Part 1
Hi, Madhan here, a passionate erotic writer. Thanks to all my 18upchoti readers for the likes and valuable comments. Looking to connect with Pleasure-seeking girls/ladies/couples. Reach me on my hangout/mail madhansstr@gmail.com. Total anonymity and secrecy are guaranteed.This story will be narrated from the standpoint of Anusha.
With the soaring Bangalore heat, that special day was cloudy, breezy, and cool. It was the first anniversary of our marriage. My husband took me out for dinner that evening, accompanied by two of his best colleagues and their wives. In my whole life, I had never been to such a lavish restaurant.
I hail from the coastal town of Mangalore, before moving to Bangalore a year ago after marriage. To date, every moment of our marriage has been exciting with my loving husband. I felt fortunate enough not to have the challenges of living with a mother-in-law, as she had passed away long ago.
I had a good-hearted father-in-law who was very helpful with household chores.
Returning to that day, I was all smiles, mainly because of my husband’s gift of gold earrings. It was lovely having dinner with two other couples whose husbands were my husband’s best buddies at the office. The day was excellent from morning until these incidents happened.
In fact, two incidents happened that day. The first incident occurred at the jewellery shop. Initially, a lady sales rep exhibited designs of bangles and earrings. I didn’t like any of the designs. That’s when a middle-aged salesman walked in. He was smart-looking and had a very charming smile.
Moreover, he showed us some of the nicest designs, especially ones that fit my taste. The salesman demonstrated a few designs by placing them over my small, fair ears and praising the look. I felt a tinge of shiver the moment his fingers skimmed my ears.
To be precise, I had unprovoked goosebumps. I was so engaged with the salesman that I had totally forgotten the presence of my husband. “That looks great on you, Anu,” My husband’s words woke me from the charm of the salesman.
For the first time in our marriage, I noticed jealousy in my husband’s eyes. Until that moment, I never realized that the salesperson was hitting on me. Did the fear of humiliation start at that moment?
Since it was our anniversary, I wore a sleeveless blouse and a transparent rose-coloured saree with matching bangles and dark lipstick. I did all this to impress my husband. But I noticed that men, especially this charming salesman, had his eyes on me.
I understood my husband’s jealousy. I brushed off the salesman’s hands grazing my ears and quickly picked one design. I noticed the starving look in the salesman’s eyes while my husband went away to pay the bill. He dared to walk to me, offering tea.
I felt thrilled and excited by the salesman’s daring comment, “Madam, you look very pretty.” I uncontrollably blushed, tucking away my hair behind my ears. Not to look at those charming eyes of the salesman, I replied, “Thank you.”
I quickly returned my gaze to my husband to make sure he didn’t notice this interaction. After this incident, we went to the dinner. While my husband drove the bike, the salesman’s dirty stares were running through my mind. I was unconsciously smiling for myself.
Was it because the salesman was charming/smart-looking? Or was it because of my husband’s jealousy that I felt kinky and ecstatic?
The second incident happened on our way back home, and it was even more rousing. It happened just a few kilometres close to our home at a traffic signal. “Wow, Sakkath hot,” a man commented with a loud, commanding, and manly tone.
My husband and I both turned our gazes to this man. He was on a white Bullet motorcycle wearing shorts. This man wore a red half-sleeved shirt with his sleeves rolled, revealing muscled biceps. Two of his shirt buttons were open, revealing a flat, hairy chest.
He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and his hair was thick and messy. He continued staring at me. I felt incredibly vulnerable under his gaze. It was as if his eyes stripped me of my clothes. I tried not to look into his eyes, but they were magnetic, and I couldn’t help but feel attracted.
My nipples hardened almost instantly. My husband never enters a fight, but surprisingly he shouts at the stranger, “Ammmannnn.” (Motherfucker). My hubby’s two friends joined in, verbally attacking the man on the motorcycle.
A guy in a nearby auto-rickshaw warned, “Sir, you all look like you are from a respectable family. Why are you taking on that man? He’s a rowdy and a loafer. Stay away.” The situation escalated when the man on the bike parked his bike in the middle of the road and walked over to us.
“Hey, get down from the bike. What did you say?” My daring husband, looking scared, started to surrender, saying, “Nothing, sorry brother, you go.” The man stopped and stared at me with a huge smile and lust in his eyes. He then returned to his bike, continuing to ogle at me.
Did my husband leave me to this man to stare and rape me with his deadly stares? When the signal turned green, my husband shouted, “Nim amman aa keya” (Fuck your mom) and raced his bike away. My husband rushed into an office guest house nearby, hoping to escape.
My husband thought that the man on the Bullet would stop at the entrance since there was a security person. The Bullet man chased us into the guest house. The man shouted, hurling insults and dirty words, “Namard. Baro. Lowde.” (Coward. Come. Dickhead) and many more.
My husband and his friends stayed inside, too scared to confront him. I was furious at the man’s audacity. I wanted to fight back, to defend my husband, but I held back, watching the scene unfold.
The man even shouted vulgar things about me, “Nin hendthi na heng keithini andre avalige ond warada tanaka tullu novu aagbeku. Baro. Kalso nin hendthi na, gaandu.” (I will bang your wife so hard that her pussy will be sore for weeks. Come bastard. Send your wife.)
His dirty comments made my body react in ways I couldn’t control. My pussy lips widened and leaked fluids. I felt an intense mixture of fear and arousal. Eventually, the situation calmed down, and we headed back home without discussing the incident.
That night, despite everything, I was incredibly turned on. I was very desperate for a fuck. Especially for a fuck harder with heavy thrusts that my pussy would go sore for days. My sex life with my husband was great. He fucked me every alternate day.
He usually went for two rounds of fuck during the first few months of our marriage. These days he fucks once every alternate day. Sundays are an exception where he fucks me in the middle of the day too. I lost respect for my husband and started dreaming about that man on the street.
The moment we reached home, my pussy was thirstier for a rod. My father-in-law was busy with old movies in his room. My husband headed to shower. I, too, was sweaty from the ride. I wear the gold earrings that my hubby had gifted me. My whole body was burning like a hot stove, ready to be fucked.
I turn on the music increasing the volume on the speaker. I couldn’t brush off the thoughts of the two men who had tempted me to such heights. The moment my hubby walks into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. I drag him by clutching the towel towards the bed. He cries, “Anu, Baby. Wait, wait.”
I stared at him with my nostrils flaring, hot breaths escaping with each exhale. I pushed him onto the bed with water droplets still on his bare body. He tries to wake up to reach me, hug me tight, and kiss me. I drive him away. I unpin the saree strap away from my shoulder with the saree drape dropping onto the floor.
This was the first time I was dictating during sex to my husband. I wink and utter, “Happy anniversary, darling,” to my husband. I turn around, displaying the fair, deep-cut bare back of my blouse. His hands measure every bare skin of mine and untie the thread knot.
I peel away the blouse very slowly away from my body. My nipples were hard and were tearing out of my bra. I have round and firm boobs measuring 36 in size. I released the bra cup, exposing my nipples. I turn around, showing my milky boobs to my husband.
I watched his thick erect cock protruding from his wet towel. I sit over his thighs just with a panty left. I push my hair to one side and position his hand on my ears with the earring. The ear which the salesman brushed in my husband’s presence. I undid his towel away.
I then place both of his hands on the straps of my panties. I cheesily spoke in his ears, “Kiss my ears. Eat my ears.” He follows, dragging my body into his with my boobs just grazing his bare slim chest. The moment his lips touched my ears, a flash of the image of the salesman came in front of me.
My pussy lips shiver with moans escaping my lips, “Ahh.” My moan made my husband so wild that his lips sucked my ears long, drenching them in saliva. I place his hands over my pussy. He massages and plays with my pussy over the wet panty.
I utter, “Tear my panties and fuck me like hell. I am all yours to be fucked.” He grows wilder with the comments. His hands follow my instructions, tearing away my panty in a single move. He tries to push me and climb over me. I resist and continue to sit on top of him.
I imagined the stranger rowdy on the street. There were butterflies in my stomach with his thoughts, “Yaa, fuck me now.” I rush, positioning my pussy over his thick hard nervy tool. I start pushing my pussy in and out of his erect snake dick.
I place his hands over my boobs and tell him, “Squeeze them. Squeeze mado. Squeeze harder.” I literally imagined the street man’s dick piercing my pussy.
Like a puppet, he does what I order. He fucks me holding the sides of my thighs. He cums quickly. But I hadn’t cum yet. On any other day, I would have left him by that. But that day was different. I told him to lick my pussy and finger my pussy.
He licks my pussy. I fingers, first with a single finger and then with two fingers. I dreamed of the rowdy man with closed eyes while my husband continued to finger me until I orgasmed. I orgasmed with juices spilling and drenching the bed.
I don’t know. Was What I did unfaithful on the day of our first anniversary?
Comment your thoughts.
