The steam clung to the bathroom walls, thick with heat and the scent of skin.
Shalini stood between them—her body still trembling, thighs still weak from the climax they'd just shared. Ravi and Prayush supported her carefully, holding her like something precious and spent.
The shower was warm, gentle, almost quiet.
They stepped inside together, water cascading over their tangled bodies. Shalini leaned back into Ravi's chest while Prayush knelt in front of her, washing her thighs with slow, reverent hands.
They didn't speak.
Only the soft sound of breath and water filled the space.
Then Ravi's hands began to move—slowly, purposefully—over her hips, her waist, up to her breasts. His lips brushed the side of her neck. And without a word, he pressed inside her again.
A soft moan escaped Shalini's lips, breath fogging the glass.
His movements were slow this time—tender, rhythmic. His hands caressed every inch of her body, one cradling her breast, the other gripping her hip as he moved deeper, water rolling off their skin in glistening sheets.
Beneath her, Prayush leaned forward.
He kissed the inside of her thigh again, then looked up.
"Ma'am…" he whispered.
She smiled, eyes half-lidded, body trembling.
"Come here," she said, voice low.
He stood, and she leaned in, taking him into her mouth.
The sounds in the shower became wet, hot, filled with soft groans and dripping water. Shalini's mouth moved around Prayush's cock, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing with every deep pull.
At the same time, Ravi filled her from behind—his thrusts steady, loving, deep.
Their rhythm built slowly, wrapped in heat and steam.
And when the three of them finally came again—together—it was quiet.
A soft gasp. A deep moan. A breathless whisper of her name.
Not wild. Not loud. Just… complete.
---
Wrapped in towels, damp and flushed, they stepped out of the bathroom.
Ravi and Prayush supported her on either side as they made their way to the hall, their arms holding her steady. Her steps were small, careful, but her expression was peaceful.
They reached the sofa. Shalini sank down gently, exhaling with relief as she stretched her legs out and leaned back. The room was dim, quiet, full of lingering warmth.
Ravi stepped into the bedroom to fetch water.
Left alone with her, Prayush sat beside Shalini—still damp, still bare-chested, his expression suddenly softer. Vulnerable.
He looked down.
Then whispered, "Ma'am… I don't get it."
Shalini tilted her head, curious.
"You let Ravi take you… three times," Prayush said, his voice cracking slightly. "But I… I didn't even get to… I just—"
He paused.
Then looked at her with those wide, hurt eyes. "Don't I matter too?"
Shalini blinked—then reached out slowly, her fingers running through his damp hair. Her palm cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing his cheek.
"Sweet boy…" she whispered, her voice melting with warmth. "You do matter."
He leaned into her touch.
Then, soft and secret, her voice lowered.
"At 4 a.m.," she said, her lips almost brushing his ear. "Meet me at the main hotel gate."
Prayush's eyes lit up, his breath catching.
"You can even pick what I wear," she added, her smile playful, her tone tender. "Anything you want, baby."
Before he could answer, Ravi returned with a glass of water. Shalini took it with a quiet "thank you," drank deeply, then stood slowly, wrapped in just her towel.
"Baby," she said to Prayush, "can you support me to my room?"
He jumped up to help her.
Ravi moved toward her as well, but she lifted a hand and stopped him gently.
"No, baby. You've done a lot tonight. You should rest now."
She kissed him—soft, full on the lips.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Then, with Prayush supporting her, she stepped out of the room.
Just next door.
Room 301.
Shalini leaned into the wall as they entered. Her steps were quiet. She glanced to the side—into the second room—where her son slept soundly, unaware of the night she had just lived through.
She had locked the boys' room from the outside when she left. Safety, always.
Now, with the door to her room closed and Prayush inside, she turned to him.
The smile returned to her lips—slow, sensual, hungry.
"Alright, baby," she said, unwrapping the towel and letting it fall. "One last time tonight. Serve me again."
Prayush dropped to his knees without hesitation.
His lips pressed to her stomach, then down between her thighs, licking softly as her fingers tangled in his hair. He moaned as he tasted her, as if he had been starved and finally allowed to eat again.
In between kisses, she asked, "Now… what do you want me to wear when we meet?"
Still kneeling, lips wet, he whispered:
"Something that'll make you sweaty, ma'am… with socks… and shoes."
Shalini moaned softly, her head tilting back.
She looked down at him with a thoughtful, teasing smile.
"I'll fulfill your wish," she breathed, her hips rocking gently into his mouth. "I'll wear something filthy just for you…"
He licked her deeper. She cried out softly.
And when her final climax washed over her—quiet, beautiful, complete—she leaned down, cupped his cheeks, and kissed him deeply.
"Four a.m.," she whispered against his lips. "Don't be late."
After Prayush left, Shalini stood alone in the dim silence of her room.
The night clung to her skin—her thighs still slick, her chest still rising and falling with the rhythm of satisfaction. Her legs trembled faintly as she moved, but her eyes were sharp now. Focused.
She padded to the bathroom sink, turned on the tap, and splashed her face with cool water. The droplets rolled down her cheeks, dripping along her neck, washing away the last traces of sweat clinging to her brow.
Her reflection stared back at her—flushed, glowing, wild-eyed, and beautiful.
She smiled.
Still naked, she moved quietly to her travel bag near the corner of the bed. She unzipped it and started sorting through the contents.
"Something that'll make you sweaty..."
Her fingers brushed over soft cotton, nylon, silks—until she found the perfect pieces.
She pulled out a tight, full-sleeved black turtleneck—thick ribbed fabric, snug against the skin. The kind of top that would trap heat, cling to sweat, and hold every drop against her body. She could already imagine the warmth building under it.
Next, she chose a pair of fitted grey leggings, high-waisted, soft but insulating. They hugged her curves tightly, especially around her thighs and ass. She ran her hands over them slowly before stepping into them—dragging the waistband up over her hips, exhaling at the squeeze.
Then came the socks.
She dug deeper into the bag, pulling out a pair of winter thermal socks—thick, woolen, meant for cold weather treks. She slipped them on, her toes immediately wrapped in warm insulation. They reached mid-calf and already made her feet feel overheated.
Finally, she chose her footwear: closed white sneakers, snug and sealed, trapping the heat inside completely. She tied them tight.
By the time she stood up straight, she could already feel the warmth gathering under her clothes. Her body—still flushed from sex, layered in thick fabric, feet wrapped in winter socks—was building sweat like a slow burn.
Perfect.
Shalini brushed her hair down, leaving it loose across her shoulders.
Then, moving quietly, she stepped toward her son's room.
She unlocked the door gently.
Peeked inside.
He was still asleep—sprawled on the small bed, chest rising and falling in peace. A soft smile touched her lips. She stepped in, careful not to wake him, and pulled the extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed.
She returned to the hall.
Before lying down, she walked over to the AC panel and switched it off with a soft beep. The air inside the room instantly began to thicken with heat again.
She laid herself down on the sofa—fully clothed, her thick outfit pressing against her already sensitive skin. She pulled the blanket over herself, sinking into the cushions.
The sweat would build overnight. She could already feel it—beneath her arms, along her thighs, between her toes.
And in just a few hours, at exactly 4 a.m., Prayush would meet her outside.
She closed her eyes slowly, body pulsing, heart steady.
Still owned. Still wanted. Still burning.
The room was thick with heat when Shalini stirred awake.
She blinked into the soft dark, her clothes already damp with sweat beneath the blanket. Her top clung to her chest, her leggings hugged her thighs like a second skin, and her woolen socks were hot—soaked slightly, perfect.
It was 4:00 a.m.
She sat up slowly, body heavy but focused. Her eyes flicked toward her son's room. Still asleep. Peaceful.
Quietly, she slipped into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, brushed her teeth, fixed her hair, and checked herself in the mirror. A glow was already forming on her skin—moist, flushed, naturally dewy from the rising warmth beneath all that fabric.
Perfect for what was about to come.
Before leaving, she scribbled a quick note on the hotel pad by the nightstand:
> "Avi, going for a walk. Will be back by 7 or 8. Be good, love you."
She left it where he could see it if he woke early.
Then she slipped out of the room—quiet, focused.
---
As she reached the front lobby, the soft yellow light revealed Prayush standing just beside the entrance, already waiting.
He was fully dressed—hair damp from a shower, shirt tucked, shoes tied, and his eyes wide as they landed on her.
His gaze drank her in from head to toe.
The thick turtleneck clung to her chest, the fabric damp at the collar and underarms already. Her leggings hugged every curve of her hips, and the wool socks peeked just above her sneakers. Her skin had started to shimmer at the forehead and throat. She looked flushed, radiant, deliberately hot.
Several hotel staff members near the desk noticed—but didn't say a word.
Shalini didn't glance at them. She didn't even look at Prayush.
She simply walked past him and pushed open the front door.
Prayush stood frozen for a second, stunned.
Then quickly followed, closing the distance as they stepped into the warm predawn air.
The world outside was silent. Still.
After a short distance, he finally walked beside her.
"Ma'am…" he said, his voice low, a little breathless. "You look… absolutely gorgeous."
Shalini turned her head slowly, her lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.
"I have to, baby," she whispered. "I promised you a reward, didn't I?"
She leaned a little closer, her voice husky, eyes glowing. "And if you look at my face… you already know what kind of reward I brought."
Her smile deepened.
Prayush's face flushed instantly—his hands twitching at his sides, barely able to contain himself.
They walked together in silence after that, turning off the road and into a narrower dirt path that led toward the jungle edge. A thin mist clung to the earth, and the air felt heavier—warmer.
Soon, a small cottage appeared between the trees. Modest, tucked away, quiet.
Exactly what Shalini had planned.
She walked him straight to the door.
At the porch, an old man sat at the reception table, holding a dim torch in one hand, looking half-asleep.
He perked up the moment he saw them.
"One room for three to four hours," Shalini said casually, her voice steady.
The man looked from her… to Prayush… then back to her again.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Four thousand," he said flatly.
Shalini didn't argue. She reached into her small side purse, pulled out the cash, and placed it in his hand.
As the old man took the money, he turned to Prayush with a crooked grin and gave him a slow, amused thumbs-up.
"Bro," he said with a chuckle, "you got some serious luck."
Prayush blinked, speechless, face burning.
Shalini didn't break stride.
She just gave a faint smirk and walked toward the stairway. The old man handed over a rusted room key without another word.
She led the way, hips swaying in those tight leggings, her body practically steaming from within the layers. And Prayush, silent and stunned, followed her up—his breath already short, his chest already tight with everything he knew was about to happen.