Kavya sat on the couch in the hall, eyes fixed on the television screen.

The blue glow washed over her face in the otherwise dim apartment.

The clock on the wall read nine.

Atharv still wasn’t home.

She reached for the remote, clicked the set off, and the sudden silence pressed in around her. One by one she switched off the lights until only the faint city haze through the curtains remained. She stretched out on the long couch, saree fabric shifting as she settled. The soft cotton had already ridden up a little, baring a strip of her waist, but it didn’t matter.

They lived alone. No one else would walk through that door except the man who held the spare key.

They had married the year before—love marriage, both of them certain.

She still felt lucky every time she thought of him. Sleep came easily once her head rested against the cushion.

Two hours later something hard and insistent pressed against the soft folds between her legs.

Her eyes opened.

Atharv knelt between her parted thighs, completely naked. The saree had been pushed higher while she slept, the fabric pooled around her waist, leaving her bare. His cock stood thick and rigid, six inches of veined flesh that twitched when her gaze landed on it.

He wasn’t carved like a statue, but the regular hours in the gym had given him solid muscle across chest and arms, a firm stomach that flexed as he leaned closer.

“Aap abhi…”

*(You… right now…)*

Her voice came out hoarse, half shock, half something warmer already pooling low in her belly. She was wet. She could feel it.

He smiled, eyes dark. “Jaan, you look so sexy in a saree. I couldn’t control myself. I want to fuck you.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows, staring at the heavy length of him. Without a word she opened her legs wider.

Atharv’s fingers found her at once—first one, sliding through the slick heat, then a second. He pushed them in slowly, curling just enough to make her hips lift.

“How wet are you, baby?”

“So much,” she whispered, one hand rising to knead her left breast through the blouse. The fabric rasped against her nipple.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Your cock.”

He worked a second finger deeper. She arched, breath catching. “Atharv… babe—”

He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. The position opened her completely.

The head of his cock nudged her entrance, smearing the wetness already coating her. With his free hand he unhooked the blouse, then the bra beneath it. Her breasts spilled free, soft and heavy, nipples tight from the cool air and the heat curling through her. He stared for a second, then pushed forward.

The thick head stretched her, sliding in inch by inch until he was seated deep. A low groan left his throat.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve been hungry for this since morning.”

She reached up, hands settling on his shoulders. “Then have my milk.” Her voice was soft, almost teasing, but her hips rolled once, taking him deeper. “Mujhe ache se chodo.”

*(Fuck me properly.)*

“Bilkul, baby.”

*(Absolutely, baby.)*

He began to move—slow, deliberate strokes that dragged every ridge of his cock along her inner walls. His hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushing the peaks while he thrust. “Itne baar choda hai, fir bhi tum itni tight ho.”

*(I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still this tight.)*

She pushed back against him, meeting every stroke. “Toh aur maaro meri.”

*(Then fk me harder.)*

His mouth dropped to her breast. He sucked one nipple between his lips, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to send a sharp spark down her spine. Each time he drove forward his balls brushed the soft skin beneath her entrance.

Her breasts moved with the force of his hips, the soft flesh jiggling against his mouth and hands. The wet sound of their bodies filled the quiet apartment—skin meeting skin, the soft suck of his mouth, her quiet gasps.

He shifted angle, going deeper, and she felt the pressure build low and hot. “Aur tez… I’m about to come.”

*(Harder…)*

“Yesss, baby.” His voice was rough. He looked straight into her eyes. “Moan my name like a good slut.”

Her head tipped back. The next thrust hit something perfect and her voice broke. “Atharv—aaa baby—”

The orgasm rolled through her in waves. Her walls clenched hard around him, wetness spilling over his cock and down onto the couch. She shook, thighs tightening around his hips, fingers digging into his shoulders while the pleasure kept pulsing.

Atharv didn’t stop. He kept thrusting through her climax, chasing his own. A few more deep strokes and he buried himself to the hilt, body going rigid.

She felt the hot pulse of him emptying inside her, thick and steady, filling her until it leaked around the base of his cock.

He stayed there a moment, breathing hard, forehead resting against hers.

Then he eased out carefully.

The sudden emptiness made her whimper. Cum and her own wetness slicked her thighs.

He lowered her leg from his shoulder and settled beside her on the narrow couch, one arm sliding under her head, the other hand still cupping a breast, thumb idly stroking the sensitive tip.

Kavya turned toward him, saree still tangled around her waist, blouse open, bra discarded somewhere on the floor. Her body felt heavy and warm, every nerve still humming.

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his softening cock, feeling the wetness they had made together.

“Still hungry?” she asked softly.

His mouth curved. “For you? Always.”

She shifted, swinging one leg over his hips so she straddled him. The saree fell around them like a curtain.

She guided him back to her entrance—still swollen, still slick—and sank down slowly. Even soft he filled her; the residual heat and the mess of their earlier release made the slide easy.

She braced her hands on his chest and began to rock, small circles at first, feeling him thicken again inside her.

Atharv’s hands settled on her waist, thumbs pressing into the soft curve just above her hips.

He watched her breasts sway with every movement, watched the way her face tightened when she found the right angle.

She leaned forward so he could take a nipple into his mouth again.

The suction pulled a low sound from her throat. She rode him harder, grinding down so her clit rubbed against the base of every time she took him deep.

“Look at me,” he murmured against her skin.

She did. Their eyes locked while she moved. The wet sounds started again softer this time, more intimate.

She reached behind her and cupped his balls, rolling them gently while she rode. His hips lifted to meet her, the muscle in his stomach flexing.

The second climax built slower, deeper. She felt it gathering in her belly, in the backs of her thighs, in the way her walls fluttered around him.

“Atharv”

“Come on my cock again,” he said, voice low. “I want to feel it.”

She did.

The orgasm was longer, rolling through her in heavy waves while she kept moving, milking him.

He followed a moment later, hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave faint marks, spilling into her a second time.

They stayed joined while their breathing slowed. Kavya slumped forward onto his chest, skin sticky where their bodies touched. Atharv’s fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine.