Delhi Nights Ch. 03: Catharsis 01

This is the third story in the Delhi Nights series. Though this story can be read separately, reading them in order will add more context.

*

Traffic was at a near stop. Dust. Heat. Noise. On a motorcycle, within the crush of traffic, Harinder usually found riding the main streets of Delhi frustrating. It's the reason he preferred the motorcycle and left the car for Preeti. On the motorcycle, he could snake his way through the jam of cars, skirt around the congestion by taking narrow alleys. But, today, he sat on his motorcycle, nudging it forward when an opportunity arose. Too distracted to care. He had been distracted all day. Unable to concentrate on the ledgers and blue prints, he had left work early, a rarity for him.

His thoughts kept returning to Sonali. He had always been infatuated with her. All of Vikram's friends were. It wasn't just that she was beautiful. His Preeti was beautiful. Rahul's Asha was beautiful. There had always been something more to Sonali.

And then that night three weeks ago. Another match day that had turned to a lot more.

Someone honked. Another person revved a car engine. He needed to move forward. He shifted to the side, maneuvering the bike past a bus spewing its noxious diesel fumes. A scarf and sunglasses protected him from the worst of it, but he still found himself clearing a scratch in his throat.

Finding a clear channel in the packed road, he began to tail a small Maruti sedan. He felt a twinge in his loins as his mind wandered again. He remembered the contours of her body, glistening with a sheen of sweat. The way she smelled when her body clung to him. The feel of his cock in Sonali's warm, wet mouth. Harinder's cock started to engorge and he shifted himself on the motorcycle.

He loved his wife, Preeti. She was beautiful, but in a way different from Sonali. Where Sonali exuded a dark sexuality, his wife always had the lighter glow of innocent desire. As his cock began to ache in his pants, he tried to picture Preeti. Her long black hair, large, dark eyes, and full lips. Her lithe figure with taut, upturned breasts with their small pebble-like nipples. The flatness of her abdomen leading to her pinkish sex hidden beneath dark tufts.

He tried. And failed.

Preeti became Sonali. Her dark, lust filled eyes looking up at him as she swallowed his manhood. The feel of her warm, soft body against him as he cradled her in his arms and buried his shaft into her.

Another round of honking horns broke his reverie and Harinder adjusted himself again. He needed some relief. He needed to get home. Focusing on the traffic, he accelerated and began to squeeze past stopped cars and lorries, and dodged oblivious pedestrians. Finding an alley, he turned into the shortcut and took to the back lanes. His erection started to fade, but he still wanted to get home. He realized he needed Preeti. They hadn't had sex since he had returned home from Vikram's house that night. He had been too riddled with guilt and confusion.

Harinder had isolated himself from his friends as well. He hadn't returned to a game and only given cursory responses to Vikram's texts. He knew he couldn't avoid them forever, but that night had changed things. How was he supposed to just go and watch a game? Have some chai and samosas? How could he look at Sonali and not want her naked flesh against him again? He wanted to taste her. Feel his thickness inside her.

His cock started to throb again.

Why couldn't he get his friend's wife out of his mind?

His thoughts still darting between Sonali and Preeti, he pulled his motorcycle through the gates of the colony. When they had gotten married, they had purchased a large flat in the up and coming neighborhood of Noida, on the outskirts of Delhi. With an indifferent wave to the guard on duty, he parked the motorcycle next to their small Toyota. Once again adjusting himself, he grinned and headed toward their building. He bound through the lobby, his pace increasing. During the interminable elevator ride up, he felt his cock pulsating with need.

His thoughts returned to Sonali. He closed his eyes, reliving the memory. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he held her up. Her pliant ass in his hands as he kneaded the soft mounds. The feel of her warmth as his cock strained for relief, trapped between them. Harinder remembered how her hard nipples felt against his chest as she curled into him. The weight of her in his arms.

With a deep inhale, he remembered the smell of the Argan oil in her hair mixing with the saltiness of her sweat and the pungency of her sex. Harinder rubbed his cock as it strained against his slacks, when his memory shifted to the feel of her warm, moist pussy lips wrapping themselves around his cock as he buried himself in her.

The fantasy broke when he heard the trill of the elevator bell. He snapped his eyes open with a growl, his hand dropping to his side. He stepped out and hurried down the corridor. Reaching his flat, he quickly unlocked the door and went in. He was about to start unbuttoning his shirt and call for his wife, when he stopped.

The flat was small enough that sound carried.

And, Harinder heard moaning coming from their bedroom. Then, the rhythmic creak of a bed. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. He stood and listened, rooted in place by confusion.

The tempo of the squeaking quickened. The moaning grew louder. A squeal of delight.

His eyes wide with shock, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him as he warily walked to the bedroom. The door was open and his confusion held him in place.

He looked at Preeti's naked back, arched. Hands in her hair, like she did when she was in the throes of passion. He saw another man's hands on her hips. Hands that were steadying her as she rhythmically ground against him. Her body swayed and writhed. Harinder stood in the doorway as she put her hands on the unseen man's torso and then lowered her naked body onto him. A throaty moan escaped her lips. Now, he could see her ass slowly moving up and down. The man's hands went to her ass, pulling the cheeks apart. A dark crevice. A cock buried in his wife's pussy.

With ragged moans, Preeti rode the man. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Harinder stood in the threshold of the bedroom. Mesmerized. Confused. He felt rage building in him as he clenched his fist. But, also something else. Arousal. As he watched his wife fucking another man, his cock was getting engorged.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

The contours of his wife's body. The perspiration glistening in the small of her back. Her pussy -- wet and warm -- swallowing a cock. As he watched the cock appear and disappear into his wife, his mind returned to that night. The look in Vikram's eyes as he had watched his wife.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

But, this wasn't Sonali. This was Preeti. Preeti was not Sonali. Then, why was his cock aching with need. Why was he standing there watching? Why wasn't he doing something?

Up. Down. Up. Down.

The bed squeaked and his wife moaned as the man's hand slid up her flanks.

Anger and desire. His teeth clenched. His cock throbbed. A maelstrom of conflicting emotions burned through his mind.

Harinder shook his head to clear his thoughts and then, purposefully strode into the room. His fists were both clenched. The two heard him come in and immediately separated. Preeti, her eyes wide with fear and horror, rolled off her lover, pulling the bedsheet to cover her naked torso. The man rose on the bed and then began to scramble up. Harinder didn't recognize him -- it was somewhat comforting. After the night at Vikram's, he had momentarily imagined it was one of his friends now taking a turn enjoying his wife.

There was no real escape for the man as the burly Harinder, eyes glinting with rage, charged him. The man collapsed into the corner. Preeti shrieked in fear as Harinder grabbed the man by the arm and yanked him up. The man cowered. One hand wrapped around his throat. The other was raised in a fist.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Preeti shivering with fear. An expression on her face he had never seen and never wanted to see again. His chest heaving with rage, he slowly unclenched his fist and lowered it.

"Get out of my house before I break you."

***

For two days, Harinder and Preeti did not see each other. She remained in the room, covered by the bedsheet. He remained in the sitting room of the flat. On the third day, he rose from the floor where he had made a makeshift bed, the sun streaming through the window eliciting a groan. He looked around the room. Two empty bottles of whiskey on the table. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten since he had come home and found his wife with another man. He stood up and rubbed his weary face. His teeth were coated with a film that made him frown. His clothes and turban were in a crumpled pile on the settee. Moving them aside, he found his dead cellphone. He had a disjointed recollection of the phone ringing and irritating message tones.

Harinder turned around to look at the bedroom door and sighed. His anger had long subsided, but his shame had not. His wife in bed with another man. In their bed with another man. Her moaning played through his mind again and again. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

And, his rage. A deep, primal rage. He had not merely wanted to hit the man. He had wanted to destroy him. Break him.

And, his arousal. The desire that had burned in him at the sight of his wife with another man. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Harinder shook his head to clear his thoughts only to have Sonali float back into his mind. He found himself choking on his own hypocrisy. He demanded loyalty from Preeti. Where had his been that night? Had he not sworn the same wedding vows?

That's what one voice in his mind told him. But a deeper, darker voice said other things. Preeti was not Sonali. She was his Preeti. Sweet, innocent Preeti. Maybe it had all been a façade. Behind those twinkling eyes and easy laughter, a deep lust that he had never recognized. Desires that she had never voiced to him. Perhaps she had never been satisfied with him? Perhaps, she had never even loved him?

Again, Sonali.

Wearing only his underwear, Harinder walked to the window and looked out at the park in the distance. He ran fingers through his long, open hair, no longer sure of himself. His marriage. He watched as a yoga group practiced in the park. A couple jogged along a sun dappled trail.

And, beyond that the football field. A match was starting. A team in red started against a team in blue. As he continued to watch, his thoughts inevitably returned to the night at Vikram's house. Even with everything going on, his thoughts kept coming back to Sonali. A heaving chest glistening with sweat. The feel of her hard, thick nipples under his fingers. The fullness of her lips. Her mouth around his cock.

He turned away from the window. And found Preeti standing at the threshold of the bedroom door. Her head was bowed, tear-reddened eyes downcast, and hair falling forward to partially hide her face. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths. When she raised her head to look at him, he thought she was going to speak. Then, without saying a word, she turned and went back into the bedroom.

Harinder stood for a moment and then followed her. She was laying on the bed on her side, the sheet pulled up to her shoulders. Her hair hid her face. He knelt by the bed and reached to brush her hair away from her face. She froze and shifted back. Her face was a mask of abject fear.

"Preeti?" He whispered. Harinder leaned down and brushed away her face to look at her. She didn't meet his eyes even when he caressed her cheek. He kept his hand on her face until she looked up at him.

His heart skipped. After everything, he knew he still loved her. His beautiful, sweet Preeti. Whatever had happened. He had to forgive. And, eventually, he would try to forget.

He lifted his wife to a sitting position and placed his finger under her chin, lifting her head until she looked at him.

"I love you. No matter what. I always will. I know I scared you. I was ... I was angry."

A dark voice asked him why he was the one doing the apologizing. She was the one who had cheated on him. She was the one caught fucking another man in his bed. He thrust those thoughts back. That voice was so quick to forget what he had done that night. He was in no place to judge his wife. Not anymore.

Brushing back her hair, he kissed her forehead. As she began to cry, he pulled her toward him. Her body heaved with sobs. He felt her tears on his bare chest.

"Come on," he said, lifting her up. They would talk about it, years later. Then, she would tell him the man was her distant cousin -- someone she had once loved and, feeling lonely, had thought to rekindle that feeling. She had slept with him once before the day he had caught them.

Now, while she still clung to him, her sobs of fear and shame subsiding, he led her to the washroom. He looked at her and made a feeble attempt at a smile. She continued to look down until he again pulled her head up.

"I ... I'm so ... so, sorry." She whispered, barely audible. "I love you. Please, don't make me go."

He took her face in his hands, looked down at her and then, as her lip started to quiver, he quieted her with kisses. Harinder tasted the saltiness of her tear-marked cheeks. Her soft lips. At first, she did not move, just accepting his kisses without response. Slowly, the tension in her body left and she began to meet him with her own lips. He put his hands on her back and pulled her into him. Wrapping her arms around him, Preeti pulled herself tighter into him, until she was clinging to him.

They stood holding onto each other for long minutes, before he pulled away from her. "Let's get cleaned up."

After leading her to the washroom, Harinder began to undo the buttons of her night suit. One. Two. Three. She looked up at him. Her chest heaved. Four. Five. Six. The pajama top fell open to reveal her light brown skin. Harinder felt his member wake.

Placing his hand on her chest, he trailed it down to her navel. She closed her eyes and shuddered. His cock twitched.

Taking the lapels of her shirt, he slowly peeled it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Everything is okay," He said quietly, looking at his naked wife. "It's okay."

He trailed the back of his hand along her sides to the swell of her high, round breast. The breast was firm under satin-like flesh. Her nipples, modestly small, hardened to pebbles against subtle areolas.

She inhaled.

His cock twitched.

"Its okay. Everything is okay." He leaned down to kiss her again, his hand dropping down to her waist, his thumbs hooking in the waistband of her pajama bottoms as he peeled them down. She breathed into his mouth, her tongue hesitantly flicking forward into his mouth as his hands moved to rest on the small of her back. He pulled her into him, his heavy member now rubbed against her pelvis as her breasts crushed against his hairy chest.

He cradled her in his arms, breathing in her scent, caressing her back, running his fingers through her black hair. He didn't know how long they stood there like that, but eventually he stepped back and led her into the tub-less shower. He turned the tap on and then removed his own underwear. His cock sprang free, hanging down heavily in a state of semi-arousal. Looking down, tentative and unsure of herself, Preeti ran her hand along its underside. Harinder moaned and blood coursed through the veins, slowly hardening his cock.

Moments later, the two of them were entwined in each other arms under the beating hot water. He bathed her first. Lathering her hair with a shampoo that smelled of jasmine; then, a sandalwood soap to wash her back. His hands drifted to cup and massage her bottom, before his hands moved up her sides. She shivered under his touch. He covered her arms and then each hand, finger by finger, prolonging the time the were under the water. When his hands went to her shoulders and then down her chest to add the lather to her breasts, she mewed and arched up on her toes. She ran her fingers around his back, losing them in the thick fall of his own long hair. His cock was now erect -- the massive shaft iron hard, the foreskin retracted to reveal the bulbous, purple head.

She said his name, repeating it like a mantra, as he began to gently knead her breasts, water trickling between his fingers, leaving rivulets of soap behind. She pulled him toward her and their mouths found each other. Her warm mouth and the hot water. Harinder felt like he was drowning in her. She reached between them to take his cock in her hands, slowly stroking it. He felt her fingers trace the blood engorged veins.

Gasping for air, they separated. He looked down at her. Wet strands of hair framed her soft, delicate face as little streams of water traced its lines and curves. He brushed her lips with his thumb and she closed her eyes, taking it into her mouth, sucking on it.

Then, she shifted around so he was under the shower. He knelt before her so she could shampoo his hair. Harinder used one hand to caress the small of her back, hot water cascading down her spine, over his fingers and into the crack of her ass. With his other hand, he caressed her taut flank. He could smell her pungent sex now and watched as water flowed over her trimmed pubic hair to stream between the creases of her sex and down her legs.

Harinder leaned forward and rested his head against her flat belly as she kneaded his hair. He remained there, smelling her. His cock aching. He couldn't help thinking back to Sonali. Her smell had been the pungent, muskiness of a hot, sweltering night; Preeti smelled delicate, a soft sweetness. He wanted to taste her.

When she was done with his hair, she tried to lift him, but he remained where he was and pulled her close to him. She shuddered when he put his mouth between her legs. A moan escaped her lips. She opened her legs for him and wrapped her hands around his head, sheltering him from the water as his tongue lapped at her pussy. He slurped her wetness -- a mingling of her juices with the hot water. He clenched her hips as her legs quivered.

"Ahhh." She moaned. He found her swollen clit and his tongue darted across it. A squeal and writhing. Another dart. A shiver as she buried her fingers in his cascading hair. His hands moved to her ass cheeks, pulling at them. Kneading them. Pulling her pussy toward his mouth. His tongue lashed at the soft lips, found the nub of her clit. And each movement of his tongue -- into her pussy, licking her clit and back again -- made Preeti shudder and whimper.

"Please." She pleaded. "I want you."

He ignored her, burying his mouth in her cunt. His tongue diving deep to lick the hot, slick folds.

"Please, Harinder. Show me you still love me. Please. I need you."

A dark voice came to him -- No.

She shivered in his arms, barely standing on quivering legs as he ate at her pussy, grinding his mouth into her. His tongue vibrated over her swollen clit. Faster and Faster. Her shuddering turned to writhing as she curled down over him. Faster. Faster. Moaning turned to panting. And then, her body locked, her arms around his head, crushing him.

He couldn't breathe. His face buried in her hot, throbbing cunt. Water and her juices everywhere. Her body spasmed. Once. Twice. And, then he felt her go limp and weak. He didn't let her go until after a moment of aftershocks swept through her.

Then, slowly, Harinder pulled away and looked up at his wife. Her face was flush and her chest heaved with every ragged breath. Nipples rock hard. She just said his name as she collapsed to the tile floor of the shower and leaned her head back against the wall.

He moved to her and pulled her into his arms as he settled alongside her. The water, having gotten cold, poured over them, cooling the heat that was burning through him. His massive cock was still erect, engorged veins feeding the bulbous head. It throbbed with anger, wanting release. Harinder looked at Preeti as her ragged breathing settled, the orgasmic high ebbing.