Adultery Knowing My Wife, Knowing Me as Well

At first, Meera was angry, her frustration evident in her facial expression. But after a moment, she softened. “I get it. You didn’t have much choice.” She nodded and then went on. “I was feeling good about the wedding, but it’s making me anxious that Desai would be here for another day.”
“That shouldn’t’ be a problem, actually,” I said, trying to sound casual. “He’s not going to try anything stupid.”
Meera shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just... I feel like he exploited my weakness that night. I don’t know if you believe me, Krish, but I tried to stop him. I told him not to come to the house that night. He insisted he needed to talk, and then he just got... persistent. After a while, I gave up trying to push him away. I was weak. Desperate, I guess.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’ve started to hate him for that. That’s why I don’t want to see him around.”
Her words instantly made me feel better. At least she wasn’t hiding her anger towards Desai, and that was a relief.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “I’ll manage the situation. We’ll be fine.”

It was a holiday, so we both were home, and hopeful that nothing was going to go wrong.
At breakfast, Meera acted like everything was normal, treating Desai like any other guest, but I could see the tension in her eyes. She avoided looking directly at him, almost like his presence was making her uncomfortable. I couldn’t tell if it was his mere presence or if her mind was haunted by the memories of that night – memories of her body getting dominated by the insane pleasure only he could provide. As I thought about the latter, the visuals from that night resurfaced my mind, and even I felt intimidated by sitting next to Desai. He had made my wife scream with orgasmic pleasure that night, and I had cummed in my pants. We both had no right to blame him because we both had a thrill ride, I felt. But now, the possibility that my wife might be cherishing it – even though unintentionally - made me jealous. If Meera was thinking of that night too, I wondered if it was enough to warm her body the way it did mine. The way Desai had pushed himself deep into her, making her cry out, was still fresh in my memory. I would never forget those visuals, no matter how hard I tried.

As my thoughts gathered, my tension increased. Every smile I exchanged with Desai felt forced. On the surface, it was easy to look pleasant, but underneath that, I was struggling to keep my emotions in check.
Luckily, after breakfast, Desai announced he had to go out and wouldn’t be back until after lunch. As soon as he left, Meera and I let out a collective sigh of relief. For now, we had a reprieve.

As soon as Desai left, I turned to Meera. “Meera, I didn’t realize how much his presence would affect me. This is harder than I thought.”
She gave me a soft smile, “you don’t have to fight your thoughts, Krish. They’ll die down eventually. I get it... I’m affected too. You’ve only just learned about it, but I’ve been struggling to push those memories out of my mind since it happened. We shouldn’t have brought him back into this house. But what’s the point in saying that now?”
Her words only fed my curiosity. “What do you think about…what happened that night?”
Meera’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t ask. You’re only going to make it worse for yourself. Don’t tempt those thoughts.” She reached out casually and touched my groin. To my embarrassment, I was caught with an erection.

Her eyes widened, “see? You’re already hard!” A teasing grin spread across her face.
Trying to hide my embarrassment, I moved closer and wrapped my arms around her. “Don’t you like it?” I asked.
She looked up at me with that familiar playful spark in her eyes, and without a word, brought her lips to mine. That was it. The moment we kissed, our tension exploded and evaporated. Before either of us realized what was happening, we were undressing each other, eager and impatient. I didn’t even bother fully undressing as I hurried to shove my member into her.
To no surprise, she was already wet and smooth. I entered her fully with just one thrust.
“Aahhh… Krish…” she gasped.
“Baby, you feel so good,” I whispered in her ear.
“Fuck me, Krish… fuck me hard…” her voice felt like begging. I loved it. It lit a fire inside me.
“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby…” I growled, thrusting into her with more force. Meera gasped again, her arms tightening around me.
“Just love me… aaaah…”
“You’re mine, baby… only mine… he can only stare at you.”
“Yes… I’m all yours… he can only wish…”
Her words sent me over the edge. Even before I could get a hint of what was coming, I was shooting my load into her. I grunted out a few breathless words to signal I was done and collapsed on top of her, panting heavily.
“Oh my god…what was that? A storm!” Meera laughed.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, sliding off her, but she quickly turned to pinch my cheek playfully.
“Don’t apologize. It’s fine. I know you were excited,” she said.

It wasn’t the fact that I finished too quickly that embarrassed me – it was that she had called me out on being excited, and we both knew why. I hadn’t even admitted it to myself yet.
“I should’ve waited until tonight,” I said sheepishly.
“Come on, Krish. It’s alright,” Meera reassured me again as she began adjusting her clothes, putting everything back in place.
I couldn’t help but remember how I had wanted to savour her lips and lick all over her face during the wedding eve party, how I longed to kiss her and take my time. I had a chance to do it, as I was sure she was horny to let me do whatever I wanted. But I had ended it all in a rush. I felt bad.
Desai didn’t return until late in the afternoon. When he walked back into the house, I greeted him as if nothing had happened, but inside, I felt a strange sense of secret satisfaction. The memory of my quick but intense lovemaking session with Meera earlier felt far more gratifying now than it had in the moment itself.

That lovemaking session seemed to have eased Meera's tension as well, as she began responding to Desai in a more friendly way.
Earlier in the day, Desai had asked her about the boutique she had been visiting for the wedding preparations, but her reply had been a cold one: “I don’t remember its name.”
However, in the afternoon, I overheard her casually chatting with him about the quality of services provided by that boutique.

That night, the third day, was the actual wedding day. Meera left for the boutique early as usual, while Desai and I took our time getting ready at home. I finished dressing first and waited in the living room. Desai soon emerged, dressed in a dark green suit. He looked at his best with his confident getup.
Meera arrived at the wedding venue about ten minutes after we did. Her entrance was nothing short of striking. She wore a breath-taking green lehenga with a sleeveless blouse. The lehenga was both stunning and sexy, covering above her navel but still revealing just enough to accentuate her curves while maintaining an air of elegance. The midriff-baring blouse showcased her toned stomach, and the sleeveless design highlighted the beauty of her arms.
As she approached, I couldn’t take my eyes off her, utterly captivated by her beauty. Desai, too, seemed fascinated. He smiled and said, “Meera, you look absolutely mesmerizing today. Even Krish is having a tough time looking away. I’m just a fan.”
Meera responded with nothing more than a polite smile and a nod. I felt she could’ve been a bit more responsive, but her indifference was apparent.
Desai had sensed the tension. He then asked, “Meera, are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”
It was the moment I had been expecting. Meera’s cold attitude toward him had been obvious, especially in front of me, and it seemed Desai had finally decided to talk it out.

Meera stole a glance at me before responding, “no, Susheel. It’s just a headache. It’s third day, right?”
Later, when we were alone, Desai turned to me and asked, “Do you have any idea why Meera’s being so cold? Has something happened between us that I’m not aware of?”
I pretended surprise. “Is she being rude? I hadn’t noticed. When did this happen?”
I had no intention to acknowledge that I had learnt about what happened on the concert night. But I was sure he could easily guess that the reason for Meera's hostile stance toward him was what happened on that night. Perhaps he had come expecting some signs of intimacy, assuming that the pleasure he had given her then would lead to a warm reception, but instead, he was getting none.

Later, I saw Meera being pulled into a conversation by one of our neighbours, Kailash, along with Desai. I watched as Meera smiled at Kailash’s response and then looked into Desai’s eyes. I felt their eye contact lingered longer than I remembered during the entire day. Meera said something, and I clearly noticed her blushing. I felt my heartbeats rising.
Meera was standing close to him, sharing a joke, smiling, or even offering a casual nod – each little gesture seemed to indicate she was slowly softening toward him. It made me uneasy. A part of me knew there was no way Desai could repeat the events of that concert night, but another part of me kept worrying over the unknown future of his visit.
When I got Meera alone, I asked her about what she had been smiling about with Desai.
“Kailash was teasing Susheel about his clothing, especially when he said he was staying with us. We’re all wearing green, you know,” she said.
I then noticed that Desai's suit was the same shade as her blouse. I was also wearing a suit in a similar colour, intended to match Meera’s outfit. At first, I thought his clothes matched hers better than mine, but then I realized I might be overthinking it.

As Meera moved through the magnificent looking mandap, her attire captured the attention and admiration of everyone present. The wedding ceremony itself was a beautiful blend of rituals and traditions, with the bride and groom exchanging vows amidst stunning decorations. Ritu, the bride, was in a sophisticated yet fabulous bridal outfit, complete with traditional jewellery and intricate makeup, adding to the grandeur of the occasion.
As we paused together with the newly married couple, I couldn’t resist the urge to caress the back of Meera's midriff casually. She made a playful face at me, a mix of surprise and amusement, before smiling warmly. Her smile was a silent acknowledgment of our shared intimacy, even amid the grand celebrations. I wished if Desai saw it and the thought excited me.

The guests were treated to a lavish feast, which included a corner dedicated to colourless alcoholic drinks. I took Meera’s arm and led her to the counter, where I ordered drinks for us. I saw Desai approaching, and quickly turned to order a drink for him as well. As we raised our glasses for a toast, Desai declared, “To this unexpected occasion of finding happiness.”
We finished our drinks in one go. Meera stared at us, then tugged at my shirt.
“Are you crazy?” she asked.
I gestured toward Desai. “I was just following his lead.”
Meera turned to Desai, and I didn’t miss the mischievous smile on her face.
“Stop ruining my husband, Susheel.”
“When did I ruin him?” Desai asked.
Meera made a face at him. “Do I really need to tell you that?”
Desai only smiled in response, his eyes clearly unwilling to let her go. Eventually, Meera looked away. I noticed she didn’t turn her face toward me for a while.

The celebrations continued with dancing and music that lasted into the night. The couple dance session was a high point of the celebration. As one of the most admired couples, Meera and I were invited to join the dance floor. We danced together, enjoying the festive spirit and the elegance of the celebration. The audience was caught in a spell as Meera flawlessly made her moves on the floor, and I just matched her with some slow steps. But as the song changed after a few minutes, I found Meera's arms circling around me, and I felt the energy growing inside me. The dance floor was getting filled with energy was the mood was becoming electric.

Desai was among the onlookers, and I felt a surge of exhilaration. Here I was, dancing with the woman he had once desired intensely, the woman who had been the focus of his attention. As I held Meera close, one arm resting around her waist and the other holding her hand, I felt a profound sense of joy. The cheering crowd seemed to fuel my enthusiasm, and I moved with Meera, savouring the closeness. I allowed my fingers to explore her curves, touching her softly, feeling the warmth of her body pressed against mine.
Meera responded positively, her body moving in sync with mine as we danced. It felt like a celebration of our bond, a public declaration of our love and connection. I could sense that despite any lingering tension, she was comfortable and engaged with me in that moment.

As the dance ended, Desai approached us with a casual smile. “That was some performance,” he said, his tone easy, but the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You were watching?” Meera asked with feigned innocence, but I could tell she knew. She was aware of his attention, and it was clearly getting to her.
“What else would I be doing?” Desai chuckled.
“Didn’t you get jealous?” she shot back, her eyes locking with his for a moment.
Desai hesitated, and then shrugged. “You have no idea. I was burning.”
Meera’s expression softened for just a second. Her cheeks had turned redder. I could see the satisfaction in her eyes, but she turned away, forcing herself to walk off without further engagement. It was as if every step away from him was a struggle, a fight against her own urge to acknowledge him more.

I stayed behind, moving closer to Desai, eager to press him. “Why the jealousy, man? She was dancing with her husband.”
Desai laughed softly, “I know, but when I saw you two... I wished I could be you. I’m sure half the men watching felt the same.”
I felt a sudden thrill. “Why?”
“Because you’re the only one who gets to have her, to dance with her like that. You’re the lucky one,” Desai admitted, his voice low, almost defeated. “You're the only one with that privilege.”
The honesty in his words awakened something inside me, a kind of arousal at how much he desired her, and how much control that gave Meera over him. I leaned in slightly. “You still have hots for my wife.”
Desai sighed, not meeting my eyes this time. “I won’t lie. Yes, I do. But I can only wish, right, Krish?"
It was the most pleasing thing that I had heard from him in a while. It was a revelation that he had been a man burning with jealousy because another man had the power and skill to entertain his dream woman in a way he could only wish - and that 'another' man was me.
I smiled. “Yeah, you can only wish.”

When I walked over to Meera later, I told her, “He’s jealous of me. Because I have you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is he still trying to get to me?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “Let him be jealous. It’s making him desperate.”
Her face hardened. “It’s one thing to feel jealous, but telling you about it? That’s not okay.” I could sense her frustration. She wasn’t just angry at Desai; there was something else simmering inside her.

Throughout the night, I watched her struggle. Every time Desai tried to engage her in conversation, she responded with short replies and cold tones, resisting the warmth I knew she felt. It wasn’t just about rejecting him – it was about controlling her own emotions, fighting against the part of her that wanted to talk to him. I could see the battle, and it was making her nervous no matter how much she wanted to hide it. The friendly chats she was having with other guests and our neighbours were starting to feel like forced ones.

Later, when we were alone for a moment, I brought it up. “You’re making it so obvious that you’re affected by him.”
“I told him not to expect anything from me anymore,” Meera said, her voice strained. “But it’s hard, Krish. He’s still trying.”
“Trying for what?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“He’s desperate for me. He wants... something. I can feel it every time he looks at me.”

The truth hit me then – she wasn’t just rejecting him for my sake. She was fighting her own need to keep things clear. But the weight of Desai’s attention was suffocating her, and I could feel how much it aroused me too, knowing she was the centre of his world that night. Suddenly my mind was again getting filled by the thoughts I had on the previous night.

This was a man whose every gaze at Meera would be powerful enough to remind her about the pleasure he had in offer for her; like the other night. What on earth would make her forget those moments? How could she erase the memories of the intimate mouth-to-mouth breathings he shared with her that night, while fucking her? I could only try taking deep breath, in an attempt to take my mind off these thoughts.

When Desai confronted her after dinner, eventually, it was clear he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “You haven’t given me a chance to speak, Meera. What’s wrong?”
“There’s nothing to say, Susheel,” she replied, her voice weak. “I’m not interested in talking.”
“But it hurts,” he said, his tone softer than I could imagine.
Meera turned to him, her face unreadable. “Maybe that’s the intention,” she whispered, and then walked away.

Desai was left standing there, wounded. I looked at him, offering only a small shrug, secretly enjoying the rejection he faced. There was something deeply satisfying about watching him suffer; knowing that he still wanted her but couldn’t have her.

As we got ready to leave, I found a moment to speak to Meera privately. “You’ve left him so desperate, Meera. He’d probably give up his entire business if you offered him a chance tonight.”
She laughed softly, but there was tension in her smile. “Do you have your eye on his business?”
I chuckled. “No, but I am curious. Are you offering him that chance?”
We laughed together, but Meera’s laughter died quickly. “I’m anxious, Krish. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t know why, but he’s getting under my skin tonight.”
“Maybe because you know how much he’s longing for you,” I said softly. “It’s driving him mad.”
Meera sighed. “Please, don’t let him come to our house again. I can’t deal with this anymore.”
I literally saw her eyes flutter with tension, a strange sense of absurdity hanging over her behaviour. She was dressed to kill, to entice and impress everyone at the wedding, yet only she knew how tense she truly was. It was unbelievable that her mind was so dominated by thoughts of Desai, the man she wanted to hate, especially when the truth remained that most men at the wedding would be jealous of my privilege of being hers – just like Desai had told me.

As we drove home after the wedding, Desai kept up the conversation with me, talking about the wedding, but my mind was elsewhere. Meera sat in the back, quiet, clearly lost in her own thoughts. I could feel the tension radiating off her. Desai’s attention, his desperate longing, had shaken her deeply. And as much as I wanted to comfort her, I couldn’t help but feel aroused by the entire situation.
It was clear that this night wasn’t just about Desai’s desire for her – it was about her own struggle to maintain control, to resist the pull of his admiration. And that struggle had become intoxicating for both of us.

By the time we reached home, the weight of my arousal was undeniable, and I couldn’t hide my eagerness to get to bed early.
“See you in the morning, Desai. You’re not leaving without having breakfast with us,” I said, throwing my arm around Meera as we stood at the door. She handed Desai a water jug, clearly in on my teasing, and carefully removed my hand from her shoulders.
“Goodnight, Susheel,” she whispered, slipping past us and heading to our bedroom without waiting for his response.
Desai looked at me, confusion etched on his face. “Krish, do you have any idea why she hates me so much?”
I couldn’t believe his audacity. This was the same guy who had been with my wife weeks ago, and he was still wondering what had gone wrong. I wanted to tell him, “probably you didn’t fuck well that night, bro,” but instead, I said something different.
“She doesn’t hate you, man. She’s just keeping her distance. The more you try, the harder she gets. That’s all.”
“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Desai agreed, “But I’m just trying to talk!” His tone suggested that he still didn’t fully grasp the situation.

As I entered our room, Meera was changing, and I immediately wrapped my arms around her, feeling the softness of her belly. “Shall I help you get naked, my lady?”
“Krish, stay away. I’m tired,” she replied, her voice firm yet laced with an underlying softness.
For a moment, disappointment washed over me. After all the build-up from the evening, I had hoped we would have a wild night together. The realization that she was too tired was a let-down, but I held my tongue.

We both took our time changing, and even though I had no hope of convincing her, I couldn’t shake the need for intimacy. I needed a good fuck, and I was unsure of whether I should try to make it happen.
Meera changed to a cotton top and pajama before coming to settle on the bed. Her make-up was gone, except for some traces of it around her eyes. Her lips too, carried some redness of the lipstick she had worn in the evening.

As we lay in bed, the silence between us grew heavy. I turned toward Meera, breaking it. "You were pretty harsh tonight. Don’t you think?”
She hesitated, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the sheet. “I know,” she admitted softly. “But I was scared. I didn’t trust myself... I felt like if I interacted with him, I’d start flirting without even meaning to.”
I looked at her curiously. “Are you feeling warm because of his presence?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment, though my words held a deeper weight. “You don’t hate him as much as you pretend, do you?”
She sighed, her face turning serious. “I don’t hate him, Krish. I’ve just been acting like I do because it’s easier than admitting how confused I feel.”
“Confused?” I pressed.
Her eyes flicked away, a familiar tension settling over her. “I don’t want him thinking there’s anything between us. But… when I see him, everything that happened at the concert night comes rushing back. I can’t help it. Those memories… they’re still with me, and it scares me.”

I could see the struggle in her face – how she was fighting herself, trying not to give in to those old feelings. I wasn’t entirely surprised. I had noticed her restraint all evening, the way she stiffened every time Desai came near, the way her eyes flickered with something unresolved when he glanced at her. “What if... you didn’t have to pretend anymore?”
She stared at me, unsure of what I was suggesting. “What are you saying?”
I could literally hear someone inside me screaming inside my head, ‘what are you saying, Krish?’ but I took a breath and ignored the screaming. And then I spoke.
“I’m saying… maybe you need to confront it, head-on. Do you want to talk to him? I can help. Let’s not let it eat at you like this.”
Her face flushed, and I could tell she was battling her inner desires. “You’re crazy. If I go to him now, it won’t be about talking. You know that. It won’t be a conversation we have.”

“So what?” I replied, more confident than I felt. “It’s not the first time you’ve felt his touch. What’s different now?”
Meera’s breath hitched, and I saw a flicker of excitement in her eyes, but she quickly shook her head, as if trying to push it away. “Krish, stop. Are you really serious? What are you even saying?”
I moved closer, my voice low but firm. “I’m serious. I’m okay with it. I saw how you’ve been struggling all night, and maybe it’s time to just let it happen. I want you to be honest about what you’re feeling. If you’re curious, I won’t stop you.”
She hesitated, biting her lip, clearly torn. “But Krish… if I go now, you know what will happen. It won’t be a quick chat. I’ll probably end up staying until it’s over.”
I met her gaze, my heart racing but my resolve steady. “I know. And I’m okay with that.”
Meera’s eyes widened, still fighting the pull of her excitement. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice unwavering. “But don’t let him know I’m in on this. Just tell him I’ve fallen asleep and that you came to talk because he wanted to all evening.”

For a moment, she didn’t move, wrestling with her own thoughts. Her breathing grew heavier, and I could sense the internal conflict – the thrill, the fear, the desire she was suppressing. Finally, she nodded, “Okay,” she whispered.

As she got out of bed and adjusted her cotton top and pajama, I noticed the way her hands trembled slightly, betraying her anticipation. The room suddenly felt charged, thick with tension. I knew she was excited at the thought, even if she wouldn’t admit it. And as she quietly left the room, I realized that I was just as eager, waiting for what would happen next, knowing well that she might not come back soon.
As I sat back on my bed, I felt a mix of excitement and dread settle in my stomach. Would this be a turning point for both of us, or would it lead to something more complicated? Only time would tell, and for now, all I could do was wait. And I couldn't sit tight as my heart started pounding harder.

As the seconds dragged the time on, the suspense of what might happen next was killing me. Desai's room was still sound-proof, unlike other two rooms in the house. Then I remembered the voice recorder I had placed in Desai's room weeks ago. I had set it up for moments like this, but now when the time came, I felt conflicted. Should I wait until morning to retrieve the device and listen to what happened in the night? Or should I risk syncing it live with my laptop and listen to the proceedings in real-time, knowing that if it failed, I might lose the recording entirely?

The anxiety froze me. The device had a history of failure with switching between live mode and recording mode. The recording mode was reliable but the live mode was prone to failure. And it was hard to revert back to recording mode without physical intervention. That means if the live syncing didn’t work, I would have no way of starting the recording. I would have then no way of knowing what was happening in that room right now. Meera had been hesitant, conflicted, and yet I knew there was something simmering between her and Desai that neither could ignore for much longer. This was the night they would talk their heart out, and I couldn't risk not knowing what they talk.

Finally, the need to know overcame my hesitation. I opened my laptop, fingers trembling slightly as I initiated the sync. The seconds dragged on, each one feeling like a small eternity. I silently prayed for it to work, to connect, and my breath stopped as the syncing application on the laptop screen froze.​