The knock on the door was soft, almost hesitant. Lakshmi stood there in her simple saree, her dark eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and something else – something darker, more forbidden. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, her gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers fidgeting with the pallu of her saree.
"Aunty," I said, my voice low, teasing. "What brings you here?"
She looked up, her cheeks flushing a deep red. "I… I just wanted to check on you. Rhea's at college all day, and I thought you might be lonely."
Lonely? The word hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I stepped aside, letting her into the apartment. Her scent filled the room—jasmine oil mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. It made my cock twitch in response, and I had to adjust myself discreetly.
She walked past me, her hips swaying ever so slightly, the fabric of her saree clinging to her curves. I couldn't help but stare. She was 47, but she carried herself like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And right now, it felt like she wanted me.
"So…" she began, sitting down on the couch, crossing her legs demurely. "How have you been?"
I sat down beside her, close enough that our knees brushed. "Better now that you're here."
Her breath hitched, and she looked away, but not before I saw the way her nipples hardened beneath her blouse. My hand found its way to her knee, and she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into my touch, her chest rising and falling faster.
"You shouldn't…" she whispered, even as her body betrayed her words.
"Shouldn't what?" I asked, leaning closer, my lips grazing her ear. "Touch you? Want you? Fuck you?"
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "You're such a bastard," she said, but there was no anger in her voice. Only need.