Unexpected Delivery

### Unexpected Delivery

In the upscale society of Pune's Koregaon Park, 30-year-old Shruti lived a life of quiet luxury. Her husband, Arnav, a high-flying consultant, was often away on international trips, leaving her alone in their sprawling 3BHK apartment for weeks at a time. Their marriage was stable, but the bedroom had grown cold—quick, obligatory sessions when he was home, leaving Shruti frustrated and aching for real passion.

One sweltering afternoon, Shruti ordered groceries online—fresh fruits, snacks, the usual. She was lounging in a thin cotton nightie, no bra, hair tied in a messy bun, when the doorbell rang. Expecting the regular elderly delivery man, she opened the door without thinking.

Standing there was Rahul—a young, strapping delivery boy in his early 20s, new to the route. Tall, muscular from hauling packages all day, with a boyish grin and sweat-glistened skin under his tight uniform shirt. He held the heavy bags effortlessly.

"Ma'am, your order," he said, eyes widening slightly as they flicked over her figure—the nightie clinging to her curves from the humidity, nipples faintly visible.

Shruti felt a jolt. "Come in, put them on the kitchen counter. It's too hot to stand there."

He hesitated but stepped inside, setting the bags down. As he bent, his shirt rode up, revealing toned abs. Shruti bit her lip, a forbidden thought flashing.

"TIP?" he asked politely, turning to her.

She smiled coyly. "I might have something better than cash."

Rahul's eyes darkened with understanding. "Ma'am... bhabhi... you sure?"

Shruti closed the distance, her hand brushing his arm. "Arnav's in Singapore for two weeks. And you... you're exactly what I've been craving."

He didn't need more invitation. Rahul pulled her close, kissing her hungrily—rough, eager, nothing like her husband's polished restraint. His hands roamed freely, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric.

"Fuck, bhabhi, you're so hot," he groaned, pinching her nipples until she moaned.

Shruti tugged at his belt. "Bedroom. Now."

They stumbled to the master bedroom, clothes shedding along the way. Her nightie hit the floor, revealing her naked body—full breasts, trimmed pussy already wet. Rahul stripped fast, his cock springing free—thick, hard, veins pulsing.

Shruti dropped to her knees, taking him in her mouth greedily. "Mmm, so big... better than I imagined," she murmured, sucking deep, tongue swirling.

Rahul threaded fingers in her hair. "Bhabhi... your mouth... ahh, yes."

He pulled her up soon, not wanting to finish too fast. Laid her on the bed, spreading her legs wide. "Let me taste you first."

His tongue dove in—eager, sloppy at first, then finding rhythm. Licking her clit firmly, fingers pumping inside. Shruti hadn't been eaten out like this in years.

"Oh God... Rahul... don't stop... I'm coming!" she cried, hips bucking as her first orgasm hit hard.

He grinned, wiping his mouth. "Now, bhabhi?"

"Yes... fuck me."

He slid in raw—slow at first, stretching her deliciously. "So tight... like a virgin," he panted.

Shruti wrapped her legs around him. "Harder... treat me like your slut."

Rahul pounded her—deep, relentless thrusts, bed creaking. He flipped her over, taking her doggy style, slapping her ass lightly.

"Like this, bhabhi? Getting fucked by the delivery boy while hubby's away?"

"Yes... oh fuck, yes!" she screamed, coming again, walls clenching around him.

He pulled out just in time, shooting thick ropes across her ass and back.

They collapsed, breathless. Rahul kissed her shoulder. "That was... insane, bhabhi."

Shruti laughed softly, pulling him close. "Come back tomorrow. Same order."

He smirked. "No charge for delivery next time."

Over the next weeks, Rahul became her regular "delivery"—sneaking in during afternoons, fucking her in every room: kitchen counter, shower, even the balcony once under the stars. Each time rougher, dirtier—her teaching him positions, him bringing youthful stamina that left her satisfied and sore.

Shruti knew it was risky, wrong—but the thrill of being desired so fiercely, of coming multiple times with a stranger half her status, was addictive. Arnav would return soon, oblivious. But for now, her afternoons belonged to the delivery boy who delivered far more than groceries.