2025!
What a year it has been. A roller coaster of emotions. A year that saw a lot happen in my life.
My first complete year as a married man. I tried my best not to cheat on my wife again this year. Well, if that attempt had been successful, I wouldn’t be back here, right? Here we are with another encounter of my infidelity.
Hello and welcome to another page in my life. I am Krish, a 31-year-old guy from Hyderabad, India, currently living in Redmond, USA. This is an encounter I had with one of my readers, Divya (name changed).
Looking back on it, it now feels like something straight out of a fantasy. Divya, a 45-year-old woman, is a wonderful person with whom I share this exciting journey.
To begin from the very beginning, after my last story got published online, my inbox filled up with the usual mix of messages. Horny messages, moral lectures, and scattered genuine conversations. Most faded within days. But one email stood out.
“Your writing helped me relax tonight. Thank you.”
I felt nice. Who doesn’t love getting appreciated? I replied immediately, thanking them. That single exchange sparked our conversational journey.
We spoke about everything. Work frustrations, childhood memories, the small disappointments and unexpected joys of adult life.
Our schedules rarely align. Both of us are juggling demanding jobs and families. Thus, mostly chatted asynchronously. Weekend afternoons were our only real-time windows. Over the course of such conversations, I learned that her name is Divya.
She is a 45-year-old married woman who lives in Dallas with her husband and children. I also learned that she works in a big tech company and loves travelling. She is a gym rat and moved to the USA about fifteen years ago.
She spoke with nostalgia and contentment about her life—comfortable but maybe missing something she couldn’t name. After a few weeks of chit-chatting, on a random Wednesday.
“Krish, can you share your picture? Before we go any further, I need to see who I’m talking to.” Divya asked.
I sent it. Radio silence for the next few days. Panic set in. What if she recognised me? What if she were my extended family or a friend of a friend? It’s not like I had such an encounter previously.
Finally, on Saturday afternoon, a message appeared.. “Sorry, work was insane this week. Couldn’t reply sooner. You look cute.” Relief washed over me.
Though we discussed everything under the sun, we never delved adequately into a proper sexual conversation. We danced around it. Flirted here and there, maybe, but never more than that.
All that changed one day. I was, for some weird reason, way too horny in office hours to concentrate on work. I tried calling my wife. No answer. Texted her. Nothing. Scrolled through porn sites. They did nothing. I felt like I needed an interactive experience at that moment.
Desperate, I opened my chat with Divya. She might not respond. She might think I’m disgusting. She might block me entirely. All those thoughts swirled through my mind. Fuck it. I sent the message.
Me: “Divya, are you free?”
She responded almost immediately.
D: “Ha cheppu.” (yeah, tell me)
I confessed my current state.
Me: “Baga kasi meeda unna, tried everything final ga pinged you to see if you can help me out. Sorry if this is too forward.” (I’m too horny. Tried everything, as a last resort, pinged you.)
A smiley emoji appeared on my screen. I stared at it. What did that mean? Before I could ask, I saw the typing indicator again.
D: “Krish, office lo unnanu and I am free kani mood lo lenu so try cheyagalanu but can’t guarantee anything or how long.” (Krish, I’m in the office and free, but I’m not in the mood, so I can try but can’t guarantee anything or how long.)
Me: “Adi challu Divya, I can manage” (That’s enough Divya, I can manage)
D: “Nenu appudu idi cheyaledu so ela start cheyalo kuda teliyadu” (I’ve never done this before, so I don’t even know how to start.)
Me: “Oh, adi challa simple, eroju ki manam mana crushes or fantasies gurinchi matladudam” (Oh, that’s simple. For today, let’s talk about our crushes or fantasies.)
D: “Okay, mari cheppu ne crush gurinchi, avunu did you have a crush on an older woman? huh appudu ayina I mean actresses kadu ne life lo unna valla meda?” (Okay, then tell me who your crush is? Also, did you ever have a crush on an older woman from your real life, not actresses?)
Me: “Ha, I had many older women crushes. Actually, I am into older women ani alaney telisindi naku.” (Yes, I had many crushes on older women. That’s actually how I realised I’m into older women.)
D: “Oh, avuna. Mari cheppu ne crush and valla tho ne fantasy” (Oh really, then tell me about your crush and your fantasy with them.)
Me: “College first year lo ma class antha emo ma Chemistry professor ki fans kani nenu emo ma M1 professor ki” (In my first year of college, my whole class was obsessed with our Chemistry professor, but I had a thing for our M1 professor.)
D: “Enduku ala?” (Why so?)
Me: “Enduku antey teliyadu, maybe because she was my type of woman, emo.” (I don’t know why. Maybe she was my type, I guess.)
D: “Ne type antey” (Your type means?)
Me: “I like chocolate skin tone, huge boobs in a woman.”
D: “Oh.”
Me: “Ha thanu exact alagey undedi, chocolate skin tone, pointy nose, which was her striking feature, appudu sarees vesukoni vachevaru, short sleeve blouses, and aa huge boobs… ufff”
(Yeah, she was exactly like that. Chocolate skin tone, pointy nose, a striking facial feature. She used to wear sarees with short-sleeve blouses, and those huge boobs… damn.)
D: “Wow, baga istam huh enti even after all these years intha baga guruthu undi?” (Wow, you really liked her a lot. You remember everything so vividly even after all these years)
Me: “Ha thanu antey naku baga istam and kasi kuda, enni sarlu thanani ala blackboard ki pin chesi hands payiki lepi licklock ivali ani anukunano.”
(Yeah, I really liked her and lusted after her too. You don’t know how many times I imagined pinning her against the blackboard, lifting her hands above her head, and kissing her.)
D: “Chance isthey ippudu kuda chese laga unavu ga” (If you got the chance, looks like you’d still do it even now?)
Me: “Yeah, Divya, why not? I would happily do it. You know, kaval aney thanani doubt ani ma bench ki pilichey vadini so that I could watch her cleavage and boobs degara nunchi.”
(Yeah, Divya, absolutely. You know, I used to call her to my bench under the pretence of having doubts so that I could stare at her cleavage and boobs up close.)
D: “Varini.” (Oh my)
Me: “Ala antha degara ga thanu unnapudu ayithey my dick used to be hard and na mind lo ala pattukoni bench meda padesi cheyali ani anipinchedi” (When she was that close, my dick would get rock hard, and I’d imagine grabbing her, throwing her on the bench, and fucking her right there.)
D: “Baga undi ga thana meda. ippatiki alagey unda? Thanu ippudu na age or more than me untadi kada mari chance vasthey ippudu chesthava adey kasi tho?”
(Wow, you really lusted after her. Do you still feel the same way? She’d be around my age now, maybe older. Would you still do it with the same passion if you got the chance?)
Me: Ha, pakka asalu doubt kuda ledu. I think she will age like fine wine. (Yes, definitely. No doubt at all. I think she aged like fine wine.)
D: “Hmmm.”
I paused. My next message was reckless.
Me: “Divya, I love older women, so any chance I get with them anthey kasi tho chestha. Thana varaku enduku netho chance ochina anthey kasi tho passion tho vestha ninu kuda.”
(Divya, I love older women. Any chance I get, I’d fuck them with full intensity. Forget about her, even if you gave me a chance, I’d fuck you with the same.)
I hit send before my brain could intervene. Silence.
Fuck. I crossed the line. I thought.
Then she replied.
D: “Aha, okay, okay.”
She didn’t pull away. I kept going.
Me: I remember it so vividly. A mustard yellow saree, a silver blouse, and a mangalsutra made of a thin black bead thread with a pendant. When she was writing or raising her hand, I could see her armpits, recently shaved. When she bent to explain something, the mangalsutra would rest perfectly in the valley between her breasts. Her saree pallu mostly covered it, but whenever there was even a small gap, my eyes found it.
D: Vammo enti ra entha kasi undi ra thana meda intha laga describe chesthunavu (OMG, how much did you lust after her to describe everything in such detail?)
Me: Challa undey Divya. Thanani dengali ani, na modda ni thana puku lo pettali thana boobs ni baga pisakali ani challa undey (I wanted her so badly, Divya. I wanted to fuck her, to put my dick inside her pussy, to squeeze those boobs hard.)
D: I understand. You close?
Me: Yeah, almost.
D: Good.
Me: Ma prof meda naku unna kasi baga ekuva ne, just the thoughts and describing her made me cum (My lust for my prof is so intense, just thinking about her and describing her made me cum hard.)
I came hard, my phone clutched in my hand, texting a woman I’d never met.
Me: “Thank you, Divya.”
D: “Anytime.”
We both returned to our routines as if nothing had happened. But we both became more open after this. Divya opened up a little more about her past, how she’d been a professor back in India. When she moved to the States, she did her PhD, and she initially planned to continue teaching. But life had other plans.
From then on, I started calling her ‘Prof’. She never asked me to stop.
Two months later.
D: “Krish, I’m visiting Seattle for a week-long conference next month.”
My mind raced. Should I ask to meet her? What if she says no? What if she says yes—then what the fuck happens? What are we even doing?
Me: “Would you want to meet? Maybe dinner? We can see how it goes from there. No pressure.”
I hit send. Silence. Days passed. Then a week. Nothing. I fucked it up. I pushed too hard. She’s reconsidering everything. She’s done with me. I convinced myself it was over.
Then, on a Monday morning, my phone buzzed.
D: “I’m in Seattle. Dinner sounds great. Let’s do it.”
Relief and excitement crashed over me in equal measure. I told my wife I was driving to Seattle to meet an old professor who was visiting the area. I kept the details vague. She nodded absently, barely looking up from her laptop.
That evening, I drove to Seattle. Fall air, cool through the window. My body felt feverish.
Divya texted: “Running late. Get seated and order something if you want.”
I walked into the restaurant, a cosy vegan place. I chose a corner table and ordered a lemonade. I was excited to meet the person who had reignited memories of my very first crush. The woman who had listened to my confessions without judgment.
The thought that, if everything went well, I might actually fuck Divya, a woman the same age as that college professor I’d fantasised about for years. It felt both surreal and electrifying. I refreshed our chat every thirty seconds.
Then I saw them—women’s leather boots, the hem of a long overcoat brushing just above the knees. I lifted my head, a smile already forming on my face to greet Divya. The smile froze mid-breath. My expression shifted to pure shock.
Standing in front of me, smiling nervously, was my M1 professor—Divyani ma’am. The same sharp nose. The same chocolate skin. The same woman I’d described in excruciating, lustful detail just months ago.
I stood up instinctively, my hand frozen mid-air, unable to complete the gesture of greeting. My brain refused to process what I was seeing. This couldn’t be real. This had to be some cosmic joke.
Divyani ma’am sensed my shock immediately. She extended her hand with a gentle, knowing smile and softly asked me to sit down. I dropped into my chair like a student caught cheating. Slowly, agonizingly, reality seeped in. The pieces clicked together one by one.
The professor is back from India. The PhD in the States. The tech job. The gym. Dallas. Forty-five years old. It was her. It had always been her. I grabbed my lemonade and gulped down the rest in one desperate swallow. I was trying to calm the storm of emotions crashing through me.
Then it hit me with brutal, humiliating clarity—the person I had spoken to and the person I had spoken about were the same woman. I face-palmed myself hard, groaning audibly in sheer embarrassment. Divyani watched me, her smile widening.
D: Enti krish em ayindi? All okay? (What Krish, what happened? All okay?)
I fumbled for words. Finally, I just nodded. Her smile broadened as I sat there cursing myself internally. She extended her hand across the table and placed it over mine. The touch was warm, familiar somehow, grounding. For the first time that evening, I really looked at her.
Not as “Divya from the internet” but as Divyani ma’am. She looked exactly as I remembered. No—better. Age had refined her. The same rich chocolate skin. That sharp, elegant nose. Those dark, black eyes locked on me. Finally, that beautiful smile which carries familiarity.
She was wearing a deep burgundy kurti with a modest neckline. Resting exactly where I’d described it a thousand times was her mangalsutra. It disappeared into the neckline of her kurti. My eyes lingered there for a fraction too long.
She noticed. Of course, she noticed.
D: “Inka aa habit poyaledu, I see.” (That habit still hasn’t gone away, I see.)
Divyani hit my hand playfully as she said that. I felt my face swell with embarrassment, but something in her tone made me relax slightly. I managed a small smile back.
D: “Don’t worry ra, nuvu na student ani aa photo chusina rojey naku ardam ayindi. Andukey I did not speak for a couple of days.” (I recognised you as my student the moment I saw your photo. That’s why I didn’t speak for a couple of days.)
I nodded slowly, processing this. She’d known from the beginning.
D: “Kani, I was curious. Nuvvu good student vi, one of my favourites kuda. So I continued to chat. I wanted to know who you’d become. (But I was curious. You were a good student, one of my favourites, too. So, I continued to chat.)
Me: “Kani?” (Then?)
D: “Kani neku na meda unna istam and kasi Vinaka.”(But after hearing how much you lust for me.)
Divyani paused as she looked at me.
D: “Ninu kalavakunda I couldn’t stop myself.” (I couldn’t stop myself from meeting you.)
Her words sent a jolt straight through me.
Me: “Ma’am—”
D: “Divyani or Prof if you prefer. But not ma’am. Not tonight.”
Me: “Divyani… I… what I said during that chat, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or …”
D: “Uncomfortable? Evaru chepparu I felt uncomfortable ani? Krish, do you know what it felt like? Reading your words?” (Uncomfortable? Who said I felt uncomfortable? Krish, do you know what it felt like? Reading your words?)
I shook my head.
D: “It felt like being seen. Really seen. For the first time in… God, I don’t know how long.”
She looked down at our hands.
“Na husband…” She paused, swallowing hard. “He doesn’t touch me anymore, Krish.”
I didn’t know what to say.
D: “I don’t know if it’s me, if I’ve changed, if I’m not attractive to him anymore, or if…I know I feel invisible. Like I’m just… there. Not wanted. Not desired.”
Me: “Prof… that’s impossible.”
D: “Ne story chadivina timeframe lo nene challa low ga feel avuthundey, Krish.” (I read your story during the time I was feeling very low.)
D: “Enduko teliyadu, I wanted to message you, and I am glad I did it.” (I don’t know why, but I felt like messaging you, and I am glad I did it.)
I smile.
D: “And then, you described me like I was still, like I was still worth looking at. Worth wanting.”
Me: “Yes, you are. You are always. God, Prof, did you even look in the mirror when you were getting ready tonight? You look exactly like you did when I was in college. You haven’t aged a day.”
She let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Rey, appara inka.” (Oh, stop it now.)
Me: “I’m serious. If anything, you’re even more beautiful now.”
D: “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
Her eyes were locked on mine. Maybe she was searching for signs of deception or false flattery, but instead found sincerity. We sat in silence for a moment. The waiter took our order. Neither of us cared about food.
D: “Kani mari antha kasi unda ra neku na meda? I mean mari dress color, mangalsutra design, everything… antha clarity tho gurthu unnayi. And also anni sarlu doubts ki pilisthey baga studious student anukuna. Intha unda dani venuka, naughty boy.”
(But did you really have that much lust for me? That you remember the dress color, mangalsutra, everything with such clarity. And I thought you were a very studious student when you called me for doubts so many times. Never suspected this was the reason, you naughty boy.)
I felt a grin tugging at my lips despite my embarrassment.
Me: “Meku cheppindi challa thakuva prof. Na imagination lo nenu chesina panulu ani cheppithey.” (What I told you is just scratching the surface, Prof. If I told you everything I did in my imagination.)
D: “Oh? Like?”
She leaned forward. I could smell her perfume. My eyes dropped to her neckline, where the mangalsutra rested.
Me: “That cleavage. I dreamed about it for years. About seeing what was hidden there. About touching—”
D: “Krish,”
Me: “I used to imagine keeping you after class. Waiting until everyone had left. Locking the door. Pinning you against that blackboard with your hands above your head, finally doing everything I’d been thinking about during your entire lecture.”
D: “Vammo” (Om my)
Me: “Third row, right side, window seat. I’d sit there in every class just to get the best angle. When you’d bend down to help another student, when you’d reach up to write on the board.”
D:“Nenu appudu nuvu ila ani anukoledu krish. I always thought of you as a good kid and student, but looks like my guess was wrong.” (I never took you to be like this. I always thought you to be the good kind, studious ones. Looks like my guess was wrong)
Me: “Are you upset? Now that you know about me?”
D: “No no ala em kadu” (No, no, nothing like that)
Me: “Then?”
D: “Honest ga I am flattered and sad that I couldn’t recognise back then.”
I smile and squeeze her hand. Her free hand moved to her neckline, fingers brushing against the mangalsutra.
D: “That day you described me, during our sexting. I remember that day, Krish. I remember you calling me to your bench multiple times. At the time, I thought you were just struggling with the concepts.”
Me: “And now?”
D: “Now I know better.”
Our food arrived. Neither of us touched it.
Me: “Divyani. Why did you really agree to meet me tonight?”
Long silence. Her thumb traced patterns on my hand.
D: “In the last few days I tried, I tried to rekindle things with my husband. I tried everything I could think of. But it was like talking to a wall. He’s just not interested. In me, in us, in anything.”
She looked up at me, her eyes vulnerable but determined.
D: “Andukey netho kuda matladaledu these last few days. I wanted this decision to be completely mine. No influence from anyone—not from you, not from him, not from anyone.” (That’s why I didn’t even talk to you these last few days.)
D: “I understood I wanted to feel alive again. I want to feel wanted, desired, attractive. I want someone who looks at me the way you do—like I’m the only woman in the world.”
My mouth went dry.
D: “And I want to experience what you described. Those fantasies. Everything you imagined doing to me.”
She leaned back slightly, her expression shifting from vulnerable to something more playful, more daring.
D: “Inka cheppatalu vadu, chupinchu (No more talks anymore, show me.)
Me: “Prof, are you—are you sure? I mean, edi…” (Prof, are you sure? I mean, this…)
D: “I’m sure. Naku ee decision teesukovataniki chaala time patindi and challa think chesa. I know I’m married. You’re married. Idi wrong ani naku telsu. But I don’t care anymore.” (I thought a lot about this decision. This is wrong, I know. I don’t care.)
She looks at me seriously.
D: “But if you have second thoughts, it’s okay, we can have dinner and go our separate ways”
She started eating. I stared, celebrating internally but blank-faced.
Me: “Prof, no backing out.”
I started eating. We both smiled. Dinner felt like an obstacle now. We paid and walked out into the cool fall night.
D: “Na hotel pakkane” (My hotel is just around the corner)
I nodded. Moved close enough only she could hear: “Prof, I’ve waited ten plus years to touch you.”
Her smile was nervous and exhilarated. We walked. The street narrowed. I took a chance and pulled Divyani close by the waist. She was taken by surprise, but she leaned in. Our lips met—tentative, then desperate. She tasted like wine and years of waiting.
Her hands gripped my shirt, pulling me closer. I tangled my fingers in her hair, the kiss deepening. When we broke apart, both gasped. Our first kiss, my first college fantasy, the moment I imagined and lived in my head a million times, I was living it in reality for the first time. It was magical.
D: “Hotel. Ippudu.” (Hotel, Now.)
We rushed through the lobby. The elevator doors closed. She turned to me.
We kissed again. Harder this time. My hands found her waist, her back. Her body pressed against mine. I was rock hard, and she could feel it. As we rushed to the room, she fumbled with the key card once, twice.
Finally, it opened. We fell through the doorway. The door swung shut behind us.
That’s it for this one, folks. I hope you all enjoyed it. Please feel free to provide your feedback, and for conversations, please reach out at [email protected].