The Love and The Ruin – Part 3 (Loose Wires)

Thank you for coming back. If you haven’t read the previous chapters, please do. Continuing straightaway.

Aarav shifted, feeling unsure of the situation, of the moment. “I don’t want to cross a line.” His hand fidgeted in his lap. Rohan realised that Aarav wanted to reach for her again. But his ever-strong moral compass was holding him back.

He looked deep into Aarav’s eyes and reached out for his hand. He held it, guided it and deliberately placed it onto Shweta’s thighs. “You’re not overstepping. You’re unwrapping her. And take it from me, her husband, she loves being unwrapped.”

Shweta let out a shaky laugh, almost unsure, but cheeks flaming as she met Aarav’s eyes. “Go on, Aarav, don’t be scared.” Her voice was soft, playful, trembling at the edges.

That cracked him. Steadying his shaky hands, he finally moved Shwet’s dress upward, still a bit hesitantly, one inch at a time. Shweta breathed unevenly. Every touch of Aarav’s fingers moving across her thigh made her heart pound, with nervousness, with excitement.

As the fabric reached the hem of her ass, Shweta’s body betrayed her, her hips lifting involuntarily. Just processing that involuntary action made Shweta moan softly. She was helping him strip her.

Aarav froze at that moment, his hands firm on the fabric of her dress, but hesitation flooding his nerves, “I don’t know if I can.”

Rohan pecked Shweta on the cheek. He looked at Aarav and teased him. “See her blushing? She’s begging you to keep going.”

Shweta bit her lip, glancing at Aarav with a shy nod. “Please”

That single word pushed him forward. When the dress finally reached her chest, she raised her arms gracefully, surrendering. Aarav hesitated another beat, staring into her eyes, before slowly tugging it over her head. The snug dress hugged the curves of Shweta’s bust, leading to a slow, dramatic reveal.

For Aarav, the scene was unreal. He had seen those curves many times during vacations that the four of them had taken together. But undressing those curves was a different ballgame altogether for him. He knew he was further stepping into the territory owned by his best friend.

Rohan saw the dress holding up around the bust. He decided to help and speed up things for Aarav and Shweta. He dug his fingers under the dress from the back and loosened it to allow the fabric to slide easily upwards.

Shweta nearly choked on her breath when she felt Rohan’s fingers. “He’s helping Aarav to undress me. My husband and his best friend are undressing me.”

Finally, with a quick roll, the dress moved up her bust, over her head and down her arms. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she was sitting in nothing but her lace bra and panties. Her skin was glowing under the lamplight.

“Fuck,” Aarav let out an involuntary whistle of breath, eyes hooked on her curves, his voice feral. “Rohan, she’s unreal.”

And it was true. For Rohan, it was surreal watching his wife sit before his best friend, dressed in nothing but lace, watching Aarav tremble as though he’d never seen a woman undress in his life. Rohan had witnessed Shweta in lace lingerie countless times before.

This view was always meant only for him. He knew how soft those breasts felt filling his palms, her nipples gradually stiffening in the open air and then tightening under his touch. And now, here was Aarav staring at them like they were a holy vision. It was madness, it was reckless.

But watching Aarav struggle to breathe while looking at his wife made something dark and thrilling coil in his gut. Shweta was intoxicated. She had worn bikinis before without thinking, knowing eyes would wander, but it never mattered. But this was deliberate exposure.

The first time another man saw her lingerie. Her nipples hardened under the lace from being looked at this way. From knowing it wasn’t just her husband watching now. Aarav’s gaze was heavy, hungry. His hands were trembling.

It lit something in her she hadn’t expected: a craving to be seen, admired, unwrapped. And she didn’t want to hide. For Aarav, the difference sent him into a tizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen Shweta in intimate clothing. He again recalled their vacations.

Shweta in that yellow bikini. But the bikini was different, all fun and play, but seeing her in lingerie was something he had never imagined. It was a privilege meant for only one man, Rohan, until now. But now, Aarav devoured the sight of the black lace clinging to her fair skin, looking sinful.

There was no pretending here, no casual sun and sea to excuse the sight. This was lingerie chosen, private, meant to be peeled away by someone who had earned the right. Suddenly, Aarav felt a sudden sense of belongingness. The right was given to him today by not just Shweta but with Rohan’s blessings

Shweta looked down from his eyes to his shaking hands, “You’ve barely touched me and you’re already shaking.”

Aarav gulped, “I can’t help it.”

She gave a shy smile, almost naughty. “Then maybe you should take it off me.”

The words hit Rohan like a jolt. Until now, every step had been his orchestration, his dare, his encouragement, his nudges. And Shweta had followed, hesitantly, nervously, but always at his lead.

But for the first time, she had reached out and asked for something herself. No, not asked, commanded, softly but firmly. It shook something deep in him. Jealousy stabbed into his gut, sharp and unwelcome. This was his wife. His high school sweetheart. And now she was giving her command to another man.

Insecurity flickered in a corner of his chest: what if this wasn’t just fantasy? What if this brought out something in her that he couldn’t match? The jealousy almost dampened the thrill. But just as the fear came, so did the rush of arousal and the truth finally sank in.

He wanted this. Wanted to witness her boldness at another man’s hands, wanted to see how far she would go, wanted to watch her claim tonight for her pleasure. Pleasure that he had pushed her towards. He realised that the heightened thrill made it hotter.

Rohan’s hand slowly slid down her waist, inching closer to her as though to absorb her emotions into him. His hand brushed Aarav’s wrist. “Go on. Don’t be afraid. She’s waiting.”

Aarav’s eyes shot wide, and he stammered. “Wait, you mean I can?”

Shweta arched her back, boobs straining against the lace. “Yes, Aarav, don’t make me wait, go on.”

Aarav’s hands hovered, trembling, before brushing the clasp at her back. The hook felt monumental under his fingertips. His eyes rose and caught hers. And in that instant, something snapped.

Her eyes weren’t just pretty. They were glowing, wide, pulling him in like gravity. Her face, flushed and trembling, lips parted, chest rising, and Aarav realised he wasn’t just aroused. He was infatuated.

Priya’s memory flickered weakly at the edges of his mind, but it was fading fast. Shweta’s presence was too strong, too consuming. She wasn’t just his best friend’s wife anymore. She was the woman he wanted, right here, right now, so badly.

Aarav knew that little hook was a claim, a line, a bond that had always belonged only to Rohan.

Fear crept in again, but before it could paralyse him, Aarav sprang onto her and smooched her, in a manner which could only be called carnal. He shoved his tongue into the deep chasms of her mouth, messy, hungry, claiming, searching for the encouragement he needed.

Shweta swaddled her tongue around his. She moaned. Her hand cupped his face and held him there as if telling him without words: don’t you dare stop.

That was all he needed. His hands fumbled with the tiny hooks while their mouths devoured each other. Shweta arched her back, helping him without saying a word, her chest pressing harder into him as though begging to be uncovered.

He tugged harder, lips never leaving hers, and finally the clasp gave. The kiss paused. Aarav and Shweta looked into each other’s eyes. A deep longing punctuated only by the sounds of their heavy breathing. Aarav stretched his hands towards the straps of her bra.

His hands trembled as he dragged the first strap slowly down her fair skin. Shweta’s skin tickled under the graze of his knuckles, her pulse hammering in her neck. Her mind was a storm. The bra was still hers to keep or give away. But Aarav’s kiss had already undone something deeper inside her.

She felt bold, flushed, her nipples hardening painfully under the fabric, aching for release. She thought of how many times Rohan had unclasped this same bra. And now Aarav’s fingers were there. And still she wanted this. She wanted him to see her. Her thoughts swirled in chaos.

The second strap fell, brushing down her other arm, but the cups still held on stubbornly. The outline of her nipples was visible now, straining against the black lace, darker circles peeking through the sheer weave. For Aarav, the sight was too much. He froze, staring, breath ragged.

The black lace against her fair skin didn’t just reveal, it promised. It was intimacy stolen from a drawer Priya would never let him touch. He felt a sharp mix of guilt and hunger. “Oh god, Priya, I know I shouldn’t, but fuck, Shweta’s here in front of me, glowing, trembling, mine to unwrap.”

Aarav felt torment and worship at the same time! He held the edge of the lace between his fingers. The finger on the inside sank into the soft flesh. Aarav’s breath caught. Processing that squishiness got his heart thumping. Steadying himself, he decisively started peeling the lace of one of her breasts.

Her sweaty skin stubbornly held onto the lace as though trying to tease him. But he continued slower, almost reverent, a fraction of an inch more skin with every passing second. The top curve of her breast slipped free first, pale fair skin glowing against the sharp contrast of her black lace.

Her soft flesh pushing forward as if straining to be released. His breath fumbled. As the lace peeled, the weight of her breast shifted, bouncing lightly as the fabric started losing its hold. The lace brushed against Shweta’s nipples, sending ripples of pleasure through her chest.

She shivered seeing the way Aarav’s eyes trembled, even though they never dropped lower than her face. The lace finally peeled off completely, her boob bounced some more, her nipple was free, stiff, pink, and hardening in the cool air. Shweta gasped, her body reacting with a moan that surprised even her.

For the first time, she had let another man undress her most private clothing. She had let another man uncover her nakedness. Rohan’s fist clenched in excitement? In jealousy? He did not know. All he knew was that his cock was twitching hard.

The sight of his wife’s breast freed at the hands of another man was a twist of jealousy and arousal he couldn’t untangle. “She’s mine, but she’s giving herself to him. She’s showing him what was only mine. God, she’s so beautiful doing it”

The bra now hung lopsided, one breast exposed, the other still trapped beneath lace. Rohan’s voice broke the silence, rough, low, not fully steady. “Should I help with the other one?” But Aarav and Shweta had zoned out into their own universe. Neither responded to Rohan.

She was lost in the way his hands trembled on her skin. He was lost in the heat radiating off her chest. The silence stung Rohan, a pang of being forgotten. But at the same time, it made him harder. “She’s so far gone she can’t even hear me. She’s his in this moment.”

Aarav slid his fingers to the edge of the second cup, pausing. This time, he didn’t hesitate for permission. His eyes stayed locked on hers, steady, dark, confident, determined. The deep stare sent a shiver down her spine. Her breath stopped, her chest expanding and rising higher.

Despite all that had already happened, every new move by Aarav still made her heart beat faster. His authoritative stare turned her on even more. Then he tugged. The lace scraped over her nipple outline and her second breast bounced free, heavy and full, her nipple standing proud in the cool air.

Aarav still hadn’t looked down; his eyes burned into hers, waiting. The tension nearly crushed her. Aarav’s gaze finally broke from her eyes, dropping lower, slow and heavy, until it landed on her newly bared chest.

The weight of it slammed into Shweta. For years, she had only known the safety of Rohan’s eyes on her breasts, eyes that adored, eyes that loved, eyes that had seen her a thousand times. This was different. Aarav’s stare was raw, unfiltered, and dangerous.

It didn’t just see her; it consumed her, pinned her, made her feel like her breasts were no longer simply hers, simply Rohan’s, but Aarav’s too, at least in this moment.

A pang of heat spread across her chest. She felt naked in a way she never had before, not just undressed but unveiled. “God, he’s really looking at me. At my tits. At me.” She wanted to cover herself, to hide and at the same time she wanted to arch her back, to push her chest higher, to show him everything.

“This is wrong, but why does it feel so right? Why do I want him to stare harder? Why do I want him to stare at every bounce that my boobs make and every quiver that my nipple exhibits? Look at his lips open, breathing heavily for me, his friend’s wife. I can feel myself gushing down there.”

She shifted slightly, making her boobs crash and reverberate against each other. For Aarav, the sight was ruin. Her tits spilt heavy and full from her chest, pale skin glowing against the black lace bunched at her waist. Her nipples jutted proudly, flushed pink, stiff like they’d been waiting just for him.

He felt his cock twitch violently, straining against his trousers. “Fuck, Priya’s never been like this. Sweet, calm, gentle. But Shweta,” The thought cut off. Priya’s image flickered, faint, then burned away. Shweta’s breasts filled everything.

Her 36Es weren’t just breasts. They were temptation, worship, sin, and salvation all in one. “Jesus Christ,” Aarav whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking. His eyes didn’t leave her chest. “Rohan, she’s unreal, your wife! They’re bigger than I ever imagined. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

For a heartbeat, Rohan froze. Until now, his chest had been tight with conflict. Proud, yes, his wife was the one being worshipped, adored, revealed like a treasure. But jealousy had been simmering low and hot, threatening to break the surface.

That moment when he’d spoken and neither of them had heard him, it had gnawed at him. Made him wonder if this was the price of opening the door. Made him ache with the thought of being on the outside of something that had always been his to begin with.

And then Aarav said his name. Not casually. Not out of guilt. But like he needed to. Like he couldn’t take in Shweta without pulling Rohan into that moment, his awe wasn’t just for her; it was tethered to him. Heat flared through Rohan’s chest.

Not jealousy anymore, pride. Desire. The kind that burned hotter because it came from love. “She is my wife. My Shweta. He’s staring at her tits like they’re divine. He’s saying my name while he loses himself in her.”

It would have been easy, almost lazy, for him to chase balance by throwing Priya into the mix in his head. To compare, to tell himself, “Aarav has her, I could have Priya, it evens out.” But it didn’t. It couldn’t. What was happening in front of him wasn’t about symmetry.

It wasn’t a trade. It was raw, real, and unrepeatable. No fantasy of Priya could touch the sight of Shweta right now, her bra peeled, her nipples stiff in the cool air. Her eyes were darting between her husband and his best friend. This wasn’t a balancing act.

It was an eruption. And instead of pushing him out, it pulled him in. And with that realisation, something in him changed. The tightness in his shoulders eased. He wasn’t the man standing guard anymore. He was the man inviting it, feeding it, owning it.

He leaned closer, voice low, tender, but edged with heat. “Did you hear him, baby? He can’t believe you. He’s floored. And he still remembers whose wife you are.” His thumb stroked her cheek, slow, reverent, his other hand sliding down to squeeze her thigh, fingers sinking into her trembling skin.

“That’s the truth, Shweta. You make him lose his breath. And you make me proud enough to let him.” The words split her open. Shweta’s chest buckled under Aarav’s stare. Her eyes blurred with sudden, unexpected tears not of regret, but of being seen.

With both men’s eyes on her, both kinds of love pressed against her skin while she sat there in just her panties. Aarav’s awe lit her body like fire. Rohan’s pride wrapped her in safety like air. Together, they made her feel fuller, hungrier, more whole than she’d ever been.

The mix of it sent a fresh rush of wetness sliding down between her thighs. Her breath hitched audibly, her tits bouncing subtly with the movement, each bounce only making her nipples ache harder in the open air. And Rohan saw it, Aarav saw it, both of them drinking in how she trembled with the force of it.

“Do you like them?” She asked Aarav coyly.

“Like them?” Aarav groaned. “They’re gorgeous! Fuck, Priya’s aren’t even half this size.”

The filthy comparison made Shweta gasp, thighs squeezing together instinctively. Her lips parted in a trembling smile. “Mmm, say it again”

Aarav blurted without thinking it through, “I want to say it with more conviction if only I could.” his voice trailed off as he realised what he was saying. His hands had shifted closer to Shweta’s naked breasts.

His eyes darkened. He wasn’t asking for permission anymore. His restraint was gone. He shifted closer, his knee brushing hers, his breath hot against her collarbone. His hands finally rose, hovering just a second above her breasts.

“God, they’re right here. Not hidden under lace, not teased by fabric. Bare. Waiting. Her nipples stiff, her skin so soft I can see the warmth rising from it.”

He exhaled through his nose, low and shaky, before letting his palms sink into the heavy swell of her boobs. They filled his hands instantly soft, warm, impossibly full. His fingers spread wide to catch all that weight, and his thumbs dragged across her stiff nipples.

Shweta moaned sharply, her back arching, her hand flying to his wrist, but not to stop him, to hold him there, to press him harder against her. Her face flushed crimson, her chest heaving into his touch.

Rohan’s cock pulsed, the sound of her moan cutting straight through him. Watching Aarav’s fingers claim her like that, fingers that had only ever typed emails next to his at work. Now sinking into his wife’s boobs, it made his jealousy twist into something darker, more arousing.

Aarav groaned aloud, squeezing her fuller, the words spilling out raw. “Fuck they’re perfect. Bigger than I ever imagined. Soft heavy fuck, Shweta, I can’t even hold all of you in my hands.”

His thumbs rolled her nipples now, the flesh tightening under his touch. His thoughts were carnal, unstoppable. “Fuck she’s in my hands. Not Priya. Shweta. Rohan’s wife. I’m touching her, and she wants it.”

Shweta gasped, nails digging into his forearm, her voice breaking. “Mmm, yes, Aarav harder, oh God. Squeeze my boobs like they’re yours.”

Aarav did not need to be told twice about those 36E tits spilling over his palms. He kneaded harder. Rohan leaned in, his voice low, taunting, feeding the fire. “You hear that, Aarav? She’s giving them to you. My wife’s boobs in your hands. Take them. Don’t hold back.”

Shweta’s breath caught. She was sitting there in nothing but her panties, her breasts bare and trembling in Aarav’s hands, while both men were still clothed. Rohan, her husband, was just by her side, not hesitating, not unsure, not claiming her as his exclusive. That alone made her shiver from inside.

Because this wasn’t just any man. This was Aarav. Rohan’s best friend. His brother in everything but blood. For a second, her arousal collided with something deeper in her memory. She remembered that weekend three years ago during the COVID lockdown, when Aarav’s world had collapsed.

His father’s death had gutted him, and Priya had been overseas for work and stuck when it happened. Shweta herself had been visiting her parents. But Rohan hadn’t let Aarav fall apart alone, especially considering Aarav was an only kid. He was there by Aarav’s side when he lit his father’s pyre.

He’d brought him back into their home. Shweta still remembered coming back and Rohan telling her how Aarav had cried himself hollow, shaking in his arms until exhaustion took him. Rohan had cooked for him, sat with him in silence, taken him out to breathe.

He’d been more than a friend. He’d been the only person Aarav could collapse against when everything broke. And now, here they were. That same man, once so fragile in her husband’s arms, was clutching her tits like they were his lifeline.

That same husband who had wiped Aarav’s tears was now whispering for him to take her. To claim her. To squeeze her, touch her, taste her. It was far too much for Shweta to process. Her body ached with the pleasure of her thoughts, clenching with need.

“They’ve shared everything. Work, grief, laughter, brotherhood. And now they’re sharing me.”

Her heart thudded, her lips parting in a shaky moan as Aarav’s thumbs rolled her nipples again.

“Fuck,” she whispered to Rohan. “This is beyond my wildest imagination. You’re inviting Aarav to explore me, and I want it so badly.”

Rohan nuzzled her neck “It’s not giving, baby. It’s sharing. Just like we’ve always shared.”

Aarav groaned, squeezing her harder, “She’s not just his wife anymore. She is OUR woman. Right here, right now.”

That’s all for this chapter. Do share your thoughts with me and Shweta at [email protected]. Cheers.