She arrived at Ratan's place on time – half past 5pm.
She smiled gently at Ratan as he stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, clad only in a thick white terry-cloth robe. His jet black hair was slicked back.
His cologne was quiet, but entirely sensual. The robe was belted loosely about his waist and she knew he was naked beneath.
The thought of his warm, superbly sculpted body excited her, and, involuntarily her lips parted. She had come in the evening to join him for the Party that night along with Chitra.
His eyes smiled at her in return, bathing her in their limpid, fluid warmth, beckoning, irresistible. She wore a sleeveless kurta with deep cleavage and a flimsy see through dupatta and a nice bindi adorned the middle of her forehead.
She had deliberately worn the mangalsutra although she had been sorely tempted to discard it, but she had resisted the temptation knowing well how it excited Ratan to feel that he was fucking another man's wife.
Shanti was irresistible and had a quality that Ratan found intensely erotic. Her face and manner, her sensuous face made men want to fling her to the nearest bed and fuck her passionately. Her hair was thick and glossy with typical Tamil highlights.
Her nose was fine and straight, her mouth full, wide and sensual and her teeth even and strong. She had a firm-chinned, oval face and her eyes were devastating, elongated, pear-shaped, laced with makeup she was of good height, wheat-skinned, slim, and stunningly shaped.
She had a good cleavage, around which she wore the black-and-gold beaded
Mangalsutra.
Her long, graceful neck led to full breasts, superbly shaped, like ripe mangoes, shapely with long nipples and her belly was firm and flat and her hips flared to softly delectable ass puddles that closed around a particularly dainty, puckered anus in which she did not allow much to be explored and was going to especially be enjoyed by an enthralling thick, hard penis.
Her arms and legs were smooth, slender, nicely turned, and her hands and feet were shapely and elegant.
Shanti also wore a small gold nose-stud in one nostril, gold earrings, finger-rings, bangles, anklets, toe-rings, and the spine dipping in a delectable hollow down its length.
Her body was curved like ivy clinging on the wall spreading from her shoulders to a sexy waist, then opening out again to her hips and buttocks. Her enthusiasm and aptitude for sex was not known to many and had remained suppressed all these days, or till the other day when Chitra and Ratan uncorked it.
Now they were very close, their bodies almost touching. Silently he took her by her slim waist and drew her to him. Her back never failed to give him pleasure with its superb posture and erotically hollowed spine, the smooth skin, like satin, the hollows above the collarbone.
His fingers were warm and strong on the naked flesh of her bare midriff and she felt her innermost being throb with pleasure at this merest of touches. Her breath shortened, and she leaned her forehead against his chest, fighting for control. Even after all this time, this man could make her feel like a wanton, desperate slut, craving flesh in flesh.
She slipped her long, slender fingers under the lapels of his robe and pulled it wide open, tugging open the knot, slipping the robe off his massive shoulders. Her bare feet climbed his and now she tingled in pleasure as she felt the enormous size and weight of his penis against her belly. Her magical fingers glided over the magnificent contours of his torso as at last, she tilted her face up to his, her lips fluttering open.
Ratan wondered at the openness which Shanti was displaying, a reluctant wife till the other day and now she was dying to spread her legs for him. His eyes held hers for a long moment, "What is it, my love. You seem to be troubled. I am sure this is not real. You want something."
Though the fires of her lust danced in her eyes and her nostrils were slightly flared and her breath was warm and sweet on his face, " I need your help, just cannot take this anymore – the guilt of doing it with you and now the torment of this asshole Sriram chasing me all over. "
She slid her arms up and around his neck and arched her head, rising on her toes and he bent his head to hers.
His lips met hers and she stiffened at the first, electric touch of his lips and then his tongue slid past her lips and met hers in flickering reply.
She sucked on his tongue, on his lips, met his kiss in measure.
His hands were on the nape of her neck, caressing, sliding up and down her slender frame, cupping her breasts.
He slid the straps of her kurta off her shoulder, releasing the pressure off her chest and he did it expertly.
It settled at her feet and he tugged at the draw-cord of her salwar, letting that, too, and drop. She was naked beneath that, her cunt hair neatly trimmed in anticipation.
One by one, he flicked open the buttons of her chemise and she wriggled out of it, finally naked in his arms, his for the asking, for the taking, to be had and possessed and enjoyed at will.
She murmured softly, her eyes closed arms taut about his shoulders as he tongued her ear and sucked and nibbled on her earlobe. Her nipples stiffened against his chest and she moaned softly when his big, strong hands cupped her breasts with infinite tenderness.
Her nipples grew longer and stiffer in his fingers, her body going hot.
She began to moan softly and to shift and squirm deliciously. Ratan was on his side, his head bending down as he mouthed her nipples, switching back and forth between those explosive nuggets of sensation.
His hand rested on her lower belly, flat and open, the fingers splayed out in the curly mound of her cunt hair.
He gave a little moan as he slurped a fat nipple between his lips.
