My name is Arjun. I’m 30 years old, Tamil, and for the past four years I’ve been living what most people would call a perfect life in London.
I work as a senior developer in a fintech company in Canary Wharf. My wife Priya, 28, is a financial analyst in another firm just ten minutes away. We have a nice two-bedroom apartment with a view of the Thames, decent savings, and our parents back in Coimbatore and Trichy are proud of us.
Priya is the kind of woman who turns heads without trying. Fair golden skin, long thick black hair, big expressive eyes, and a body that still makes me hard every time I see her in a saree. 36D breasts that strain against her blouse, a slim waist, and wide hips that sway when she walks. She still wears her mangalsutra every day and sometimes a small nose ring when she feels traditional.
That morning she had chosen a cream silk saree with gold border for an important client meeting. The pallu was draped low, and the backless blouse showed the smooth curve of her back. I hugged her from behind while she was getting ready.
“You look dangerously beautiful today,” I whispered, kissing her neck.
She smiled at me in the mirror. “Just for the client da. Don’t worry.”
I didn’t know then that the real danger wasn’t the client.
At 10:30 a.m. our office had a joint project kick-off meeting. A new consultant was joining the team from the Singapore office — or so we were told.
When Sasi Krishnan walked into the conference room, the air changed.
He was 35, tall (easily 6’1″), broad-shouldered, and moved like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Sharp jawline, light stubble, piercing dark eyes. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit that hugged his muscular frame. When he spoke, his deep voice carried a mix of Tamil warmth and British confidence.
“Pleasure to meet everyone. I’m Sasi. Looking forward to working closely with the London team.”
His eyes swept the room and stopped on Priya.
She was sitting opposite him. For a second their eyes locked. She quickly looked down, but I saw the faint blush on her cheeks.
During the meeting Sasi kept glancing at her. Not in a creepy way — in a way that said he was already imagining things. When Priya leaned forward to make a point, her pallu slipped slightly. The deep neck of her blouse revealed the soft upper curves of her breasts and the thin gold chain of her mangalsutra resting between them.
I noticed Sasi’s gaze drop for a moment. He didn’t look away immediately.
Then it happened.
Priya was adjusting her laptop when the sleeve of her blouse slipped off one shoulder. A thin black bra strap became clearly visible against her fair skin. She felt it, glanced down, and instead of fixing it quickly like usual… she paused for two full seconds.
Her eyes flicked up and met Sasi’s.
He was staring directly at the exposed bra strap.
A small, almost invisible smile touched Priya’s lips. Then she slowly, deliberately, pulled the sleeve back up and adjusted the strap under her blouse. The whole thing took maybe five seconds, but it felt like the room had gone quiet.
I felt something strange twist in my stomach — a mix of jealousy and a dark, unexpected heat between my legs.
That evening on the tube home, Priya was quieter than usual. She kept checking her phone.
“New colleague seems smart,” I said casually.
She nodded. “Yeah… Sasi. He’s very sharp. He already gave some good suggestions for the project.”
When we reached home she went straight to the bedroom to change. I followed and watched her remove the saree. The way the silk slid off her body made my cock twitch. She caught me looking and smiled.
“Want to help me with the blouse hooks?” she asked softly.
I stepped behind her and unhooked them one by one. Her heavy breasts spilled out into my hands. I squeezed them gently and she let out a small moan — louder than usual.
We made love that night.
Priya was different. More urgent. She pushed me onto my back and climbed on top, riding me with a hunger I hadn’t seen in months. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, and she came harder than she had in a long time — biting her lip to stop herself from moaning too loudly.
Afterwards, lying in the dark, she whispered, “Arjun… that new guy Sasi… he was staring at me today.”
I pretended to be casual. “Oh? Did it bother you?”
She was quiet for a few seconds.
“…No,” she said finally. “It didn’t bother me.”
I felt my cock twitch again even though I had just cum.
The next morning Priya woke up early and spent extra time getting ready. She chose a fitted white formal shirt with the top two buttons open and a tight black pencil skirt that hugged her ass perfectly. No saree today.
Before leaving she kissed me longer than usual.
Around 11 a.m. I got a message from her on WhatsApp:
Priya: Coffee with Sasi after work to discuss the project. He wants to go over some numbers. I’ll be a bit late. Don’t wait for dinner ❤️
I stared at the message for a long time.
My heart was beating fast. My mind was filled with images — Sasi’s eyes on her bra strap, the way she had ridden me last night, the small smile she gave him when she adjusted it.
I should have felt angry.
Instead, I felt my cock getting hard under my desk.
I typed back:
Me: Okay da. Be safe. Love you.
She replied with a heart.
I sat there in my office chair, staring at the London skyline, and for the first time in my life I wondered what it would feel like to watch another man — a stronger, more confident man — touch my beautiful Tamil wife.
And the worst part?
I was already getting hard at the thought.