Chapter 1

I am Savita, a 34-year-old attractive wife and a mother of a fifteen-year-old son. My husband, Rajesh, is a typical beta male: a submissive, unremarkable, and unimaginative lover.

My body is hot, sexy, and built for fucking. With my long, toned legs and her beautiful round, juicy ass, I drive men wild. And as a man of limited means and poor health, Rajesh is simply not able to provide me with the pleasure I so desperately crave.

This is my diary of dirty secrets. A chronicle of my lusty thoughts and naughty actions, which include adultery and group sex. I am also going to tell you about some of my fantasies, which are much darker and more daring than what I have ever done or likely will do. But that’s the thing with fantasy, isn’t it?

My husband was always busy with his publishing work in Calcutta, and we stayed in Goa. He used to publish several comic books and adult novels under the pseudonym Rao, but his real passion was writing errotica stories. He wrote several errotic short stories and a number of novels and published them all himself.

We live in a small, one-storey house at the end of a quiet, residential street. The neighbourhood is a middle-class area, with large single-family homes.

In the morning, after Rajesh went to work, I would often take a stroll along our tree-lined street. We lived a quiet and reserved life, and I felt quite safe and secure.

The people living nearby were all friendly and would often wave or say “Good Morning”. I was not wearing anything fancy, just a loose t-shirt and a pair of jeans, yet there was something about the way they looked at me.

They were looking at me the way a man looks at a woman when he is attracted to her. I liked the attention. I would sometimes walk slowly and smile back at them. They seemed like such nice people.

It was around this time, when the summer was beginning in Goa and Goa usually gets hotter in summer, that I started to notice how warm the weather had become. I would often get so warm that my skin would begin to glisten and shine, making my breasts, neck, and cheeks appear more full and rounded.

It was almost as if a slight breeze was caressing me. I felt the cool, refreshing touch on my body. The feeling was pleasant, but the sensation was fleeting. It left me wanting more.

On some mornings, I would leave the house earlier than usual, walking towards the beach. The sun was high and warm. The breeze had been replaced by the heat. My t-shirt had stuck to my sweaty body, outlining my breasts, waist, and ass.

The damp cloth rubbed against my skin. As I walked, the fabric slid and rubbed, stimulating me. It was a very pleasant and relaxing feeling.

On other mornings, I would go out for a longer stroll and return home before 9:30. By then, the day was usually warm, but the wind was cooler. I could feel the cooling effects on my moistened body.

The combination of the heat, the rubbing and sliding of the cloth against my body, and the cooling breezes aroused me. I found myself wanting a stronger breeze and more direct stimulation.

That is how I started walking with my legs further apart and my steps shorter, giving me the ability to bounce up and down and create more friction. This was the most erotic thing I had ever done.

As a married mother and a respectable lady, I was completely amazed at how quickly I had begun acting like a slut. I would have never done anything remotely similar a few weeks ago.

My t-shirt became increasingly tighter and transparent, sticking to my sweaty body. Even the nipples and a bit of the brown skin of my areolas could be seen through the wet material.

As I returned home, my mind was a whirlwind. Thoughts of masturbation and sexual gratification filled my brain. What would I do if I was alone, right now? Would I rub my pussy or stick a dildo into it and pump hard, pretending it was a man fucking me?

But I wasn’t alone, was I?

The boys would still be asleep. I would have plenty of time for me and for my pleasure. I didn’t want to have an orgasm; I wanted an extended and drawn-out session, where I would edge several times and finally let the waves of pleasure overwhelm and consume me.

I went into the bedroom and began removing my clothes.

There was something about taking off my shirt and watching the sweat roll down my body that was especially exciting.

It was even better because the room was hot, and the windows were closed, trapping the moisture and humidity.

When I got the pants down to my ankles, a strong blast of air-conditioning hit my damp body, chilling and stiffening my erect nipples. It felt fantastic.

After pulling off the last bit of clothing, I stretched my naked, wet body and savoured the moment. I stood still and felt the coolness, allowing the sensation to build and become even more enjoyable.

When the goose bumps had covered my skin, I stepped into the bathroom. I had a nice, long shower and enjoyed the water and steamy mist.

It was amazing how relaxed and comfortable I felt, standing completely nude. In the past, whenever my husband and I were intimate, I always made a point of closing the drapes and getting completely undressed in the dark.

As soon as the boys came home or woke up, I would put on a bra, a clean, ironed top, and a pair of pants. Now, it was totally different. I had a sudden need and urge to display and enjoy the nakedness and sexuality of my body.

After I got out of the shower, the sun had moved behind the clouds, and the room was much cooler. I opened the curtains and sat at the window, reading a magazine, sipping coffee, and enjoying the view. I was wearing only a transparent nighty with nothing inside.

The sun was hot and bright, the sky was clear and blue, and the houses, streets, and gardens below were beautifully coloured and shaped.

The light breeze blowing in from the open window was fresh and crisp, and the sounds were quiet and peaceful.

A couple of times, I saw someone glance out the window and look over towards me. It was obvious that they had noticed me, sitting in the transparent dress, reading, and drinking.

They must have wondered what kind of pervert would do that in the middle of the morning, while the neighbourhood was awake and alive.

It was strange, but also exhilarating.

I knew I was doing something wicked and sinful, but it made me feel so alive.

I thought of my son Vinu in his bedroom and decided to make sure he had his breakfast.

I went to his room and knocked on the door. “Wake up, sleepyheads,” I said cheerfully, opening the door.

He was still snoozing.

“Rise and shine,” I said, gently shaking him.

“Ummph, umph,” he moaned.

“Time to wake up and start your day, my dear son Vinu,” I smiled, as he turned his sleepy eyes towards me.

“Oh, sorry, Mom. You shouldn’t come in like that.”

“What?” I said.

“Your nighty ... it’s not covering everything...”

“Oh, it’s OK.”

“No, it’s not, Mom,” he protested.

“It’s OK,” I repeated. “It’s a nice, new nighty. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mom!”

“Shh, you’re being silly. Here, hold this while I fix your blanket.”

“Mom,” he whined.

“Shhh.”

“Okay.”

“

“Get ready soon and go to school,” I told him.

“You have a great day,”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Do you think we have time to eat a big breakfast today?”

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“We could have pancakes.”

“Maybe.”

“And orange juice. We could have fresh orange juice.”

“OK.”

“With a side order of hash browns.”

“Yes.”

“And eggs. And sausage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“How does that sound, baby?”

“Really good.”

“I thought so.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re a hungry boy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s have some breakfast together.”

“Alright.”

“Go and freshen up first.”

“OK.”

“I’m going to change into a t-shirt and shorts. Then, we’ll have some delicious breakfast.”

“OK.”

“You have a lovely day.”

“You too, Mom.”

“I will.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

“Sure, honey.”

“You’re a great Mom, you know that, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’m going to get dressed now.”

“See you in the kitchen, baby.”

“K.”

After a tasty breakfast and sending him off to his school, I thought, “Hmm. Maybe it was a mistake coming to see him without dressing.”