Hi! I am Shubham, a 25-year-old IT professional. I am from Bhopal, but currently living in Kolkata. I was raised in a middle-class family which was very strict.

In my family, I have my dad, mom, and a younger brother who is pursuing his Engineering. I am a 5’3’’ tall (ya..not so tall!), average-built guy, a little on the leaner side. Since I started playing with my junior, I always had a thing for older women.

Fantasizing about my school teachers in dirty situations with me, was a regular part of my school life. As I grew older, I developed a lot of interest for married women.

As you might also feel, there is nothing more erotic than breaking a taboo. Although being obsessed with sex, I never tried to approach a girl in school or college. Girls my age did not attract me that much.

As I got independent and started living in different cities, naturally I tried to give some try for older women. But all my attempts towards sexy married ladies online, always lead to failures.

These married women always seem to be looking for older and richer men. So, I slowly got frustrated by this process and left the fantasies of the fantasy world. Little did I know that if the conditions are right, life can give you opportunities through ways you never imagined.

So, leaving aside my online trials to get in bed with older ladies, I decided to focus on my career. During this time, I moved to a new flat in a huge society. This was a 1 BHK flat with very minimal furnishing (as we bachelors often choose, to save some bucks).

The flat opposite to us had a Jain couple living with their 4-5 year old son. The husband Deepak, who had turned 35 just last week, works in an IT company like most other people here. The woman was a housewife.

Her name was Sarita. While I am writing this story, I think of Sarita’s little black panty, dripping with her sweat in my hungry mouth, while a panty-less Sarita cooks me lunch at her flat.

Nowadays, I dream of my neighbor’s innocent wife Sarita’s silky white ass, and her hairless brown pussy, spending the mornings drenching her panty for me, with her savory sweat and pungent juices, while she hurries to serve her family, like an ideal wife.

She loves her family and takes good care of them. She cooks for them, cleans for them, and sees them off with a big smile on her face. She watches them walk up the gallery and disappear into the lifts.

Our 24-storied building had two flats on every floor. We live on the 8th floor. The two flats faced each other directly. Sometimes I watched through the peephole in my door, as Sarita smiled at her parting hubby, then gazed directly at my door, couple of seconds before she again locked her door from inside.

Like a daily ritual from the past four months, my neighbor’s innocent wife will have her breakfast, clean up the mess after her boy, wash utensils, set the home tidy, and step in her bathroom for a facewash.

She comes out of the bathroom, fresh as a lily. Looking at herself in the dressing table mirror, she takes a moment to adore her beautiful body. She has been praised for her exceptionally fair skin since she was a little girl.

A complexion this fair is rare among Indian women. I take special pleasure in humping her from behind, just to watch her ass and thighs go red when humped hard.

But fair skin has its drawbacks too, which she realizes just as she notices the red bite mark near her left shoulder on her otherwise flawless skin. “Shubh won’t like it”. She knows I don’t like seeing Deepak’s bite marks on her body.

This wasn’t a problem earlier given their dull sex life, but nowadays Deepak seems to be giving lots more attention to his wife. “I should have just stopped him like always!”.

She regrets not stopping her husband from giving her a hickey last night. Although generally she gently stops him, sometimes, the guilt of fucking with another man, gets the better of her. “Shubh won’t like it…how am I going to handle him!”.

The last time she showed up with his hickey, I decorated her with five of mine, carefully sucked at places that I know her hubby won’t open. I left one in plain sight though, which she received on her lower lip as she passed her saliva into me.

That morning she got marked under her milky left boob, on the back of her neck, on her juicy white ass. The last one she will never forget. When I made her lie on the glass table in my hall and devoured her fleshy inner thighs for a whole 20 minutes.

I marked her with my bites, as she slithered over the cold glass surface, moaning in ecstasy. “Haaaa..”, Sarita shuddered remembering the experience. She touched her pussy over the pink Salwar.

She could feel the wetness over it. She knows she wants it, again. She comes back to her senses as she hears her phone ringing. It’s a missed call. She knows who it is.

It’s 9:35. Deepak leaves daily by 8:30. He was late by half an hour today. “Impatient idiot!”, she smiles. She does her hair neatly, leaving a few strands hanging freely. Her hand reaches to the sindoor (vermilion) box.

She puts a long sindoor line on her head, puts on her deep red lipstick, adjusts her golden mangalsutra to its full glory. She throws a pink chunni over her shoulders, knowing fully well, it will be the first item she’s going to be stripped off.

She puts her hands on her waist admiring her 27 inches. Though naturally slim bodied, she has recently gained a bit around her ass (her not-a-virgin-anymore ass!), making her a perfect 34-27-38 for me.

She picks up her phone and turns off the fan. Steps out her house and locks it. Then pushes my door which I had left unlocked. Stepping in, she locks the main door, only to open it after being ravaged for this morning. She would still be in the same salwar kameez, but without a panty within.

Since that fateful afternoon in my bedroom till today as I write this story, these past four months have been absolute bliss. The first half of the day has more or less been the same.

The company I work for has flexible work hours and an easy work-from-home policy meaning I never leave my flat before 12. So, when some days carry no work pressure, even the afternoons are spent in sinful carnal pleasures, moans, and kisses.

We stopped using condoms after the first month, got her IUD planted so I can fill her up whenever she needs it. Of course, Deepak doesn’t need to know about the IUD part!

There is a long story from moving to this new unfurnished flat, as a career-oriented, socially awkward guy, to having this married woman spread her legs for me. No, it has not been a plan for the most part.

The circumstances that brought Sarita to my bed were mostly accidental. So, yes we can say I got lucky! But not in a way I would have imagined six months back when Anshul left.

“Anshul who?”.

Anshul was my flatmate when I moved into this flat. While for me, Sarita was just another reserved and introverted housewife, hard to talk to, impossible to fuck. But more on that later as I detail in further parts, how the events unfolded, which made this Sati-Savitri open her legs for me.