[AK0047]

The Orginal story is written in Hindi by ROMYRAJ147

Till Now it's incomplete with no updates from past 3 years 

I loved it very much and thought I can continue it further in English 

So with all due respect to the original writer I'm starting a rewritten English version 

Hope you all like it 

[AK0047]

The fire of the flesh is a dangerously unforgiving thing. Once it ignites, it does not extinguish itself until it has reduced the entire being to ashes.

You may begin something casually, in the name of harmless fun, believing you will remain in control. You tell yourself you can handle it. But once things spiral out of hand, control slips away completely. That is exactly what happened to me.


My name is Dev—Dev Sharma. I am twenty-five years old. I work in Kolkata, employed at the State Bank of India as a manager. I had been married only recently—barely six months into the marriage—when everything began to unravel.




My wife’s name is Puja—Puja Sharma. She was twenty-one years old, about five feet six inches tall, and strikingly fair-skinned. Her complexion was so delicate that even a light touch would leave her blushing red. She was beautifully proportioned, possessing a natural grace that made her seem almost ethereal—like a living embodiment of sensual charm.



Soon after our marriage, we moved to Kolkata and rented a two-bedroom apartment. The flat was a little far from my office, mainly because the rent there was more affordable. Since I owned a car, the distance didn’t seem like an issue. The daily commute took around forty-five minutes.

Our apartment was in Block F, on the top floor. All the blocks in the society were connected at the top level, and each floor had three flats. On our floor, two were occupied by elderly couples—one uncle was around seventy, the aunt perhaps sixty-five. They rarely stepped out and kept mostly to themselves. The third flat belonged to someone who worked outside the city and visited only once or twice a year.

Block F was the last block in the line. Behind it stretched an open, deserted field—completely silent and isolated, with hardly anyone ever passing through. There were six blocks arranged in a straight line, connected sequentially—F to E, E to D, and so on. Because Block E stood in front of us, our block was hidden from the rest of the society. Only the residents of Block E could see Block F.

The top floor was the only option available at the time, but we liked the society overall, so we decided to make it our home. We were excited—new house, a new beginning. We shopped extensively for the place. Puja had studied home décor, and she had a genuine passion for interior design. She took complete charge, decorating the house according to her taste. Although our honeymoon hadn’t happened yet, we were genuinely happy. I was secretly planning it—Maldives, filled with carefree moments—and wanted to surprise her, so I hadn’t mentioned it.

After about a month of effort, the house was fully furnished. Puja had done a remarkable job—an elegant blend of modern and classic aesthetics.

Puja came from a very decent, traditional family. She was raised in a small town in Himachal Pradesh, where she lived until the tenth grade. Later, she moved to Delhi for college. 

There, she adapted slightly to urban fashion—she dressed tastefully and modernly, but never crossed into anything overly revealing. She always upheld the values she was raised with. She was careful not to do anything that might hurt her family’s sentiments. Academics were always her priority. She kept minimal interaction with men—only casual friendships in college, nothing beyond that.

In simple terms, Puja appeared extremely innocent.
There’s a saying—that those who appear most innocent on the outside often carry intense desires within, though they rarely let them surface easily. You could take the character of Gajgamini from Mirzapur as a rough reference. But my wife was different. Or perhaps not. The truth of who she really was would only unfold through the intriguing events that were yet to come in our lives.

Our daily routine followed a simple, almost comforting rhythm. We would wake up around seven in the morning. Puja would bathe first, and after that, she would sit down for her prayers. Once she was done, she would prepare breakfast for me. I would then get ready, have my meal, and leave for the office by nine.

My working hours were from nine to six. Since the house was quite far from the office, I usually had lunch there. In the evenings, I would return home and have dinner before seven. Dinner, in fact, held special importance in our household—it was the one meal we always shared together without compromise.

Every morning before leaving, I would kiss Puja goodbye, and she would stand on the balcony, waving to me. She stayed there until I disappeared from her sight.

After that, she would take care of the house. Puja was extremely particular about cleanliness. Even the smallest speck of dirt would prompt her to start cleaning immediately. It was a good habit, though at times she took it so far that even I would feel irritated. Later, she would cook something light for herself, eat, and rest from one to three in the afternoon. After waking up, she would watch television for a while. By five in the evening, she would begin preparing dinner.

Once I returned home, we would eat together and then watch a romantic movie on Netflix. By ten at night, we would usually be asleep. Life flowed smoothly—quiet, ordinary, and content.

[Hotgiri]

Very Nice start, please give regular updates

[qazmlp]

A good start but feels like an incomplete update.The premise and main characters should get introduced in the first chapter, that way the anticipation is better built up.All the Best going ahead, rock our senses.

[couples2k9]

Good start pls continue

[AK0047]

Then one day, everything changed.

Our peaceful routine was disrupted the moment a third presence entered our lives.

Puja rarely stepped out of the house. She did some light yoga to stay fit. One evening, I suggested that we start going for short walks after dinner every night. Puja agreed. That day, after dinner around eight, we stepped out for a walk.
She wore jogging pants and a T-shirt, and I was dressed in a track suit.

 
As we reached the gate of our apartment complex, a man greeted us. I returned the greeting politely. He appeared to be around fifty years old, with a coal-dark complexion. He wasn’t very tall—perhaps around five feet five inches.


He had a well-built body—clearly someone who must have practiced bodybuilding in his younger days.






He was the society’s watchman. I had never seen him before, though his uniform made his role obvious. Still, a sense of curiosity made me want to know whether he was new or had been around for a while.


Me: I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Are you new?

Aslam: No, sir. I’ve been working here for the past three years. My shift is from 7:30 at night until morning, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen me.

Me: Oh… so what’s your name?

Aslam: My name is Aslam. I guess you’re new here — I haven’t seen you before either. My shift used to be in the mornings about six months ago, but I still don’t recall seeing you then.

Me: Yes, we moved here about two months ago. Just stepped out for a bit of a walk today.

During this exchange, Puja showed no particular interest. She was looking around casually, clearly just waiting for the conversation to end so we could continue our walk.


Me: Alright then, uncle, we’ll get going.

Aslam: Sure, sir. If you ever have any trouble or need to know anything about this place, just let me know. I’ll be happy to help.

Me: Definitely.


We then headed out for our walk. That day, Aslam chacha came across as a decent man. His manner suggested he was helpful, and since he was the society’s watchman, there was a natural sense of trust. After the walk, we returned home, watched a movie on Netflix as usual, and went to sleep.


This routine continued for a few days. Every evening, we went for our walk, and I would exchange a few words with Aslam chacha. Gradually, I noticed something about him—he had a way with words. He was naturally funny and could hold a conversation effortlessly.

Slowly, I began to notice that Puja, too, was starting to find his conversations interesting. As many would agree, humor has a strange charm—people who can make others laugh are often easily liked. Puja seemed to feel the same. Still, she was very shy, so she never actively spoke. Whenever Aslam chacha cracked a joke, she would simply smile—quietly, almost unconsciously.

[yuvamuthu]

Going good.. pls update long

[magneticpersonality]

Good start to the story.
Please come up with lengthy updates.

[rangeeladesi]

The Orginal story is written in Hindi by ROMYRAJ147

Till Now it's incomplete with no updates from past 3 years 

I loved it very much and thought I can continue it further in English 

So with all due respect to the original writer I'm starting a rewritten English version 

Hope you all like it 

Good idea.

[Mgaya]

Update plesse....

[Hotgiri]

Pls update, it’s very good and erotic story

[Wasifahim]

Nice start updatr

[pujaa69]

Nice story
Waiting for the next bigg update

[Pattaasu Balu]

Another story of musulim man spoiling hhindhuu woman. This forum is filled with many stories like this.

[magneticpersonality]

Looks like another abandoned story

[AK0047]

Gradually, I began to notice a shift. Chacha’s jokes became more frequent, more deliberate. And whenever Puja smiled, his gaze lingered on her—as if the humor was meant solely for her attention. At first, it unsettled me. Then I reasoned with myself. He was a man, after all. No matter how decent someone appears, a man often tries to appear a little more impressive in front of a woman. Initially, I found nothing overtly wrong in it.

One evening, as we were preparing to go for our walk, we were running late. I asked Puja to hurry. That’s when I noticed she wasn’t wearing her usual gym outfit. Instead, she had on a beautiful nightdress. She looked breathtaking.





I told her it was already night—who would even notice? We were just stepping out briefly and coming straight back. But she refused.

Puja: How can I go outside wearing this? It’s meant for the house. People outside will see.

Me: Oh come on, who’s even going to see? There’s hardly anyone around here. We’ll just take a quick walk and come right bac..

The apartment was located in an isolated area. The nearest residential houses were nearly five hundred meters away. The surroundings were usually deserted at night.

Puja: But Aslam chacha will be at the gate. How can I go like this?


I don’t know why, but hearing Aslam’s name from Puja’s lips—combined with the thought of her stepping out like that in front of him—sent a strange shiver through me. For the first time, my body reacted in a way that surprised even me.

Main: So what if he is? He’s an old man — probably around your father’s age.

Puja: (slightly hesitant, the discomfort visible on her face) Alright… but today we’re not talking to Aslam chacha. We’ll just go for the walk and come straight back.



Whether it was hormones or something darker, I don’t know—but something primitive stirred within me that day. The more Puja resisted, the more a dangerous curiosity grew inside me. Questions kept swirling in my mind. What would happen? How would he react? Would Puja feel embarrassed—or something else entirely?

That moment, I believe, was the first step toward my own undoing. I thought I would remain in control. But could I really? And what lay ahead—would my wife restrain herself, or would she take another step toward desire?

When we reached the gate, Aslam chacha was standing there. He was wearing extremely shabby clothes, as if they hadn’t been washed in weeks. Puja stayed slightly behind me. Her discomfort was obvious. I stopped deliberately.

Main: Namaste, Aslam chacha.

Aslam: Salaam saab… salaam memsaab.

His eyes widened. Though he spoke to me, his gaze never left Puja.

A woman can sense such attention instantly. Puja understood exactly what his stare meant. She lowered her head completely, unable to meet his eyes.

Me: Chacha, you always talk to me. You’ve never really spoken to Memsaab.

Aslam: Maybe Memsaab doesn’t like me. She always keeps her distance. How could I start a conversation then?

Puja: It’s nothing like that, chacha.


I was startled. It was the first time Puja had spoken to him directly. A faint blush spread across her face as she spoke, her eyes still lowered.

Aslam: By the way, Memsaab, you’re looking very beautiful today. This dress really suits you

The moment he said that, my body reacted violently. I became painfully hard, as if about to burst. Puja turned completely red; her cheeks flushed deep crimson. Every hair on my body stood on end. I silently observed the two of them. Aslam’s gaze remained fixed on her without shame, even in my presence. Puja kept adjusting her hair repeatedly, visibly confused, unsure how to react. She stayed silent, unable to respond.


Me: Chacha, where do you live? Do you have a family?

Aslam: No, saab, I live alone. There’s a room on the top floor of Block E. Three of us watchmen stay there. Not everyone is as fortunate as you.


Block E was connected to ours. And just like us, the watchmen’s rooms were on the top floor. Anything that happened up there could only be seen by people living on that floor.

Me: Chacha, do you have a mobile? Give me your number. I’ll call if I ever need to.

Aslam: Yes, saab, note it down… 99*****67.

I had intentionally not brought my phone that day. I asked Puja to save it instead. She looked at me in surprise, then silently saved the number. I did this deliberately, just to create an excuse for them to talk.

Puja: Chacha, please repeat the number once again.

Aslam: Yes, Memsaab… 99*****67. And give me a missed call so I can save it too.

Puja: No, chacha, Dev will call.

Aslam: I know, Memsaab… you don’t really like me.

Puja: It’s nothing like that… here, I’ve done it.


She didn’t look at me even once for approval. She simply gave the missed call.

At that moment, I was completely out of control. My body betrayed me so intensely that it was impossible to hide.

Thankfully, the area was dimly lit. I felt an unsettling cuckold-like sensation—as if my wife was slipping away from me. Yet instead of panic, excitement flooded me. Desire overpowered insecurity. Slowly, disturbingly, I began to enjoy it.

We took a short walk and returned home. That night, we had wild sex. I don’t know why, but Puja was unusually intense. She moved like a thirsty tigress. It felt as though she wasn’t Puja at all—she surrendered herself with reckless abandon. During sex, she rubbed her body hard against mine, sucked on my lips aggressively. It felt less like I was having sex with her, and more like she was using me.







She bounced on top of me, taking me fully inside herself again and again—something that had never happened before. Usually, she was too tight; I had to go slowly. That night, there was no hesitation.


All I could think was—was this Aslam Chacha’s effect? Was she imagining him instead of me? Countless questions raced through my mind. But I couldn’t ask her directly. Whatever I wanted to uncover, I would have to do it indirectly.
And in trying to uncover the truth… would I end up pushing Puja one step further? Would this step draw her deeper into desire—or would it finally force her to stop?

[exbiixossip2]

story mast ja rahi hai... hot pics and gifs ke sath

[dubukh]

Nice introduction. Story is still now going innocently. Nothing remarkably wrong or erotica happened till now. So eagerly waiting for the juicy part

So please continue bro

[AK0047]

After a night of intense sex, I woke up late the next morning. Puja was still asleep, so I left for the office without breakfast.
 

When I was returning home after finishing work, I saw Puja standing near the gate with some shopping bags. And standing right beside her was Aslam Chacha. The two of them were talking, and every now and then Puja was smiling at something he said.



Something about it felt strange. In the evenings, when we went jogging, they barely exchanged a word. And now here they were, laughing and chatting so comfortably. 

My body reacted instantly; desire surged through me again. Curiosity gnawed at me—I wanted to know what they were talking about. I couldn’t control myself and walked straight up to them.

Me: “Oh, so the two of you together today? I hope my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. In the evening, both of you seemed hesitant even to talk to each other.”

Puja: “No, it’s nothing like that. I had gone to the market, and Chacha was just asking where I had been.”

Aslam: “Yes, that’s all I was asking.”

Inside my head, I kept wondering—then what was that smile about?

Me: “Alright then. You two carry on talking.”

Puja: “He asked, I answered. What else is there to talk about? I’ll get going too.”

Then we all walked back together. I didn’t believe Puja’s explanation at all. If that was all, then why had she been smiling like that? So I came up with a plan—to find out what really went on between them.

I had bought a tiny voice recorder, small enough to hide anywhere. It could clearly record nearby conversations without being noticed. The next day, before leaving for the office, I slipped it inside Puja’s vanity. I knew she had a parlour appointment that day, which meant she’d be going out—and there was a chance she might run into Aslam.


At the office, I couldn’t focus at all. My body was there, but my mind was consumed by one thought—what would the recorder capture? Did they talk? What did they talk about? What kind of conversation made Puja smile like that? The more I thought about it, the more restless and aroused I became.


The moment work ended, I rushed home. Puja was cooking. Usually, by the time I arrived, dinner was already prepared—but that day she was late. She had just returned from the parlour. She looked stunning—almost unreal—beautiful and irresistibly hot.

Me: “Wooow, jaan… you look absolutely beautiful. Makes me want to pull you into my arms right now and cover your whole body with kisses.”

Puja: “Just leave it. Otherwise you’ll have to stay hungry tonight.”

Me: “But why so late today? Dinner is usually ready by now.”

Puja: “Yes, I got a bit late coming back from the parlour.”

All I could think about was whether she had spoken to Aslam that day or not. My eyes kept darting around, searching for the vanity. I was desperate to retrieve the recorder and listen to it—but I couldn’t do it yet. Night was the only safe time.

We had dinner. Then Puja herself said we wouldn’t go jogging that night. Instead, we went for a walk. That day, Aslam Chacha wasn’t at the gate. As we crossed it, I noticed Puja looking around repeatedly.

Me: “What happened? Are you looking for someone?”

Puja: “Why would I be looking for anyone? It’s just that there’s no watchman at the gate today.”

In my mind, I thought—no watchman, or Aslam Chacha?

Me: “Yeah, even your Aslam Chacha isn’t around today.”

Puja: “What do you mean my Chacha? I was just saying there’s no one there. What if there’s been some kind of theft in the society?”

I couldn’t tell whether she was worried about a thief—or about Aslam not being there.

I had no patience left. All I wanted was to hear that recording. We didn’t have sex that night. I told her I was tired and suggested we sleep. Puja fell asleep quickly.

I quietly got up, took the recorder out of the vanity, and sat in the drawing room. I fast-forwarded through the recording—parlour talk, random chatter—none of it interested me. I kept skipping ahead.

Then suddenly… I heard a male voice.
I recognized it instantly. It was Aslam Chacha.

Aslam: “Salam, Memsaab. You went out again today… Mash….”




This is how Puja was looking that day 


Puja: “What happened, Chacha?!”

Aslam: “God must have taken his time while creating you, Memsaab.”

Puja: “Oh, it’s not like that… you too.”

Aslam: “I’m telling the truth, Memsaab. You look like an angel from heaven.”

Puja:.“Ha ha… you were saying the same thing this morning too.”
(So this was the reason Puja had been smiling today.)
“But I’m no angel or anything. My husband never says things like that to me.”

Aslam: “A husband who doesn’t praise such beautiful maal like you is a fool.”
(He deliberately stressed the word maal.)
“If I were in his place, I wouldn’t just praise you with words—I’d show my appreciation in other ways.”

Puja: “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

Aslam: “Nothing, Memsaab.”

Puja: “Oh Chacha, why are you talking in circles? I’m not understanding anything.”

Aslam: “Memsaab, if I were in your husband’s place, I wouldn’t even step out of the house. I wouldn’t feel like it. Forget leaving the house—I wouldn’t even get down from the bed.”


At that moment, Puja understood exactly where the conversation was heading.

Puja: “Alright Chacha, it’s getting late. I should go. I have to cook dinner.”

Aslam: “Oh Memsaab, you got offended. You yourself said not to speak in riddles, so I just said what felt right, straight to the point.”

After that, there were no further conversations. Which meant Puja had left immediately.

Hearing this, it felt as though molten lava was about to burst out of me. I went straight to the bathroom and masturbated. The release was so intense it surpassed anything real sex had ever given me. I understood then—on both sides, a spark had already been ignited. Now it was only a matter of time before it turned into a fire. How fiercely each of them would burn—that would reveal itself in due course.


This confirmed one thing clearly: Puja was not uninterested in such conversations. Had she been, she would have snapped at Aslam instantly. But she didn’t. She neither reacted angrily nor protested. She was a married woman, so she didn’t move forward—but she also didn’t shut it down. 

There’s a saying: silence often means consent. 

Somewhere, in some corner of her mind, she was enjoying it. She was restraining herself only because of her marital boundary.

But I had no intention of stopping.

All I needed was to fan the flames just a little. I knew this could mean losing my wife—but at that moment, I was enjoying every second of it. Imagining another man’s desire directed at my wife made me lose all control over myself.

I decided I would light the spark—but before that, I would make arrangements to witness everything: the beginning of the fire, its rise, its rage, and the moment it reduced everything to ashes. I decided to install CCTV cameras throughout the house so I could see everything. 

But how would that be possible while Puja was at home?

So I planned to send her away for a few days.

The next morning, before leaving for office—

Me: “Jaan, next weekend I have to go out of town for two days because of office work. How will you stay here alone? Why don’t you go home for a couple of days?”

Puja: “But how will I go alone? I don’t have anyone close by there. You go—it’s only a matter of two days. I’ll manage here.”

(I was cornered. No matter what, I had to get Puja out of the house.)

Me: “Jaan, you were telling me you have a friend in Kolkata, right? Go visit her. You’ll get to meet your friend, and you won’t have to stay alone either.”

Puja: "Alright… I’ll see.”

Me: “Okay jaan, I’m heading out. You talk to your friend. On Friday, I’ll drop you there.”

I kissed Puja and left for the office. 

[tomdickharry2024]

Great start and buildup AK0047! Thanks for the update!