Category: Adult Story

Sharmila sighed and looked away, "Because he sees you in me!"I was awakened from my dreamy haze... What!!!Even when I wanted to protest, my lips were dry and hesitant. I could feel a sharp tinge down below which belied the motherly shock I should have displayed.I guessed Sharmila wanted to drive home her point and she came up with a mischievous idea."Why don't you hide in the closet and watch your son ravage me next time we do it? You will understand me and my relationship with Arjun better. I am sure you would like what you see." She winked naughtily.I was half attentive as I nodded. My hand was twitching and I had pressed my thighs together in case I leaked there and then from the wild thoughts.It was decided that I would fake a headache that night and pretend to retire early and let everyone know not to disturb me. I would then sneak into Sharmila's room while she went to the connected room and met Arjun.I barely fit into the closet and shut the doors pretty much all the way with a

The land Khokhapur, in which this tale; my tale is based in, is a small agricultural hamlet in Haryana, a northern agrarian state in India.There are about 80-90 families residing here since many centuries now and it suffices to say that our village isn't any different than a typical crude hamlet of peasants and feudal lords. What's different though is our village is known for its hardy men and their proud history of serving in the Indian armed forces.But it's always a village that bears the cost of a war and as history very well knows, we have had several painful ones and they have taken a toll, a frightful one, for all of us.Our family is considered fairly rich among the native people of Khokhapur. We have always owned more than ample land in the village, where we have grown wheat and maize in plenty. We live in a large but antiquated spread out bungalow that is made up of five medium sized houses arranged in a large circle, connected to one another by common walls but has separate

After the regular domestic chores of cooking sweeping and washing, as usual, I took a long bath and put on a fresh saree. It was a warm sunny day of November and I felt very lively and lightheaded. It was midday and my plan was to take a long nap after pleasuring myself.My private parts were very tingly and warm, it was time to take care of her, my little nether world. Lately that was my only option to relive myself and I had a grudge for my thick husband. Then I saw a cute boy opening the wicket gate and coming in. He seemed to have no confusion, apparently, he knew the place.The ruddy little boy was my son's classmate, he had been introduced to me by my son Tomy at school on one occasion, as his best friend. From the first look itself, I liked him. I had held his hand and looked deep into his large innocent eyes. He looked so innocent and cute, and I had an urge to hold him close to my chest. On a PTA meeting I had met his mother also. She was a striking beauty, a personification of

Prameela was buying vegetables at the farmer's market when she felt someone staring at her intently. She glanced around, trying to figure out who it was.Her suspicion was right--a boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was gazing at her like he wanted to devour her.His stare made her uncomfortable. After all, her own son was around the same age. That thought sparked a flicker of doubt in her mind. "If this boy was staring at me like this, could my son be doing the same to some other woman?"And then, another thought crept in. At home, she was often careless with her saree pallu. Her breasts were full and heavy--try as she might to conceal them, they always seemed ready to spill out of her blouse. What if, God forbid, her own son looked at her the way this boy did...?She was lost in these spiraling thoughts when--"What's wrong? You're lost in some deep thinking!" came the voice of her friend Kavitha, who had joined her at the market.Prameela subtly pointed at the boy with her eyes and

8.1: The Husband's ReturnSunday 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

4.1: The Shame's EchoMonday morning broke over Hyderabad like a heavy shroud, the air thick with humidity and the weight of Madhuri's unraveling. She sat hunched on her bed, still nude from last night's video call, the purple scarf crumpled beside her, her alt phone--ShyVelvet--a silent accuser on the sheets. DevilzMask's reveal--"I've known all along, Madhuri"--echoed in her skull, leaving a bitter memory tainted by shock and embarrassment.Her body still trembled, her pussy faintly pulsing from the near climax, but her mind was a storm of regret, shame flooding every corner of her being."This better be a nightmare" she whispered, her voice hoarse, tears streaking her face as she replayed the call--his voice, his cock, her surrender, and that final, devastating blow: her name on his lips.She grabbed her phones, hands shaking, and opened ShyVelvet--nudes, voice notes, videos of her fingering herself, all sent to him, all seen by a stranger who knew her."What have I done!?" she sobbed,

The mirror in Madhuri's bedroom was her silent confidant. One fine morning, she stood before it, adjusting the pleats of her emerald-green saree, the silk hugging her thick, curvy figure like a lover's embrace.At 5'7", she towered over most women in her luxury Banjara Hills neighborhood, her 36D breasts straining against her blouse, a sight that made her husband Ramesh's colleagues stutter during dinner parties.Her long, straight nose flared slightly as she dabbed rose-scented perfume on her neck, her plump lips--juicy as petals--curving into a proud smile. She knew she was beautiful."I'm a living poem, aren't I?" she murmured to her reflection, her brown eyes glinting with a mix of arrogance and longing.Beauty was her armor, her shield against the whispers of a society that demanded she be nothing more than a devoted wife and mother.Every man who stared too long, every jealous glance from a friend's husband--it fueled her.Ramesh might not satisfy her anymore, his 5-inch efforts

How can one define innocence? Leaving your back-pack in the bathroom; is that an innocent act? Without a doubt. Leaving it just before your mom goes in there to take her shower? Well, it can certainly be seen as a coincidence. Innocent, surely. Letting your phone in it? Nothing more than a fluke. All innocent. Then again, turning the camera on and positioning the phone so that the top corner peaks from the inadequately closed zipper... That's something else.I was sitting in my room, at my desk. Behind the wall just in front of me was the bathroom from where I could hear the shower running. Then stopping. Then the sound of the curtains being pulled opened. My heart was racing. Anyone looking at me would only see a twenty year old guy looking at his monitor. But in my mind's eye, I was picturing my mom coming out of the shower, fully naked, drying her large breasts, nice hips and smooth thighs, rubbing at her pussy and bush before wrapping the towel on her head. She was all alone in

Olivia was staring at her mother through the frosted window. The snowstorm was so intense that it looked like it was dusk even though it was still high noon. Her forehead pressed against the cold glass, Olivia was smiling; her mom wasn't out to shovel or gather wood or even play in the snow. Nope. She was outside doing yoga. In a freaking snowstorm.Catherine was what you could call a nature, health and yoga nut. For years now, Olivia and her brother Evan had watched their previously drab and overweight mother transform into a colorful and lean woman. She had traded most of her beige and grey suits for brighter and livelier clothing, and had lost about forty pounds of fat. Probably more, Olivia thought, given that her mother was now a lot stronger than she had been.As she watched her slipping once again in the snow, Olivia shook her head and smiled again. Even as she sighed, she had had to confess to their mother, last year, that her two children were both in great shape because she

I was sitting in the hallway of my home, listening to my two sisters talking in the living room. They had no idea I was there, probably convinced that I was still in my room playing video games. I honestly hadn't planned on spying on them. I had simply walked out of my room to get a glass of water. Just before coming out of the corridor and into the living room, I heard my older sister whispering "...your breasts are amazing!" I froze. I hadn't heard the first part of that strange sentence, and I had no context. When my younger sister giggled and said "Thanks sis.", I leaned towards the edge of the wall and listened more closely.When I realized that they were talking about Mia's breasts because of her pregnancy, I grinned. Mia's breasts were actually stunningly amazing. Both my sisters began developing their breasts rather young, and summertime was now my very favourite season. Bikinis, tank tops, thin blouses, cleavages... Damn! Stephanie, while already being two years older than