The Indore Express
Copyright© 2026 by BhagiRath
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - Meenal has been married for less than 48 hours. Her new husband, is a good man, but he's also boring, pompous, and utterly oblivious. Trapped with him in a train compartment bound for Indore, she finds herself the object of intense fascination for four charismatic college students. What begins as a harmless game of staring and teasing, quickly escalates into a dangerous battle of wills. As the miles go by and her husband's snores fill the air, Meenal must confront the truth about herself.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Slut Wife Gang Bang Group Sex Indian Male Indian Female Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism Voyeurism Indian Erotica Illustrated
‘That was quick... ‘ Meenal thought, hearing the snores coming from Harish. Meenal’s eyes automatically looked at the men, they were all staring at her intently, like a pack of wolves. She decided that it was best to go to sleep quickly, not giving them a chance to make any more moves on her. They wouldn’t dare do anything with her husband right there ... would they?
She decided to change out of the saree and into a nightie. She bent down, and dragged her suitcase out from under the seat, knowing full well where the men’s eyes would be at this very moment. Meenal pulled out a red nightie from the case and pushed it back under the seat. Wordlessly she opened the sliding door and started making her way to the end of the compartment, where the washrooms were located.
As soon as she left, the men looked at each other with a hint of mischief. Mangal, the boldest of them all, stood up and declared - “See you boys in a few minutes!” He gave the other men a knowing look and walked out after Meenal.
The washroom was small, cramped and reeked of disinfectant. In the dim fluorescent light, Meenal carefully changed from her saree into the nightie she’d brought along, trying her best not to touch any surface.
As a new bride, customs dictated that she still wear red, so her nightie was a dark red, almost maroon. She was also not allowed to take her bangles, her toe rings and mangalsutra off ... all symbols of her newly married bride status.
Meenal’s mother had told her to get her nightie made in a larger, more comfortable size, but Meenal wanted to look sexy for her new husband, so she secretly asked the ladies’ tailor to make it tight in all the right places. Now she regretted her decision. The thin, silky material clung to her curves, displaying her shapely figure in the best way possible. She wore only a bra and panties underneath, so it left very little to the imagination.
She was feeling a bit nervous, but also excited about going back to the men dressed like this. The last time she was alone with them, they’d gotten her out of her blouse and bra within a few seconds and had all the fun they wanted with her tits.
‘But they wouldn’t try anything with my husband right there ... right?’ Meenal thought to herself. She folded her saree, blouse and petticoat into a small bag she’d brought along with her and stepped out of the washroom, only to greeted by the sight of Mangal leaning against the wall outside, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
His eyes traveled down her body, lingering on the way the thin fabric of her nightie hugged her curves.
“Mangal ji ... what do you think you’re doing? We’re in public!” Meenal hissed, her voice tight with a mix of fear and excitement.
“Okay ... let’s get some privacy”, Mangal simply said and pushed Meenal back into the washroom, latching the door behind him.
“What the hell are you doing? My husband will come looking for me any second!” Meenal whispered.
“Your husband is fast asleep Meenal, snoring like a fucking bear. We have all the time in the world. Don’t worry!”
“Y ... you ... haven’t you all done enough. I am a married woman and you’re making me do all these ... these nasty things!” Meenal complained, but her voice lacked conviction. She knew she could’ve screamed, could have fought him off, but the truth was, her body was already responding to his presence. She could feel a dampness forming between her thighs already, an ache in her pussy starting to build.
“That nightie you’re wearing, Meenal,” Mangal growled, his voice low and rough. “It looks so sexy on you ... fuck, it’s making me hard just looking at you!”
“Stop saying stuff like that!” Meenal whispered, her eyes unable to meet Mangal’s as she felt her cheeks flush with warmth. “Let’s just go back Mangal ji ... please...”
“We will ... we will. I just need to see you a little longer ... till now, I was thinking your breasts were your best feature. But damn ... that ass...” Mangal motioned for her to turn around.
Meenal nodded no. Mangal widened his eyes and nodded a vehement yes. Meenal complied, hoping he would just get his fill of looking at her and then they could both go back to their bay.
Meenal held the cloth bag close to her chest and turned around in the cramped space, giving Mangal access to her backside.
Mangal let out a low whistle, his eyes darkening with hunger. “Damn, Meenal ... your ass is so fucking round. I have to...”
Meenal let out a surprised gasp as Mangal’s rough hands suddenly grabbed her ass, squeezing hard through the thin fabric of her nightie.
“Mangal ji ... you said you were just going to look...” Meenal whined in a low voice, afraid to make too much noise.
“So firm, Meenal ... oh my god!” Mangal grabbed a handful of her nightie fabric and started pulling it up, exposing her ass to the cold air of the compartment.
“No ... no ... Mangal ji ... this is too much ... don’t do that!” Meenal turned around in panic, facing Mangal again. But in her sudden movement, her exposed back ended up touching the cold metal wash basin. Meenal immediately recoiled at the sensation, her body arching away from the cold surface. But that meant that she was now pressed flush against Mangal’s chest.
She had also dropped her cloth bag, the contents spilling out on to the bathroom floor.
Mangal’s hands were still holding up her nightie, bunched up around her waist, exposing her panty covered ass. Mangal took the liberty of slipping his hands into her panties, grabbing a handful of her soft, round ass cheeks.
“Ahh ... ohh ... no! How can you be so bold and shameless Mangal ji ... I’ve been begging you to not do stuff like this ... oooh ... that hurts ... you’re squeezing too hard ... mmmm ... aahh ... please be gentle naa!”
Mangal was groping her ass like a man possessed. It was the softest, most voluptuous ass he’d ever felt, and he couldn’t stop squeezing it, kneading it, his fingers digging into her plump cheeks.
“Aahh ... Mangal ji! Oh my...” Meenal buried her face into Mangal’s chest. The intimate nature of what he was doing to her was making her feel weak in the knees. Her legs trembled as she felt Mangal’s fingers dig deeper into her flesh, pinching, grazing, tickling her. She gasped as Mangal’s fingers slipped between her cheeks, brushing dangerously close to the forbidden hole. Santosh was the only one who had ever touched her there. And even though she pretended that she never liked it, the sheer depravity of having Santosh’s finger in her ass made her secretly love it. Meenal hoped that Mangal would do the same, but she had to put up a show of resistance.
“How ... how dare you Mangal ji?” Meenal whimpered, wriggling in his arms. “Stop it! Please! Ohhh ... no ... ahhh ... naaaa!” She could feel his finger pressing against the tight ring of muscle, teasing, probing. Regardless of her protests, her body betrayed her, her hips arched back instinctively, inviting him deeper.
Suddenly Mangal stopped in his tracks. Meenal looked up at him questioningly, as if asking why he stopped giving her such intense pleasure.
Mangal pounced on her lips, giving her a deep and passionate, wet kiss. Meenal immediately reciprocated with equal fervor, her tongue battling his in a heated, sloppy duel. Her hands went up his neck and into his hair, pulling his lips closer to hers.
Mangal’s hands resumed their assault on Meenal’s ass, his fingers tracing the crease between her cheeks, teasing the sensitive skin there. She moaned into his mouth when she felt his finger enter her tight hole, just the top at first, then deeper, stretching her.
Between his tongue claiming her mouth and his finger exploring her ass, Meenal was overwhelmed with pleasure. Her brain was in a daze. The rhythmic clatter of the Indore Express faded into a distant hum for Meenal, as she surrendered to the filthy sensations Mangal was making her feel. She was his for the taking!
Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door of the washroom, waking Meenal from her waking dream.
“ARE YOU DONE IN THERE? OTHERS HAVE TO GO TOO!” an old woman’s voice shouted from the outside.
Meenal’s eyes widened in horror. Mangal just snickered as he watched Meenal quickly straighten her nightie and looked at herself in the mirror to make sure she was presentable. She looked at the floor and realized that her red saree, the symbol of her marriage, had spilled out on the dirty bathroom floor. Mangal had stepped all over it, while kissing her and fingering her ass.
’Oh no! It’s become so dirty now!’ she thought to herself, bending down to pick it up and stuffing it back into the bag. It somehow seemed fitting, she thought guiltily, knowing she had done enough to make her marriage dirty already.
Another loud knock at the door was followed by more complaining from the old woman outside.
“Just a minute!” Meenal called out, her voice shaking in fear.
Mangal was still smirking, watching Meenal get all hot and bothered. She gave him a dirty look and whispered to him. “This lady is going to wake the whole compartment, please let’s go!”
Mangal walked out first, giving the old lady a polite nod, as he passed her in the narrow corridor. The old woman looked at him in bewilderment, she was sure she’d just heard a woman reply from inside. And then out came Meenal, from the washroom.
Clad in a body hugging nightie, pulling her shoulder straps up, her cheeks flushed, hair slightly disheveled, carrying her cloth bag in hand. Meenal couldn’t meet the old lady’s eyes out of shame. It was obvious that she was alone with a man, locked inside the washroom.
“Whore!”, Meenal heard the old lady mutter under her breath.
Meenal got out of there as quickly as she could and made her way back to her bay, her ears burning with shame and humiliation.
Meenal hurried back to her bay, her heart pounding in her chest. As she passed the other bay doors - some open, some closed, she could still feel Mangal’s hands on her body, his lips on hers. She was a mix of emotions—fear, excitement, shame, and arousal.
’What have I done?!’ Meenal asked herself. If not for that old lady’s interruption, Meenal was sure she would’ve allowed Mangal to fuck her right there in the bathroom. She’d lost all control, all sense of decency! She hadn’t even realized that her wedding saree had fallen on the floor of the bathroom, stepped on by the very man who had violated her ass with his finger. That’s how she felt. As if her marriage had now been permanently dirtied ... violated.
She thought marriage would change her, but she was the same slut she always was!
’The bond of marriage is sacred, Meenal. Once you get married, you’ll understand!’, her mother’s words rang through Meenal’s head.
Her mother had said this to her on that fateful day, when she saw Meenal flirting with Ramesh ji, the 40-year-old ladies’ tailor, with a pregnant wife and two children.
Meenal and her mother were on their way to the temple, and Meenal’s mother had stopped on the way to buy some flowers. Meenal was bored, but when she saw Ramesh ji walking the other way, she decided to have some fun. She’d always loved the attention she received from him.
“Ramesh ji! Haven’t seen you in a while! How are Lata didi and the kids?”
“Ahh ... Meenal, they’re good ... they’re good. Yes, you’ve stopped coming to my shop! Please don’t tell me you’ve found another ladies’ tailor!”
“Of course not Ramesh ji ... you’re the only one for me!”
Ramesh ji smiled, this was a game he loved playing with her.
“Well, then come by sometime ... I haven’t taken your measurements in a while.” Ramesh ji said, looking Meenal’s body up and down with a hungry gaze. “Looks like some of your measurements have ... changed.”
“Really?” Meenal said with a naughty smile. “Don’t tell me I’ve put on weight!”
“Far from it! It seems like you’ve grown in all the right places,” Ramesh ji said, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive whisper.
“Right places, huh?”
Meenal giggled, biting her lower lip. “Well, you must know ... you measure so many women’s ‘right places’, don’t you Ramesh ji?”
“None of those women compare to you Meenal, you ... you’re special!”
“Oh, am I special? Is that why you misplaced your measuring tape the last time you took my measurements? And had to do it by hand?”
“Oh ... you know how it is Meenal ... for special customers like you, I always give very personalized treatment.” Ramesh ji said, his tone filled with innuendo. He moved closer to Meenal, making her heart beat faster and break out in a nervous giggle.
“The next time you come to my shop, I’ll show you this new measurement technique...”
“MEENAL!”, her mother’s voice cut through the air like a whip, making Meenal and Ramesh ji jump.
Meenal turned to see her mother standing there, her face a mask of fury, the flowers she just bought, crushed in her fist.
“Ramesh ji...” her mother said, her disgust dripping from every word, and loud enough to cause embarrassment. “How is your pregnant wife? This is her eighth month, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be next to her, taking care of her ... instead of walking around in the market like this?”
“I ... uh ... I was just picking somethi...”
“If you’re done with whatever that was, then please go home. And let me and my daughter go on our way!”
Ramesh ji muttered something under his breath and quietly walked away.
Once they were back home, Meenal’s mother let her have it. “He’s married! And you KNOW his wife ... she was your senior in school. You used to admire her ... Lata didi this, and Lata didi that. And now you’re out to steal her husband? Do you even understand what you were doing, Meenal? Did I teach you to become a home wrecker, to behave like a common bazaar whore, going about destroying people’s marriages?”
“Maa ... we were just talking ... I didn’t do anyth...”