Previous Part: My Life Journey – Part 3 (Extramarital Affair)
Hello, I’m Rhea, and I want to share the true story of my life—my journey through pain, pleasure, and struggle. Read to understand the reality behind who I am today and the transformation I’ve gone through.
You know how I had an unsuccessful affair in India. I decided to move back to Canada on my husband’s request and met Eric on the flight.
Let’s begin. Eric offered me his place to freshen up till my husband arrived to pick me up. His offer caught me off guard. He knew how to approach a lady I found missing in Aakash.
But I replied, “I don’t know.”
“Rhea,” he said gently, his voice calm and reassuring. “We’re practically journey friends now, right? And I promise, no funny business. You’ll be more comfortable than sitting here for hours.”
I studied his face, searching for any hidden motive, but all I saw was sincerity. Against my better judgment, I trusted him. I nodded. “Okay, but just for a while.” I felt an odd mix of nervousness and intrigue as Eric’s car pulled into the driveway of his home.
I gazed out into the calm, pretty morning in Canada. I breathed in my fill of the clean air. The grass, green banana leaves, and Canada were decked in fresh green trees. I looked at Canada in bloom with new eyes. Eric parked his car and took his suitcase. My luggage stayed in the boot of the car.
The house was stunning—a two-story modern structure with large glass windows that allowed sunlight to cascade into the open spaces. The lawn was immaculately maintained, dotted with colourful flowers. A stone pathway led to the front door. Inside, the house was equally impressive.
The living room boasted high ceilings, minimalist decor, and a cosy vibe with warm lighting and plush furniture. Eric dropped his luggage by the door and motioned me to sit on the soft grey sofa. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said with an easy smile before disappearing into one of the rooms to change.
I sat down tentatively, smoothing the pleats of my saree. The faint scent of lavender filled the air, calming my nerves. When Eric returned a few minutes later, he was dressed casually in shorts and a fitted shirt. His hair was slightly damp from freshening up.
“Your turn,” he said, pointing toward a room down the hallway. “The bathroom is on the left. Take your time.” I nodded and made my way to the bathroom. It was pristine, with marble tiles, a large mirror, and a subtle citrus fragrance. I splashed cool water on my face and stared at my reflection.
“What am I doing here?” I whispered to myself. I couldn’t shake the comfort I felt around Eric, though a voice in my mind warned me to stay cautious. When I returned to the living room, Eric was waiting with two cups in his hands. “Coffee?” he offered.
“I don’t drink coffee,” I said, smiling apologetically.
“Tea, then?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Yes, tea?”
Eric chuckled. “Unfortunately, no. I’ll remember that next time. I’m sorry.”
I guessed I should have told him earlier that I didn’t drink coffee since he’d invited me to that. Since I hadn’t told him and it wasn’t possible to arrange for tea now, I assumed it was only decent for me to leave now.
As I stood to adjust my saree, Eric teased, “Are you leaving because I don’t have tea?”
I laughed nervously. “No, nothing like that.”
But before I could say another word, Eric stepped closer, his expression shifting from playful to intense. Without warning, he cupped my face gently and leaned in, planting a deep kiss on my lips. His hands slid around my waist, pulling me closer, our bodies almost touching.
I froze, my heart racing. The warmth of his lips was shocking, and the intimacy of the moment left me breathless. I pushed him away instinctively, my eyes wide with disbelief.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, her voice trembling. Eric met my gaze, his voice low and steady. “You can drink me,” he murmured, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a mix of desire and vulnerability. No one had ever kissed me like that before.
My mind screamed at me to leave, but my body betrayed me. I felt drawn to him, an unexplainable pull I couldn’t resist. It didn’t seem real to me. I felt I was still sitting on the plane, looking at the strange light in the sky and having weird dreams. I didn’t know a kiss could be so deep.
When Eric leaned in again, I didn’t stop him. This time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate. His lips moved against mine with an almost reverent softness, coaxing me into responding. I parted my lips hesitantly, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue gently exploring mine.
My hands gripped the saree as his touch sent shivers down my spine. Eric’s hand slid up my back. His fingers brushed against my exposed skin, igniting a fire I hadn’t felt in years. His other hand cradled my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw.
Our kiss grew more passionate. Our breaths mingled as our intensity heightened. My chest rose and fell rapidly. My heart pounded as Eric’s lips left for a moment, trailing soft kisses along my jawline and neck. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, guilt, and undeniable attraction.
For the first time in years, I felt truly desired, and it terrified me as much as it exhilarated me. When our lips met again, it was with a fevered urgency. Eric’s hands explored my waist, his touch firm yet tender. I was melting into him, forgetting the world outside, my husband, and the life I was meant to return to.
But reality came crashing back as I pulled away, breathing heavily. I looked into Eric’s eyes, seeing a mixture of longing and regret.
“I… I can’t,” I stammered, stepping back.
Eric nodded, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, Rhea. I got carried away.”
The tension between us was palpable as we stood there, the weight of our actions hanging in the air. I turned away, trying to gather my thoughts, my fingers trembling as I adjusted my saree again.
“I should go,” she said quietly, though I didn’t move.
“It’s okay,” Eric said gently. “I’ll respect whatever you decide.”
I closed my eyes, the conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm her. The lines between right and wrong had never felt so blurred. Eric stepped back slightly, his voice soft, “Rhea, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I turned toward him, my eyes darting away, unsure how to respond. I could see a thrill in his eyes to explore me. I wanted the same but did not want to say. I want him to act. I was about to say something when the doorbell rang, breaking the moment.
Eric excused himself to collect the breakfast order. I sat on the sofa, my hands clasped tightly against my lap. When Eric returned, he set the food on the table, glancing at me hesitantly. “You should eat,” he said with a gentle smile. “It’s been a long night.”
Reluctantly, I reached for the sandwich. The first bite was warm and comforting. But I felt Eric’s eyes on me, making me self-conscious. I felt cheese over my lips and looked down. I licked a streak of melted cheese from the corner of my lips, unintentionally in a provocative way that caught his attention.
After a second bite, a bit of tomato sauce dripped onto my chin. I asked for a tissue, but he told me it was over as he had returned from a month’s vacation.
Embarrassed, I fumbled with a napkin, trying to wipe it away. Eric chuckled softly, his tone light. “You have a little—”
“Here, let me,” he offered, leaning closer.
I froze as he reached out. His fingers brushed my chin gently, his touch warm and lingering. I turned my face toward him instinctively, our eyes meeting. The air between us grew heavy. He slowly wiped the sauce away, his hand lingering on my skin.
My breathing hitched when he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. My eyes fluttered closed, torn between the conflict in my mind and the warmth spreading through my body.
My thoughts raced- ‘This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here. But why does this feel so… safe? So, right?’
Eric moved closer, his lips brushing against my lips again, this time softer, slower. I didn’t resist. My body betrayed my mind, my lips parting as he deepened the kiss. His hand cradled my face, sending shivers down my spine.
I felt myself relax under his care. The tension in my shoulders melted.
For the first time, I wasn’t thinking about expectations, responsibilities, or guilt. I was simply feeling—something I hadn’t allowed myself to do in a long time.
Eric gently pulled away, searching my eyes for any sign of discomfort. “Rhea,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “You deserve to be truly loved.”
My whole body felt weightless. Before I could respond, he scooped up that weightless body effortlessly, carrying me to the bedroom. He laid me gently on a bed as soft as clouds as if I were something fragile. ‘You are so beautiful, Rhea, oh Rhea. The Lord has made you with great care.”
The bed was soft, the room bathed in a warm glow from the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. He lay beside me, propping himself on one arm as he looked at me. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern. I nodded my voice barely a whisper. “Yes.”
He began to undress me slowly. Eric leaned down, capturing my lips again in a slow and passionate kiss. His hands explored the curves of my body with reverence. He took his time, making me feel cherished in a way I never had before. Suddenly, he bit my lower lip and started to fight his lips with mine.
He inserted his tongue inside my mouth. I welcomed his tongue, and there was the battle of tongues. I held his head, pressed over my lip, and bit his tongue. I do not know from where this much power came to me. There was an exchange of saliva. I felt like a movie actress performing a romance scene.
After around 5 minutes of intense tongue and lip battle, we parted. He leaned in, his lips brushing my earlobe as his warm breath sent shivers down my spine. “You’re exquisite,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with reverence. His lips found their way to the curve of my neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses.
I arched slightly, my breathing growing heavier. He paused, meeting my gaze. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, his thumb brushing against my cheek.
Eric shook my head, my voice trembling. “Don’t stop.” He continued exploration, his lips moving to my collarbone and then lower.
His fingers carefully untied the top of my red saree, revealing my bare cleavage. He kissed my tits softly on my cleavage, his breath warm against my tits. “You deserve more love than you’ve ever been given,” he whispered against my tits.
My heart ached at his words.
No one had ever spoken to me like that, making me feel like I was more than just a role to play. I felt tears prick my eyes, but they weren’t from sadness. They were from the overwhelming sensation of being seen, heard, and wanted.
Eric continued to explore me gently, taking his time.
Every touch and kiss was deliberate, and I allowed myself to relax fully for the first time. I let go of the guilt and the doubts, surrendering to the moment.
For the first time, I felt like I was truly living, not just existing. His hands moved with a gentle curiosity.
Tracing the contours of my face, shoulders, and arms as though he memorised every inch of me. I felt my heartbeat quicken, a mixture of nervous anticipation and overwhelming trust. His hands moved to my blouse, his fingers deftly undoing the first hook.
The fabric loosened slightly, and my tits want to come out. His gaze met mine, and the intensity in his eyes made my cheeks flush. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to my exposed tits and biting it softly. His lips lingered as if to convey a silent promise of devotion.
Ahhh, a moan escaped my mouth. He opened two more hooks of my blouse, and more than half of my tits sprang out. But it was well protected inside my bra. On the other boobs, he gave a hard bite making me ouch. I saw his teeth mark there. I was in a different world.
My breath hitched as he moved lower. His mouth explored with a mix of tenderness and playful teasing. Each kiss and each touch seemed to ignite something deeper within me. He paused, his eyes meeting mine once again.
I closed my eyes, feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated.
I was in the hands of someone who valued my comfort and trust above all else.
He moved lower, his lips finding my navel, where he left soft kisses that made my skin tingle with sensation. His hands caressed my sides as he lavished attention on my boobs.
His tongue traced delicate patterns that sent waves of pleasure through me. He was pressing my boobs over the blouse. I felt my nipple hardening under his touch. I let out a soft sigh, my fingers threading through his hair as he explored every inch of me with care and reverence.
He inserted his thumb inside my blouse. But my bra was stuck over my big tits, and he was unable to enter properly. So, he tried forcefully breaking the blouse hook. Then, with two fingers, he was massaging my erect nipple. As he continued, his movements remained slow and deliberate.
He wanted to savour every second of our closeness. He started to lick my belly button with his tongue and grazing over my naval. His hands found their way to my waist, and with a gentle pull, he loosened the tie of my petticoat. “You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
My whole body was wet with kisses. I closed my eyes. I had never got such pleasure in all my twenty-seven years. I never knew I would ever feel such pleasure. I had never even imagined that in this cruel, grotesque world, love could be so intimate.
He was in the mood to tease me. His lips brushed over my lower abdomen, leaving a trail of warmth that made my heart race. He reached for my petticoat and held it with his teeth, sliding it down slowly. He brushed his lips more times over my panty over my pussy.
His hot breath was intoxication. He then moves further down slowly brushing his lip over my inner thigh. One hand was still massaging my breast. He finally undid my petticoat and found my leg curling and my abdomen shaking. My chest moved up and down, and I was biting my lips.
He let the fabric fall away and said, “This is why I love Indian ladies. They enjoy every moment.” He was deliberate in his actions, teasing and ensuring that every moment was a celebration of desire.
“You know,” he said softly, his lips grazing my skin as he spoke, “this is what I love about you. Your expressions, your openness—they’re a gift.”
I smiled at his words, feeling a deep sense of connection and safety in his presence. I realised that this moment wasn’t just about physical closeness. It was about the bond we shared. The way he made me feel seen, valued, and deeply loved.
Time seemed to slow as we stayed in that moment, lost in the tenderness of our connection. Every touch, every whispered word was a testament to the love that bound us together, a love that was both passionate and intense. As he continued to explore, his hands and lips worked in harmony.
I lay back on the soft sheets, my chest rising and falling as anticipation coursed through me. My blouse hung open, revealing the curve of my red bra and my wet green panty. Eric’s eyes roamed over my body, dark with intent, before he leaned closer. His lips brushed my boobs, sending a ripple of heat through me.
His hands moved with purpose, one sliding beneath my back, the other gently tracing the line of my exposed collarbone. I gasped as he unclasped my bra hook with practised ease. The bra loosened, and he removed my blouse and bra, leaving my tits bare.
Looking at my nipple, he said, “You have been married for one year, but still, your nipple is like a girl.” I became shy and red. I wanted to tell him it was unused till now, and you are the first man to press it. But I controlled my emotions. I wanted him to crush my tits and nipple. I was mad in heat.
His lips curved into a soft smile as his gaze lingered on my exposed boobs. A silent appreciation that made my cheeks flush. My nipples, already hardened with arousal, ached as the cool air brushed against them. Without hesitation, Eric lowered his mouth, pressing a warm, lingering kiss over one peak.
The sensation was electric, his tongue teasing and circling, alternating between gentle flicks and soft, sucking pressure. His hand crushed the other breast. His thumb brushed over the sensitive nipple peak in a rhythm that made me shudder and moan.
My body responded instinctively, a mix of nervousness and pleasure making my breaths uneven. His kisses trailed upward, leaving a path of warmth along my skin as he moved to my neck. His lips grazed the delicate curve, his teeth biting lightly before his tongue kissed the spot.
When he reached my earlobe, he took it between his lips, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re beautiful, Rhea,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, the words vibrating against my skin.
I remember a great saying, “The influence of love ruins unmarried people, while the lack of love ruins married people.” I was being ruined, not receiving my husband’s love but finding the nectar of love in the embrace of another man.
And today, this ruin felt delightful to me.
I felt like he never ended this sensation. He had awakened my hidden desire. I never knew intimacy was so beautiful. He continued his exploration, his lips trailing lower again over the curve of my breast. He bit hard once again over my left boob just above my heart.
It gave a teeth mark over my tit. It was hurting, but there was love. Then he slowly starts licking my areola and creasing my right boobs with his palm.
His hand felt so soft. His lick over my areola was doing magic. He moved to my erect nipple, and he started chewing and sucking it.
He sometimes bit my nipple, and I moved my chest with excitement and pressed his head over my tits. I was enjoying the moment, and I realised it’s heavenly in tits lick more than my husband fuck. I was moaning, and he was working over my tits and then changing the boobs.
He kissed where he had bitten before. I could still feel soreness over his bite. He hardened my nipple, and my boobs became stiffer. There was a different sensation over my pussy. After making my tits red with bite and lick, he moved down to my navel.
His kisses were slow, deliberate, and reverent, as though savouring every inch of me. My body trembled beneath his touch, the heat building every moment. When he reached the waistband of my panties, he paused, his lips brushing against the fabric.
The gesture was teasing, his breath hot against my skin. His hands rested on my waist, his thumbs tracing slow, circular patterns just above the panty line, sending waves of arousal through me.
“Eric,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as my fingers tangled in the sheets, my body arching toward him in silent invitation. His lips pressed to the edge of the panty, a kiss so light it felt like a whisper. The intimacy of the moment—his tenderness, the way he moved with such care—made my heart race.
Eric’s fingers brushed the waistband of my panties as his lips hovered just above my skin, the heat of his breath sending a shiver through me. I barely registered his playful smirk. He leaned down, catching the edge of the panty between his teeth.
Slowly, almost teasingly, he began to tug it down, his hands grazing my thighs in feather-light touches that left me trembling. The sensation was intoxicating as the cool air kissed the newly exposed pussy skin.
Eric’s fingertips followed the path of the descending fabric, trailing over my thighs, down my calves, until my panty slipped free completely. He kissed the arch of my foot, his lips soft and warm. His tongue flicked gently across my toes, a tender touch sending a ripple of heat through my body.
He moved upward again, leaving a trail of kisses along my leg. Every touch felt deliberate, his focus entirely on me. When his lips reached the juncture between my thighs, I felt my breath hitch. My heart raced as his face lingered near my most sensitive area.
The intensity of his gaze was both thrilling and unnerving. I watched as his expression shifted ever so slightly when he noticed the soft curly hair covering my pussy. His hesitation was brief, almost imperceptible, but I caught it. My cheeks flushed, and I became shy.
Still, he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers began to explore, gently parting the damp curly hair and revealing the sensitive skin beneath. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring, as though he could sense my unease. His fingers moved with care, tracing the folds of my pussy.
His touch was both curious and reverent. He circled the most sensitive spot, and my hips instinctively lifted toward him, a soft moan escaping my lips. His lips followed, pressing kisses around the area but never quite meeting where I craved them most. I could sense his hesitation, the internal debate in his mind.
“Eric…” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He looked up at me, “I want to… but maybe next time,” he said softly, his honesty disarming. “It’s just… would you consider shaving? I could help.”
I blinked, caught off guard by his suggestion. “You want to help me shave?” I asked, my tone half-amused, half-incredulous. Should I let him shave my pussy and then fuck me or stop him?
If anyone wants to share their story or seek advice, please contact me at [email protected].