The Broken Valve - Ch. 05

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My Husband Is Perfect For Me: The Broken Valve Ch. 05

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"The pink one," Harish said, startling Meenal.

"Harish ji! Um... I didn't realize you were..." Meenal started to say but Harish interrupted her.

"The pink one for sure," he said. "You'll look great in it."

Meenal nodded, guiltily. And looked back at the bed where she'd laid out the sarees she was trying to pick from. A yellow one, a brown one, and the pink one.

She was picking the saree to wear today. For when he comes around. The plumber.

Biswa.

She hadn't accounted for Harish just walking into the bedroom right at that moment. She'd heard him in the living room, shuffling through his papers. She thought she had time.

"Okay, Harish ji," she said. "I'll wear the pink one."

My husband helped me pick what I'd wear for the plumber today.

"Good, good," Harish said, walking towards the closet. He picked up his wallet, put on his watch and started walking back toward the living room.

"Oh, and Meenal... listen," he said, stopping at the bedroom doorway. "I have a big presentation today at the office. The new water audit proposal. Very important."

"Okay, Harish ji."

"Don't let me forget my green folder. It has all the backup data. Remind me before I leave."

"Sure, Harish ji."

Once Harish left the room, Meenal looked back at the pink saree on the bed. Thin cotton. She'd bought it at the village market back home and worn it only twice before. She'd kept it for special occasions.

Meenal went to the closet and pulled out the matching blouse that came with the saree. A regular one. With sleeves.

She remembered yesterday. Biswa's face pressed into her armpit. The way he inhaled her. And tasted her.

He's going to want to do the same thing again today.

So vulgar.

So uncouth.

.

.

.

So hot.

She put the regular blouse back in the closet and pulled out the magenta one. Sleeveless.

Another one of Ramesh ji's creations... the pervy ladies tailor of her village.

She'd never worn this magenta blouse. The fabric was tight. The neckline was low. Lower than the one she'd worn the previous day.

She put it on the bed, right next to the saree. She'd wear them soon.

Meenal rushed back to the kitchen. She had to make Harish's lunch before he left for the office.

Apart from the standard rotis and curry, Meenal was making something special for Harish's lunch. Onion pakoras (fritters).

On a hot summer day like this one, deciding to make deep fried onion fritters was indeed a brave, perhaps foolish, decision. But pakoras were Harish's favorites. And Meenal felt that it was the least she could do.

She was feeling guilty.

Guilty for allowing a plumber to have his way with her.

And guilty for having refused her husband for two days in a row.

Yesterday, after Biswa had left, Meenal scrubbed herself in the bathroom. Twice. Used the rose soap on every inch of her body.

But the paan stains weren't budging. Sure, they'd become lighter. But they were certainly there for anyone who'd look closely.

So when Harish came home, Meenal dressed herself in a fully covered nightie. She'd even worn a bra underneath, which is something she never did at night.

Harish had gotten into bed beside her, reached for her hip again. But yet again, second time in a row, she refused.

She did want to have sex. Especially after Kamble's rude interruption... Meenal was worked up. But she couldn't risk Harish discovering the paan stains all over her body. Even someone as self-centered as Harish would be able to put two and two together.

"Not tonight, Harish, ji."

His hand paused.

"Are you still feeling homesick?"

"I... um... yes, I am."

The lie came easier this time. But it still made her feel guilty.

Harish pulled back without much protest. Soon he started snoring.

Meenal felt bad for Harish... for a few seconds.

But it was short-lived. Very quickly her mind drifted back to the events of the day - imagining the way Biswa played with her nipples and extracted confession after confession out of her.

Her hand had moved between her thighs. She'd made herself come quietly, biting down on her lip, while her husband snored next to her. After that, sleep was easy to come.

Meenal was brought out of her reminiscing and back to reality by the sudden whistle of the pressure cooker. The rice was ready. She turned it off.

Then she checked the oil for the pakoras. It was hot enough. She dropped the first batch of the pakoras into the hot oil.

Soon, lunch was ready. Sweat was running down her temples, her neck and the valley between her breasts. Meenal was still in her blue nightie from yesterday, the thin cotton sticking to her back and her chest.

She got the lunch box ready and handed it to Harish as he was stepping out the door.

"Your lunch, Harish ji."

"Good, good." He picked up his briefcase, lunch box in the other hand. He turned to her. "Listen, Meenal... uh... about last night..."

Meenal stiffened.

"I just wanted to say," Harish continued. "I... I understand. New city, no friends. I get it... you don't..."

"Please don't worry about it, Harish ji," she said. "I am feeling much better today."

"Oh? Good... good then," he said, his voice hopeful. "Well, either way... I'm going to bring you a surprise tonight. A gift. Okay?"

"You don't need to Hari..."

"Nonsense! It'll cheer you up, Meenal... I know it!"

She gave him a polite smile. He smiled too, and then turned and walked out.

"See you in the evening, Meenal!"

"Bye, Harish ji."

As she waved goodbye to Harish, Meenal's eyes went to Apartment 6. Staring at her, ever-present smile behind his big mustache, was Mr. Kamble.

"Hello, dear," Kamble said. "Had a good night's sleep?"

Creepy old man.

"Uh... yes, Mr. Kamble," Meenal said.

She stepped back into the apartment, about to close the door, when he spoke again.

"I assume your plumber will be coming soon?"

She looked at him, wondered whether he was implying something.

"The plumber... yes, he will install the valve today, that should finally finish the repair."

"Do you like him?"

"Excuse me?"

"The plumber... do you like him?" Kamble repeated. "Does he do good work?"

"Didn't he come to your house yesterday?" Meenal asked, challenging him. "Did you like his work?"

"He came to the house, but didn't really do much... looked at the issue, said it will take longer. And just left." Kamble said, looking at Meenal's expression.

Meenal didn't know what to say. She didn't like that they were talking about Biswa for this long. And she wasn't sure what the neighbor's agenda was. She was liking him less by the minute.

"If you ask me," Kamble continued. "He seemed pretty frustrated with something yesterday. That's why I was asking you... if you liked his work."

Meenal was silent for a second. "He's fine. I have to go and..."

"Sure, sure dear... you must need to get ready... I'll let you go."

Meenal closed the door behind her.

She stood there. Alone in the apartment. Thinking about Kamble for a second.

But then she pushed him out of her head. That creepy old man was right about one thing. She had to get ready for Biswa.

She looked at the clock. Nine fifteen.

He'll be here soon.

Meenal went to the bathroom and splashed water on her face. The cold water felt good. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was messy, stuck to her forehead with sweat. Her blue nightie was damp at the back, at the chest.

She walked back to the bedroom, brought out a pink petticoat from the closet and laid it next to the pink saree and the magenta blouse on the bed.

Meenal stripped off her nightie and took off her bra. Then she put on the petticoat, blouse and finally the saree. She looked at herself in the mirror.

If yesterday's blouse was bold, this was another level. The neckline was lower than the black one from yesterday. The curve of each breast was visible above the fabric. And the straps on her shoulders... thin and barely there.

She felt she looked like a slut.

For a second, Meenal wondered if she should stop and reconsider what she was doing.

A distant voice, resembling her mother's, was reminding her that she was married. That she'd taken a vow to be faithful to her husband.

But another voice... the much louder, was arguing back.

Just once.

Just once. That's all. I've already let him do... so much.

What's left is just... the act. One time. And then it's done.

Meenal had been thinking about it since last night.

She'd seen Biswa's cock, held it... played with it. It was one of the largest she'd held, second only to Santosh's.

Dark, musky... manly. It smelled like Biswa. Even more so.

Meenal was definitely... curious. Perhaps beyond just curious. To know what it would feel like, Biswa's cock... deep inside her. What it would feel like to be fucked by someone like Biswa.

And once I know what it's like, the curiosity will be satisfied. The itch will be scratched. And I can go back to being a normal wife.

It sounded reasonable. It sounded like logic. Like a woman making a practical decision.

She leaned closer to the mirror and lifted her arm. The sleeveless blouse exposed her armpit completely. She'd shaved in the morning, while Harish was still asleep.

Curious about Biswa's fascination with her armpits, Meenal turned her face toward her own armpit. Brought her nose to her skin and inhaled.

Sweat. The morning rush... deep fried pakoras, the heat. A woman who'd been slaving away in the kitchen all morning. That's what she smelled like.

This is what a real woman smells like. Biswa's words from yesterday rang in her ears.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Meenal's head snapped up. She felt it almost immediately... rising heartbeat, a jolt between her legs. And her hardening nipples.

She looked at the clock. Nine forty-five.

He was early.

---

Meenal opened the door and Biswa stepped inside. She closed the door behind him immediately and pressed her eye to the peephole.

"Was that neighbor man outside?" she asked, still facing the door.

"Didn't see him," Biswa said.

She leaned forward, pressing her eye to the peephole again. Mr. Kamble's door was closed. The chair outside his apartment was empty.

Good.

She felt Biswa behind her. His hand on her waist.

She stiffened. "Biswa, wait... I'm checking if..."

Biswa's other hand joined the first one on Meenal's waist. Holding her from behind. She could feel his chest against her back. The smell of paan filled her nose as Biswa brought his lips to her neck.

He kissed her, making Meenal tilt her neck back to his shoulder with a soft moan, her eyes closed tightly.

"Mmm... Biswa..."

His hands moved to the pallu on her shoulder. He pulled it. The fabric slid off her shoulder, unwinding from across her chest.

The magenta blouse was exposed completely now. Her bare arms. Her exposed cleavage. The mangalsutra between her breasts.

Biswa cupped her breasts from behind, barely covered by her thin blouse. He could feel her hardened nipples through the fabric.

"You look fantastic, madam," he growled into her ear. "You've dressed up for me, haven't you?"

Meenal didn't say anything. Biswa went back to groping her tits, and soft-biting her ear lobe.

After a few more seconds of heavy groping, Biswa moved one of his hands to the pleats of the saree tucked at her waist. Meenal felt his fingers pull the tucks out, and the saree coming undone... pooling at their feet.

Meenal was dressed now in just her thin blouse and a petticoat.

But that didn't stay long either.

"Biswa..." she whispered. Not exactly protesting. She wasn't sure why she said it. It was as if she felt the need to call out the name of the man who was going to take her today.

Biswa still had one of his hands on her blouse, playing with her nipples through the fabric. But his other hand... the one which had just unraveled her saree, was now pulling on her petticoat string.

Meenal just whimpered as he tugged at her petticoat and it fell to the ground.

She was now standing at her own front door, in just a sleeveless blouse and thong panties.

Suddenly, Biswa turned her around. Her back pressed against the front door. Meenal's eyes went wide with surprise.

He lifted both her wrists. Raised them above her head. Pressed them gently against the door. Her armpits were exposed completely. Freshly shaven. The magenta blouse pulling tight across her breasts.

She couldn't meet his gaze. She turned her face away. She knew what he was going to do. And while she still found the idea vulgar, she couldn't help but be turned on by the crude way in which he liked claiming her.

"Look at me, madam."

She didn't.

He leaned closer to her raised arm. She could feel his breath on her armpit. Warm. Close.

He inhaled. Deep. Slow. Deliberate. His nose pressed against her skin.

"Ahhh... Biswa..." she whispered.

He exhaled. The warmth of his breath hit her skin and she shivered.

"You smell so good, madam." His face was still against her armpit. "Looks like you sweated a lot today. Didn't you?"

Meenal lowered her eyes in shame.

"Madam?"

"Y... yes. I... made my husband some pakoras," she said. Her voice was shaky. "His favorite. But it was a lot of work, and it was hot. I... I was sweating a lot."

Biswa pulled back. Looked at her. Half smile.

"You're such a good wife, madam."

They both looked at each other for a second.

He leaned into her other armpit. Inhaled. She let out a soft moan.

Then his tongue. One slow stroke. Bottom to top. Just like the previous day.

"Mmmmm..." she moaned louder.

He licked again. She felt the stubble. The wetness of his tongue. The first tingle of paan transferring to her skin.

"Biswa!" Meenal groaned in complaint.

"Hmmm?" Biswa asked, not stopping his licking motion.

"Your paan... mmm... it leaves stains on me every time you... ahh... you lick me... you know that?" she whined. "How will I... mmm... explain it to my husband?"

Biswa pulled back. Looked at the fresh red stain on her armpit.

He was silent for a few seconds. Considering.

Then he laughed.

A hearty laugh. He was genuinely amused at her predicament.

"That's easy, madam. Just don't show him your body."

"He's my husband, Biswa. Of course he will see me..."

Biswa's hand moved fast. He grabbed the front of her blouse and pulled it down in one motion. Both breasts exposed. Her nipples were already hard.

"Ahh... Biswa what are you..."

He took the left one between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Not too hard, but definitely firm.

Meenal's lips parted. Whatever she was about to say disappeared.

He twisted her nipples again... both of them. Not too much, but just enough to make Meenal feel the pain, and a feeling which started in her stomach and ended between her legs.

"Aaahhh..."

Her back arched, pushing her tits more into Biswa's hands, not away from them.

"Just don't let him see, madam," Biswa said. "Got it?"

She looked at him. Biswa's eyes were steady, he wasn't smiling anymore.

She nodded.

Biswa continued tugging her nipples and playing with them. Meenal closed her eyes and just let him do it.

After a minute of that, Meenal felt Biswa's fingers reach between her legs.

She was wet. Very wet. His fingers slipped past the thin strip of her thong and found her pussy. She gasped as he ran one finger along her slit, from bottom to top. Slowly.

"Oh my god..." she moaned. "Stop... stop, Biswa... please!"

Biswa stopped. He didn't remove his hands from her body yet, he was still holding her. Waiting for her to explain herself.

Meenal took a few seconds to catch her breath. She couldn't believe how quickly things had escalated. It had hardly been thirty seconds since he'd entered her house. And Meenal was already pretty much naked in his arms, dressed in a barely-there blouse and her thong panties.

"You... we need to slow down," she said, her voice breathy. "We can't just..."

"Just what, madam?" Biswa asked. "Yesterday, you were about to ride my cock..."

"That was... pchhh... yesterday was a bit..." Meenal struggled to find the right words. "I... kinda lost control yesterday."

"Uh huh... right."

"We almost got caught yesterday, Biswa."

"But we didn't."

"That doesn't mean... look, my husband is very... he can't find out. I can't risk my marriage fall..."

"Look, madam," Biswa interrupted. "I don't want to cause trouble in your married life. I just want to have... some fun. And by the looks of it... so do you."

To Meenal's shock, Biswa held up two fingers in front of her face. The same fingers which were between her legs. They were wet. Between them, a thin strand of clear liquid stretched from one finger tip to the other. The fingers were covered in this thick liquid. Covered in her.

Meenal went beet-red with embarrassment. On top of that, Biswa was chuckling at her embarrassment. She struggled and squirmed her way out of Biswa's embrace.

"You are an asshole," she said, her face scrunched in anger.

Biswa laughed and took her back in his embrace. This time she didn't resist. Her anger was dissipating as quickly as it rose.

With his arms around her, he brought his face close to hers.

"Okay... so what do you want to do?" Biswa asked her.

"Before we do anything... I... I need to lay some ground rules."

"Oh yeah?" Biswa paused. "What rules?"

"Whatever we're about to... whatever happens..." She paused and swallowed. "It happens once."

Biswa raised an eyebrow. "Once?"

"Just once. That's it. And then, you leave, and don't come back. The shower will be fixed, you won't need to come back."

Biswa stared at her for a few seconds. Then he laughed. Not a big laugh. More like a chuckle. Like she'd said something cute.

Biswa tightened his arms around Meenal's body, pulled her in closer.

"Madam," Biswa said, shaking his head. "You're something else."

"I'm serious, Biswa."

"I can see that."

"Then stop laughing."

"I'm not laughing." But he was still smiling. "Okay. Once. Sure."

"I mean it. After today, we're done."

"I said okay, didn't I?" Biswa lowered one of his arms and placed it on Meenal's ass. He grabbed a handful of flesh. "But let me tell you something, madam."

"What?"

"Remember when I asked you to have some paan, you said no. And now, you really like the taste, don't you?"

Meenal didn't answer. She figured out what he was going to say.

"Once," he repeated, chewing slowly. "Sure. We'll see."

"Biswa--"

"Let's go install the valve. Your shower's been broken long enough, madam."

With that, Biswa picked up his toolbox from the floor. He didn't let go of Meenal. He walked them both toward the bedroom, his arm around her waist, her saree and petticoat still pooled on the floor behind them.

She was in her thin magenta blouse and her pink thong. Walking through her own apartment, half-naked, pressed against a plumber's side.

They reached the bathroom. Biswa set the toolbox down outside the door and opened it. He pulled out a large wrench and a small package... a brass valve, still in its plastic wrapping.

"Go inside and wait by the shower, madam."

She walked into the bathroom and stood by the shower pipe. The new showerhead from yesterday was in place. The old handle was still attached to the wall - the one Harish had broken.

Biswa came in with the wrench and the valve. He handed her the package.

"Open this. Take the valve out."

She struggled with the plastic packaging. Her fingers were slippery. She finally tore it open with her teeth and held the small brass valve in her hand.

Meanwhile, Biswa was unscrewing the shower handle with the wrench. Metal scraped against metal. He worked the handle loose and set it aside.

"Give me the valve, madam."

She handed it to him. He positioned it where the handle used to be. He applied some sealant from a small tube in his toolbox and started threading the valve into place.

She watched him work. His arms. The muscles straining as he turned the wrench. The sweat on his dark skin.

"You see this tiny valve," he said, not looking up. "This is the one your husband broke. And allowed me a chance to... get to know you, madam."

She smiled.

"I should thank this valve," he continued. "Without it, I'd never have gotten the chance to taste your... deliciousness."

"Biswa!" Meenal exclaimed, shocked at his crudeness. She hit him lightly on his shoulder. "You're terrible!"

Biswa started laughing. And she joined in. She couldn't help it. He was right. That tiny brass valve... and her ass of a husband who broke it in the first place, they were both really the reason Biswa was in this bathroom right now.

"Okay," Biswa said, positioning the wrench on the valve. "Last turn. Tightest one. I need someone to hold this while I tighten below."

"Hold what?"

"The wrench. Keep it steady on the valve. If it slips, the threads strip and we start over."

Meenal positioned herself in front of the pipe. She reached up and gripped the wrench handle with both hands. Arms raised. Her breasts were lewdly outside of her magenta blouse. Meenal didn't care anymore. Biswa had seen that and a lot more.

"I'll do the final tightening from below," Biswa said, crouching down behind her. "When I tell you to turn, you turn. Got it?"

"Got it."

She heard him shifting behind her. Felt him close. Too close. She couldn't see what he was doing--her arms were up, her eyes were on the wrench.

"Biswa... what are you--"

"Shhh, madam. Concentrate."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her thong. Before she could react, he pulled it down to her mid-thighs.

"Biswa!" She instinctively lowered one hand to cover herself.

"Both hands on the wrench, madam." His voice was calm. Like he was explaining plumbing. "If this slips, we have a problem."

"That's a lie!" she complained. "You did this yesterday, too. Telling me to hold on to something because it's important... while you just... have your way with me."

Biswa laughed from behind her. "Yesterday you were holding the showerhead, madam. This is different. This valve actually needs tightening."

"Why did you need to slip my panties off for that?"

"That was just for my viewing pleasure. To inspire me," he said. "Now, turn the wrench, madam."

She glared. Then she brought her hand back up and gripped the wrench with both hands. Her thong was stretched across her mid-thighs, her pussy bare and exposed to him from behind. She felt the air between her legs. She felt his eyes on her.

His fingers slid between her legs from behind. She gasped. His fingers found her pussy. She was already wet. She'd been wet since the doorway.

"Biswa... stop... I can't do this and..."

"Turn the wrench, madam."

"What?"

"Turn it. Now."

She tried. The valve was stiff. She pushed. It moved a fraction.

"Harder, madam. You're stronger than you think."

She pushed again. The valve turned. Another quarter inch. But Biswa's fingers were sliding through her wetness now. One finger circling her clit. Slow. Deliberate.

"Unnh..." she moaned. Her arms went slack.

"Don't stop, madam. Keep turning."

"I... I can't... Biswa... please..."

"Turn. The. Wrench."

She gripped it again. Pushed. The valve turned. Another fraction. His finger slipped inside her. One. Then two. Pumping slowly. His thumb pressed against her clit.

"Oh god... Biswa..."

"Keep going, madam. Almost there."

She was panting. Her arms were trembling.

The valve was almost tight. One more turn. She pushed.

"Good, madam. One more."

"Biswa... I'm... I'm close..."

He stopped. His fingers went still inside her. Completely still.

She whimpered. "What... no... don't stop..."

"Finish the valve first, madam."

"Biswa... please..."

"One more turn. Then you're done."

She was shaking. Her thighs were trembling. She needed to come. She was right there. But his fingers weren't moving. They were just... inside her. Holding her on the edge.

She pushed on the wrench. Her arms strained. The valve turned with a metallic click.

"Done," Biswa said.

Meenal was breathing hard. Her legs were shaking. She was on the edge of an orgasm and he'd just... stopped.

"There you go," Biswa said with a flourish. "Your shower is finally fixed, madam."

"Whatever," she said. Her voice was tight. She was still throbbing between her legs. The bastard had left her hanging.

"Kya, madam?" Biswa said in a mocking tone. "I fixed your shower and instead of thanking me, you're angry with me."

"You know what you did, asshole."

"Okay, okay... sorry, madam," Biswa laughed. "You want me to finish what I started? Let's test out the shower."

"Test out? You mean..."

Biswa didn't say anything, just took Meenal by her arm, pulled her closer to him and started unhooking her blouse.

Meenal didn't stop him. Just let him strip her.

She knew where this was headed. And she wanted it too.

Just one time. She reminded herself.

I'll have sex with him just once. And then I'm done.

Biswa pulled her panties down her legs and she stepped out of them. He threw the panties next to her blouse, on the floor of the bathroom.

He then proceeded to remove his own clothes. Meenal saw as he took his underwear off and his cock came into view.

Large. A deep dark shade. Powerful veins along the shaft. It was semi-hard already.

She instinctively licked her lips, without realizing.

Biswa saw, and he smiled to himself.

He turned on the water. The shower came to life, the pressure valve working perfectly. A steady stream of water came raining down from the brand new shower head.

Biswa put his arm around Meenal and pulled her closer to his body. His hard cock was pressed between his body and hers. Meenal gasped.

Both their bodies were getting drenched in the shower.

"Come. You're going to help me shower, like I've been helping you shower all these days."

Biswa took the soap and handed it to her. Her soap. The rose-fragranced one.

He stood there, water running down from his body. Waiting for Meenal to wash his body.

She started with his chest. Soaped it in circles. Her hands moved over his hard pecs, through the hair in the middle. And then down to his stomach, feeling his muscles under her fingers.

"Lower," he said.

She moved down. Over his belly. The line of hair trailing downward. She stopped at his waist.

"Lower, madam."

She looked up at him. He was watching her. That smile.

She soaped his hips, his thighs and then his calves. Meenal was kneeling now... eye level with his cock. It was the hardest she'd ever seen it.

It's hard because of me. For me.

She looked away, and then she stood up.

Biswa turned his back to her. "Now, my back."

Meenal soaped his shoulders, his back and then his lower back. Hard and muscular. She had to admit, there was something nice about lathering up a muscular, hard-body like Biswa's.

Then she kneeled again. This time, to wash his ass. She tried to be quick.

"Properly, madam."

She slowed down. Washed each cheek. Thoroughly.

"Now between."

She paused. "Biswa..."

"Do it properly, madam. Wash my ass properly."

Meenal hesitated. But she did it. Pushed the soap between his cheeks. Her soapy hand sliding into his crack. She could feel his heat there, the roughness. She washed him slowly and thoroughly. The way he'd asked.

"Look at that," Biswa said, looking down at her. "High class madam. Washing the ass of a sweaty, low-class laborer."

She felt humiliated. But she also felt something else... a building feeling between her legs. There was something erotic about being degraded like this... especially by someone who her peers, her parents and even her husband would consider beneath them. Someone like that, was calling her names... making her wash his ass.

"Keep going," Biswa ordered.

Meenal kept going. She repeated what she'd done. But this time she went slower, applying a bit more pressure to really wash every part of his ass.

Then, without him asking, Meenal slid her hand between his legs to reach his balls. They were heavy. She cupped them in her soapy hand, and cleaned them thoroughly.

And then she went higher and took a hold of his incredibly hard cock. She was still behind him, so she couldn't really see his cock... but she felt her way around it.

Then Biswa turned around, slowly. His cock came right in front of her face. Fully hard. Dark. Thick.

The head was a deep pink, the foreskin was pulled back. She took more soap and lathered her hands.

Then she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Both hands. She started moving them up and down. Soaping him.

Biswa closed his eyes. "Oh fuck, madam... your hands feel so good..."

She kept going... up and down... up and down.

The soap had made it slippery. She could feel the veins under the skin. The hardness. And the heat.

"Rinse it, madam."

She let the water run over his cock. Watched the soap slide off. When it was clean, she was still holding it. Her soapy hands now rinsed. Just her fingers. On his bare cock.

She stroked him. Slowly. Feeling every inch. She'd felt this cock yesterday, but only with her hand, only briefly. Now she had time. She ran her fingers from the base to the tip and back down. She could feel his pulse through the skin.

This is going to be inside me.

She felt her pussy clench in anticipation. She squeezed him gently, her thumb circling the head.

Biswa's hand covered hers. He lifted her hand off his cock.

"That's enough, madam."

He pulled Meenal up. She stood on shaky legs. He turned her around and pressed on her back until her palms were flat against the shower wall. The shower's stream was directly on her shoulders and back.

"Biswa..." she turned her head back to look at him. "What are you..."

"I'm going to have your cunt now, madam," Biswa said. Direct, crude and degrading. Exactly as Meenal had come to expect from Biswa.

Meenal felt him behind her. One hand on her hip, the other guiding his cock.

This is it. It's happening.

She felt the head of his cock press against the folds of her pussy from behind.

No turning back now.

She'd told him that she liked being taken from behind. And that's what he was doing now.

Just once. Just this once.

"Biswa..."

She felt him push. The head of his cock pressed into the entrance. She was wet... soaking wet. It should've made his entry easy.

But he was big. And her body resisted. It tightened.

Biswa felt it too. He ran his hand over her lower back, gently.

"Relax, madam," he said. His voice was low and steady. "Let me in."

She tried. She breathed out and tried to loosen herself.

He pushed again. The head slipped in. Just the tip.

"Unnh..." Meenal gasped. Her fingers pressed against the tile, her eyes were shut tight.

He held there. Just the head. Letting her adjust around it first. There was more to come.

Meenal could feel his thickness. The stretch. It was... a lot. More than she'd felt in months.

Biswa pushed deeper. Another inch, and then two. She felt herself stretching around him. The walls of her pussy were being pushed open.

"Oh god..." she moaned.

He pushed deeper still. Meenal felt him go past the point where Harish's cock could reach. And he kept going. Her body was adjusting to it now. Making way for the newest guest deep inside her. Accommodating his specific shape and size.

The wetness was helping. Meenal could feel every ridge, every vein of Biswa's cock as he slid deeper.

Meenal was trying to get mentally prepared for what was to come. He hadn't even entered her fully yet and it was already bordering on uncomfortable.

"Biswa..." she breathed. "P... please go slow."

"Fuck, madam," he groaned. "You're so tight. Your husband hasn't been doing his job."

She didn't respond. He pushed the last inch in. She felt his hips against her ass. His balls against her pussy. He was fully inside her. All the way.

She'd never felt so full.

He held there. Deep. Not moving. Letting her feel him. Letting her body get used to the size.

Then he pulled back. Slowly. She felt every inch sliding out. The walls of her pussy clinging to him. Biswa pushed back in. Same speed, his hands on her hips, grasping her flesh firmly.

"Ahhh..." she moaned. Her back arched. Her ass pushed back toward him. Instinctively.

Biswa started a rhythm now... slow and deep. Each thrust going all the way in. Each time he pulled out, he went almost all out... except the head. The head always remained inside Meenal.

Her hips were moving with him, meeting his thrusts.

Meenal had wanted this. Exactly. To feel it again. That feeling of truly being fucked. Deep inside. The feeling that all her past lovers had given her. All except her own husband.

She pushed Harish's thoughts away, and focused on the massive cock inside her.

Biswa picked up speed. Still deep... but faster now. The sound of his hips against her ass, the sound of wet flesh was mixed in with the sound of the shower.

Meenal's palms were flat on the tile. Her head was down. Her hair was sticking to her back. Her breasts were hanging loose, flopping around with every thrust, her mangalsutra swinging between them.

Meenal was moaning with each thrust. Unable to control it, unable to stop it. Not that she wanted to, anyway.

Just once. This is what I wanted. Needed.

Just this once... let me enjoy it.

"Fuck, madam... your cunt feels so good," Biswa groaned. His hands were tighter on her hips now. Gripping. Pulling her back onto him with each thrust.

Meenal was losing herself. The feeling was building... that familiar tension in her belly.

"Biswa... Biswa... oh god... don't stop..."

Biswa grunted in response, continuing to thrust himself deep into her.

Meenal was in a haze of lust. Her eyes tightly closed, her entire focus on the rod pistoning through her insides. The thick steam, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and the rush of the shower enveloped her. It was like she was in a bubble.

And right then, from a distance, she could hear her own name being called out. As if in a dream.

"Meenal..."

She froze. Her eyes snapped open.

Did I imagine that?

Biswa's pace didn't slow down. "So tight, madam... I'm going to.." he groaned. He was lost in his own pleasure.

"MEENAL!" She heard it again. Louder this time. There was no mistaking it.

Harish ji's voice.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Shit!

"Biswa!" she whispered furiously at the plumber who was oblivious. "Biswa... stop!"

Just then, they both heard it.

THAK THAK THAK

The loud knock at the bathroom door. It was Biswa's turn to freeze now. Meenal and Biswa looked at each other. Wide-eyed.

"Meenal? Are you there? It's me!" Harish's voice said from the other side of the bathroom door.

Meenal's blood went cold. She looked at Biswa behind her. He had stopped moving, but he was still inside her. Still hard. His eyes were wide.

"Biswa!" she whispered, urgent and panicked. "Get off... get off me..."

Biswa let go of her. She pulled forward, Biswa's cock slid out of her. The sudden emptiness felt wrong, but she didn't have time to think about that.

She almost ran towards the bathroom door and quickly turned the lock. She and Biswa hadn't locked it when they entered. Fortunately, Harish hadn't barged in.

"Meenal? Are you in there?" Harish's voice again. Right outside the door.

"Y... yes, Harish ji!" she called out. Her voice came out cracked. She swallowed, adjusted her throat and tried again. "Yes! I'm... I'm taking a shower!"

"Oh! So he finally did it?"

"What?"

"The plumber... he fixed the shower?"

"Y... yes, it's fixed now," she said, turning her head behind her to see Biswa.

Biswa stepped out of the shower, his erection bobbing in front of him. He came and stood right behind Meenal. Dangerously close.

He slid his hands over Meenal's waist from behind, grabbing it again.

Meenal panicked and tried to slap his hands away, but to no effect.

"Can you guess what I'm doing home in the middle of the day?" Harish asked from the other side of the door.

"Uh... I don't know, Harish ji," Meenal said. But she was only half-paying attention. She was distracted by Biswa.

She'd figured out what Biswa had decided to do and she was beyond panicking.

He positioned his cock near Meenal's gaping entrance, preparing to enter her. She turned her head back towards him and shook her head, mouthing 'NO'. But her body put up zero resistance. She wanted it as much as he did.

Biswa gripped her hips on either side and pushed in. One single thrust and he was buried all the way in her.

"Unnh!" Meenal gasped, her hands slapping against the bathroom door for support. Her mouth was inches from the wood. Harish was right on the other side.

"You forgot, Meenal," Harish was saying. He sounded annoyed. "I specifically told you. I said, 'Meenal, don't let me forget my green folder.' And what did you do?"

Biswa pulled back, Meenal's pussy lips weren't letting him go easily. And then he thrust back in. Deep. He was being deliberate and slow. Like he was savoring the fact that he was enjoying this young wife while her husband was right outside the door.

"I... I'm sorry, Harish ji," Meenal managed. Her voice was thin. Strained. She was trying to sound normal while a cock was moving inside her. "I... I forgot."

Biswa thrust deeper. She bit down on her lip to keep from moaning.

"You forgot," Harish repeated. "Meenal, this presentation is important. The municipal commissioner himself is going to be there. I need that folder. It has all the backup data, the charts, the projections..."

Biswa picked up his pace. His hips slapped against her ass. Meenal's fingers pressed against the door. Her forehead was nearly touching it.

"I know, Harish ji... I'm... ooff... I'm really sorry..."

"Do you even know where it is?" Harish asked. "I've been looking everywhere."

"I... uhmmm... I don't know... check the... check the bedroom..."

Biswa reached around and found her breast. Squeezed. His cock was buried deep inside her, barely moving now. Just small, grinding motions.

She heard Harish's footsteps move away from the door. Toward the bedroom.

Biswa immediately started fucking her harder and faster. Now that Harish's voice was further away, he wasn't being careful anymore.

"Ahhh..." Meenal moaned, louder than she meant to.

"Shhh, madam," Biswa whispered. But he didn't slow down.

His cock was sliding in and out of her, making obscene squelching noises. Meenal's palms were flat on the door, her breasts pressed against the wood. The mangalsutra swinging between them, tapping against the door with each thrust.

He's going to hear us. He's going to hear...

"I found it!" Harish called out from the bedroom. "It was in the closet. I'd put it there yesterday."

"Good... good, uhh.... Harish ji..."

"Meenal," Harish was close to the door again. "Why are your clothes on the floor by the front door?"

Meenal's eyes went wide. Biswa froze. His cock still buried in her, but he stopped moving.

They'd both forgotten about that.

"W... what?" she stammered.

"There's a saree and a petticoat. Right by the front door. I almost tripped on them coming inside."

"Uhh... I..." Meenal's brain was failing to come up with a reasonable explanation.

Just then, Biswa leaned in. His lips brushed her ear. "Laundry," he whispered.

"I was... I was doing laundry," Meenal said. Her voice was shaky. "And... and those clothes must've... fallen..."

"You should be more organized, Meenal," Harish said. His voice was disapproving. "I almost broke my neck."

Biswa picked up his rhythm again. He thrust into Meenal just as she was about to apologize to her husband.

"I'm soRRYYyy, Harish ji... I'll... I'll pick them up..."

She turned her head back at Biswa and gave him a dirty look. He just smiled and continued thrusting into her, tightening his grip on her breast.

"And what's with the toolbox?" Harish asked. "There's a toolbox sitting right outside the bathroom."

Meenal's eyes went wide again. She'd forgotten about that too.

"That's... that's the plumber's," she said. "He must have forgotten it."

"Well, he's not very professional, is he? Leaving his tools behind." Harish paused. "Is he coming back for it?"

"I... I don't know... I'll... call him..."

"You do that. Tell him to come pick it up when you're... when you're decent."

"Okay, Harish ji."

"Okay, I'm heading back to the office," Harish called out. "I'm already late."

"Okay, Harish ji. Good luck with the presentation."

"Thanks, Meenal."

She heard his footsteps. Walking toward the front door.

As soon as she heard the front door close, she turned back towards Biswa.

"My husband was right there!" she hissed. Her eyes were blazing in anger. "RIGHT THERE! How could you do this? Do you want me to get caught?"

Biswa was still inside her. Still hard. He'd just held her hips and kept her in place. The bastard.

He looked at her. At her angry face. At her flushed cheeks. At her wet, heaving chest. Then he smiled.

"Sorry, madam," he said. Not sounding sorry at all. "Do you want me to stop?"

She stared at him. Furious. Her heart was still pounding from the near-miss. Her legs were shaking.

Her husband had been feet away. Feet. Talking about folders and laundry while another man's cock was inside her.

She looked at Biswa. At his smile. At his dark skin, wet from the shower. At his cock, still buried in her, still thick, still hard.

"Finish it," she said. Her voice was sharp. Angry. "Since you've started."

Biswa raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, madam?"

"Just shut up and fuck me, kameenay."

His smile widened. He gripped her hips. Pulled out and slammed back in.

"AHHH!" Meenal gasped. Her hands slapped against the bathroom door.

No more slow. No more careful. Biswa fucked her like he'd been holding back and now the leash was off.

Just once. Once and then done.

Tomorrow it'll be back to normal.

"Unnh... unnh... unnh..." Meenal couldn't control the sounds coming out of her mouth. Each thrust pushed out more such noises from inside her.

"You're such a good wife, madam," Biswa said, while he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. "Making your husband pakoras in the morning. And then getting fucked by the plumber in the afternoon."

"AHHH! Shut... up... Biswa..." Meenal managed to say, between thrusts.

"Say it, madam. What are you?"

"I'm not... saying... it..."

He thrust harder. Deeper. His hand came around and found her clit. Started rubbing. Fast circles.

"FUCK... BISWA..."

"Say it."

Should I say it? Just this once?

"I... I... ahhh... RANDI... I'm your... randi... ahhh..."

"Fuck YES!" Biswa groaned. His thrusts got harder. More savage. "Say it again."

"I'm your... randi... Biswa..."

"Haaaaa... fuck, madam... you have no idea how long I wanted to hear that."

His hand was still on her clit, rubbing fast. His cock was pounding into her. The sound of their bodies was obscene.

"High class madam," he growled into her ear. "Married to some government job waala saab. It's all for show isn't it?" He thrust deep. "But inside... inside you're just a whore, waiting to come out. Saali randi..."

"Biswa... ahhh... just... slow..."

He was fucking her so hard now the bathroom door was shaking in its frame. She could hear it. Rattling. Her palms were flat against it, bracing herself.

"A low class kameena is fucking you in your own home, madam," Biswa continued, his voice rough, breath hot against her ear. "In the bathroom where your husband showers. Where he gets ready for his important government job every morning."

"Stop... Biswa... stop saying..."

"And you're loving it. Aren't you?" His hand twisted in her hair, pulling her head back further. "... and you're moaning like a bitch in heat for a plumber."

Meenal's face was burning. The humiliation was... she couldn't describe it. It was suffocating. Degrading. Filthy.

And it was pushing her closer to the edge.

The orgasm hit.

"AHHHH... FUCK... FUCK... BISWA..."

Her whole body seized. Her thighs came together tightly... almost like a clamp around his hand. Her pussy clenched around Biswa's cock like a vice releasing and tightening in quick succession.

Her thighs were shaking. Violently. Meenal could feel her own juices running down her legs, dripping onto the bathroom floor.

Biswa didn't slow down. Didn't wait for her to go through her orgasm. He continued his fucking. It prolonged her orgasm beyond what was comfortable. Every time she thought it was subsiding, Biswa would shift inside her, or his fingers would brush her clit, and another spasm would hit.

"Fuck, madam," Biswa groaned behind her. "Fuck... your cunt is squeezing me so hard..."

She couldn't respond. She was gone. Her eyes were rolled back. Her mouth was open but no sound was coming out anymore. Just gasps.

After an eternity, the waves started to slow. Her thighs were still trembling. Her knees were weak.

Biswa was still inside her. Still hard. Still moving. She could feel Biswa's cock twitching inside her. He was close. She could feel it.

"Biswa..." she breathed. "Are you... are you close?"

"Yeah, madam," he grunted. "Very close."

She felt his rhythm change. Shorter and more urgent. His grip on her hips tightened. His breathing was getting faster.

"Biswa... wait..." she gasped. "Don't... don't come inside me..."

"Why not, madam?" His voice was strained. He didn't slow down.

"I'm not... I'm not on anything... please..."

"I'm close, madam," he warned again. His thrusts were getting harder. "I think I might just cum in your cunt..."

"NO!" Meenal said, forcefully. "No, Biswa... please... don't..."

"Give you a gift to remember me by, madam?" His voice was low, teasing even through his strain. "Fill your married belly with kameena cum?"

"Biswa, I'm serious... please... pull out..."

He groaned. His cock twitched inside her. He was right there. Seconds away.

"Then come take my cock in your mouth, randi," he said.

He pulled out, followed by a wet popping sound.

The sudden emptiness was jarring to Meenal. She felt her pussy gaping, stretched out beyond what was normal for her.

She turned around. Biswa was standing there, wet, dark, his cock jutting out, hard, slick with her juices. His cock head was red, and angry. Ready to explode.

She didn't think about it. She dropped to her knees. Right there on the bathroom floor.

She took his cock in her hand. Opened her mouth. Put it in.

The taste hit her immediately. Different this time. Her own juices. Mixed with Biswa.

She started sucking. Fast. Urgent. She could feel him twitching in her mouth. He was right there.

Biswa's hand went to the back of her head. Both hands. He gripped her hair. Pulled her onto him.

"Deep, madam... take it deep... my saali randi... this is what your mouth is for..."

She relaxed her throat. He pushed in. All the way. Her nose was buried in his pubic hair. Wet. Coarse. She could smell him... sweat, musk and sex.

He held her there. His cock down her throat. She couldn't breathe. She didn't care.

Then he came.

The first spurt hit the back of her throat... it was hot and thick... she could feel it. She swallowed instinctively. Then the second spurt followed and the third... his cock was pulsing in her mouth... shooting his cum down her throat.

"Swallow it all, madam," Biswa groaned, his hands tight in her hair. "Swallow it... take it all... consume it, madam... all that low-class kameena cum... let it fill you... let it be absorbed into you..."

She swallowed. Again and again. Her throat working around his cock. Taking everything he gave her. Biswa held her head in place, his cock buried in her mouth, his hips jerking with each final spurt. His groans filled the small bathroom.

Once he was done he pulled out. Slowly. His cock was slick with her saliva and his cum.

Meenal's mouth was open even after he'd completely pulled out, she was breathing hard.

Some of Biswa's cum escaped her mouth. A thick white strand slipped from the corner of her lip and ran down her chin, and dripped onto her chest. Onto her breast, right above the nipple.

Biswa saw Meenal as she knelt there, on the bathroom floor. Her hair was a mess, breasts and pussy red from the fucking. Her pupils dilated, and cum leaking out of her mouth. But she looked satisfied. And thoroughly fucked.

With a satisfied grin, Biswa crouched down to her. He used his finger to scoop the cum off her chin and the drop on her breast. He held his finger to her lips.

"Don't let it go to waste, madam."

She opened her mouth. Took his finger in. Sucked it clean. Tasting him again. Swallowing the last of it.

He pulled his finger out. Stood up. Looked down at her.

Meenal stayed on her knees. She couldn't move. Her legs were still weak from the orgasm. Her mouth was full of the taste of Biswa's cum.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up," Biswa said, reaching down and helping her up.

Meenal stood on shaky legs. He pulled her to him and kissed her deep, tasting himself on her tongue.

He led her by her waist back to the shower. They stood there, under the shower. Water running back over both of them. They washed each other's bodies in silence. They kissed. Then washed some more.

Afterwards, they came into the bedroom. Dried each other with the same towel, like yesterday.

As Meenal ran the towel over his legs, and then moved to his cock. It was now flaccid, but still impressive. She ran the towel over it, slowly. She looked like she wanted to say something.

"What is it, madam?" Biswa asked.

"You'll... you'll need to come back tomorrow."

He raised his eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?"

"To pick up your toolbox. You forgot your toolbox here, remember?" Meenal said, her hands still drying his cock, much longer than necessary. "That's what I told my husband."

Biswa smiled. "Right, we need to sell that lie," he said. He paused for a second. "But of course, I could've surely come by today itself to pick it up? No need to wait until tomorrow right?"

She looked at him. Her eyes narrowed. She stopped moving her hands over his cock.

"Fine, you can take it and go now," Meenal said, the anger clear in her voice. "No need to come back tomorrow."

"Wait, wait, madam," Biswa chuckled coming closer to her and taking her in his embrace. "I was just teasing. But madam... I do have a question..."

"What's that?"

"What happened to 'just once'?" He smiled.

Meenal gave him another angry look. "Okay, Biswa... get lost... take your damn toolbox and never show your face here again..."

"Whoa, whoa... aaram se, madam," Biswa chuckled. "I am still just teasing. It's just too much fun to see you like this."

She turned her face away, with a frown on her face.

"How about," Biswa continued. "... we change the rule from just once to just twice? Maybe thrice just to be safe?"

Biswa laughed. Meenal was silent for a few seconds and then she joined in the laughter as well.

---

Meenal watched as Biswa put on his clothes. She was dressed in their shared towel, and nothing else.

As he was about to step out of the bedroom, he put his arm around her waist, pulled her against his body and kissed her. Deep. She reciprocated. Their tongues were playing with each other for a few minutes before he finally pulled back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, madam," he said. Meenal nodded. He turned and walked toward the front door.

"By the way," Biswa said, turning back at her. "Don't shower before I come tomorrow... I want to taste you... like today. Theek hai?"

"Biswa..."

"Theek hai?"

"Haan... yes."

With that, Biswa left. Leaving Meenal alone in the apartment.

Harish came home at seven. Meenal was on the balcony, watching the kids play cricket below. She heard Harish's scooter before she saw it.

She opened the door before he could knock.

"Hey, Meenal," Harish said. He looked tired. Sweat stains on his shirt. Briefcase in one hand, a plastic bag in the other.

"How was your presentation, Harish ji?"

"Good, good," he said, stepping inside. "The commissioner liked the proposal. I think we'll get the budget approval."

"That's great, Harish ji."

"Yes. I was quite rattled this morning. Forgetting my green folder..."

"I'm sorry about that, Harish ji. I shouldn't have..."

"It's fine... it's fine, don't worry about it Meenal," he said. "Did the plumber come and take his toolbox?"

"He... he had another job to go to," Meenal lied. "So he said he'll come tomorrow to get it."

"Okay," Harish said. He put his briefcase down and held up the plastic bag. "I got something for you."

"For... for me?"

"I told you I'd bring you a surprise." He smiled. He seemed to be proud of himself. "Come, sit."

Meenal sat next to him at the dining table. Harish took out a cardboard box with a transparent window - a mithai box. Sweets.

"Gulaab jamun," Harish said. "You mentioned you missed home. And your father used to bring gulaab jamun to cheer you up as a kid. So here you go."

Meenal stared at the box.

He remembered that?

Just as Meenal was feeling guilt over what she did today... and what she'd planned to do tomorrow, Harish spoke up.

"Of course, these gulaab jaamuns are MUCH higher quality than anything your father may have been able to find in that village of yours."

She held her tongue. This was her husband being the ass he always was.

"You see, Meenal," he continued in his pompous tone. "The secret is in the quality of the sugar syrup being used. This sweet shop I got these from, they only use superior ingredients. Go on, have it!"

Meenal tried it. Found it way too sweet. She preferred the ones her father got for her much more than these. But she didn't say that to Harish.

"Thank you, Harish ji," she said. "It's... it's really nice."

"Told you... didn't I?"

---

After dinner, Meenal and Harish got ready for bed. Meenal was dressed in a nighty, but unlike every time, it wasn't sleeveless. She wasn't sure where all on her body had Biswa left marks. She didn't want to risk any of it being discovered by Harish.

She was brushing her hair, sitting on the edge of the bed. She could feel Harish shifting behind her. His hand found her hip.

Here we go.

"Meenal," he said. Harish's voice was soft. Hopeful. "Should we...?"

Meenal stiffened. She couldn't... not tonight.

But she'd refused her husband twice already. The guilt was heavy.

He can't see my body. The stains. The marks. Biswa's mouth was everywhere. My breasts. My armpits. My neck. There are hickeys. I felt them in the shower. And the paan stains... they're faint but they're there. If he sees...

She remembered what Biswa told her earlier. Don't let him see your body.

She made her decision. She put the brush down. Turned to look at Harish. He was on his back, staring at the ceiling. His hands were folded on his chest. He looked like a man trying very hard not to feel sorry for himself.

Meenal reached over. Put her hand on his chest.

"Harish ji."

"Hmm?"

"I want to do something. For you."

"Something?"

She moved her hand down. Over his belly. Found the string of his shorts.

"Meenal, what are you..."

She pulled the string loose. Reached inside. Found him. Soft. Small.

She started stroking him. Slowly. The way she knew how. The way she'd been taught.

"Meenal!" Harish's voice was high. Shocked. "What are you..."

"Shhh, Harish ji. Just... let me."

His hips shifted. His hands gripped the bedsheet. She could feel him hardening in her hand. She kept the rhythm steady. Slow. Her grip firm but gentle. She twisted slightly on the upstroke. The way she knew men liked it.

It had hardly been a minute and Harish was already close. She could feel it. The twitching. The way his thighs were tensing. His breathing was getting faster.

"Oh... Meenal... Meenal, I'm..."

He came. Quick. A few spurts onto her hand and his belly. He let out a groan that sounded more like relief than pleasure.

Meenal pulled her hand out. Wiped it on his shorts. Smiled at him.

"Harish ji? Did you... did you like it?"

"Yeah... I mean..." Harish was quiet for a second. "That was... yes, that was very nice. Very nice indeed."

"Did I do it well?"

"YES! Yes, you did. Very well."

She smiled again. "Goodnight, Harish ji."

"G... good night, Meenal."

Meenal lay back down. Pulled the blanket up, turned off the light.

Good. At least he won't ask to see me naked tonight.

Within minutes, Harish's breathing slowed. The snoring started.

Meenal lay on her back. Staring at the ceiling. The fan creaked overhead.

She reached down. Between her legs. Touched herself. Not to finish. Just to feel.

She was still wet.

Not from Harish.

She pulled her hand away. Closed her eyes.

Tomorrow.

END OF CHAPTER 5