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Chapter One
The winter sun illuminated the sky with brilliant hues, creating a beautiful glow on the lush paddy fields. The gentle breeze whispered pleasant secrets to the tall grass, while the river, a mute witness to countless stories, strolled leisurely beside the fertile land. Four men, Ahmed, Suleman, Ali, and Fahim, had found refuge in the centre of this peaceful place for the evening. They were daily wagers, their bodies shaped by the arduous labour of their job, and their spirits buoyed by the companionship they shared. Their laughter and chatter were as lively and unrestrained as the native daru they passed around, a strong concoction that poured like molten warmth through their veins.
Ahmed, with a thick beard and strong shoulders that spoke of his power, took a long gulp from the clay pot. He sighed deeply, his eyes glazing over as he recalled the nights of passion he'd shared with his young wife. Her breasts, once strong and plump, had grown and drooped since the birth of their three children, and her once-tight ass was now spilling over the waistline of her salwar. "It's not the same," he murmured, his voice full of underlying disdain. "It's as if she's lost all interest in me."
Suleman nodded seriously, his slender form and keen features standing in stark contrast to Ahmed's sturdiness. He, too, felt a cold in his married bed. His wife's once-hungry kisses had reduced to a single peck on the cheek as she rolled over to sleep, her enormous, round breasts, which had previously been his playground, now a distant memory, her areolae no longer the inviting targets of his eager lips. "I feel like a stranger in my own home," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "Her eyes, they don't light up when she looks at me anymore."
Ali, whose youthful face was scarred by premature lines from hard work, shared his own story of marital misery. "After the twins," he remarked, looking to the horizon, "it's as if she's turned to stone." "Her pussy," he said, "was so warm and welcoming. Now it is just... there." He paused for a gulp of the powerful beverage before proceeding. "I miss the days when she'd moan my name, when she'd arch her back, begging for more." He sighed, his fingers unconsciously moving to the bulge in his pants, a quiet monument to his unfulfilled wishes.
Fahim, the youngest of the quartet, had the shortest stature, but his cock was renowned among the gang. Even though he was known for his endurance and stature, he had not escaped the cruel hand of fate. His wife, a former beauty with a heart-shaped ass that could make a saint swear, was now a shadow of her former self. Her tight, pink asshole was stretched from carrying his child, and she no longer let him penetrate her in the ways he desired. "I feel like I'm fucking a ghost," he mumbled, his voice filled with despair. "Her eyes are always closed, her body limp."
Their talk became more frank as the daru relaxed their inhibitions. They talked of the enticing whispers of other women's bodies, the tempting sway of hips unmarred by the rigors of childbirth, and the tightness of virgin butts never stretched by the responsibilities of parenthood. Every word was a delicate brushstroke on the canvas of their mutual disappointment, creating a picture of yearning that became more vivid with each sip.
The stillness became thick with emotion as each man considered the futility of their marriage vows. They understood that leaving this small, tight-knit community was not an option. However, the desperation in their voices was evident, a silent cry for an answer to a question no one dared to ask aloud. The appeal of their unsatisfied needs became too strong to ignore, like a siren's song promising refuge in the arms of someone new.
Their eyes locked, and a quiet understanding passed between them. As the shadows lengthened, the river, which had witnessed their anguish, smiled slyly in participation. The warmth of the daru mixed with the warmth of their excitement, and as the night progressed, the whispers of temptation became more insistent. They stood one by one, carrying the weight of their unspoken agreement on their shoulders. They understood what they had to do, and the prospect of finally finding satisfaction brought a gleam back into their eyes. They exited the paddy field, their steps propelled by a fresh determination.
Their wives would never know of this pact, but the village of Karimganj would soon feel the tremors of their unleashed passion.
King$Alex 
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