Borrowed Lives
By day, Nandini cleans the apartments of Kolkata’s rich — and when their doors close behind them, she slips into their silk sarees, their perfume, their lives. It’s harmless. Private. Hers.
Until she looks through a window and sees her husband doing exactly the same thing.
Debojit has his own secret game. Now the two house cleaners share one: empty apartments, borrowed clothes, and roleplay that grows hotter with every stolen hour. A demanding mistress. A jealous husband. A photographer and his model. In other people’s homes they are commanding, desired, insatiable — everything their own tiny room never lets them be.
But every borrowed life must be returned exactly as it was found.
A steamy, playful, explicit story of a married couple who rediscover each other by becoming everyone else.
A glimpse beneath the sheets…
When she entered Noor and Mazhar’s apartment, she found a note on the kitchen counter:
Nandini – visiting my parents. Mazhar driving me, back tomorrow. —Noor
Nandini smiled and texted her husband: Ansaris are away overnight. You free?
When?
Now. Meet me there in 20.
Debojit arrived at the Ansaris’ apartment to find the door unlocked. He let himself in, calling out softly.
“Nandu?”
“In the bedroom,” came her voice, sounding different, with a little accent to it.
He walked through the apartment and stopped in the bedroom doorway.
Nandini was wearing one of Noor’s saris—a beautiful teal see-through chiffon that hugged her curves. She stood by the dresser, pretending to arrange jewelry, her back to him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Debojit said, his voice taking on an edge and posture changing, already pretending to be Mazhar.
Nandini turned, eyes wide with fake surprise. “I—I was just— I am so sorry, sir—”
“Just trying on my wife’s clothes?” He stalked toward her, his expression stern. “Do you think I don’t notice? Do you think I don’t see the way you look at our things?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re sorry?” He grabbed her wrist, pulling her against him. “Sorry isn’t good enough. My wife trusted you. We trusted you.”
“Please,” Nandini whispered, her eyes downcast. “Please don’t tell her. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” Debojit’s hand slid to the back of her neck. “Interesting choice of words.”
“What do you mean sir?” Nandini said to Debojit, pretending to be scared.
“You know I gifted this saree to Noor on her birthday. Know what I did when she tried it on?” Nandini shook her head, no.
He kissed her hard and deep. When he pulled back, she was breathing hard.
He licked his lips, looking up and down Nandini’s body.
“I don’t like anyone else wearing my wife’s clothes. Remove them,” he commanded. Nandini grinned at Debojit before pretending to be scared again.
“Now!” he barked.
Nandini’s hands trembled as she started unwrapping the sari.
“Stop,” he said grabbing the edge of the saree that was lying on the floor. “Since I showed you what I did when she tried the saree on, maybe I should show you how I removed her clothes and fucked her. You like playing my wife, don’t you?”
Nandini nodded.
“Yes what? You like playing my wife or yes, you want me to fuck you the way I fucked her.”
“Both,” she said meekly, her head bowed.
With that he pulled and peeled the saree off, letting it pool at her feet on the floor. She was wearing one of Noor’s blouses underneath, and a petticoat.
He pushed her back on the bed, grabbed her ankles and spread her legs. The petticoat slid up her legs. He looked at her exposed thighs, naked lust in his eyes. “Since Noor has gone to her parents’ I was wondering what to do. I’m so going to enjoy this.”
Continue the story in Borrowed Lives.
A little more spice — on me — for my lovers
This part is for my lovers only.
Sign up, sweetheart — it’s free, and I don’t bite. Unless asked 😉
He kissed her high on the inside of her thigh before biting the soft, fleshy part of her groin.
“Aaaah, sir,” Nandini groaned, her nails digging into her husband’s shoulders. “You are making me wet, sir.”
“That’s exactly what Noor said that day,” Debojit said, moving up her body, kissing and licking her belly and her breasts over Noor’s blouse.
He reached around her and untied the backless blouse that wasn’t meant to be worn over a bra. Her breasts sprang free as soon as he peeled the blouse off.
“Wow! These are even better than Noor’s,” Debojit said, caressing a nipple with his fingers before taking the other in his mouth.
“Aah, sir,” Nandini groaned as Debojit bit her nipple gently.
“Noor likes it too,” he mumbled into her breasts.
“What else does she like, sir?” she asked as he removed Noor’s clothes one by one.
“I will show you,” he said, removing his own clothes, his eyes never leaving her.
Getting between her legs, he thrust into her without warning, and they both groaned. He set a punishing pace immediately, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
“Is this what you want?” he growled. “When you put on my wife’s clothes, is this what you imagined?”
“Yes,” Nandini gasped, her nails raking down his back. “Yes, exactly this — I imagined you fucking me like this.”
He fucked her hard and fast, the bed creaking beneath them, their moans echoing off the designer wallpaper. Nandini wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“I’m going to come,” Debojit warned, his rhythm faltering, “and I don’t pull out when I fuck Noor.”
“Then don’t pull out, sir,” Nandini gasped.
The Genesis Story…
This story started as the fantasy of someone I used to date — a man who was fun, had imagination, and someone who was actually good in bed.
He liked to watch videos featuring maids and he once told me about his fantasy around maids and hired help. So I wrote him a story.
That didn’t go so well, and the relationship ended because he didn’t like what it turned into.
Turns out a fantasy gets complicated once you give the woman in it a mind of her own. That’s the kind of story I write: familiar setups that don’t end where you think.
~Sterling
You got to buy the book to read the rest hun 😉
/members_access]
All images are AI generated and do not depict any real person.