The Black Widow

5 (1)

In Pics: Shweta | Contributed by: Shubham Srivastava
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Author’s Note: For those who don’t know, Black Widow is the name of a spider species. The female of the species kills its mate after breeding. The metaphor of a black widow also is applied to women whose husbands seem to die in mysterious circumstances, leaving them an inheritance.

Some of my stories are loosely based on real-life incidents, but details are fictionalized. My stories involve unsafe sexual acts. I do not condone unprotected sex and recommend readers to always practice safe sex. The risk is not worth it. These are fantasies and meant for entertainment only. My stories are my hobby — an expression of my erotic side. I mean no disrespect to women featured in my stories. If you know the woman in the story, please write to me and the pictures will be taken down — no questions asked.
Happy reading!

“Come on,” Shweta shouted at Tarun, looking over her shoulder and beckoning him to catch up with her as she ran towards the hot air balloon.

Watching her run, he smiled.

This side of Shweta that had come to the surface had come like a revelation.

So full of life and vitality, so eager for new experiences, so adventurous that absolutely everything was worth trying at least once.

This was a completely different person compared to the Shweta he first met.

That Shweta seemed to have been defeated by life.

Sunken and quiet, it was hard to imagine the two were the same person.

---

Dr. Tarun Varma, at 28 had been making waves in the medical community. What separated him from most equally qualified and talented doctors was his compassion. He believed that illness or injury did not just affect the patient, but their entire family.

By extension, he approached the entire family as his patients. That translated into an empathy, a personal involvement that families could feel.

There were never any half-way measures. Whatever he did, he did with all his heart, with 100% involvement. Caring for his patients was no different. The emotional support he extended to caregivers coupled with his skill as a doctor had made him a favorite of not just his patients but also their families.

Invariably, with every patient that he treated, Tarun wasn’t just the doctor, but became a part of the family’s fabric.

Recovered patients still invited him to family events and Tarun rarely declined.

The smiles, the love, the affection that he saw in those families was what drove him.

He had taken over the care of Shweta’s husband — renowned Industrialist Farokh Wadia. Considered by many as a prodigy, Farokh had made the cover of most premier international business magazines by the time he was 24.

Hailing from a family of industrialist, Farokh belonged to the third generation and had already doubled the empire’s net worth in the last 4 years through innovation and sound business practices. International acquisitions, his sheer charisma and business acumen had made him the talking point of the business community around the world.

It was a fairytale love at first sight when he had met Shweta. That she was a few years older than him didn’t seem to matter and the couple was married after a whirlwind romance of six months.

The couple had a child one year later. As often happens when one least expects it, life turned on its head.

An accident during a skiing trip had resulted in severe damage to Farokh’s spine with virtually no hope of recovery. In fact, everyday that he defeated death seemed to be a miracle.

The couple traveled to the US for specialist care and that’s when Dr. Tarun had taken over the treatment for Farokh. That was just over six months ago.

The first time Tarun interacted with Shweta was during a bit of a medical crisis.

Farokh had unexpectedly crashed and had to be revived. It happened minutes after Shweta had had stepped away to get some coffee from the hospital cafeteria. When she was paged and return to her husband’s room, she was beyond herself with guilt for having stepped away.

After the crisis had been averted, Tarun had accompanied an inconsolable and hyperventilating Shweta back to the rooftop cafeteria and spent a couple hours talking to her about the incident, the life before it and the care received since the event.

He had studied the case history and had spent hours internalizing the medical records of his most challenging patient to date, but talking to the primary caregiver often brought out nuances about the person that medical records did not capture.

“We shared a common perspective towards life — you live once and as short as life is, every day is precious,” Shweta narrated between sobs.

“Maybe that’s what attracted us to each other. We loved to live life on the edge, challenge each others’ limits, take that extra leap of faith. Now, I wish at least one of us was the word of caution. Maybe if he had not tried the toughest ski slope, he might not be hanging between life and death today.”

Dressed in a traditional Indian saree, with hunched shoulders, bowed head, shaking hands and sunk eyes, it was hard to imagine this timid, crushed woman as Mr Wadia’s adventurous partner in crime.

The incident seemed to have squeezed the life out of her, just as it had landed Farokh on the murky and blurry grey line between life and death. The line medical professionals refer to as ‘medically induced coma’.

“Where is your child?” Tarun had asked, “Didn’t bring him here with you?”

Shweta shook her head. Sniffing and wiping her nose with a tissue, she said, “He is back home with my parents in law. I don’t know what the next moment or day will bring. I need Farokh to be my only focus and concern and don’t want my son’s care neglected because I am too wrapped up in my husband’s health.”

---

Over the weeks and months, Tarun had become as much family and friend as he often became with the families of his patients. While caring for Farokh, the emotional state of his grieving wife was as important to Tarun as ensuring the best care he could possibly give Farokh.

On multiple occasions, he had encouraged Shweta to take a break. To explore the town, seek out some adventure, however insignificant. To live life, even for an hour or a day. She wouldn’t budge. Her life revolved between her husband’s bedside, the cafeteria and her hotel room.

Reluctantly, she had accompanied Tarun to a few family functions of his former patients that he had been invited to.

The stories of miraculous recoveries she heard and the confidence these families instilled in her seemed to lift a significant amount of weight off her shoulders.

She started to look more relaxed and even smiled occasionally.

It took weeks of work, but eventually Tarun was able to convince Shweta to explore the city with him.

“I always have my pager and we will know if something goes wrong. He will be fine, I promise.” He had said the first time they went on a city sight-seeing tour.

“Thank you Doctor,” Shweta had said when he dropped her off at the hotel, giving him a warm hug. “I don’t remember the last time I laughed so much since the accident.”

“Tarun, please,” he had said correcting her, “Doctor makes me feel old.”

Once a week, he insisted they take a ‘risk’ day. “Like you said, you live once right? Even Farokh would want you to live at least one day in a week.”

The risks became progressively adventurous. From going to the rodeo to car races, from paintball to bungee jumping, Shweta was slowly beginning to show signs of her old self.

The moments lived out of the routine seemed to bring out her vitality. Her eyes sparkled with life and the exuberance resurfaced.

---

The plan today was something else, but as they were driving, Shweta noticed a few hot air balloons in a field. On impulse, she said she wanted to ride one. And soon, she was racing towards the balloon, as Tarun was pocketing their tickets for the ride — smiling at the sight in front of him — so full of life — so different from the woman he had talked to not too long ago in the cafeteria.

The ‘risk day’ each week had revealed to Tarun the dynamic between the couple.

Their personalities, fused by their undying passion to live life to the fullest every single moment.

He understood the humans in his care a little more each day.

Three weeks after the impulsive hot air balloon ride, when he had dropped her off after another ‘risk’ day, she had impulsively kissed him.

It was a kiss full of passion as Shweta’s tongue entered Tarun’s mouth and found his. Electricity had shot through Tarun in the moments before Shweta recovered and broke apart.

Shock written all over her face, her hand shot to her mouth, she turned and ran into the hotel.

She avoided eye contact or talking with Tarun the next day till he hunted her down in the cafeteria.

“I am sorry,” she blurted, “I don’t know what came over me, I am so ashamed of myself.”

“For what?” Tarun asked, ,”for living in the moment? Come on Shweta, stop beating yourself up.”

A truce had been reached after a longish conversation and she promised to continue the ‘risk’ day routine.

The awkwardness of that incident lingered between the two for a while before fading away as a genuine friendship and fondness emerged to take its place.

---

“You dare not,” Tarun said, not believing what he was hearing. “You know that’s called breaking and entering right?”

“Only if you are caught,” Shweta said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

They were at the gates of what looked like a mansion. It was a heritage building being preserved, and opened to public only on weekends and that too by appointment. Today was Wednesday and they had no appointment. There didn’t seem to be any security guards and Tarun didn’t see any security cameras.

As he was looking for security systems — which he was sure there were — he noticed Shweta open a window and slip inside.

“Find me,” she said giggling, before disappearing inside.

‘I am going to end up in jail today,’ Tarun thought as he made his way to the open window. “Hello,” he said through it and all he heard was the echo of his own voice.

“Come on Shweta,” he said, “this is not funny.” Again, all he heard back was an echo of his own voice.

Cursing under his breath, Tarun hauled himself through the window and into the mansion. Checking room after room and calling out to Shweta in whispers, he checked the entire lower floor with no luck.

Reluctantly, he made his way up the winding Victorian style staircase. As he reached the upper floor landing, he saw a hallway. As he stepped towards it, he found multiple doors on either side, all closed — except the door at the very end of the hallway, which was open just a crack.

As he tiptoed towards the open door, Tarun whispered out Shweta’s name a couple times, only to be met with silence in return. When he reached and pushed open the door, Tarun gulped.

Shweta lay stark naked on the bed. Her saree had been tossed to one corner of the room.

Her inskirt lay on the floor, a few steps from where he stood. Her blouse lay a few more steps in. Her bra was hanging off the arm of a chair and her panties were dangling on a table lamp on the bedside table.

“Walk away,” she said, her eyes pleading him not to, her hand patting the bed besides her, “if this is a risk too much for you to take.”

Tarun’s throat went dry as he gulped.

The naked invitation was enough to make hearts race, but Tarun was transfixed by the beauty of the woman on the bed.

Minutes later, he was in bed with her, naked, kissing Shweta hungrily and exploring her naked body with his hands.

He cupped her breasts and pinched her hard nipples and Shweta moaned, her eyes closed.

His hands explored down her belly and eventually reached the valley between her legs.

“It’s been over a year,” she whispered, “and I am sorry to have put you in this position, but I don’t trust anyone else. Does that make me a bad person?”

“Husssshhhh,” Tarun whispered back, “you want this adventure, so an adventure we shall have.”

His fingers caressed her opening before entering her. She was already wet and needy.

Breaking the kiss, Tarun sucked on her tits while his fingers found and started rubbing her clit.

Before long, two of his fingers were moving in and out of her, while his thumb stroked her clit. His mouth was hungrily sucking one tit and then the other.

Shweta was wiggling under him, her pelvis thrusting to meet the rhythm of his fingers.

“Aaaah…” Shweta moaned, experiencing pleasures she had been deprived of for over a year. Within ten minutes, she shook as an orgasm rocked her body.

Determined to give her every pleasure he could, Tarun spread her legs and took her in his mouth.

Sliding his tongue inside her hole, he lapped up her juices before shifting his focus to her swollen clit.

“My God you are delicious,” Tarun said honestly, before sucking on her pussy lips and clit. “I could eat you all day,” he groaned as she thrust her hips upwards to meet his mouth. Her hands grabbed the back of his head pulling him into her.

Minutes later, Shweta exploded again, and Tarun devoured her juices from her pussy.

If she thought, he would want to fuck her now, she was mistaken. He was hungry for her honey and wasn’t done eating her.

For half an hour more, while she stroked his shaft, Tarun ate her pussy through three more violently squirting orgasms, drinking her eruptions.

“I want to feel you inside me.” Shweta groaned between gasps, “I haven’t felt a man in me in such a long time.”

Tarun entered her and was soon thrusting hard and deep.

She pulled him to her and kissed him hungrily. She could feel his hardness in her depths with every thrust and his tongue wrestled with her.

Her pussy muscles clamped on his shaft, pulling him deeper and deeper into her.

As he plowed her pussy, she started rubbing her clit to maximize the pleasure.

“Don’t stop, Tarun, don’t stop,” she groaned as her body began to shake, “I’m about to cum again.”

Struggling to hold back, he drilled her as hard and as deep as he could, giving it his all, egging her over the edge.

Just as her orgasm hit, he shot his load inside Shweta.

Just three minutes had passed since he first entered her pussy, but it felt like an eternity..

“You have no idea how long I have ached to feel that warmth of cum flood me.” she groaned, kissing him as he collapsed on top of her.

In reply, he just smiled and kissed her back.

But she wasn’t content yet and immediately started sucking and stroking his limp cock once he pulled out of her and rolled over, lying next to her in the bed.

Half an hour later, he was hard again.

This time, he fucked her for close to fifteen minutes before exploding inside her for a second time.

After resting for a couple hours, they fucked again and once again she made him cream her pussy.

It was almost sunset when they tiptoed out of the mansion through the same window from which they had entered it.

After dinner, when Tarun dropped her to the hotel, Shweta invited him over to her room.

They fucked throughout the night, with Tarun shooting two more loads of his cum inside her pussy between multiple orgasms that rocked her body.

It was close to 4 am when both of them drifted off to sleep, utterly exhausted, their sweat soaked naked bodies wrapped around each other.

---

Tarun was paged at 6 am and left the sleeping Shweta a note saying he had to rush to the hospital and would see her there during lunch.

“I don’t regret it,” Shweta said when they met in the cafeteria. “Yesterday, I lived more than I have in over a year. You showed me that my life does not have to come to a standstill while I care for Farokh. I don’t want to stop Tarun, but if you feel differently, I totally understand.”

Their ‘risk days’ became twice a week — one spent exploring one adventure after the other, and the other spent exploring one another.

On the non-risk days, they stole every possible moment they could for quickies in the hospital.

He couldn’t have enough of her — be it her full of life personality, her irresistible body or the heavenly nectar she fed him from her pussy during her orgasms.

For her part, she couldn’t have enough of his hardness inside her, or enough of his cum, flooring deep within her.

---

“Nurse!!!….Doctor!!!!” Shweta was screaming, running through the hallways. Monitors in the room were beeping wildly. A frenzy of activity followed as doctors and nurses stormed the room.

Farokh had suddenly crashed and the medical staff fought to stabilize him.

“Time of death, 13:26 hours” Tarun finally called, after nearly an hour long battle.

Shweta returned to India with her husband’s body a week later.

For Tarun, life returned to the normalcy it had before the storm called Shweta had swept him off his feet.

Though he missed her, he was a realist. He always knew he would lose her.

If Farokh recovered, they would return home and resume their married life. If he lost the battle, she would return home a widow.

On the anniversary of the first time they had made love in the mansion, Tarun received a card in his mail.

“I don’t want to stop living,” it said. There was a ticket to Paris for the following Friday.

Behind it was scrawled, “I checked with the hospital and your schedule permits a weekend of living.” The final piece in the envelope was a hotel reservation.

The two spent the entire weekend cooped up inside the hotel room, fucking relentlessly — in every room, on every piece of furniture and in every imaginable position.

The intensity of passion only grew the more they fucked. Their tongues were wrapped around each other and his cock was buried inside her more than it wasn’t.

For her part, she couldn’t have enough of his cum flooding her pussy, or swallow enough of it the few times he came in her mouth.

He couldn’t eat her pussy enough and she kept feeding him her delicious squirts.

Every time she came in his mouth, he would go hard.

The only times they stopped was for sleep, ordering room service, eating and bathroom breaks.

The week passed in a blink and yet, both of them had more orgasms in the week than they ever had in their life.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Shweta mumbled into his chest as they lay naked wrapped around each other.

It was Sunday evening and Tarun’s flight back to the US was in 4 hours.

Shweta would be heading to India a few hours later.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Shweta,” Tarun replied, kissing her forehead.

Two months later, Tarun was in India.

Even before he told her of his arrival in India, he had set up an appointment with her father in law.

During the meeting, he sought the old man’s permission to propose to his daughter in law.

To his surprise, her father in law readily agreed — subject to Shweta also wanting to marry him.

Her father in law said, “I have seen what the loss of Farokh has done to her. She is like a walking vegetable now, not a shadow of the Shweta that Farokh married. She deserves to live. I can’t see her like this.”

“What about your grandson?”

“He is my grandson, but he is also Shweta’s son.” the old man said, “I want him to grow up to be a part of the Wadia family, but I don’t to put a restriction on Shweta’s time with him. She can spend as much time with him as she wants, and by extension, so can you. You can take him on trips, but this old man’s one humble request is to please not take his grandson out of his life. I have lost my only son and don’t want to lose my grandson either.”

After the meeting, as he was leaving the office, Tarun called Shweta, telling her he was in India already and asked her if she could meet him.

He was on his knees when she saw him.

“Yes!” she said when he proposed and the couple was married a month later.

---

“I am sorry sir,” Shweta said to David Fisher, the bank’s senior board member. Tarun had been a star account holder with the bank and after their marriage, Shweta was now an account holder too.

Coincidentally, Mr Fisher’s 7 year old daughter had been one of Tarun’s patients. His wife had not been able to take the shock of her daughter’s illness and had passed away from a stroke three years ago. When the child recovered, David felt eternally indebted to Tarun — a debt of life that was worth more than any amount of money.

“I don’t know what to say or do,” Shweta was sobbing.

David’s heart ached for the woman sitting across his office table. Reaching for a box of tissues, he extended it to Shweta.

“I don’t have a source of income, and I can’t access his bank accounts to pay the rent, the bills or his medical expenses.

For the two years of their marriage, Tarun and Shweta had lived life to the fullest, living on the wild side, challenging each others’ limits and fucking each others’ brains out almost everyday.

They were on a sky-diving adventure when Tarun’s parachute failed to open.

He had been fighting a battle between life and death for the past three months.

“Don’t worry about it,” David said to an inconsolable Shweta. “I will take care of it with the bank. We will find a way to advance the money to you and recover it from Tarun’s account once he recovers and returns.”

“What if he doesn’t?

“We will cross that bridge if and when we come to it. You think positive thoughts for now,” David assured her.

He didn’t want to get into the details of Tarun’s life insurance policy and how the bank could recover the money from it if he didn’t make it. The scenarios of her husband’s death were the last things she should be discussing right now.

“It’s like I have stopped living. I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t know if it’s day or night, whether I am coming or going. All I think about was the moment when we decided to go sky-diving. Even if just one of us had said no, maybe he wouldn’t be in the condition he is right now. I just want him to recover.” she said, sniffing into the tissue.

“And he will,” David said, “but you can’t stop living. He wouldn’t want that for you.”

Trying to change the subject from the grim topic of Tarun’s health, he added, “You know what… It’s my daughter’s birthday this Friday. Why don’t you come over? I am sure Tarun would have wanted to be there. He would like it if you came, and so would we.”

Shweta reluctantly nodded — agreeing to the ‘risk’ day with David — the first of many to follow.

THE END

SEE SHWETA’S GALLERY

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Please comment on the story to let me know what you liked about it.

Some of my stories are loosely based on real-life incidents, but details are fictionalized. My stories involve unsafe sexual acts. I do not condone unprotected sex and recommend readers to always practice safe sex. The risk is not worth it. These are fantasies and meant for entertainment only. My stories are my hobby — an expression of my erotic side. I mean no disrespect to women featured in my stories. If you know the woman in the story, please write to me and the pictures will be taken down — no questions asked.
Happy reading!