Adultery Wife helps me become a cuckold

[xbiilove]

Nice update

[sa9891]

Please update soon

[vishuhrny97]

please update

[kickkaran]

Very hot story .... Continue plzz

[incest_cuck]

The next morning, I was sitting at my desk at home, trying to focus on a particularly complex coding module, when I heard Aradhya's phone buzz. She glanced at it, then let out a small groan.

"Everything okay?", I asked, looking up from my laptop.

My wife bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. "It's Mr. Banerjee. He's texting me again. I've been ignoring him, but he's getting... insistent."

My heart rate quickened. Our portly landlord had once been a frequent visitor to our apartment - well, more accurately, to my wife's body - for weeks before. Their encounters had grown increasingly depraved, pushing her boundaries in ways that both shocked and aroused her. The last time had been particularly intense. I still remembered the vivid details Aradhya had shared with me afterward.

"What does he want?", I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral, though my throat tightened with a mix of dread and curiosity, my eyes flicking to her phone.

Aradhya sighed, unlocking her phone. "Let's see..."

Landlord: Aradhya, my insatiable little slut, I've had enough of your silence. You can't ignore me forever.

I swallowed hard, a hot flush creeping up my neck as his crude words hit me. He was so brazen, so possessive — calling her his, like I wasn’t even in the picture.

Aradhya: (hesitated before replying) Mr. Banerjee, I've told you, we can't keep doing this.

Landlord: Can't? Or won't? Don't pretend you don't crave my cock, my dear. I still remember the way you begged for it last time.

Aradhya: (shifted uncomfortably, her thighs pressing together) That was... different. We went too far.

Landlord: Too far? Oh, my sweet whore, we've only scratched the surface. Or have you forgotten how you screamed when I fingered that tight cunt of yours?

A jolt shot through me, my cock stiffening against my trousers. His filthy language painted it too clear—her screaming, his pudgy fingers inside her, claiming what was mine. I hated him, hated how he’d made her lose control, but gosh, I was rock-hard imagining it.

Aradhya: (typed with shaking fingers) Mr. Banerjee, please. What we did... it was too intense.

Landlord: Intense? Oh my dear, that's putting it mildly. Your pussy tasted divine, and the way you moaned when I sucked on your clit... And let's not forget how eagerly you buried your face between my ass cheeks.

I felt a jolt of arousal at Mr. Banerjee's crude words. The image of Aradhya, my wife, rimming our portly landlord's hairy asshole was both shocking and incredibly arousing.

Aradhya: (glanced at me nervously) That was... different. I've never done anything like that before.

Landlord: And you took to it like a natural, my dear. The way your tongue probed and explored, how you moaned as you tasted me. I bet you've been craving it ever since, haven't you?

Aradhya: (typed with shaky fingers) Please, Mr. Banerjee. That was a mistake. We can't do this anymore.

Landlord: A mistake? Is that what you call it when you squirted all over my face? Don't lie to yourself. You need this. You need me!

Aradhya's thighs pressed together, her arousal evident. "I don't know what to say," she whispered to me.

I swallowed hard, my own body responding to the explicit messages. "Maybe... maybe you should hear him out.", I suggested, my voice hoarse. "We don't want to make things awkward with our living situation."

Aradhya raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you serious? After everything that happened the times before?"

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as my erection kept twitching in my pants. "It's up to you, of course. But... it might be worth considering."

She sighed, then turned back to her phone.

Landlord: I'm waiting, Aradhya. Don't make me come up there and remind you of your place.

My wife’s hands shook as she typed.

Aradhya: What did you have in mind?

Landlord: That's my good girl. I wanna see you tomorrow. 1 PM. And I want you wearing something special.

Aradhya gasped softly, her thighs pressing together again. I could see the effect Mr. Banerjee's words were having on her - and on me.

Aradhya: Special?

Landlord: Remember that traditional ghagra choli I bought you? The sheer one with the gold embroidery?

Aradhya: (hesitatant) You mean... the one that's practically see-through?

Landlord: Precisely. I want you in that, with nothing underneath. No bra, no panties. Show off every curve, every inch of that delectable body.

Her face flushed crimson as she read the message aloud to me, her voice trembling.

Landlord: And don't forget the dupatta. Dbang it loosely. I want easy access to those perfect tits of yours.

Aradhya: (types shakily) Mr. Banerjee, that's... that's so revealing. I'd be practically naked.

Landlord: That's the point, my little slut. I want you on display. Those nipples poking through the fabric, your pussy lips visible with every step.

Aradhya looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. "I don't know if I should..."

I swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "It's your choice."

Aradhya: (after a long pause, typed) Okay. The sheer ghagra choli. No... no underwear.

Landlord: Good whore. I can't wait to see you. To touch you. To taste every inch of that body you're offering up to me.

My wife put her phone down, her breathing ragged. "What have we gotten ourselves into?", she murmured, her hand between her legs.

I moved closer, my own heart racing. "I don’t know. But it might be something we could enjoy.", I whispered, my hand sliding up her thigh.

My fingers found her pussy, already soaking wet. As I slipped them inside her, I couldn't help but imagine how she'd look tomorrow, practically naked in that sheer outfit, on display for our landlord's hungry eyes. The thought made me harder than I'd been in a while.

"Fuck!", I groaned, burying my face in her neck. "Tomorrow's going to be intense."

She moaned softly, grinding against my hand. "Y-yeah….", she gasped. "It really is."

As I fingered her to a shuddering orgasm, I knew our lives were about to change forever. And I couldn't fucking wait.

***

The morning sunlight slanted through our bedroom window as I adjusted my tie, watching Aradhya in the mirror. She sat at her vanity, deliberately applying kajal with practiced strokes. "The cameras are all set up.", I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, "Same spots as... as last time." I swallowed hard, remembering how I'd watched her with Mr. Banerjee before.

"You're sure about the cameras, Ari?", she asked, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection. She was wearing that maroon silk robe I'd gotten her last Diwali, the one that clung to her curves in a way that made my mouth go dry. Her long black hair fell loose down her back, still damp from her shower. "Are you really okay with this? This isn't like with Harpreet... or even like the other times with Mr. Banerjee."

I nodded, though my hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I... I want to watch." Heat crept up my neck as I admitted it. "Like before."

Aradhya set down her makeup and turned to face me directly. The robe parted slightly as she crossed her legs, revealing a glimpse of smooth brown thigh. She then stood and came to me, her fingers gentle as she fixed my crooked tie. "Ari, you're trembling." Her dark eyes searched mine. "Tell me what you're thinking. Really thinking."

"I keep remembering how he looks at you.", I admitted, my voice cracking slightly. "It feels like ages ago. But he... he was so rough with you last time."

"Rougher than Harpreet ever was that’s for sure.", she agreed. "The names he called me while I... serviced him. The way he made me thank him after spitting on me."

My hands shook harder. "But today..."

"Today he gets everything.", she finished. "No more just using my mouth or making me rim him. He's been patient, Ari. Even when he had me licking his….", she paused.

I gripped the dresser for support. "The things he makes you say..."

"'Thank you for letting me taste your asshole, sir.'", she quoted softly. "'This dirty whore is grateful for your spit.' He loves humiliating me like that."

"Are you... are you scared?", I asked.

"A little. You've seen how nasty he gets. How he loves slapping my breasts while I blow him. Making me beg for more.", Her breath hitched. "But that's what makes you hard, isn't it? Watching your wife be degraded by our fat old landlord?"

I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs, caught off guard by the bluntness spilling from her lips. She’d never been this bold—never laid it out so bare, so unashamed. I could only whimper in response. My cock stirred at her words, straining against my office trousers.

"Mmmmm, someone's excited.", she teased, giving me a squeeze that made my hips buck. "But are you sure? Really sure? Because once he's inside me..." She let the sentence hang.

I grabbed her hips, pulling her harder against me. "Fuck, Aradhya. Yes. I've never been more sure of anything." The words came out in a rush. "I want to watch that fat bastard fuck my beautiful wife. I want to see you take his cock while I'm sitting in my office, knowing everyone around me has no idea what's happening."

She moaned softly, grinding against my erection. "Tell me more, Ari. Tell me exactly what you think about."

My hands cupped her ass through the silk. "I think about how wet you get when he visits. How your nipples get hard when he looks at you. I think about his hands on your breasts, his mouth on your neck." My breathing was getting ragged. "I think about him bending you over our bed - the bed where I fuck you every night - and sliding his thick cock into my wife's pussy."

"Fuck!", she whimpered, her hand working faster through my pants. "And you'll be watching? The whole time?"

"Every second.", I promised, slipping my hand inside her robe to find her bare underneath. My fingers found her already slick. "I'll have my cock out at my desk, stroking myself while I watch another man fuck my wife......again!"

She was panting now, rocking against my hand. "What if- what if I cum for him? What if he makes me scream?"

"Then I'll cum too!", I growled, "Watching my beautiful wife get her pussy filled with another man's cock. Watching you writhe and moan and beg for it…."

"Because he owns us," she finished, her voice husky. "And now he's going to own your wife too. Right there on our bed, while you watch from your office like the good little cuck you are."

"Aradhya..." I whimpered. The word "cuck" sliced through me and a nervous flush stained my cheeks, my gaze flicking between my wife and the bed where Mr. Banerjee would soon take her. I  was close to cumming just from her words and touch.

She released me suddenly. "No, baby. Save it. I want you aching while you watch." She stepped back, letting her robe fall open slightly. "I'll wear that slutty ghagra-choli he likes. The one that makes me look like his personal slut. No blouse. No petticoat. Nothing. He won't be able to keep his hands off me. Not that he ever could before."

"Oh gosh!", I moaned, having to think about work reports to keep from cumming in my pants. My breath caught, surprise surging through me at how easily she owned it, how she leaned into this filthy game with a confidence I’d never seen. She used to be so shy—my modern wife, all coy smiles and modest blouses, blushing at a stray compliment, keeping her desires locked tight behind that sweet, reserved facade. Now here she was, shedding that skin like it’d never fit, talking about dressing like his slut

"You should go.", she said, giving me a gentle push toward the door. "Get to your office. Lock your door. Get nice and comfortable.", Her smile turned predatory. "Your wife's about to become Mr. Banerjee's personal plaything."

I nearly stumbled on my way out, my legs weak. The walk to my car was torture, my cock still rock hard from our encounter. As I settled into the driver's seat, my phone buzzed with a text from her. I opened it to find a picture of her in the red outfit, dbangd perfectly to hint at the nakedness underneath. The caption read: "For your desktop background at work. So everyone who passes your office knows what a whore your wife is becoming."

The drive to work was torture. Every red light brought new images: Mr. Banerjee's sweaty hands on my wife’s dusky breasts, his thick fingers pushing into her mouth like he'd done before, his heavy body pressing her into our marital bed. It was different from watching Harpreet - that had been raw and animalistic. This was darker, dirtier somehow.

At the office, I could barely focus. Every few minutes I checked the camera feeds, remembering other times I'd watched through them. Mr. Banerjee's previous visits, his wandering hands getting bolder each time. That afternoon with Harpreet, how Aradhya had screamed when he took her.

At 12:45, a text from Aradhya: "He's been sending messages all morning. Says he can't wait to 'inspect the property' thoroughly today."

My cock throbbed painfully as I thought about him using that phrase - property inspection - every time he wanted to grope my wife.

At 1:00 PM sharp, my phone rang.

"He's here.", Aradhya whispered. "Watch me, baby. Watch your sweet, sultry wife become our chubby old landlord’s personal slut." She then disconnected the call. My cock throbbed, straining harder at the thought, but my mind reeled—where’d my timid Aradhya gone, and when had she turned into this vixen who knew exactly how to twist me up and leave me aching?

[veenaimo]

Wowww excellent update

[kickkaran]

Excellent update

[primeOne]

Need longer update

[Sad Ash Rafa]

The  hot wife with the ugly landlord is the best one

[Eswarraj3372]

Wowww... superb update... please continue

[Suraj76626]

I was starting to wonder where was Mr. Banerjee. Good to have him back. Nice update.

[Safestguy]

Good story. Update Please

[Mayur5555]

Amazing

[incest_cuck]

I couldn’t stay at my desk—not with my coworkers tapping away just beyond the cubicle walls—so I muttered some excuse about needing a break and bolted for the bathroom stall, my pulse hammering as I locked the door behind me. I slumped against the cold stall wall, my phone screen casting a faint glow in the dim light. I pulled up the camera feeds with trembling hands, already reaching for my zipper, the cramped stall barely muffling my ragged breaths. The sound system wasn’t much—cheap mics that caught only scraps of noise—but as I maxed the volume, faint echoes trickled through: a low thud of the door, a rustle of fabric, and her soft, distant “Hi” as she opened it. On the screen, I watched my beautiful wife greet our sleazy, fat landlord. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I saw her sway toward Mr. Banerjee in that sheer ghagra-choli he’d demanded. The fabric shimmered, hugging her dusky curves, her modest C-cups faintly outlined, nipples peeking through like dark secrets. She’d worn nothing underneath, just as he’d texted her, and the sight made my throat dry and my cock twitch against my unzipped trousers.

Mr. Banerjee loomed in the doorway, all fifty-something years of him—pudgy, balding, his paunch straining against a stained kurta. His face was a mess of patchy stubble and crooked teeth, ugly in a way that made my stomach churn, but there he was, leering at my wife like she was his prize. His small, beady eyes dropped to her barely-covered breasts, a lecherous grin curling his lips as he stepped inside, his presence filling the frame. A faint, gravelly “Look at you” rumbled through the feed, smug and thick, spiking my pulse.

His eyes raked over her, lingering on her chest before dropping to that ass he’d pawed at before. He pushed the door shut with a thud that came through muted, and Aradhya flinched—just a flicker of her shoulders—but then straightened, playing along. She despised him, I knew that; she’d told me once, her voice tight with disgust after he’d left a sweaty handprint on her plump ass. But I’d also seen her thighs clench afterward, her breath quicken when she recounted how he’d ordered her to her knees. She didn’t like him, but he turned her on, and that twisted something deep inside me—shame and heat tangling together.

Mr. Banerjee didn’t waste time. He snatched my wife’s wrist, yanking her toward him with that aggressive swagger that made my gut twist, his other hand pawing at her succulent covered breasts through the sheer ghagra. Her lips parted—a faint, breathy “ohhhh” crackled through, barely audible—and her head tipped back slightly, eyes fluttering as he squeezed her modest C-cups, fingers digging in. My hand shook, the phone nearly slipping as I fumbled with myself, my breath catching. She mouthed something—a soft “Slow down” whispered through the mic—her expression coy, a shy smirk tugging at her lips as she squirmed under his grip, playing along as her cheeks flushed.

The pervy landlord didn’t care though. His mouth crashed into hers, sloppy and forceful, all teeth and tongue—a wet smack faintly reached me as her head jerked back before he pulled her in tighter. Her hands hovered near his shoulders, hesitant, then pressed lightly against him, a half-hearted push that melted into submission. He groped her harder, one hand sliding down to clutch her thick ass, kneading it through the see-through choli while the other stayed on her chest, pinching and tugging. She arched into him, her coyness slipping into something more wanton, her eyes flicking sideways—nervous, maybe, or teasing me through the camera. A soft, stifled “Mmm” from her filtered through, drowned by his low chuckle.

Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back with a rough jerk. Her mouth opened wider—a sharp, faint “Ahhh!” hissed through—and he spat into it, a thick glob landing on her tongue. Her eyes widened, shock cutting through her shy pout, but he didn’t give her a chance to react. He dove in again, kissing her with messy aggression, a muted slurp leaking through as their spit mingled, smearing across her dusky cheeks. I caught his gravelly “Take it,” faint but clear, and my stomach lurched, arousal spiking as she squirmed, her hands clutching his kurta for balance. He spat again—this time on her lips—before licking it back up, his tongue slobbering over her mouth.

But then he did something unexpected — something she’d never mentioned before. He broke the kiss, his pudgy bearded face hovering over hers, and dragged his tongue across her cheek in a slow, wet lick. Her expression twisted—disgust flashing in her wide eyes, her nose wrinkling as she turned her head away, wiping at her face with a trembling hand. A tiny, muffled “Ugh, stop” slipped from her, just audible, making my chest tighten.

I bit my lip, stifling a whimper in the stall. Despite our chubby landlord’s aggressive and downright despicable treatment, my wife wasn’t fighting him—not really. He spun her around—rough, domineering—and bent her over the arm of our couch, her ass jutting out, the sheer fabric riding up to expose her completely. His grin widened, perverted and triumphant, as he slapped her there—a faint crack echoed through—followed by her distant “Ouch!” Her head snapped back, lips parting in a sharp gasp I could just hear, her hands bracing against the cushions, her body tense but yielding, that shy submission kicking in.

My hand trembled on the phone, my pants pooled around my ankles as I sat on the toilet seat, the stall’s cold air prickling my bare skin. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, my fingers hovering near my cock, twitching with the urge to stroke myself. But I hesitated, my breath ragged, panic clawing at me—I knew I’d finish too fast, the shame of spilling early burning me. I clenched my fist, fighting the heat, desperate to hold out, the faint dialogue and sounds—her gasps, his grunts—pulling me deeper.

Mr. Banerjee didn’t stop. He grabbed her hips, yanking her back upright with a possessive tug, and shoved her down onto the couch cushions. She landed on her back, legs splaying slightly, the ghagra-choli bunching up around her thighs. Her dusky skin gleamed under the living room light, her plump ass sinking into the fabric as she propped herself up on her elbows, her expression flickering between shy reluctance and that teasing pout. He loomed over her, his pudgy frame casting a shadow, his balding head tilted as he raked his beady eyes over her. A low, gravelly “Fucking perfect” crackled faintly through, dripping with lust.

He dropped to his knees beside the couch, his meaty hands lunging for her again. One palm clamped onto her thigh, prying her legs apart as he squeezed, his fingers leaving red marks. She squirmed, her head tilting away, but her lips twitched—almost a smirk—daring him on. His other hand slid up her stomach, pushing the sheer choli higher until her modest C-cups were fully exposed, nipples dark and stiff. He pinched one, rolling it between his grubby fingers, and her back arched, a soft “Oh God” whispering through the mic, sending a jolt through me.

I shifted in the stall, my balls tight, my breath shallow. He wasn’t done. He grabbed her hair again, pulling her face toward his, and planted another spit-soaked kiss on her lips—a faint smack reaching me as his tongue slobbered over her. She flinched, her hands pressing against his chest, but he laughed—a muffled, throaty “You love it”—and spat onto her neck, watching it trickle down her collarbone. Her nose wrinkled, disgust flashing, but she stayed put, her coy game holding as he smeared the spit with his thumb, marking her.

Then he climbed onto the couch, straddling her thighs, his weight pinning her down. The cushions sank under his bulk, and she wriggled beneath him, her hands hovering near his arms, unsure. He groped her chest again, both hands kneading her breasts with sloppy aggression, his crooked teeth bared as he leaned down to lick her jaw—a faint slurping sound trickling through—making her turn her head sharply, wiping her cheek on her shoulder. I swallowed hard, my pulse racing, her trapped under his lecherous frame burning into me. He slapped her thigh next—a muted crack—and she jolted, her faint “Hey!” reaching me as he forced her legs wider, his hands roaming freely.

She mouthed something—maybe “enough!”—her shy facade cracking, but he ignored it, his fingers hooking into the waist of her ghagra, tugging it down an inch to expose more of her hips. He teased the edge, his perverted smirk growing as he traced a sweaty finger along her skin. My heart hammered, the foreplay stretching out, every move of his filthy hands and faint words pushing me deeper into that sick, horny haze.

Mr. Banerjee shifted, his thick, wiry beard brushing her arm as he adjusted his bulk, the coarse hairs scbanging her dusky skin, leaving faint red streaks. She twitched, her lips pursing in that shy pout, a tiny “nnghhh” slipping out. He grabbed her arms, pinning them above her head with one meaty hand, stretching her taut beneath him. Her sheer choli rode up further, and he dipped his head, his bald scalp gleaming as he buried his face in her armpit. His tongue darted out, licking the soft hollow—a faint wet sound crackling through—savoring her skin. Her head turned away, discomfort crossing her face as his beard scratched, but her breasts heaved, betraying that reluctant heat.

He lingered, his tongue slobbering over her armpit, spit matting the dark hair under his beard as he groaned—a low “tasty” just audible—his free hand kneading her hip. Then he pulled back, grinning lecherously, and lowered his mouth to her chest. He latched onto one of her mammaries, sucking hard on her nipple through the fabric, then yanking the choli aside to expose her. His lips closed around her, his beard rasping as he sucked sloppily—a faint “Mmm” from him leaking through—her nipple glistening with spit, her hands flexing against his grip.

She mouthed something—maybe “too much”—her coy mask slipping as her eyes squeezed shut, a strained “please” barely reaching me, but he didn’t care. He switched to her other tit, his tongue swirling before sucking it in, the faint slurping louder, his beard chafing her red. His pudgy fingers dug into her sides, pressing his weight down to trap her. Her legs kicked faintly, the ghagra riding higher, and he spat onto her stomach—a muted splat—saying “dirty whore” faintly before dragging his beard through it, smearing the mess across her skin.

I sat there, pants around my ankles, my phone shaking as I watched him devour her, the faint dialogue—her pleas, his crude taunts—mixing with gasps and grunts, pulling me deeper into the haze.

Mr. Banerjee pulled back slightly, his beady eyes glinting with perverse delight as he surveyed her pinned beneath him. His hands gripped the edges of her sheer choli, yanking it upward with a rough tug—a faint rustle crackling through—as the fabric caught on her arms. Her dusky mammaries bounced free, the air hitting her spit-slicked nipples as she arched, a quick “careful” whispering from her. She lifted her arms, half-helping, half-resisting, her shy pout returning as the choli tangled around her wrists.

He tossed the garment aside, his thick beard brushing her collarbone as he leaned in, planting a hard, spit-soaked kiss on her jaw—a faint “my sweet randii” rumbling through, leaving saliva dribbling down her chin. Then he licked a slow stripe down her neck, his tongue slobbering—a muted slurping sound—her head tilting away, a flicker of disgust in her wrinkled nose, but her body stayed pliant, her dusky skin glistening under the living room light.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her ghagra next, tugging it down further—not off, not yet—but low enough to bare the tops of her thighs and the curve of her hips completely. The sheer fabric bunched around her lower abdomen, teasing the edge of her vulnerability, and she squirmed, her fat ass shifting against the couch as she tried to adjust, her coy smirk faltering into something softer, more uncertain.

[Eswarraj3372]

Sexy..... please continue

[vishuhrny97]

hot updates. pls continue.

[eagerseeker]

great update

[magneticpersonality]

The major drawback with this story is that, the story stops in middle of every intercourse sessions. This creates a serious continuity issue.
If the author got inspired by the ancient Arabian story - "One Thousand and One Nights", then the author should understand that this tactic is pathetic to the core. This narrative style only helps the readers like me to wait for couple or three of your updates to read it together.

[incest_cuck]

Aradhya’s hands twitched above her head, and she kicked faintly again, the ghagra slipping another inch down her hips. The domineering landlord grinned as I gripped my phone tighter, my pants still around my ankles, the toilet seat creaking under me as I leaned forward. My chest burned, every inch of her being stripped bare by his filthy hands twisting me deeper into that haze—wanting to touch myself, dreading how fast I’d unravel if I did. He was taking her apart, piece by piece, and she let him, her shy resistance melting under his relentless, perverted hunger.

Mr. Banerjee’s hands roamed again, his pudgy fingers sliding down to the ghagra still clinging to her hips. With a rough tug, he yanked it lower, the sheer fabric scbanging against her curves as it slid halfway down her thighs, bunching awkwardly around her legs under his weight. Her plump juicy ass pressed deeper into the couch cushions, partially bared now, and she shifted uncomfortably, her thighs twitching as the cool air grazed her exposed skin. She mouthed something her coy pout trembling, but he just smirked, his beady eyes drinking in every inch of her like a starving man at a feast.

His beard grazed her chest again as he dipped his head, sucking one of her nipples back into his mouth—harder this time, his lips and tongue working it with sloppy fervor until it glistened wet and red. She arched beneath him while his free hand groped her other breast, squeezing it roughly before trailing down to her bare hip, his thumb digging into the soft flesh there. Then he pulled back, spitting a thick glob onto the valley between her breasts and watched it slide down her sternum.

His beard brushed through it as he leaned in, licking it back up with a slow, deliberate swipe, the coarse hairs scbanging her skin raw. Her nose wrinkled again, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned her face away, but her hips lifted slightly—whether from discomfort or that reluctant heat, I couldn’t tell. He chuckled silently, his shoulders shaking, and tugged the ghagra down a bit more, the fabric catching around her knees, leaving her lower half tantalizingly trapped beneath him.

His fingers traced the inside of her thigh now, teasing higher but not yet crossing that line, his touch sweaty and possessive. He grabbed her hair again, yanking her head back to force her to look at him, and planted another messy kiss on her lips—spit-soaked and aggressive, his tongue shoving into her mouth as she squirmed, her bound hands pushing weakly against the air. Her legs shifted faintly under the tangled ghagra, and he pressed himself closer, his kurta riding up to reveal the bulge of his paunch pressing against her bare stomach.

Mr. Banerjee’s hands paused, his breath heaving as he sat back slightly, still straddling her thighs. His beady eyes glinted with that perverted hunger, and he reached for his kurta, tugging it up over his head in a clumsy, aggressive motion. The fabric caught on his thick beard for a moment before he ripped it free, tossing it onto the floor. His pudgy chest was exposed now—hairy, sagging, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten unpleasantly under the light. His paunch jiggled as he shifted, looming over her like some grotesque king.

Aradhya’s eyes flicked over him, her coy pout faltering into a tight-lipped grimace, but she didn’t move, her body still pinned beneath his knees. He smirked, leaning down to plant another spit-soaked kiss on her lips—sloppy and forceful, his beard scratching her chin raw as she turned her head slightly, a silent protest she didn’t fully commit to. His hands dropped to her ghagra again, and this time he wasn’t teasing. With a rough grunt—I could tell from the way his shoulders tensed—he yanked the fabric down past her knees, sliding it off her legs entirely despite the awkward angle. It hit the floor in a crumpled heap, leaving her completely bare beneath him.

Her dusky skin glowed in the dim light, her trimmed bush—a neat, dark patch—now fully exposed between her slightly spread thighs. She tried to close her legs, but his knees kept them forced apart. Her shy facade cracked further, her lips parting in what might’ve been a whispered “No”—or maybe “Please”—but he ignored it, his pudgy fingers tracing the edge of her bush, teasing the coarse hairs with a lecherous grin. She squirmed, her thick fleshy ass shifting against the cushions, her hips lifting slightly as if caught between pulling away and giving in.

The fat landlord unbuttoned his trousers next, shoving them down just enough to free his thick, hairy thighs, the waistband catching under his paunch. He didn’t take them off completely—just let them sag, his arousal obvious even through the fabric of his stained underwear. His hand returned to her, groping her bare thigh before sliding up to her stomach, smearing more sweat and spit as he went. He dipped his head again, sucking her nipple into his mouth with a wet slurp, his beard prickling her skin as he tugged at it with his teeth. Aradhya’s body tensed, her lips parting in a silent wince as her eyes fluttered shut, a faint shudder running through her—half from the sharp sensation, half from the scratchy irritation of his beard. I watched, my breath catching in my throat, a jolt of heat shooting through me as her discomfort twisted with that reluctant arousal I couldn’t unsee; my fingers twitched near my erection, shame and need warring inside me as I fought to hold back.

Mr. Banerjee’s other hand grabbed her hip, flipping her slightly to the side so he could slap her ass again—harder this time, the smack visible in the way her flesh rippled. She jolted, her legs kicking faintly, and he chuckled silently, his shoulders shaking as he shifted his weight off her thighs. He slid down the couch, positioning himself between her legs instead, his knees now pressing into the cushions as he hovered over her lower half. His beard brushed the skin just above her trimmed bush, close enough that his heavy, hot breath ruffled the dark hairs, teasing without touching. Her eyes squeezed shut, her coy game all but gone now, replaced by a mix of discomfort and that strange, reluctant heat I’d seen before.

Mr. Banerjee lingered there a moment longer, his pudgy frame hunched between her legs, then abruptly slid off the couch, rising to his feet at the edge of it. His trousers sagged around his thick, hairy thighs, but he still wore his stained underwear, the fabric stretched tight over a hard-on that jutted out obscenely—impressively hung for a man in his fifties, a detail that made my stomach lurch even harder. His beady eyes gleamed with that sick, perverse excitement as he stood there, towering over her, his gaze raking over her naked body like a predator sizing up its catch.

He licked his lips, his thick beard twitching as his mouth moved, forming words I couldn’t hear but could guess from the slow, deliberate shapes. “Look at you,” he might’ve said, his grin widening into something filthy and triumphant. His hands reached down, gripping her thighs to spread them wider as he stared at her trimmed bush, then up to her modest B-cups, still red and slick from his earlier attention.

My sweet sexy wife shifted on the couch, her dusky skin glistening with sweat and his spit under the living room light. Her lips parted—maybe a protest, maybe a plea—and a flush of shame crept up her neck, her eyes darting away as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, but he ignored it, too lost in his lecherous trance.

Mr. Banerjee’s smirk twisted sharper, and he stepped back slightly, his underwear still clinging tight to his bulging hard-on. His pudgy hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a rough yank, pulling her up from the couch. She stumbled to her feet, her legs wobbling as she stood naked before him, her trimmed bush and curvy frame fully exposed. He mouthed something, his tone probably sharp, commanding, as he tugged her closer, forcing her to stand at the edge of the couch. Her hands fluttered to her chest, a fleeting attempt to cover herself, but he swatted them away, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her in place.

He stood just a couple of inches taller than her, his hairy, sweaty chest heaving as he raked his eyes over her again, drinking in her bare vulnerability. His beard brushed her shoulder as he leaned in, dragging his tongue across her collarbone in a slow, wet lick, his perverse glee evident in the way he lingered, tasting her sweaty skin as his breath hitched. She flinched, her shoulders hunching slightly, the shame still staining her cheeks, but her body stayed pliant, her thighs trembling as he pressed himself closer, his hard-on nudging against her hip through the fabric. His hands roamed her back, groping her ass with a possessive squeeze, and he mouthed more—maybe “Fucking gorgeous”—his crooked teeth flashing as he admired her like a prize he’d won.

My cock pulsed painfully, every second of her humiliation feeding that twisted heat inside me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t—his dominance, her shame, it all pinned me there, teetering on the edge. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, tracing the way her trembling hands hovered near her sides, her dusky skin catching the light as she stood vulnerable before him, his lecherous gaze never letting up.

Mr. Banerjee stepped back just enough to give her space, his sweaty chest rising and falling as he adjusted his stance, his hard-on still straining against his underwear. His thick beard twitched as his mouth moved, forming slow, deliberate words and then his crooked teeth flashing in a smirk that oozed command. Aradhya’s head tilted slightly, her eyes softened with submission, the shame still there but overshadowed by a quiet surrender. Without hesitation, she complied when his hand shot out, gripping her shoulder with a firm push, guiding her down as his other hand gestured toward the floor, his dominance wrapping around her like a leash.

She sank smoothly, her movements steady and obedient, her knees brushing the edge of the couch before settling onto the carpet. The transition felt seamless—her body yielding to his will as if she’d already accepted her role. Her gaze lifted to meet his briefly, the flush on her cheeks more from heat than resistance, and she knelt before him, her curvy frame offered up willingly. He loomed over her, just a couple of inches taller, his hairy thighs framing her as he stood there, his underwear-clad bulge inches from her face. His hand slid to her hair, tangling in it with a rough tug, tilting her head back, and he mouthed something else, his eyes glinting with perverse anticipation.

Aradhya’s hands rose confidently, resting on his thighs with a gentle but firm grip, her touch steady and submissive. Her lips parted—maybe a soft “Yes”—and she leaned in eagerly, her face brushing closer to his straining underwear as his grip tightened in her hair. His free hand dropped to his waistband, thumbing it down just an inch, teasing the reveal, his hard-on twitching visibly as he watched her, his lecherous grin widening.

I swallowed hard, my phone screen blurring for a second as sweat stung my eyes. The stall felt smaller, the air thicker, every smooth shift of her body under his control tightening the knot in my gut. My hand hovered near my cock, trembling with the urge to give in, but I clenched my jaw, fighting it, caught between the shame of watching and the sick thrill of wanting more.

My sweet, homely wife didn’t flinch, her shoulders relaxed as she pressed closer, her fingers sliding up his thighs in quiet devotion as she began to serve him. Mr. Banerjee’s hand tugged at his underwear, yanking it down past his hips with a rough jerk, and his cock sprang free—thick, veiny, and nearly 7 inches, swaying heavily between his hairy thighs. It was a monster, easily twice my girth, the skin a mottled wheatish-brown stretched tight over pulsing ridges, the head fat and glistening with a bead of precum already leaking from the slit. A tangled nest of coarse, graying pubes framed it, matted with sweat, and the musky stench I couldn’t smell but could imagine hit me like a punch through the screen.

Aradhya’s hands slid higher, wrapping around the base as she leaned in, her lips brushing the tip before parting to take him in. Her mouth stretched wide—too wide—her jaw straining as she sucked the swollen head past her lips, her tongue flicking out to lap at the precum dribbling down. She hollowed her cheeks, sliding down slow and sloppy, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth as she worked him deeper, gagging faintly when the girth hit the back of her throat. Her dusky fingers gripped him tight, stroking what she couldn’t fit, her nails digging into the veiny shaft as she bobbed her head, submissive and eager, her thick ass shifting on her knees with every move.

Mr. Banerjee threw his head back, his pudgy face twisted in filthy ecstasy, his thick beard trembling as his mouth moved—maybe “Fuck, yes” or “Suck it harder”—his crooked teeth bared in a triumphant grin. His hands clamped onto her head, fingers knotting in her hair as he thrust his hips forward, forcing more of his massive cock into her mouth. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t pull back, choking down another inch as spit drooled down her chin, pooling on the carpet below. He groaned silently, his hairy chest heaving, his paunch jiggling with every pump, reveling in the wet, sloppy mess of her servicing him—loving every second of her stretched lips worshipping his grotesque manhood.

His cock—gosh, it dwarfed me. Mine was a pitiful thing, thin and quick to falter, nothing like that beast she was choking on. A sick wave of inadequacy crashed over me, twisting my gut as I watched her take him deeper than she’d ever taken me, her mouth molded to his size like I’d never mattered. My cock throbbed, hard and useless, mocking me with its twitches as I sat there, pants around my ankles, too small, too weak to compare. He was ruining her for me, and the shame of it burned hotter than the lust, leaving me hollow even as I couldn’t look away.

He thrust again, harder, his balls—heavy and sagging—slapping her chin with a rhythm I could almost hear, his perverse joy written all over his sweaty, balding head. Aradhya gagged louder, her throat bulging as she swallowed him down, spit and precum smearing her face, but she kept going, her hands jerking him faster, her submission total. His cock pulsed in her grip, the ridges twitching as she worked him, her fingers slick with the mess dripping from her mouth. He was in heaven, and I was in hell, pinned by the sight of his dominance and my own pathetic failure.

Mr. Banerjee’s hands tightened in her hair, yanking her head back and forth like she was a toy, his hips bucking with sloppy, aggressive thrusts. His thick beard quivering as his grin stretched wider, eyes half-lidded in filthy bliss. Sweat poured down his hairy chest, his paunch shuddering with every move, and his balls tightened, drawing up as his breathing grew ragged—I could tell from the quick rise and fall of his shoulders. He was close, lost in the wet, gagging heat of her mouth, savoring every second of her servicing his monstrous cock.

Aradhya’s eyes fluttered, tears streaking down her spit-smeared face, but she didn’t stop, her hands pumping him harder, her lips locked around him as she gurgled through the assault. Suddenly, he pulled back, ripping his cock from her mouth with a wet pop, a string of spit and precum dangling between her lips and the swollen head. She gasped—soundless to me—her breasts heaving as he gripped her hair with one hand, the other furiously stroking his slick shaft, aiming it right at her face.

His body tensed, his pudgy frame shuddering, and then he came—thick, ropes of cum erupting from his cock, splattering across her dusky cheeks in hot, messy streaks. The first shot hit her forehead, dripping down into her eyebrow, then another blasted her lips, coating them in white as she flinched, her eyes squeezing shut. He kept going, grunting silently, his hand milking every last spurt—some landing in her hair, some streaking her chin, a final dribble oozing onto her neck. His grin was pure triumph, his crooked teeth bared as he admired the wreckage of her face, painted with his load, his perverse satisfaction glowing in his beady eyes. He slapped his softening cock against her cheek, smearing the mess, marking her one more time as his.

I nearly dropped my phone, my hand shaking so bad the screen blurred. Mr. Banerjee stepped back, his softening cock dangling between his hairy thighs, still slick with spit and cum. His thick beard twitched as he mouthed something sharp, his pudgy hand gesturing dismissively toward the hall. Aradhya blinked, her face a sticky mess of his load, strands dripping from her chin as she wiped at it with trembling fingers. She nodded faintly, rising unsteadily to her feet, her dusky skin flushed with shame and exertion as she shuffled out of the room, leaving him standing there, smirking at her retreat.

He didn’t bother pulling up his underwear, just let it sag around his ankles as he bent down, snatching her discarded ghagra-choli from the floor. With a lecherous grin, he wiped his cock with it, smearing the sheer fabric with cum and sweat, dragging it across his hairy thighs and paunch like it was a rag—another humiliating twist of the knife. The vibrant colors of her outfit darkened with his filth, and he tossed it aside carelessly, a crumpled heap of her dignity ruined by his hands. Then he turned to the couch, climbing onto it with a grunt, positioning himself on all fours—his pudgy ass up, his hairy back arched, his balding head lowered as he waited, clearly ready for her return.

My slutty wife came back minutes later, her face scrubbed clean but her eyes still wide with the weight of what she’d done. She froze at the sight of him—kneeling there, ass in the air, his massive frame splayed out in shameless expectation. Her lips parted—maybe “No” or “Not that”—her nose wrinkling in disgust as she recoiled, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. He glanced back at her, his beady eyes glinting, and mouthed something firm and his crooked teeth flashing as he patted the couch behind him, urging her closer.

[primeOne]

Great story, post longer update