Lustful Horror

Special thanks to my editor - @kenjisato. He made the best of the draft, that I had shared. He helped me with quick, easy and apt editing.

I often ask myself, can you forgive someone who had cheated on you? Can someone you love forgive you, if you cheat on them. For some of you guys, maybe it's easy, no or maybe yes, but for many people, it's hard to say anything to be exact.

Last year, sometime in December,I don't exactly remember the date,I was going back home; the time was around ten or eleven o'clock, when I boarded the train. To my surprise, it was almost empty, being there were only four people in there.

I took a window seat, put on my playlist, and started minding my own business. Suddenly, a lady, maybe in her late 50s or so, moved from her sat and seat beside me. At first, I didn't pay much attention to her, but then maybe she was in her mood.

She grabbed my hands, and said, "It's cold, right?"

Her hands were freezing cold, and she just looked at me with a not-so-creepy smile.

It might sound a little weird to you guys, but where I'm from, people, mostly the elderly, have no idea or concept of personal space.

I pulled my hands back, and with a very fake smile, said, "Hmm."

I was really tired, and wanted to enjoy some me time, but this auntie had her own plans. She started asking where I lived, what I did, where I'm was going, etc.Again, it's a very common thing here.So I slowly, cryptically answered her question.

It was clear that she wanted to chat with me. After some pointless conversations, she told me something that I was very much interested in. She was a retired nurse, and had worked at three well-knowing hospitals in our state.

If you guys don't know, I'm a big fan of horror.So without thinking twice, I asked, "Have you ever felt any paranormal or haunted presence in the hospital."

She immediately started laughing, knowing that she had gotten my attention.

"No, but Mi, I can tell you something that comes close to paranormal, but not so much,"

Auntie told me, her voice soft and steady.(Sorry, as of now, 10 of October, I had totally forgotten her name, so I'm going to refer her as Auntie.)

My curiosity piqued, "Anything, will do, as long as it's a real incident."

She smiled. "It's definitely real, I had been an indirect part of it. But the problem is..." She paused, looking around-- two old dudes, were standing a few feet away from our seats. Seeing them, Auntie lowered her voice, and continued, "I can tell you, but it's having to do with some adult things."

We waited, as those two guys of off the train.

I asked, "What you mean by adult things?"

Her choice of words was a little out of date, more like she was speaking in pure Bangle, my native tongue.

"The thing is, it had to do with that." Auntie looked a little embarrassed, she made a shocking gesture, not the right one, but I understood what she meant by it.

Puckering my lips, I covered my mouth with my handkerchief, trying to hide my newfound excitement.Just for you guys, at the moment I understood that, auntie had an incident that had both paranormal and intercourse involved in it; I knew I would be writing a story based on it.

This time, I held her hands, and freely said, "I have no problem, I'm an open-mind person."

Her smile grew. She looked in my eyes; it felt like we both had begun living a secret life. Her smile showed someone who wanted to tell something, and who couldn't wait any longer.

I got up, and took her three seats back from the train door. I didn't want anyone to disturb us, and there were also the other two passengers with us, who looked like they were sleeping, but deep down, I felt like maybe they could eavesdrop on us.

There was an untold excitement between us, that we both felt and we quickly huddled down to our seats. Although I was wearing a jacket and earmuffs, she still draped around me her woolen shawl. It was too close for my own personal space, but I was too excited to care about it.

Auntie begam telling me her story...

But I will be telling it in my own style, and will definitely add the spice where it is needed. So from here, the actual story begins. All incident in this story are not completely my own; some of the incidents that happened, I don't support or in any way promote them, so readers, read this story with an open mind and try not to put too much logic into it. Also, the names and places have been changed for the privacy reasons.

***

As the setting sun painted the house, the heavy curtains of a particular bedroom widow were drawn, hiding a secret from unknowns. In the semi-darkness of the room, two solitary figures moved with urgency.

"Oh, slow down," the lady said, breathing heavily into the pillow.

The man complied, "Oaky, babe."

Her eyes winced with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. Her nails dug into the bedsheets, as she bit her lip to stifle her own moans. Her cheating heart raced with fear as the pounding got more deeper and stronger.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted.

The man above her, was her ex-boyfriend; they'd met years ago in a coffee shop. Her breath hitched, as his hand found its way to her right breast; he squeezed it roughly as he drove into her. His calloused thumb brushed against her hardened nipple. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core, her eyes shot open and she bucked her hips against his.

"Oh, you like that?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with lust, as he stared down at her.

She nodded, unable to form coherent words, her mid a whirlwind of passion and guilt. The sounds of the bed creaking and the headboard slamming against the wall echoed through the room.

"You're such a dirty, cheating little slut," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and ragged.

She felt a thrill of arousal at the harsh words, her pussy clenched around him. She knew she should be offended, but instead, she felt a sensual thrill. Her cheating heart raced as she felt his cock swelling within her. She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into her wet, welcoming pussy. The sensation was exquisite; a cocktail of pleasure and guilt that made her feel alive in a way she hadn't felt in years.

"I'm gonna cum, babe," the man grunted, his eyes locked on hers.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red as she felt the familiar tingle begin to build.

She bit her lower lip, and urged him, "Do it," her voice a needy whimper.

He groaned, his pace increasing, she felt a rush of wetness as she squirted all over the bed, the sensation was so intense that she thought she might pass out. The man's eyes widened in surprise and excitement. His strokes became more erratic as he approached his own release.

"Oh, fuck... here it comes," he breathed, his grip on her hip and breast tightened.

She felt him swelling inside her, and with a final, powerful thrust, he released his load, filling the condom to the brim.

They lay there, panting and sticky, the summer heat enveloping them like a heavy blanket. Their chests rose and fell rapidly, as they each tried to catch their breath. The man turned to his left and looked at her; with a caring smile, he watched her struggling to regain composure after that intense third orgasm ripped through her.

"Fuck, it's so hot to bang your ex in her own house," he said, his voice still thick with desire. "Right, Rina darling?"

Rina couldn't argue with that, she felt like she'd just been hit by a tornado of pleasure and shame.

"Hay, Rina, can we go for another round?" he asked, excitedly.

"No," she hissed, her voice laced with fear and anger. "You had already done it twice."

The man chuckled, "Okay... okay, babe, don't need to be mad about it."

He leaned in and gave her a kiss on her neck. He smiled and slipped out of bed, his muscular body rippled as he moved. As he stood up, he saw the swollen condom hanging from his semi-flaccid dick.

Slowly, he pulled off the condom from his dick with a wet 'pop', then carefully tied the end of the it. After that, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the knotted, used rubber sailing into the trash; it landed with a soft 'thud'.

Rina rolled her eyes, and lay down.

The man winked at her, and said, "Still got my moves."

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a door slamming downstairs.

"Shit," Rina hissed, her eyes went wide with panic.

"Your old man's home early from his walk," the man said, calmly.

Rina frantically searched for her discarded towel.

"Get out, Skeat," she whispered urgently, her voice thick with fear. "Use the back door."

"Calm down," he said, his voice laced with irritation. "He is old, he can't catch us."

But the fear in Rina was unmistakable. He sighed, his own heart raced, as he pulled on his clothes. The smell of sex clung to the air like a smocking room, and Rina felt a bead of sweat roll down her spine, as she listened for any sign of her father-in-law's approaching.

"Move it," she hissed, tossing his shirt. "You need to go before he senses that someone else is here."

The man grinned, tucking his shirts in with a cocky flair. "Fine, I'm going."

Before he left the room, Rina said, in short, "Call me when you reach Gazipur and be safe."

Skeat looked back, his face had that soft smile she loved. He strode to the back door, cracked open, and he slipped out into the evening heat.

Rina quickly got dressed, and started cleaning the room. As she picked up the open packets of condoms, she noticed the photo frame lying on the ground. It was her wadding photo. The frame had probably fallen down when the headboard of the bed had slammed on the nightstand.

Rina heard her father-in-law's heavy footsteps getting closer, his coughing growing louder. She quickly threw the packets in the trash, pushing it under the bed, and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Rina!?" His gruff voice boomed through the stairways.

She called out, "Yes, Baba, coming." And she walked out of the room.

***

Rina was a housewife, a kind and obedient daughter-in-law, and a careering, understanding wife, ho her husband, Utpal, and his father knew. Not only them, but the entire neighborhood knew her as the soft-spoken type, who always brought a positive vibe in the air.

Although it's wasn't not completely wrong, she was what she showed. From the day she had become a member of the Mitter family, she had tried her best to be the woman her mother always wanted her to be.

Rina also felt herself lucky to be a part of such loving and respectful family. Utpal's father, his father, and his great grandfather had been in the Bangladesh army, and they had been important personnel of their time.

But unlike his father and grandfathers, Utpal was different; he chose a different occupation-- he became a civil engineer. After three years of marriage, he received an offer to work on a big project-- a mall expansion. It was supposed to be three years' work, and being a crucial part of the engineering team, Utpal had to move to Dubai.

Leaving all the responsibilities of the house on Rina's shoulders, Utpal left the country for three years. Rina was happy, knowing her husband who secretly complained her, how he felt worthless standing beside the pictures of his father and grandfathers, could finally be a part of something big.

Although she was somewhat sad that she had to live three years without Utpal, it didn't bother her that much. If she were to talk about her marital love life, it was okay, though, nothing exciting. The truth was Rina carried a lie in her heart.

She hid a guilt, one that she would never in her life expose to Utpal. On their first night together, from Utpal's sexual performance, it was clear that he was a virgin. But the same could not be said of Rina-- she wasn't; she had already done it with someone. This fact she swore to keep secret.

There was the guilt of acting, exploring the thrill of something that she had already experienced-- it wasn't easy. But she had to do it for her husband's sake.

The Honeymoon was the second time she had had sex with Utpal; after that, it was just small kisses on the lips or cheeks. Rina had nothing to complain about her sex life, she was understanding, so when that lonely night would come, she had to improvise, using her fingers.

Lying on her bed, naked, her mind wondered, about the life that she had left behind. She would spread her legs and gently massage her inner thighs, while a mischievous smile danced on her lips. It was a nasty reminder that all of this was a facade. Her life's missing pieces, that she held close to her, were hiding beneath her saree, over the heavy cushion she called an ass.

Eyes closed, Rina let out a soft moan as she touched her wet flaps, her fingers moved softly, as the wetness slipped under her fingertips. Her husband, Utpal, the man she loved, wasn't the person she pictured, while her fingers tried to imitate that big bad dick.

To be honest, her husband's absence gave her a freedom that she somewhere didn't hate. Her hand moved down to her clit; her fingers played with the sensitive bud, as memories flooded her mind.

Those memories, the reason for Rina's guilt, why she couldn't tell the truth to her husband.

Her legs began to tremble, as she thought about that night from her past. She still had faint memories of the taste of his cum, mixed with the bitterness of urine, and the thrill that she had while swallowing it down. Rina's breath quickened, her chest rose and fell, as she rubbed her clit, the wetness spread between her legs like a slick secret.

Rina's thoughts danced, as she felt the excitement of her guilt, the thought of shame she would bring upon her family if they knew she had slept with two guys before her marriage. The memory brought a smug smile to her face, as she worked her fingers in and out of her wet pussy, mimicking the feeling of a thick cock filling her up.

Rina's hand moved down to her tight asshole, pushing a single digit inside to the knuckle. The sensation of being filled from both ends was something she badly craved for. She had a shameful dirty dream of getting fucked in her ass, until her ass would be too sore.

Her other hand found her clit again; she rubbed it in a tight circle, as she pushed her finger in and out of her ass.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered to herself, the dirty words feeling right on her tongue.

However much she tried to think about her husband, his face became more unclear, and her ex-boyfriend's face would pop up. That same face from their college days-- he was a dick, but his charm was something else. Her body responded to the thought-- her pussy tightened around her fingers, her ass clenched around the invading digit. Her breath grew ragged as she imagined the feel of a cock sliding into her, filling her up, stretching her out.

Her hands moved faster, and suppressed moans grew louder, as she remembered the way his hands had roamed her body, leaving bruises that she had hidden with her makeup and beneath her saree.

Her hand moved to her mouth; her tongue licked the juices from her fingers as she tasted herself. The thoughts of her husband and father-in-law finding out about her secret made her pussy clench with shame and excitement.

Fuck,she thought, as she slid a second finger into her ass, feeling herself stretch around it. Her hand moved in rhythm with her thoughts, her pussy clenching around her fingers.

Her heart raced at the memories of the time she had seen her neighbour's son-in-law's hard dick. He was doing morning exercises on the roof, in his loose shorts, when Rina was putting clothes out to dry. For a few seconds, she saw his meat, swinging up and down, as he did his jumping jacks. The tip was brushing off against the fabric of the shorts-- she had seen it all. The thrill of possibly getting caught watching another man was so shameful, that it made her come harder than she ever had before.

Rina came, her fingers glazed with her sticky cum; after licking it off, she swallowed it down like the cheapest whiskey. As soon as she felt satisfied, a blanket of grief, shame, and embarrassment wrapped around her. She blamed herself for giving up so easily against her lust.

Days moved slowly to weeks, but there were no certain changes in their lives. One day, Rina was out shopping, when things took a turn-- a turn that changed her story.

The ceiling fan whirred overhead, pushing warm air thick with the scent of roasted coffee beans. Rina traced her finger along the condensation forming on her untouched glass of water. Outside, summer rain hammered the tin awning of the tiny shop, turning Chittagong's bustling street into a blur of slick pavement and honking rickshaws. She'd ducked in here purely for shelter, her simple yellow kurta already damp in the at shoulders.

Her phone buzzed on the chipped laminate table.

"Baba?" she answered, keeping her voice low. "Yes, I gave you that miscall. I got stuck near Laldighi. Heavy rain. I will be late, don't wait for me, have your lunch and the medicines are in the right drawer."

Her father-in-law's familiar grumble echoed down the line -- annoyance laced with concern. "Don't worry about me. You come safe," Lalmohan insisted, before Rina hung up.

Rina sighed, leaning back in the plastic chair. Rain streaked the grimy windowpane beside her. Watching the chaotic ballet of soaked pedestrians and splashing wheels, a memory surfaced-- riding with her friend on his old Yamaha, laughing as cold rain drops plastered her salwar kameez to her skin, completely drenched, and utterly exhilarated. A small, wistful smile touched her lips-- those reckless days had come to feel like someone else's life.

The roar of a powerful engine cut through the drumming rain. A gleaming vintage motorcycle -- chrome glistening even in the grey gloom -- slid to a stop right outside the shop window. Rina's gaze followed the rider, as he swung off the bike. Tall, lean, encased in black leather from head to toe, the helmet still obscuring his face.

Who wears a full biker outfit in this oppressive summer?The thought prickled at the back of her head.

He pushed open the shop's glass door, bringing in the petrichor smell of the wet earth.

He removed his helmet, shaking droplets from dark, slightly unruly hair. His eyes scanned the cramped space -- past the counter, past the lone waiter wiping tables -- and landed directly on her.

Time didn't freeze. It snapped like Thanos' fingers.

Rina's breath hitched. Her fingers tightened around the cool glass. Those eyes, then crinkling slightly at the corners, framed by lines that hadn't been there before... but unmistakable. The easy grin spreading across his face was achingly familiar, yet belonged to a man who seemed carved from harder, more confident stone than the boy she'd known.

"Skeat?" The name escaped her lips, barely a whisper, drowned by the downpour outside. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the sudden, dizzying collision of past and present.

He strode towards her table, rainwater dripping from his jacket onto the worn linoleum floor. The easy grin widened, transforming his face -- sharper jawline, a confident tilt to his chin, but the warmth in his dark eyes was undeniably him.

"Rina Mondal," he said, his voice deeper, richer than she remembered, yet instantly recognizable.

He pulled out the chair opposite her without waiting for an invitation, the leather jacket creaking softly.

"Rain brought us back. Some things never change."

The casual remark, referencing countless rainy afternoons spent huddled together under bus stops or shop awnings during their university days, sent a jolt of nostalgia mixed with sharp embarrassment through her.

Her simple yellow kurta suddenly felt too thin, too revealing under his gaze. They talked. Hesitantly, at first, then with a growing ease that surprised her. Skeat leaned back, radiating a calm contentment she'd never associated with the restless, often volatile boy she'd known.