Unexpected Road Trip With Lakshmi And Her Cuckold Husband Part-4

The engine hummed softly beneath us as the coastal breeze thickened with salt and seduction. The landscape had changed — coconut trees leaned lazily, shacks popped up like secrets on either side of the road, and distant waves called us closer with each passing kilometer.

Lakshmi sat beside me in the front, legs crossed, her floral beach dress clinging gently to her curves, slipping just above her knees with every movement. I tried not to glance too often, but it was impossible. Her scent — fresh, warm, womanly — danced with the sea breeze and messed with my focus. Her dark hair was tied into a loose bun, a few tendrils falling across her face, framing her eyes that sparkled with a mix of mischief and desire. Bijesh, as usual, was relaxed in the back seat, humming along with the radio and scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing up to take in the scenery — and Lakshmi.

By the time we reached our resort near Palolem, it was nearly afternoon. The property was quiet, surrounded by palms, its whitewashed walls glowing under the Goan sun. We checked into a spacious two-bedroom suite — but instinct told me I wouldn’t be sleeping alone that night.

After a quick freshen-up, we hit the beach. Lakshmi’s dress had been replaced by something far more striking — a sleeveless black sundress that hugged her body just enough to let your imagination wander. The neckline dipped modestly, but the slit on the side offered fleeting glimpses of her toned thighs with every breeze. I caught a few locals and tourists turning their heads. I couldn’t blame them; she was a vision, her body moving with a grace that was almost hypnotic.

The three of us walked barefoot along the shore. Lakshmi stayed close to me, occasionally brushing her hand against mine or bumping into my shoulder playfully. When Bijesh wandered ahead to take pictures, she lingered, squatting by the waves, letting the foam kiss her feet. Her dress rode up, revealing more of her thighs, and I couldn’t help but stare at the smooth, tanned skin.

“Do you like it here?” she asked, looking up at me with those deep, inviting eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I replied, though I wasn’t talking about the sea. My eyes were drawn to the curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts, the way her hair fell in loose curls around her face.

She smiled knowingly and looked away, her eyes distant and dreamy. There was a silent electricity between us now — no longer just playful tension, but something deeper, simmering just below the surface.

Later, as the sun dipped low, we found a cozy beach café lit with fairy lights and filled with soft acoustic music. Lakshmi had changed into a wine-red satin dress for the evening — sleeveless again, this time with a plunging back and a slit that revealed the side of her thigh each time she crossed her legs. Her skin glowed golden under the lights, and her eyes shone with an intensity that made it hard to look away. She sat across from me, sipping her cocktail slowly, her tongue occasionally tracing the rim of her glass in a way that was incredibly erotic.

Bijesh chatted idly about the trip, the resort, the return plans… but I could barely focus. Lakshmi’s eyes kept meeting mine across the table, filled with that same quiet hunger I’d seen in the car. The air between us was thick with unspoken words and promises.

After dinner, we danced. First, she swayed with Bijesh, gracefully moving to the slow rhythm. Then she turned to me.

“My turn,” she said softly, and slid into my arms.

Her hands rested around my neck, mine found their way to her lower back. We danced slowly, deliberately. Our bodies aligned without resistance, her breath brushing my ear, her fingers lightly tracing my neck. The room blurred around us. Her chest pressed softly against mine with every sway, and the scent of her perfume made it hard to breathe — or think. I could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, and I ached to touch her more intimately.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to.

That night, back at the resort, the unspoken truths spilled into motion.

She kicked off her heels and walked past me toward the bed, the satin of her dress whispering with every step. Bijesh sank into the couch again, smiling faintly — like a man watching the tide roll in. No words passed between us. Only glances. Silent nods. Permission without asking.

She turned to face me, reaching up to slowly untie her hair. Her dress slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing more of her creamy skin. She said nothing — just watched me with those hungry eyes. I walked toward her, heart racing, nerves and desire in a war neither side could win. She didn’t pull away. She leaned closer, her lips parted slightly, inviting me in.

And that night… everything changed.

It wasn’t wild. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow. Curious. Explorative. Every touch, every glance, every quiet moan in the silence of the room felt like a secret shared between souls. Bijesh never said a word. He remained in the shadows, letting the story unfold, his presence adding an extra layer of intensity to our encounter.

I started by tracing the straps of her dress, slowly pushing them off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall and pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, standing before me in nothing but a thin lace bra and matching panties. Her body was perfection — curves in all the right places, smooth skin, and a confidence that made her even more desirable.

I cupped her breasts, feeling their weight in my hands, thumbling her hardened nipples through the lace. She moaned softly, her head falling back, exposing the delicate column of her neck. I leaned in, kissing and biting gently, marking her as mine. She shuddered, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

I slipped a hand into her panties, feeling her heat, her wetness. She was ready for me, her body aching with need. I teased her, circling her clit, dipping a finger inside her, then pulling back, making her beg for more. She bucked her hips, trying to get more friction, more pressure, but I kept her on the edge, drawing out her pleasure.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to be inside her. I picked her up, carrying her to the bed, laying her down gently. I stripped off my clothes, my eyes never leaving hers. She bit her lip, her eyes roaming over my body, appreciating what she saw.

I crawled onto the bed, positioning myself between her legs. I teased her entrance, rubbing the head of my cock against her clit, making her squirm. She reached up, grabbing my ass, trying to pull me in, but I resisted, wanting to draw this out, to make it last.

When I finally pushed inside her, it was pure bliss. She was tight, wet, and so incredibly hot. I started to move, slowly at first, then building up speed, our bodies slapping together, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. She met my thrusts, her hips rising to meet mine, her nails digging into my back, urging me on.

“Harder,” she moaned. “Fuck me harder.”

I obliged, pounding into her, the bed rocking with the force of our lovemaking. The room was filled with the sounds of our pleasure — moans, gasps, the wet slap of skin on skin. It was primal, raw, and incredibly intense.

I could feel her tightening around me, her body coiling like a spring, ready to snap. I reached between us, rubbing her clit in time with my thrusts, and she exploded, her orgasm ripping through her, her body convulsing, her voice breaking into a series of breathless cries.

Seeing her come undone like that sent me over the edge, and I followed her into oblivion, my cock pulsing as I filled her with my seed. I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat, our breaths coming in ragged gasps.

We lay there for a while, our bodies still joined, our hearts slowing down, our breaths returning to normal. I rolled off her, pulling her into my arms, holding her close. She snuggled into me, her leg thrown over mine, her head on my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

That night, we made love twice more, each time slower, more intimate, more meaningful than the last. By the time morning came, nothing about us felt the same. Lakshmi lay beside me, half-asleep, hair tousled, wearing just a soft robe. Her hand rested on my chest. She whispered something I couldn’t make out, but it sounded like contentment.

The next day passed in a daze of sun and temptation. We returned to the beach, swam, drank, laughed. Lakshmi’s outfits grew bolder — a short wrap dress during the day, a backless gown at night. The thrill of what we’d shared shimmered in her eyes, and I caught her watching me more than once, lips parted slightly, as if waiting for the right moment to begin again.

Day 3 felt like a continuation of a dream — beachside breakfast, a quiet afternoon nap, a sunset walk where she brushed sand from my shoulder with more intimacy than necessary. Bijesh stayed nearby, but never interfered. He was letting her live something. Letting me be a part of it.

On the final night, she didn’t wear lingerie or satin. She wore a simple white shirt — his shirt — and curled up beside me like it was always meant to be. Her kiss was slow, thoughtful. Her touch lingered longer. Her moans were softer, deeper — not urgent, but full of meaning.

When the morning of Day 4 arrived, the air felt heavier.

She didn’t say much at breakfast. Neither did I. Bijesh talked logistics — fuel, timing, traffic — but both Lakshmi and I seemed lost in the aftertaste of something unforgettable.

As we packed the bags and walked to the car, Lakshmi paused for a moment, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“You’ve been a wonderful driver,” she said, her voice light but eyes heavy.

“I’d drive you to the ends of the earth,” I said before I could stop myself.

She smiled, lips trembling slightly. Then, in a whisper only I could hear:
“You already have.”

And with that, we drove off — the three of us — back toward Bangalore. But a piece of me remained in Goa… buried somewhere between the waves, the moonlit sands, and the scent of her satin skin.