I’m Neha. Midnight silence filled our small house. My husband snored upstairs; I lay on the floor with Rohit—my devar. Quilts wrapped us. My saree still on, blouse partly open. I felt his breath on my thigh. My heart raced.
I shifted slightly. He gulped. I whispered: “Rohit… taste me.”
He hesitated, then slid inside me with his tongue. I moaned so low, careful not to wake my husband.
He traced my wet choot through saree cloth. I grabbed the quilt, hiding my face. He pulled the saree aside. Smooth, musky, hot. He licked me deep; I let him swallow every drop.
He pressed his face into my curves, tongue dancing beneath me. Then he pulled back. I kissed his forehead. Without words, he slid in behind. His thick lund entered slowly, softly—then harder. We moved in sync, pillows muffling sounds.
I cried out once, but then swallowed. He came first, then me. When it was done, he kissed my nose and slid away. I lay still, saree wrapped, knowing my secret would stay hidden… for now.
