His Sketch Arouses Anita Ch 01

Fantasies one Shouldn't Feed

Anita slammed the key of her Scooty on the table and, with blazing eyes, said, "I can't take this anymore. I want to resign from that damn school."

Anita's voice shook because she was feeling more than just rage. It was a shame. Violation.

Anita and Kunal had a peaceful and respectful life in Mumbai. Both of them were born in the traditional Marwari family of Kolkata.

They had an arranged marriage. Kunal, 34 did his CA from Mumbai and then he joined a private firm there. He is basically from a business family but was never interested pursuing family business.

Anita always had a fascination with Mumbai's glamorous life. She was 32 and a literature teacher at a reputed private school.

They lived in a 2BHK flat in Andheri East. The flat was modest but fully furnished. They had a 5-year-old daughter, Rhea, the brightest part of their life.

Their marriage is stable, and happy from all angles, and nothing to complain about. Kunal was a very caring husband and a good father.

In bed, Kunal was good but their romance slowly replaced routine and mechanical sex. Kunal was gentle and affectionate, but sometimes Anita yearned for deeper, primal, sensual sex, which earlier they had but with passage of time missing.

They never openly talked about it. But? The silence between their bodies began to speak louder than their bodies.

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Kunal raised eyebrow. "Why? What happened?"

Staring at the table, she sighed. "I'm sick of Aditya harassments."

She sighed as she looked at the table.

Kunal didn't answer, but his body language got stiffer.

Anita went on, "His dad is a politician in the area--rich, powerful, and entitled. At first, it was simply innocent flirting... saying nice things about my sarees and how pretty I looked."

"What's going on now?" Kunal asked, his voice harsher.

"He says vulgar things in class. Not bearable. Today, he went by my desk and said, If I were your husband, I'd never allow you out of bed."

Kunal's spoon stopped moving halfway to his mouth. His jaw got stiff. She thought for a second that he may blow up in rage. But then something changed.

Kunal felt a darkness brewing in his chest. It wasn't precisely jealousy. It was desire, spurred by the thought of his wife being desired by others.

His eyes darkened, his fingers relaxing over the spoon.

"You're not... upset?" she asked cautiously.

Kunal leaned back, staring at her. "I should be. But all I can think about... is the way you just said that. And the fact that some spoiled brat is dreaming about screwing my wife."

"Kunal!" she exclaimed, half-scolding, half-shocked.

He rose and slowly walked around the table. Gently, he took her hand and pulled her up.

"Say it again. What did he say?"

"Kunal, no--" she whispered.

"Say it."

She hesitated, then, trembling slightly, said, "He said... if he were my husband, he'd never let me out of bed."

Kunal's hands roamed her back as he growled softly, "He means... my wife is too fuckable."

Anita felt like she couldn't breathe. The words were rude--too rude--but the manner Kunal spoke them made her thighs tighten.

He kissed her hard and then pulled away. "Stand in front of the mirror."

"What?"

"Face the mirror. I want to see what in my wife makes him hard."

"Kunal, please... this is ridiculous."

But he stood firm.

"You want to resign just because someone finds you fuckable? Show me what he stares at."

Her body trembled from the intensity of his words. Head bowed, she walked slowly to the mirror beside their closet.

She paused... then began to undress. Her blouse unhooked with shaking fingers, her saree slipping off her shoulder.

Half-turned toward the mirror, she stood in her petticoat and bra, Kunal's gaze searing her skin.

Anita felt like she had lost herself. She was no longer the teacher or the mother; she was a woman who had been seen by her husband and was plagued by the look of a youngster she should have silenced.

She felt both guilty and turned on, and in the mirror, she saw both humiliation and desire looking back at her.

"Does he stares this?" Kunal asked, voice hoarse. "Your tits bouncing when you write on blackboard? Or the curve in your ass when you pick up chalk?"

"He imagines removing everything. My bra, my petticoat... everything," she whispered."

His excitement helped her to break through her veil of self-control. And when she answered, muttering things she had never said out loud before, it didn't seem like corruption.

Kunal hissed, "Good girl. Now make it dirtier."

With trembling lips, she said, "He imagines... tugging my blouse down. Groping my breasts while class continues. Maybe... drawing my panties aside and... doing it right there."

Kunal pressed against her from behind. She gasped.

Within seconds, he had her against the wall, kissing her hard. Her blouse was tossed aside.

Overwhelmed by arousal, he freed her breast and took it in his mouth, making her whimper.

"Kunal... oh God..."

Her legs instinctively wrapped around him as he slid her nightie down.

"Kunal...!" She gasped and held on to his hair, her thighs moist and shaking.

As Kunal's hand dived between her thighs, her breath caught and her fingers parted her wet folds. "Dripping," he snarled. "So damn wet. For him?

"No... for you..." But when you talk like this... " His fingers slid within her, and she gasped. "I can't stop it."

He kissed her neck hard and nibbled. "I'm going to fuck you so hard tonight that you'll forget that his name."

But he wasn't telling the truth. He didn't want her to forget him.

Her saree was in a pool around her feet, and her bra was halfway down her arms. She looked like a slut--his slut--and she didn't look away.

"Watch me while I fuck you", he told her. "I do what he only dreams about." He opened her legs wider and got ready.

He growled and pushed her in with one shove. Anita screamed, but it was more out of shock than pain.

She put her hands on the mirror to keep her balance as he started to pound into her, hard and without mercy.

He grabbed her hips and said, "This pussy..." "So tight, so desperate. He's been jerking off imagining about this."

Anita." "Stop.. oh God! don't say that"

"Why not?" He slammed harder.

"You gave him the show."

Her eyes blinked. "Be fast... Kunal..."

Kunal entered her forcefully, making her gasp.

He reached out, twisted her breast, and said, "Say his name." She stopped.

"Kunal...", she hesitated.

Say it," he said. "Tell him what he thinks he can do."

She was shaking, wet, and couldn't talk. "Aditya wants to fuck me."

"Where?"

"Everywhere," she said quietly. "Over the desk." On the blackboard. On my knees. "On his lap while I take attendance..."

He growled like a beast and hit her harder. Anita shouted, then bit her wrist to quiet it down.

Her orgasm was very intense: quick, forceful, and almost scary. She shivered around his cock and fell against the mirror as he fucked her through it.

Kunal groaned, then grabbed her hair, pulled her head back, and cursed as he came deep into her. They stayed like that, not moving. Her legs shook, and his breath was warm on her neck.

Their sweat made the mirror foggy. Finally, he drew out slowly, and their fluids combined and dripped down her pussy.

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But as the pleasure wore off, a steady, nagging guilt took its place.

The room was quiet, but her thoughts wasn't.

"How could I actually say those things? Why did my student's vulgarity turn me on?"

She looked aside. She murmured softly, "I feel dirty."

Kunal's fingers slowly moved down her leg.

"You shouldn't feel that way."

"But I said those words... I allowed them in. "

He kissed her shoulder and spoke in a low, forceful voice. "You had very intense orgasm. You made his garbage into something real and powerful. That's not something to be ashamed of."

She didn't say anything and remain silent. Later, as she slept next to him, she said softly, "Are you not angry at him?" He imagined such things about your wife."

Kunal kissed her on forehead. "No. He is just a spoiled brat who thinks that having money and power means he can have anything. But you--you are mine. Let him fantasise and and jerk off while thinking about you."

"But he's crossing the red line."

"Then ignore him and don't answer," he murmured softly. "Don't boost his ego." He'll either back off or show his true colors. We win no matter what."

Anita was lying still. Her heart was racing, and her body was still shaking from the aftershocks. She didn't think Kunal would act this way

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The Day After

In the kitchen, you could hear knives and spoons and smell toast.

Anita quickly went back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, still thinking about what had happened the night before.

Kunal sat with the newspaper and pretended to read it while glancing at her.

Rhea was at the table writing in her notepad and murmuring to herself the times tables.

Finally, Anita sat down and put toast on Kunal's plate.

"Kunal, about last night... "He looked up with cautious eyes. She spoke in a low but forceful voice.

She said, "We can't do that again," as she cut her idli without thinking.

" Not with my students. That's not right."

He placed the paper down, already feeling defensive. "Come on, Anita. It was just talk, and it was private. No one knows."

She looked at Rhea and said more calmly.

"That doesn't matter. I know. Every day, I see them in class. I'm their teacher, not someone who fantasizes them at the middle of night."

"But you were turned on," he continued in a low voice, his eyes narrowing. "You didn't really stop me."

Anita's hand stopped in the air. She let out a sigh. "I know," she said, barely above a whisper. "That makes it worse."

"Mama, where's my red pen?" Rhea abruptly stopped and looked up from her notes.

Anita stood up right away, relieved for the break. "In your pencil case, Rhea. Check it out right."

Kunal leaned in as she turned around. "So what? Just pretend as if it never happened."

She sat down again and stared at her plate. "Let me bluntly tell you that I can't bring that kind of shame into my classroom. I won't."

Rhea came back and waved the pen. "Found it!" You were right, Mama."

Anita smiled a little and said in her ears " See. Mama is always right."

She looked at Kunal again, and her eyes said that this was final. He nodded and chewed carefully.

The talk was ended, but the echo of it was still quite strong in the air.

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When Anita walked into the classroom, she saw Aditya seated at his desk right away. Her breath stopped for a second.

Last night, memories were back.

She had whispered Aditya's name at her climax.

And Kunal remark at breakfast table

"You were turned on... You didn't exactly stop me."

The words kept coming back to her, making her cheeks hot.

Aditya was right there, absolutely ignorant. She made her fists tight and forced herself to look away, focusing on the stack of papers she was holding.

"This can't happen again."

She took a deep breath to calm herself and attempted to push the thoughts and pictures away, bringing herself back to the present.

She tried to ignore Aditya as much as possible. There was no mention of Aditya at home too.

Aditya, on the other hand, kept going with new ways of teasing.

His words were more sharp and obscene. He stopped pretending and became more bold.

"Madam aap ka aaj blouse lesson se jyada tight lag raha hai."

(Ma'am, your blouse today looks tighter than your speech.)

"Aap jitni tired lagati ho, lagta hai sir ne poori raat neend udaayi hai--apni bhi aur aapki bhi.

(The way you look sleepy sometimes makes it seem if sir has taken both of your sleep and his. -)

She could no longer ignore his actions since it had gone too far. But she hadn't told Kunal what Aditya had said. She hadn't told him that Aditya's eyes were still hungry and that his remarks had become sharper and dirtier.

She had kept those details to herself deliberately. Deep down, she had started to realize that Kunal wasn't just upset with them; he was aroused.

Until one day, she couldn't keep it in any longer.

A paper folded landed on her desk. She didn't open it until she shut herself in the staff room restroom. Unfolding the sheet made her fingers shake.

It was a drawing. Rude... yet clear. A woman--her--drawn spread out across a classroom bench. Blouse pulled tight, saree pleats upset. Her lips parted, breasts accentuated. Legs drawn wide open, provocatively. Rude. Disturbing.

At the top, scrawled in Hindi, the title read: "Ma'am ki Open Class" (Ma'am's Open Class).

Angry, she wrinkled the paper but was unable to discard it. Though she couldn't toss it away, she crumpled the paper in rage.