I’m Aditya, thirty-one. Married for four years. My wife, Kavya, is twenty-nine. We live in a three-bedroom flat in Baner, Pune. Kavya’s younger sister, Riya, is twenty-six. She is unmarried, works in an IT firm in Hinjewadi, and visits us often enough that the guest room always has a set of her clothes.
Riya is fairer than Kavya, softer in the face, with a quiet way of looking at people that makes you feel she is noticing more than she says. She has a full, soft body that she usually hides under loose kurtis and jeans. Nothing flashy. Nothing deliberate. Yet something about the way she moves when she thinks no one is watching stayed in my head longer than it should have.
That Saturday we had a small family get-together at our place. Kavya’s parents, two cousins, and Riya. Food, talk, laughter that went on until almost eleven. By midnight everyone had left except Riya. She had an early morning shift the next day and decided to stay over instead of driving back alone in the rain that had started.
Kavya went to bed early. She had a headache. I stayed in the living room clearing glasses. Riya was in the kitchen washing the last few plates. The rain against the balcony glass was steady and soft.
I walked in to put the empty bottles away. She looked up. Her hair was slightly loose from the long evening. A few strands stuck to her neck. She was still wearing the light peach kurti from the party, the soft fabric slightly damp near the collar from the humidity.
“Sab chale gaye?” she asked.
“Haan. Kavya so gayi.”
She nodded and turned back to the sink. I stood there longer than necessary, putting bottles in the corner. When she finished she turned and dried her hands on a towel.
“Bahut thak gayi hoon,” she said. “Par neend nahi aa rahi.”
“Chai banaun?”
She smiled a little. “Banado.”
I made two cups. We sat at the small dining table. The only light was the warm yellow one above the table. Outside the rain continued.
For a while we talked about ordinary things — her office, the traffic in Hinjewadi, how Kavya still worried too much about small things. Then the conversation slowed. She looked at her cup, then at me.
“Aapko kabhi ajeeb lagta hai?” she asked quietly.
“Kya?”
“Yeh… main itni baar yahan rukti hoon. Aapke ghar mein.”
I looked at her. In the soft light her eyes looked darker. Her lower lip was slightly wet from the tea.
“Kabhi-kabhi,” I answered honestly.
She did not look away. Her fingers moved on the side of the cup. After a few seconds she said, even softer, “Mujhe bhi.”
The air between us changed.
I did not move first. She did. She stood up, came around the table, and stood close to my chair. Close enough that I could smell the light perfume she had worn for the evening and the warmer scent of her skin underneath.
“Aditya…” she said my name like a question.
I stood up. We were almost the same height. Her face was close. I could see the small freckle near her left eye that I had never noticed before.
I kissed her.
Soft at first. Her lips opened slowly. Her tongue met mine with a hesitation that lasted only a second, then became hungry. Her hands came up and rested on my chest. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her fully against me. The kurti was soft and slightly damp. Underneath, her body was warm and full.
My hands moved under the kurti and found the bare skin of her lower back, then the full curve of her hips. She was wearing thin cotton leggings. No hard lines. Soft flesh under my palms.
I pushed the kurti higher. She raised her arms and let me take it off. She stood there in a simple white bra and the leggings, breathing faster. Her breasts were heavy, soft, the dark nipples already visible through the thin fabric. I bent and kissed the skin just above the bra, then lower. She held my head and pressed me closer.
I unhooked the bra. It fell away. I took one breast in my mouth, sucking slowly, then harder. A low sound left her throat. My other hand slid inside the waistband of her leggings and found the soft heat between her legs. She was already wet — properly wet. My fingers moved between her soft lips. She opened her legs a little wider and whispered my name again.
I pushed the leggings and her panties down together. She stepped out of them. When they came off, a thin string of wetness connected them to her for a moment before breaking.
I opened my pants. She watched as my cock came out, thick and hard. She reached and held it, stroking slowly, her eyes fixed on it. Then she went down on her knees on the kitchen floor and took the head into her mouth. Warm. Wet. Careful at first, then deeper. Her tongue moved under the head while her hand worked the rest. I held her hair loosely and watched.
After a few minutes she pulled off, breathing hard, and stood up. She took my hand and led me out of the kitchen, past the living room, into the guest bedroom where she always stayed. She closed the door softly and locked it.
The room was dark except for the thin light coming through the curtains from the street. Rain still tapped against the glass.
She lay back on the bed and opened her legs for me. I climbed over her. She guided me to her entrance with her hand. The first push went halfway. She was tight and extremely wet. I pushed the rest in slowly. Her mouth opened. When I was fully inside she wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me deeper.
I fucked her in long, steady strokes. The bed made soft sounds under us. Her breasts moved with every thrust. She kept her eyes open, watching my face.
“Thoda tez…” she whispered.
I went harder. The sound of skin meeting skin mixed with the rain. She started moaning properly — low, uncontrolled sounds that she tried to keep quiet because Kavya was only one wall away. One of her hands went between us and rubbed her clit while I moved inside her.
I felt her get tighter. Her legs locked around me. She came with a broken cry that she buried against my shoulder, her pussy pulsing hard around my cock. I kept going through it. Everything became wetter.
I pulled out, turned her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and entered her from behind. Deeper this time. She pushed back against me. I held her soft waist and fucked her hard. The flesh of her ass shook with every thrust. She came again, quieter, face pressed into the pillow.
I was close. I pulled out, turned her onto her back again, and stroked myself. She watched, then reached and took over, aiming me at her stomach and the underside of her breasts. I came hard — thick ropes across her soft belly and heavy breasts.
We stayed like that for almost a minute, both breathing heavily.
She looked at the door, then at me.
“Kavya…” she said softly.
“So rahi hogi.”
She nodded. Then she pulled me down and kissed me again, slower this time, tasting.
We did not sleep immediately. After a while she pushed me onto my back and climbed over me. She took me in her hand, stroked until I was hard again, then lowered herself onto me slowly. She moved in deep, rolling circles, her hands on my chest, looking down at my face the whole time. When she came the third time she leaned forward and bit my shoulder to keep the sound inside.
I came inside her that time.
Afterwards we lay side by side in the dark, listening to the rain and the quiet house.
She turned her head toward me and said, almost in a whisper, “Yeh sirf aaj ke liye hai.”
I did not answer. We both knew it was not going to be only for that night.
The next morning Riya left early for her shift. Kavya was still asleep when she went. I made tea and sat in the living room. The guest bedroom door was open. The bed was neatly made. Only the faint scent of her perfume remained.
That evening Kavya asked if Riya had slept well. I said yes. Ordinary words. Ordinary evening.
But three days later Riya messaged me on WhatsApp at 11:40 p.m.
“Kal office se late nikalungi. Agar free ho to…”
I stared at the message for a long time before replying.
“Haan.”
The next evening Kavya had a late meeting and would not be home before nine. Riya reached our building at 7:50. I opened the door. She came in quickly, closed it behind her, and leaned against it for a second as if she needed to catch her breath.
She was still in her office clothes — a simple light-blue shirt and black trousers. Her hair was tied back. She looked at me and said nothing.
I locked the door.
We did not go to the guest room this time. We went to the master bedroom. She pulled the shirt off herself while I watched. The white bra underneath was plain, practical. I unhooked it. Her breasts spilled free, soft and heavy. I took them in my hands and in my mouth while she opened my pants and stroked me.
She went down on her knees again, this time on the bedroom carpet, and took me deep into her throat until her eyes watered. When she stood up I pushed her onto the bed, pulled her trousers and panties down together, and entered her in one long thrust. She was already wet. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me deeper.
We fucked harder than the first night. The bed made noise. She moaned more openly because the house was empty. At one point she was on her hands and knees and I was behind her, holding her hips, driving into her deep enough that her soft breasts swung with every thrust. She came with a broken cry and kept pushing back until I followed her, coming deep inside her.
Afterwards we lay on the tangled sheets. The ceiling fan moved slowly above us.
She turned her face toward me and said quietly, “Main nahi jaanna chahti ki yeh kitne din chalega.”
“Main bhi nahi.”
She nodded once, then rested her head on my chest.
She left at 8:40, ten minutes before Kavya was due. I changed the sheets. Opened the windows. Made the room look ordinary again.
Over the next three weeks it happened five more times.
Once in the afternoon when Kavya was at her parents’ place for the day. Riya came during her lunch break. We did not even make it to the bed. I took her against the wall in the passage, her trousers around one ankle, her hands braced on the wall, my mouth on her neck to keep her quiet while I fucked her standing.
Once late at night after Kavya had fallen asleep. Riya was staying over again. She came to our bedroom door at 1:20 a.m., stood there in a thin nighty, and waited until I got up and followed her to the guest room. That night was slower. We explored more. I spent a long time with my face between her legs until she came twice against my tongue. When I finally entered her we moved together for a long time without rushing.
Once in her own flat in Hinjewadi on a Sunday when Kavya had gone to a college friend’s wedding in another city. The moment I stepped inside she closed the door, pushed me against it, and kissed me hard. We did not speak for almost an hour. Only the sound of rain and the sound of our bodies.
Each time the urgency grew. Each time the silence afterward became heavier.
On the last night of that month she stayed over again. Kavya was asleep. Riya came to me at 12:50 a.m. We locked the guest room door. This time she was the one who pushed me onto the bed and climbed over me first. She rode me slowly at first, then harder, her hands on my chest, looking down at my face the entire time as if she was trying to remember it. When she came she leaned forward and bit my shoulder again, the same place as the first night.
I came inside her.
Afterwards she lay beside me for a long time without speaking. Then she said, very quietly,
“Kavya ko pata chal gaya to sab khatam ho jayega.”
“Pata nahi chalega.”
She turned her head and looked at me in the dark.
“Aap sure ho?”
I did not answer immediately. Outside the rain had started again, soft against the glass.
Finally I said, “Jitna time hai… utna use karte hain.”
She nodded once. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head on my chest again.
We stayed like that until almost three in the morning. When she finally returned to her side of the guest bed and I returned to my own room, the house was completely quiet except for the rain.
I lay awake for a long time after that, the smell of her still on my skin, already knowing that the next time she stayed over, the door would open again.
Riya is fairer than Kavya, softer in the face, with a quiet way of looking at people that makes you feel she is noticing more than she says. She has a full, soft body that she usually hides under loose kurtis and jeans. Nothing flashy. Nothing deliberate. Yet something about the way she moves when she thinks no one is watching stayed in my head longer than it should have.
That Saturday we had a small family get-together at our place. Kavya’s parents, two cousins, and Riya. Food, talk, laughter that went on until almost eleven. By midnight everyone had left except Riya. She had an early morning shift the next day and decided to stay over instead of driving back alone in the rain that had started.
Kavya went to bed early. She had a headache. I stayed in the living room clearing glasses. Riya was in the kitchen washing the last few plates. The rain against the balcony glass was steady and soft.
I walked in to put the empty bottles away. She looked up. Her hair was slightly loose from the long evening. A few strands stuck to her neck. She was still wearing the light peach kurti from the party, the soft fabric slightly damp near the collar from the humidity.
“Sab chale gaye?” she asked.
“Haan. Kavya so gayi.”
She nodded and turned back to the sink. I stood there longer than necessary, putting bottles in the corner. When she finished she turned and dried her hands on a towel.
“Bahut thak gayi hoon,” she said. “Par neend nahi aa rahi.”
“Chai banaun?”
She smiled a little. “Banado.”
I made two cups. We sat at the small dining table. The only light was the warm yellow one above the table. Outside the rain continued.
For a while we talked about ordinary things — her office, the traffic in Hinjewadi, how Kavya still worried too much about small things. Then the conversation slowed. She looked at her cup, then at me.
“Aapko kabhi ajeeb lagta hai?” she asked quietly.
“Kya?”
“Yeh… main itni baar yahan rukti hoon. Aapke ghar mein.”
I looked at her. In the soft light her eyes looked darker. Her lower lip was slightly wet from the tea.
“Kabhi-kabhi,” I answered honestly.
She did not look away. Her fingers moved on the side of the cup. After a few seconds she said, even softer, “Mujhe bhi.”
The air between us changed.
I did not move first. She did. She stood up, came around the table, and stood close to my chair. Close enough that I could smell the light perfume she had worn for the evening and the warmer scent of her skin underneath.
“Aditya…” she said my name like a question.
I stood up. We were almost the same height. Her face was close. I could see the small freckle near her left eye that I had never noticed before.
I kissed her.
Soft at first. Her lips opened slowly. Her tongue met mine with a hesitation that lasted only a second, then became hungry. Her hands came up and rested on my chest. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her fully against me. The kurti was soft and slightly damp. Underneath, her body was warm and full.
My hands moved under the kurti and found the bare skin of her lower back, then the full curve of her hips. She was wearing thin cotton leggings. No hard lines. Soft flesh under my palms.
I pushed the kurti higher. She raised her arms and let me take it off. She stood there in a simple white bra and the leggings, breathing faster. Her breasts were heavy, soft, the dark nipples already visible through the thin fabric. I bent and kissed the skin just above the bra, then lower. She held my head and pressed me closer.
I unhooked the bra. It fell away. I took one breast in my mouth, sucking slowly, then harder. A low sound left her throat. My other hand slid inside the waistband of her leggings and found the soft heat between her legs. She was already wet — properly wet. My fingers moved between her soft lips. She opened her legs a little wider and whispered my name again.
I pushed the leggings and her panties down together. She stepped out of them. When they came off, a thin string of wetness connected them to her for a moment before breaking.
I opened my pants. She watched as my cock came out, thick and hard. She reached and held it, stroking slowly, her eyes fixed on it. Then she went down on her knees on the kitchen floor and took the head into her mouth. Warm. Wet. Careful at first, then deeper. Her tongue moved under the head while her hand worked the rest. I held her hair loosely and watched.
After a few minutes she pulled off, breathing hard, and stood up. She took my hand and led me out of the kitchen, past the living room, into the guest bedroom where she always stayed. She closed the door softly and locked it.
The room was dark except for the thin light coming through the curtains from the street. Rain still tapped against the glass.
She lay back on the bed and opened her legs for me. I climbed over her. She guided me to her entrance with her hand. The first push went halfway. She was tight and extremely wet. I pushed the rest in slowly. Her mouth opened. When I was fully inside she wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me deeper.
I fucked her in long, steady strokes. The bed made soft sounds under us. Her breasts moved with every thrust. She kept her eyes open, watching my face.
“Thoda tez…” she whispered.
I went harder. The sound of skin meeting skin mixed with the rain. She started moaning properly — low, uncontrolled sounds that she tried to keep quiet because Kavya was only one wall away. One of her hands went between us and rubbed her clit while I moved inside her.
I felt her get tighter. Her legs locked around me. She came with a broken cry that she buried against my shoulder, her pussy pulsing hard around my cock. I kept going through it. Everything became wetter.
I pulled out, turned her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and entered her from behind. Deeper this time. She pushed back against me. I held her soft waist and fucked her hard. The flesh of her ass shook with every thrust. She came again, quieter, face pressed into the pillow.
I was close. I pulled out, turned her onto her back again, and stroked myself. She watched, then reached and took over, aiming me at her stomach and the underside of her breasts. I came hard — thick ropes across her soft belly and heavy breasts.
We stayed like that for almost a minute, both breathing heavily.
She looked at the door, then at me.
“Kavya…” she said softly.
“So rahi hogi.”
She nodded. Then she pulled me down and kissed me again, slower this time, tasting.
We did not sleep immediately. After a while she pushed me onto my back and climbed over me. She took me in her hand, stroked until I was hard again, then lowered herself onto me slowly. She moved in deep, rolling circles, her hands on my chest, looking down at my face the whole time. When she came the third time she leaned forward and bit my shoulder to keep the sound inside.
I came inside her that time.
Afterwards we lay side by side in the dark, listening to the rain and the quiet house.
She turned her head toward me and said, almost in a whisper, “Yeh sirf aaj ke liye hai.”
I did not answer. We both knew it was not going to be only for that night.
The next morning Riya left early for her shift. Kavya was still asleep when she went. I made tea and sat in the living room. The guest bedroom door was open. The bed was neatly made. Only the faint scent of her perfume remained.
That evening Kavya asked if Riya had slept well. I said yes. Ordinary words. Ordinary evening.
But three days later Riya messaged me on WhatsApp at 11:40 p.m.
“Kal office se late nikalungi. Agar free ho to…”
I stared at the message for a long time before replying.
“Haan.”
The next evening Kavya had a late meeting and would not be home before nine. Riya reached our building at 7:50. I opened the door. She came in quickly, closed it behind her, and leaned against it for a second as if she needed to catch her breath.
She was still in her office clothes — a simple light-blue shirt and black trousers. Her hair was tied back. She looked at me and said nothing.
I locked the door.
We did not go to the guest room this time. We went to the master bedroom. She pulled the shirt off herself while I watched. The white bra underneath was plain, practical. I unhooked it. Her breasts spilled free, soft and heavy. I took them in my hands and in my mouth while she opened my pants and stroked me.
She went down on her knees again, this time on the bedroom carpet, and took me deep into her throat until her eyes watered. When she stood up I pushed her onto the bed, pulled her trousers and panties down together, and entered her in one long thrust. She was already wet. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me deeper.
We fucked harder than the first night. The bed made noise. She moaned more openly because the house was empty. At one point she was on her hands and knees and I was behind her, holding her hips, driving into her deep enough that her soft breasts swung with every thrust. She came with a broken cry and kept pushing back until I followed her, coming deep inside her.
Afterwards we lay on the tangled sheets. The ceiling fan moved slowly above us.
She turned her face toward me and said quietly, “Main nahi jaanna chahti ki yeh kitne din chalega.”
“Main bhi nahi.”
She nodded once, then rested her head on my chest.
She left at 8:40, ten minutes before Kavya was due. I changed the sheets. Opened the windows. Made the room look ordinary again.
Over the next three weeks it happened five more times.
Once in the afternoon when Kavya was at her parents’ place for the day. Riya came during her lunch break. We did not even make it to the bed. I took her against the wall in the passage, her trousers around one ankle, her hands braced on the wall, my mouth on her neck to keep her quiet while I fucked her standing.
Once late at night after Kavya had fallen asleep. Riya was staying over again. She came to our bedroom door at 1:20 a.m., stood there in a thin nighty, and waited until I got up and followed her to the guest room. That night was slower. We explored more. I spent a long time with my face between her legs until she came twice against my tongue. When I finally entered her we moved together for a long time without rushing.
Once in her own flat in Hinjewadi on a Sunday when Kavya had gone to a college friend’s wedding in another city. The moment I stepped inside she closed the door, pushed me against it, and kissed me hard. We did not speak for almost an hour. Only the sound of rain and the sound of our bodies.
Each time the urgency grew. Each time the silence afterward became heavier.
On the last night of that month she stayed over again. Kavya was asleep. Riya came to me at 12:50 a.m. We locked the guest room door. This time she was the one who pushed me onto the bed and climbed over me first. She rode me slowly at first, then harder, her hands on my chest, looking down at my face the entire time as if she was trying to remember it. When she came she leaned forward and bit my shoulder again, the same place as the first night.
I came inside her.
Afterwards she lay beside me for a long time without speaking. Then she said, very quietly,
“Kavya ko pata chal gaya to sab khatam ho jayega.”
“Pata nahi chalega.”
She turned her head and looked at me in the dark.
“Aap sure ho?”
I did not answer immediately. Outside the rain had started again, soft against the glass.
Finally I said, “Jitna time hai… utna use karte hain.”
She nodded once. Then she closed her eyes and rested her head on my chest again.
We stayed like that until almost three in the morning. When she finally returned to her side of the guest bed and I returned to my own room, the house was completely quiet except for the rain.
I lay awake for a long time after that, the smell of her still on my skin, already knowing that the next time she stayed over, the door would open again.