The name flickered in the void, faint but persistent: Rajiv Allon. A lawyer, he thought, or had been. The certainty wavered, eroded by the relentless cycle of death that held him captive. His mind strained to grasp it—Rajiv Allon, Rajiv Allon—but the words slipped like sand through his fingers.
My name is Rajiv Allon, I am a lawyer. What? No, whatever…
Rajiv stood now in a familiar place, a sunlit street in the heart of a bustling metropolis. The air was warm, alive with the hum of life he once knew. Years of grueling work had carved a place for him here, a successful career, a life of comfort. And her. Summer. His wife. The thought of her anchored him, a beacon in the storm of his fractured existence. Her presence was vivid, almost tangible—her moon-white skin, kissed now with a faint golden glow; her large, hazy eyes, brimming with unspoken allure; her full lips, always curved in a sensual smile. Her body was a masterpiece, plump curves at chest and hips, a slender waist, and those flawless legs, long and firm, exuding a mature, intoxicating femininity.
He saw her now, walking toward him under a clear, radiant sky. Her blonde hair shimmered, cascading behind her like liquid gold. She wore a white Chanel gauze dress, its knee-length hem swaying with each step, clinging to her curves. Her full breasts trembled faintly, drawing eyes from passersby, while her hips and buttocks, tightly wrapped, moved with a hypnotic rhythm. Bare legs gleamed in the sunlight, her calves sculpted like jade, accentuated by white Prada heels. Black Ray-Ban sunglasses shielded her eyes, lending her an air of untouchable elegance.
Rajiv's chest swelled with pride as he watched the world notice her. A young man with glasses lingered nearby, his gaze locked on Summer's swaying hips. The man swallowed hard, a lewd hunger in his eyes, and Rajiv felt a jolt—not of jealousy, but of thrill. His mind conjured a vivid image: the stranger pressed against Summer's smooth back, hands gripping her slender waist, thrusting into her with ball deep.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Fnn…! Fnn…! ♡"
Summer's sun kissed curves bounced under the assault, her gasps filling the air. The thought was filthy, forbidden, yet it set his blood ablaze.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Rajiv loved Summer fiercely, her body and soul his alone. Yet the idea of others coveting her, defiling her, stirred something dark and exhilarating within him. At first, he'd recoiled from these thoughts, branding himself perverse, sick. But the internet had revealed a hidden world—NTR, a subculture of shared desires, where men like him found solace in their twisted fantasies. Days spent in forums, trading stories with strangers, had eased his shame. He wasn't alone. He wasn't broken. Or so he'd told himself.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Nngh—! ♡"
The world flickered, and he stood on a sunlit street, the metropolis buzzing around him. Summer was there, her voice pulling him from the haze of his twisted reverie. "Honey, why'd you call me in such a hurry?" she said, her full lips pouting, a playful edge to her complaint. "Hmph, I had to beg my boss for a half-day off." Her warm smile, radiant under the clear sky.
"Do you miss me?" she teased, drawing out the word with a sultry lilt, her hazy eyes locking onto his with a lustful spark. Rajiv's pulse quickened, his gaze tracing the sensual curve of her lips, the swell of her breasts beneath the gauze.
He grinned, stepping closer, and gave her plump backside a playful twist. "Yeah, I just miss you."
Summer let out an exaggerated squeal, darting away with a laugh. "Oh, hey! We're in public!" A flush bloomed across her delicate cheeks, rendering her impossibly more stunning. Her beauty was a siren's call, drawing stares from passersby, and Rajiv felt that familiar, perverse thrill.
"Pervert's coming!" he called, chasing after her with a laugh. He caught her gently, pulling her into his chest. The fading scent of her perfume, floral and warm, filled his senses as her blonde hair brushed his face. She snuggled against him, her full breasts pressing into his arm, her expression softening into something docile, almost lamb-like. Looking down, he caught a glimpse of her cleavage through the neckline of her dress, the creamy swell tempting him to lean in, to claim her right there.
The moment shattered as his phone buzzed in his pocket, a memory resurfacing. Joe Norris, his best friend, had called at noon, his voice urgent. "Meet me at Starbucks, Rajiv. Bring Summer. It's important." The words echoed, heavy with an unspoken weight.
They stepped into the Starbucks, the air thick with the scent of roasted coffee and the hum of conversation.