Chapter 2

After exploring her wild side, Anjali got even bolder. Her appetite for sex increased. She found her new passion and cravings all together. Enjoy the second part and find out how she went ahead ... This time with the sweeper who comes to clean the building.

Anjali, a young and vibrant widow, stood by her balcony, her eyes scanning the bustling streets below. Her lush, dark hair cascaded down her back, framing her voluptuous figure. Her ample breasts heaved gently with every breath she took, the tight blouse she wore doing little to contain them. Her waist, cinched by a traditional sari, curved out into full hips that swayed with a grace that was both mesmerizing and alluring. The setting sun painted her skin with a warm glow, emphasizing the soft curves that her husband had once adored. But he was gone now, leaving her with an insatiable hunger that no one else seemed to notice, let alone satisfy.

The heat of the day was giving way to a sultry evening, and Anjali felt a bead of sweat trickle down her neck, caressing her collarbone before disappearing into the valley between her breasts. Her hand, almost of its own accord, reached up to wipe it away, lingering briefly to feel the warmth of her own flesh. She closed her eyes, allowing the sensation to wash over her, briefly forgetting the emptiness that had filled her days since his passing. Her thoughts grew hazy, her mind wandering to the feel of strong hands on her body, of a fiery kiss that could melt away the loneliness. It had been so long since she had felt that heat, that passion.

The sound of a broom scraping against the floor jolted her back to reality. She glanced over to see the building’s sweeper, a young man named Rohan, making his way down the corridor. His muscles rippled with each movement, his bare torso glistening with the sweat of his labor. He was a stark contrast to the other men in her life, who were either too old or too inexperienced to know how to truly satisfy a woman like her. Anjali felt an unfamiliar stirring in her loins, a hunger that grew stronger with every passing moment.

Rohan looked up, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second. In that instant, she saw something in him that she hadn’t noticed before—desire. It was raw and unbridled, a carnality that called to the animalistic side of her that had been buried beneath layers of societal expectations and mourning. Without a second thought, she stepped back into the shadows of her apartment, watching him intently as he continued his work. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she knew that the evening was about to take an unexpected turn.

Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her blouse as she contemplated the situation. She was a woman with needs, and here was a man who could fulfill them. Anjali’s thoughts grew more and more daring as she considered the possibility of taking what she wanted, of breaking the rules that had confined her for so long. The thrill of the forbidden sent a delicious shiver down her spine, and she felt a wetness blossom between her thighs.

Deciding to act on her impulses, she waited until Rohan was on the floor below, and then descended the stairs, her hips swaying with newfound purpose. She knew that the way she walked, the way she held herself, was an invitation, and she didn’t want to disappoint. When she reached the floor where he was working, she leaned over the railing, ensuring that her ample breasts were on full display. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, noticing how his strokes grew more deliberate, how he paused every now and then to steal a glance at her.

With a sultry smile, she beckoned him over, her voice low and husky. “Could you help me with something, Rohan?” she asked, her eyes never leaving his. He looked up, his gaze locked on hers before slowly making its way down to her chest. She felt a thrill of power at the sight of his hungry stare, and her pussy grew even wetter. When he reached her side, she stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm. The electricity that sparked between them was palpable, and she knew that there was no turning back.

With a boldness that surprised even herself, Anjali reached out and traced a finger along Rohan’s jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble against her skin. His eyes searched hers, questioning, but she offered no resistance when he leaned in, closing the gap between their lips. The kiss was explosive, a conflagration of passion and need that had been building in her for far too long. His tongue slid into her mouth, tangling with hers as his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. She moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch in ways she hadn’t felt in years.

Her hands roamed his back, feeling the strength and power beneath the sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt. She wanted to rip it off, to feel the warmth of his skin against hers, but she knew that they couldn’t risk being caught. Not yet. Instead, she stepped back, her eyes never leaving his, and gestured for him to follow her into her apartment. He needed no further invitation, his eyes dark with lust as he trailed behind her.

Once inside, she locked the door, the final barrier between them and the world outside. Anjali turned to face him, her hands moving to untie her sari. It fell to the floor with a whisper, revealing her curvaceous form. She was naked before him, her breasts heavy with want, her nipples taut with anticipation. Rohan’s gaze devoured her, and she could see his cock straining against his pants. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to unbuckle his belt.

As the fabric fell away, his erection sprang free, thick and proud. She took him in her hand, marveling at his size and heat. His breath hitched in his throat as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. Anjali felt a thrill of excitement as she realized that she was in control, that she had the power to bring this strong, virile man to his knees with nothing but her touch.

They moved to the bedroom, a dance of lust that was as old as time. She pushed him onto the bed, straddling him as she lowered herself onto his cock. The sensation was exquisite, filling the emptiness that had consumed her for so long. She threw her head back, crying out as he filled her completely, her walls stretching to accommodate his girth. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as she began to ride him, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.