firmly as his mouth found her pussy.

His tongue flicked over her wet lips, slow and teasing, tracing her folds before dipping inside. Madhuri’s body arched, a loud moan escaping her lips, “Ohhh, g0d!” The sensation was electric, unlike anything she’d felt before, his tongue exploring her with deliberate skill, circling her clit, then plunging deeper.

Her thighs quaked, her hips bucking against his mouth as he sucked gently, his hands squeezing her breasts, fingers brushing her nipples.

“Ramesh… where did you learn this?” she gasped, her voice thick with ecstasy, her mind reeling at the intensity.

Ishaan pulled back just enough to let Ramesh’s recorded voice answer, “There’s always more to experience, baby.” His tongue returned, lapping at her clit, twisting her with pleasure as he pressed her breasts harder, her moans filling the room.

Abhi watched, his mouth watering, his hand moving faster now, captivated by his mother’s writhing form, her pleasure undeniable.

Madhuri’s head thrashed, her blindfold hiding her blissed-out expression, her body surrendering completely. “So good… ohh,” she moaned, her voice raw, her arousal drowning out any lingering guilt.

After minutes of relentless exploration, Ishaan rose, his cock throbbing, and positioned himself between her legs. Madhuri sensed the shift, her breath catching as she felt the thick, hard length brush past her navel, its size unmistakable.

Her mind flickered to Ramesh, asleep in the living room, the sting of guilt sharp but fleeting. She’d been haunted by the stalker, her body starved for release, and now, with Ishaan, everything she’d craved was within reach.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper, “Go on, darling… I missed you so much these last two weeks. I can’t wait any longer.” Her cheeks burned red with nervous anticipation.

Ishaan’s smirk widened, his hand guiding his cock to her pussy, the tip brushing her slick lips, rubbing slowly along her slit. Madhuri’s thighs trembled, instinctively closing in shame, but his hands held them apart, and he pushed inside, slow and deliberate.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 8: The Blindfold Surprise
Subchapter 8.7: The Dream Fulfilled
​

Her body tensed, a gasp escaping as his thick length stretched her tight, wet pussy, her soul feeling like it was unraveling. “Ohhh, Ramesh!” she cried, her voice breaking as he began to move, thrusting slowly, each stroke hitting deep, filling her completely.

“Fuck, you’re tight, baby,” the voice growled, and Ishaan paced up, his hips driving harder, his hands gripping her breasts, squeezing as he fucked her.

Madhuri’s moans grew louder, her breath ragged. Her toes curled, her body trembling with every stroke of his monster cock, a sensation so intense, so new, it overwhelmed her. “More… give me... more,” she pleaded, her voice desperate, her pussy clenching around him.

Ishaan leaned down, his chest brushing against hers in missionary, his lips finding her neck, kissing and sucking as he thrust harder, his hands kneading her breasts.

Madhuri’s moans became cries, her body rocking with his, the handcuffs rattling as she pulled against them, lost in the pleasure. Abhi, still watching, fapped furiously, his dream coming alive, his breath shallow, his eyes locked on his mother’s taking his bully deep, her ecstasy pushing him over the edge as Ishaan drove deeper, their bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with her moans and the rhythmic creak of the bed.

“Turn around,” he growled his tone commanding. He uncuffed her wrists just long enough to flip her onto her stomach, guiding her to her knees, her ass raised high. Madhuri’s heart raced, her body pliant, too consumed by desire to resist.

He positioned her in doggy style, his hand delivering a sharp spank to her ass, the sound cracking through the room. She moaned loudly, “Ahhh!” her voice raw, her cheeks flushing as the sting mixed with pleasure.

“Keep it low,” the voice said, as he spanked her again, harder. Madhuri bit her lip, her face pressing into the cushion.

“Sorry, honey,” she gasped, her voice muffled, trembling with arousal. “I couldn’t help it… you were never this hot.”

Ishaan reached up, unlocking the handcuffs with a soft click, freeing her wrists. “Don't wanna make you comfortable, baby,” he murmured, his hands guiding her to relax.

Madhuri didn’t resist, her body yielding completely, her mind lost in the heat of his touch. She arched her back, pressing herself into him as he resumed fucking her, his cock sliding in and out, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her.

With each powerful thrust, Madhuri felt the blindfold loosen, slipping slightly. Her breath caught as it shifted, and through one eye, she caught a glimpse in the bedside mirror—a fleeting reflection of Ishaan’s muscular, naked frame behind her, his cock plunging into her.

His handsome frame, slick with sweat, was focused, intense, his body dominating hers. Her heart raced, the sight amplifying her arousal, but she didn’t want to break the spell of the night. Quickly, she tugged the blindfold back into place, her cheeks burning, her body craving more.

Her mind spun, a flood of regret washing over her—she’d waited weeks, tormented by the stalker, craving release, when Ishaan, this bold, commanding, had been in her house all along. She cursed herself for not acting sooner, yet clung to the secret that she knew it was him, believing he was unaware of her knowledge.

Ishaan smirked, fully aware of the game, having orchestrated every moment. He positioned himself behind her, his cock sliding back into her tight, wet pussy, thrusting deep with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Madhuri’s muffled moans vibrated into the pillow she is biting, her teeth sinking into the fabric as she clutched the bedsheet. “Mmmph,” she groaned, her body rocking with each thrust, the pleasure overwhelming, her mind lost in the realization of how good he was.

He picked up the pace, his hands gripping her hips, then sliding up to pull her hair, tugging her head back gently as he fucked her harder, his cock hitting deep inside her.

Another sharp spank landed on her ass, drawing a stifled cry from her lips. “Oh g0d… don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice shaking, her body quivering as a new, intense sensation built with each thrust, a pleasure unlike anything she’d felt before. Her thighs trembled, her pussy clenching around him, the heat coiling tighter.

Ishaan’s thrusts grew relentless, his hand spanking her again, the sting pushing her closer to the edge. Madhuri’s body responded, her hips pushing back to meet him, her moans muffled but desperate, her legs starting to quiver. Abhi’s eyes were glued to the scene, his hand moving faster, his breath ragged as he watched his mother’s body shake, her ass red from spanks, her pleasure undeniable.

The sensation in Madhuri’s core intensified, each deep thrust sending waves of pleasure through her, building to something explosive. Ishaan pulled her hair tighter, his cock slamming into her, and with one final, powerful thrust, Madhuri’s body shattered.

Her eyes rolled back behind the blindfold, a raw, “Ahhh!” escaping as her pussy clenching hard, her toes curling, her thighs trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Ishaan slowed, pulling his cock out, leaving her pussy pulsing, dripping with satisfaction. Madhuri collapsed onto the bed, her body limp, her mind reeling from the orgasm she’d craved for so long—a feeling so intense, so consuming, she couldn’t find words to describe it.

Abhi, watched and released in silence, his hand frozen in his shorts, as he stared at his mother’s spent form, her naked body glistening, her chest heaving.

Ishaan, catching his breath, glanced toward the curtain with a knowing smirk before turning back to Madhuri.

She heard the soft click of the door unlocking, the sound barely registering as exhaustion overtook her. Her body, sated and heavy, drifted into a deep sleep.

When Madhuri woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains. She blinked, disoriented, finding herself dressed in a soft nightie, the blindfold neatly folded on the bedside table.

Beside her, Ramesh slept soundly, his familiar snores filling the room. Her heart skipped, confusion swirling as she glanced at him, then at the blindfold. The memories of last night—Ishaan’s touch, his cock, her orgasm—flooded back, vivid and undeniable, yet here she was, next to her husband, as if nothing had happened.

Her cheeks flushed, her body still tingling with the echo of pleasure, her mind grappling with the blurred line between reality and the game she’d played, unaware of how deeply Ishaan had orchestrated it all.


(End of Chapter 8)

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 9: The Open Secret
Subchapter 9.1: The Husband's Joy
​

Hyderabad's dawn crept through the curtains, a pale gold slicing the bedroom's humid haze—Madhuri stirring slow, her naked body tangled in the sheets, her body glistening with dried sweat, her thighs aching from last night's wild ruin.

Ramesh snored beside her, stripped bare—his limp frame a cruel prop in Ishaan's game—his arm flopped over her, heavy, clueless. Her blindfold lay crumpled on the floor, her wrists still red from the cuffs, her pussy throbbing—spent, sore, dripping with the memory of Ishaan's cock.

"What have I done?" she whispered, voice raw—shame crashing, lust smoldering—her juicy lips trembling, her brown eyes blinking open, catching Ramesh's peaceful face.

She slid from his grip—slow, shaky—her thick ass brushing the sheets, her boobs swaying as she sat up, her mind flashing: Ishaan's thrusts, his spanks, her climax shattering her.

"He... fucked me," she murmured, guilt clawing, her pussy pulsing despite her dread. The clock read 8 AM and she stood, wobbly, grabbing a robe—thin, silk, barely covering her curves—slipping it on, her nipples stiffening against the fabric, her shame a wildfire she couldn't douse.

"I wasn't even drunk, How will I face him now?" she gasped, stepping to the mirror—her reflection: messy hair, flushed cheeks, a woman undone—her abyss staring back, raw and wild.

The door creaked open and she looked downstairs, spotting Ishaan—and her breath hitched. Her shame spiking as she stepped down, robe swishing, her legs trembling with every step.

The living room glowed dim, Ishaan leaning against the counter, black tee tight over his abs, jeans hugging his bulge, sipping coffee like he owned the place.

"Morning, aunty," he grinned, slow, wild—his deep eyes piercing her, wilder than ever, tracing her robe—her curves screaming, her nipples poking through—her knees quaking—He knows everything—her volcano flaring, dark and unstoppable.

"Ishaan... where were you last night?" she stammered, voice low—acting, trembling—her juicy lips parted, her shame burning her cheeks.

He stepped closer, his scent washing over her, sweat and spice, reminding her flashes of the act, his grin widening.

"Couldn't sleep last night Aunty. Heard some loud moans through the door," he purred, slow, seductive—oozing passion—his eyes flicking to her robe, her thick ass shaping as she shifted.

Her heart slammed, "He's teasing me raw," her pussy gushing, her guilt a whisper she ignored.

"I'm sorry... We... We were watching a cricket match, and I.. I was cheering. That's all" she murmured, weak, her boobs begging beneath the silk.

"Really? Aunty, but it sounded like he fucked you like there's no tomorrow," he growled, low—wild, dark—stepping nearer, his bulge brushing her hip.

Her breath catching, a soft "Ohh" slipping free—"How's he talking to me like this,"—her pussy aching, her shame crashing wild.

"Shh! Stop it, I... don't remember much," she lied, eyes down, turning away to flee—her thick thighs trembling with embarrassment, her robe no shield against his heat.

Ramesh's footsteps thudded—slow, groggy—and she froze—He's up—turning quick, her robe swishing, her shame spiking as he shuffled in, boxers loose, hair mussed, grinning wide.

"Madhuri! Morning, How was last night?" he chuckled, voice rough, his eyes bright, oblivious.

Ishaan smirked behind her. "Ramesh, you were... drunk," she mumbled, acting to hide it, her wild night a secret burning her soul.

"Drunk? But I heard Ishaan saying something else," he laughed, clapping Ishaan's shoulder—her heart slamming nervously. "Don't be embarrassed my love, he is the one to plan it," he said happily, and her abyss swallowed her whole, raw and wild.

The city's morning light, a hazy gold spilling over Madhuri's trembling form—her robe clinging her, her thick thighs quaking as she stood between Ramesh and Ishaan, her pussy still sore, her shame a wildfire beneath her skin.

Ramesh beamed—wide, clueless—his boxers sagging, his sharp jaw lifted with a pride she hadn't seen in years. "Madhuri, Ishaan's a genius—the blindfold trick worked, right?" he grinned, voice rough—excited, drunk on false victory.

His hand brushing her waist, pulling her close. "You... happy?" she murmured, slow—acting, breaking—her juicy lips trembling, her brown eyes darting to Ishaan—He's watching—her volcano smoldering, dark and wild.

"Happy? Baby, I couldn't recall anything, but I heard you, moaning loud. Thought I'd never satisfy you again," he chuckled, hugging her—his touch soft and weak, nothing like Ishaan's rough, wild touch.

"If anything, we own it to Ishaan!" he added, turning to Ishaan—grateful and blind, thanking him.

Ishaan leaned back, coffee in hand, his deep eyes glinting. "Told you, uncle—Kinks always work. Aunty sounded... wrecked," he purred, slow, his gaze tracing her robe, her nipples stiffening, her crave surging despite her dread.

Ramesh laughed, kissing her cheek—soft, innocent. Her stomach dropped, "He thinks it's him,"

"What'd I do to you darling?" Ramesh grinned, eager with pride, her heart sinking with guilt.

Ishaan stepped closer, "Yeah, aunty—tell him. Sounded like so much happened—what'd he do?" he asked, pushing her, spiking her wild.

"Um.. Ramesh, you... blindfolded me, touched me, it was wild." she mumbled, vague, her lips quivering, her mind flashing Ishaan's cock.

"Wild? Damn, Ishaan—you're right, it worked!" Ramesh laughed, hugging her tighter.

"Tell me more, baby—what'd I do?" Ramesh pressed, eyes bright with manly pride, craving her affirmation.

"Um, honey..." Madhuri hesitated, glancing at Ishaan with a shy look, signaling her discomfort. Ramesh gently reassured her, "Forget him, darling, it’s just you and me—let me hear it."

"You... took me, deep—and made me scream," she whispered, slow, her shame burning, her crave lingering dark.

"Wow, Looks like I'm back!" he cheered, kissing her again. Her stomach twitched, "He's lost in it."

"Back? Uncle, you're a king. Aunty's glowing," Ishaan growled, low, wild, his hand brushing her arm, slow, tingling her skin.

Abhi trudged down—lanky, sullen—his eyes flickering. "Morning mom," he mumbled, nervous, pretending to be oblivious of the previous night.

She pulled away, her robe swishing, her boobs swaying, "Morning, sweetie," she greeted back, soft, her eyes down on the floor, mind locked on Ishaan.

"Ramesh is totally blind," she thought, "I... need to get ready, Ramesh, Getting late." she mumbled, fleeing, escaping them.

Ishaan's grin burning her back—raw, wild—her abyss deepening with every step.

Ramesh nodded, giddy— oblivious—turning to Ishaan. "Thanks, my boy. Now, keep this a secret from Abhi," he said, clapping his shoulder, her shame a wildfire she couldn't outrun as she slipped away, trembling, undone.

Monday's afternoon sun blazed through the office windows, but Madhuri barely felt it—her corporate desk a prison, her silk blouse clinging her, her legs trembling beneath her pencil skirt as she stared blankly at her laptop. The wild night a secret choking her breath.

"This needs to stop, I can't keep doing this. Can't cheat Ramesh, not anymore." she whispered, voice trembling—shame crashing, crave smoldering.

The day dragged with meetings and emails until dusk settled, and she drove back.

The house glowed warm with Ramesh waiting, his sharp jaw lifted, his boxers swapped for a kurta, his grin wide and welcomed her as she stepped in.

The bedroom loomed after the dinner—sheets still rumpled, her blindfold on the floor, the air thick with last night's sin. Ramesh shut the door, turning to her—eager, blind—his hands brushing her hips, pulling her to the bed.

"Madhuri, I... don't remember anything—tell me, what'd I do?" he murmured, voice rough—excited, desperate—his eyes bright, her stomach dropping—He's lost in it—her pussy gushing, her shame crashing raw.

Looking into his eye, "Honey, you satisfied me, completely. I'm very proud of you." she lied, a secret burning her skin.

"Never thought I'd hear this again babe, love you, Madhuri," he purred, blind, kissing her forehead. Her shame a whispered beneath her pretense, both fell asleep, yet without any action.

Her phone buzzed—DevilzMask—her heart slamming. "Why's he texting me now?"

"Are you avoiding me, Madhuri?" the text read, her breath catching

"Please leave me, my husband's back home," she typed, shaky.

"Oh, busy with the old man, huh? Or should I say, the young man," he replied, her shame burning, "How does he know all this?"

"I'm... sorry, can't text you, good night." she typed, trying to get rid of difficulties.

"You're mine Madhuri, don't ignore me," he fired back.

"I have to sleep now," she typed, text to escape him.

He didn't reply, her thick ass sinking into the bed, Ramesh snored, her abyss swallowing her raw as she drifted, trembling, into a restless sleep.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 9: The Open Secret
Subchapter 9.2: The Cooking Lesson
​

Tuesday morning shimmered with a lazy, golden heat. Madhuri slid from the bed, her mind flashing the image of Ishaan she saw in the mirror stretching her, "I dont even know if I should scold or praise Abhi for bringing Ishaan in," she gasped, stepping to the mirror, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, a woman reborn.

Downstairs, the kitchen hummed—filter coffee brewing, its bitter aroma grounding her as she slipped into a yellow saree, her pallu slipping low—ready for work, but not for Ramesh.

He shuffled in, yawning—his kurta rumpled, his grin soft, "Morning sweetheart, I don't wanna get drunk again," he murmured, pouring coffee, his voice rough, earnest.

"Why dear?" she asked.

"Last time, I heard you scream, but the vision.. it's all blur," he chuckled, sipping slow, his eyes bright, oblivious.

"It's always better to steer clear of those habits, Ramesh, I'm glad," she mumbled, vague.

The doorbell chimed—Ishaan—and her knees quaked. He sauntered in, his deep eyes glinting—fresh, intense, a predator in casual skin.

"Morning, aunty—damn, that saree's a fever dream, save it for holi tomorrow," he purred, voice low.

She gasped "Uhm.. Ishaan—cough—thanks, come," she stammered, her crave surging wild.

Ramesh clapped his shoulder, grinning, blind—still high on his false triumph. "Ishaan, Coffee? Thanks again—your idea's keeping us alive," he chuckled.

"Anytime, uncle—but aunty's the real spark here," Ishaan growled, sitting next to her husband, his eyes piercing her, her shame fading, her crave roaring for him to go further.

The kitchen was alive that evening with the sizzle of oil and the sharp tang of spices—Madhuri's saree swapped for a thin kurti and leggings after work.

Ramesh lounged in the living room—sober, flipping channels and the doorbell chimed, Ishaan sauntered in, striding into the kitchen—carrying a bag of groceries, his grin slow, predatory.

"Aunty, I got a treat for all the dishes you made, I'm going to teach you a special recipe tonight," he purred, voice seductive—dripping with passion.

"Recipe?" she asked, acting innocent, weak—her thick thighs trembling, her kurti no shield against his stare.

He stepped closer, dumping the bag on the counter, pulling out a skimpy apron—red, barely-there, lace-trimmed—his grin widening. "Put this on, aunty—its going to get messy," he growled, handing it over, his fingers daringly brushing hers.

Catching her breath, "Umm... okay," she murmured, slipping the apron on, the kurti beneath clinging tight.

Ramesh called from the couch, "I'm hungry honey—what's cooking for dinner?" his voice rough.

"Something spicy, uncle, showing my special recipe to Aunty," Ishaan shouted back, smirking, his eyes locked on her, peeling her with every glance.

"He's playing us all," she thought, her wild love story with a young boy twisting deeper.

Abhi trudged in—lanky, sullen, "Abhi, make yourself useful, peel these onions" Ishaan ordered, tossing him a bag—sharp, dismissive, sidelining him,

Abhi's cuckold thrill warring with a new, angry edge and his jaw tightened, his hands fumbling, frustrated, trapped.

Ishaan stepped behind her—sudden, bold—his chest pressing into her back—hot, hard—his bulge brushing her thick ass through his jeans.

Her breath hitched, "Oh no, what's he doing?"

"Let me guide you, aunty—hands like yours need a master's touch," he said next to her ear, voice low, fresh and intense—his hand sliding to her waist, possessive, his other gripping her wrist, guiding it to stir.

His fingers pressed her waist, his breath hot on her neck, his body molding to hers—slow, sensual—his hand steering hers over the pan, cumin popping, oil hissing—her knees trembling, her boobs aching beneath the apron.

"Felt the heat, aunty? the dish is begging to be tasted," he growled, low. His lips grazing her ear, his bulge grinding subtle.

"Umm.. yeah.." she murmured, hiding her desire, "He's teaching me how to cook?" she thought, her kurti soaked with sweat.

Abhi's knife slipped cutting onions—his eyes red, teary—angry—his voice sharp, "I... can't do this," he muttered, frustration boiling. He wants his mom too, especially after watching her the previous day, but he doesnt know her wild love story twisting dark.

"Eyes on the knife, bro," Ishaan taunted, his hand tightening on her waist, his fingers brushing her hip—raw, possessive, her breath catching

Ramesh yelled again—"Smells good, Madhu—don't burn it!" his voice rough, while her ass subtly grinding him back.

"Don't worry, uncle—aunty's too delicious to ruin," Ishaan said, loud—slow, seductive, his hand sliding lower—teasing her hip, her abyss swallowing her whole as his bold, passionate game burned brighter, raw and wild.

“Ow!” Abhi yelped, dropping the knife with a clatter. Blood beaded on his finger, a small cut from the onion he’d been clumsily chopping. His face twisted in pain, eyes watering as he clutched his hand.

Ishaan stepped back from Madhuri, his smirk instant, predatory. “Come on, Abhi, can’t even chop an onion without crying like a kid?” His voice dripped with mockery, loud enough to carry to Ramesh in the next room.

Madhuri’s maternal instincts kicked in, overriding the heat still simmering in her core. She spun around, her eyes narrowing at Ishaan. “Stop mocking him, Ishaan.”

She knelt beside Abhi, grabbing a cloth to press against his finger. “Let me see, sweetie. It’s okay, just a small cut.”

But Ishaan’s eyes never left her, and the kitchen felt smaller, the night air heavier, pulling her deeper into his web.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 9: The Open Secret
Subchapter 9.3: The Holi Hangover
​

Wednesday morning burst into a frenzy of color and chaos, the colony streets pulsing with laughter, drums, and the sharp sting of gulal.

Madhuri’s bedroom was a quiet sanctuary in contrast, her white kurti hugging her, with beneath loose palazzo pants as she brushed her hair.

Her body still buzzed from Ishaan’s kitchen tease last night, his bold touch lingering like a brand on her skin.

Ramesh bustled in, his bright kurta framing his sharp jaw, his grin wide and sober, eager for the festival. His touch, once a spark, now felt like a duty she performed, hollow and rote. "Are you ready for Holi, Honey?"

“I’m not coming out,” she murmured, her voice soft, uninterested, her juicy lips parting, her brown eyes dull.

Abhi bounded in, restless, his tee already streaked with red gulal, “Mom, Dad, come on—the whole colony’s celebrating colours!” His voice was sharp, insistent, pushing her.

“I’m… not in the mood, sweetie, you carry on,” she sighed, playing the part, her mind on Ishaan, her flame.

The doorbell rang, and her pulse spiked. Ishaan swaggered in, his white tee clinging to his chiseled abs, shorts slung low, a bucket of colored water in hand. His deep eyes glinted with a fresh, wicked spark—gorgeous, predatory, a hunter in festive skin.

“Aunty, why aren't you ready yet? Don't make me splash you with my colors on the couch,” he said, his voice dripping with raw passion.

Her nipples stiffened, her pussy pulsing, shame crashing as her volcano roared. “Holi? with me?” she stammered, feigning innocence.

“Yeah, aunty—gotta spend some time with the family, it'll be fun” he grinned, his tone intense.

Ramesh seconded, blind to the undercurrent, thrilled. “Glad to have you Ishaan, You're bringing us together again!” he chuckled, his voice rough but warm.

“Alright, lets head out then,” she murmured, playing along, her kurti pristine.

All four arrived at the bustling colony square, where vibrant crowds joyfully hurled colorful powders at one another, reveling in the spirited chaos of Holi. Laughter and music filled the air as neighbors danced, their clothes stained with bright hues of color.

“Let’s start, Madhuri!” Ramesh grabbed a handful of red gulal, smearing it across her cheeks and neck, his touch soft, joyful. Her heart sank—"He’s so happy,"—she forced a smile, dipping her hands in blue powder, streaking his face. His laugh was loud, pure, and her guilt spiked.

“Enjoy, baby—I’ll go mingle!” Ramesh beamed, darting out to join the crowd, leaving her with Ishaan. Her breath caught, her kurti clinging, her crave surging wild.

The colony roared outside—crowds, colors, chaos—and Ishaan stepped closer, his bucket sloshing, his grin wicked. “Aunty, white’s too pure. I’m gonna paint you like a canvas I’d lick clean,” he growled, his voice raw, oozing fresh passion.

He “accidentally” tipped the bucket, purple water splashing her kurti, soaking her chest. Her boobs were outlined, nipples hard, the wet fabric became see-through.

“Ishaan… what’s this?” she gasped, feigning shock.

“Oops, aunty—slipped. But damn, you’re a vision, wet and wild, a sin I’d drown in,” he purred, his eyes devouring her.

Her breath hitched, her crave surging, liking it, wanting him closer. The crowd surged—uncles, aunties, kids—pushing them together.

His chest slammed into her back, hot and hard, his bulge rubbing her ass “unavoidably,” slow and sensual. Her knees quaked—"He’s hard?"—her pussy throbbed, shame fading wild.

“Careful, aunty—don’t wanna lose you in this mess,” he growled, his voice raw, possessive, his hands “steadying” her waist, firm and commanding.

Abhi tossed colors nearby, yellow and cyan, laughing, clueless.

Uncles leered, paunchy and gulal-smeared, muttering, “Looking hotter than the sun,” their eyes on her wet kurti.

Her shame burned, “Ishaan… people are watching,” she murmured, acting, hiding her thrill, her juicy lips trembling, kurti soaked.

“Let ‘em watch, aunty—you’re a queen in this chaos,” he purred, his bulge grinding harder, raw and intense.

Madhuri’s chest heaved, her wet kurti clinging like a second skin, her nipples betraying her through the thin fabric. Ishaan’s hands lingered on her waist, his fingers brushing just above her palazzo’s waistband, teasing the soft skin there.

Her body screamed for him, but her mind clung to the fraying thread of restraint. “Ishaan, maybe.. we should join the others,” she said, her voice shaky, a weak attempt to pull back from the edge.

“Join them?” He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, voice a low growl. “Aunty, you’re the only festival I’m celebrating today.” His fingers tightened, possessive, sending a jolt straight to her core.

“What?” she gasped, startled.

The crowd pressed in again, bodies bumping, colors flying. A stranger’s abrupt nudge felt nearly intentional, yanking her kurti top by “accident,” tearing the back.

She raised her arm, ready to snap furiously, but an uncle, pot-bellied and chuckling, approached from behind, “Madhuri, you’re stealing the show!” he slurred, tossing green powder that caught in her hair.

She forced a smile, her shame surging, but Ishaan’s hand reached her back, gripping the fabric, anchoring her, claiming her.

"Thanks.. Ishaan," she said, "There are some creeps in the crowd, it felt intentional" her words sharp with anger but softened by deference.

“Ignore them,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. “They don’t get to touch what’s mine,” pulling the fabric tight, her body caught in his commanding grip.

Her breath hitched—"Mine?" she turned her neck to face him, but his bold, hungry stare gave nothing away. “Ishaan, you can’t… say things like that,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her crave screaming for him to push further.

“Can’t I?” He smirked, leaning in, his lips inches from hers, the crowd’s chaos fading to a hum. “You’re glowing, aunty. Wet, colorful, mine.” His hand slid lower, grazing the curve of her ass, a fleeting touch that set her ablaze. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

Her thighs clenched and she’s losing it. Abhi darted through the crowd, his face streaked with colors, his laughter forced. “Mom, come on! You’re missing the fun!” he called, his voice cracking, eyes flicking between her and Ishaan.

Releasing his grip, Ishaan spread turquoise over the tear, his touch deliberately slow as he pretended to cover the damage. “Good to go,” he whispered softly into her ear.

A jolt of exhilaration coursed through her, yet she hid it, maintaining a calm facade while chatting with her son.

“Listen to Abhi, aunty,” Ishaan teased, stepping back just enough to make her ache for his closeness. “Let’s play.”

He grabbed a handful of red gulal, tossing it at her playfully, but his eyes were dark, predatory. The powder dusted her neck, trailing down her cleavage, and his gaze followed, shameless. “Red looks good on you. Matches those cheeks when you’re… worked up.”

Her cheeks burned, not from the powder but from his words, liking the attention, craving his next move.

She grabbed a fistful of yellow powder, throwing it at him, aiming for defiance. It hit his chest, dusting his tee, and he laughed, “Oh, aunty’s fighting back now,” he said, stepping closer again, brushing the powder off his abs, drawing her eyes to the taut muscle. “Careful—you might start something you can’t finish.”

Her body betrayed her, leaning into him.

Abhi’s carefree laughter rang out, unaware of the charged tension, as he flung more gulal into the air. “Mom, you’re a rainbow now!” he shouted with delight, his eyes darting to the colored spots on his mom's white kurti, next to Ishaan, a flicker of thrill, and envy.

Abhi’s excitement fizzled, and in a hasty effort to part them, he mumbled, “I’m feeling off.” He seized his mother’s hand, weaving her out of the crowd and back to the safety of home.

“Holi’s just getting started, aunty,” he whispered, his voice raw, dripping with intent.

The colors blurred around her, but all she saw was Ishaan—her fire, her ruin, her wild, dark lover claiming her in the chaos.

 

[skyrim]

Chapter 9: The Open Secret
Subchapter 9.4: The Rainy Embrace
​

The clouds started to cluster the sky next evening, a restless breeze swirling through the colony as Madhuri climbed the terrace stairs, her laundry basket heavy clothes drenched in color, too bulky for a dryer. Her body still tingling from Ishaan’s bold touch during the chaos.

Downstairs, Ramesh freshened up and changed to a crisp kurta, engrossed in his newspaper.

“Never entering a crowd again,” she whispered to herself, stepping onto the terrace, craving a blaze only Ishaan could stoke.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind her, and it was Ishaan. Her heart pounded at his presence. He strolled up, drab shirt hanging loosely over his toned frame, jeans snug, carrying a mischievous grin on his lips.

“Need a hand, Aunty?” Ishaan’s voice was low, sultry, curling around the word like a caress. “The basket looks heavy,” he leaned against the railing, his gaze lingering on her.

Madhuri’s breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around a damp blouse, and a flush crept up her neck. “I'll manage, thank you,” she said, her tone aiming for nonchalance but quivering at the edges.

Her knees felt unsteady, her heart a frantic drumbeat. She turned away, feigning focus on the laundry, but her body betrayed her—pulse racing, skin prickling under his stare.

A sudden gust roared across the terrace, yanking her saree upward. The fabric billowed, exposing the soft curve of her navel. Madhuri gasped, her hands fumbling to tame the cloth, but a secret thrill sparked within her. She caught Ishaan’s eyes, dark and unapologetic, drinking her in.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, stepping forward. "Nature really knows how to present a masterpiece," he said, gazing at the clouded sky.

Her cheeks burned, a mix of shame and desire pooling in her chest. “Don’t be silly,” she chided, but her voice was soft, lacking conviction. The air between them crackled.

Another gust tore through, and a wet curtain broke free from the line, whipping around them like a living thing. It tangled their bodies, pressing Madhuri against Ishaan’s chest.

His hands moved to untangle the fabric, grazing her waist, her hips. Each touch sent a jolt through her, dissolving the thin veneer of propriety.

“Hold still, aunty,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, “this could get… messy.” Her arousal surged, shame retreating like a tide.

From below, Abhi’s voice cut through the haze. “Damn this wind! Ma, the clothesline’s down again!” Her son, oblivious, wrestled with fallen laundry in the courtyard.

Guilt flickered in Madhuri’s heart, but Ishaan’s closeness smothered it. His fingers lingered on the saree, now loosely draped between them.

Then came the rain—sudden, relentless, soaking them in seconds. Madhuri’s petticoat clung to her curves, translucent and revealing.

Ishaan’s eyes darkened, and he guided her to a shaded nook beneath the terrace overhang. “You’re shivering,” he said, pulling her close. Their wet bodies pressed together, the heat of his skin searing through the damp fabric. “Let me warm you up,” he added, his voice a promise.

“Ishaan, we shouldn’t—” she started, but the words dissolved as he unbuttoned his shirt, draping it over her shoulders. The act was intimate, his bare chest inches from her.

“You’re too precious to be left cold,” he teased, his fingers brushing her collarbone. Her pretense of innocence crumbled, her hands nearly grazing his abs, desire roaring louder than the storm.

Abhi’s voice rose again, cursing the weather, still unaware. Madhuri’s heart pounded, torn between the thrill and the risk. Ishaan’s gaze held her captive, his half-smile daring her to cross the line.

The rain stopped as abruptly as it began, and a new voice broke the spell. “Madhuri? You up there?” Ramesh, called from the stairs.

Panic seized her. “Ishaan, your shirt—button it, quick!” she hissed, shoving the fabric back at him.

He complied slowly, his fingers deliberate, eyes never leaving hers. “Relax, Aunty,” he murmured, the word now a private taunt. She smoothed her saree, her hands trembling.

“I’m here, Ramesh!” she called, forcing brightness into her voice. “Ishaan was just… helping with the laundry.”

Ramesh appeared, oblivious to the charged air. “Good boy,” he said, nodding at Ishaan. Madhuri’s eyes darted to Ishaan’s half-buttoned shirt, the glimpse of his chest a silent reminder of their moment.

His gaze lingered, heavy with promise, leaving her caught between guilt, desire, and the fear of what might come next. The terrace, now still, seemed to hold its breath, mirroring the storm within her.