Adultery Wife helps me become a cuckold

[Sad Ash Rafa]

This is going masterpiece

[Mayur5555]

Amazing

[adams_masala]

I have love hate relationships with cuck story

[incest_cuck]

I have love hate relationships with cuck story

Thanks. Care to elaborate?

[incest_cuck]

I clutched my phone tighter, my chest tight with a mix of revulsion and that warped heat I couldn’t shake. Seeing him defile her clothes, then offer himself up like some grotesque beast—it was too much, another layer of my inadequacy piling on. She was about to sink lower for him, and I was stuck here, helpless, my cock twitching uselessly as I watched her bend to his will again.

Aradhya hovered behind him, her hands trembling as she stared at his hairy, sagging ass thrust up on the couch, the pale, pudgy cheeks smeared with sweat and streaked with grime from days unwashed. The thick, wiry hairs sprouted wild and matted, clumped with a faint, brown crust near the crack—some leftover filth he didn’t bother cleaning, now waiting for her tongue. Her face twisted, lips curling in pure disgust, her eyes darting away like she could escape the sight.

She gagged before she even started, her shoulders heaving as she leaned in, her nose wrinkling at the sour, rancid stench I could only imagine—a mix of sweat, grime, and old man musk wafting off him. Her hands gripped his hairy thighs, fingers sinking into the flabby rolls as she steadied herself, and then her tongue flicked out—tentative, trembling—brushing the sweaty crease where his ass met his leg. He shuddered, his paunch jiggling as he pushed back, forcing her face deeper into the mess. She recoiled, but his grip tightened, smashing her nose against the hairy crack, her lips smearing into the damp, filthy skin as she gave in.

Her tongue dragged slow and sloppy across the puckered hole, the hairs sticking to her mouth as she lapped at it, spit mixing with the grime to form a slick, brownish drool that dribbled down her chin. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners as she choked through it, her face buried in his stench, her lips sucking at the sweaty folds while he rocked back, groaning silently while his crooked teeth bared in perverse glee. A stray hair stuck to her tongue, and she gagged again, her throat bobbing as she swallowed down the taste, her dusky cheeks flushed with shame and nausea. He spread his knees wider, his sagging balls dangling low, brushing her neck as she worked, the crusty residue smearing across her lips like a sick trophy.

I stared, bile rising in my throat as I watched her tongue bathe his filthy ass—a rimjob, my mind screamed, the word slicing through me like a blade. It was vile, worse than anything she’d done with him before, her beautiful face defiled by his hairy, shitty crack. And yet, to my shock, my cock twitched harder, surging with a heat so fierce it drowned the disgust, leaving me reeling. He was a pig, a sweaty, stinking beast, and she was licking him clean—my Aradhya, my sweet pretty wife, reduced to this—and I was fucking turned on, the twisted thrill pulsing through me until I couldn’t deny it. My hand shook, not from shame but from need, hovering over myself, stunned that his depravity didn’t just dwarf me—it lit me up, dragging me into the filth with them.

Meanwhile, the sick, twisted old landlord rocked harder, his hairy ass grinding into her face, smearing her with more sweat and filth as she slurped and sucked, her tongue digging deeper despite the gags racking her body. The bastard’s body tensed in a new way—his sagging balls tightened, and his cock, still hanging between his thighs, twitched and swelled, growing hard again, the thick, veiny shaft rising with a vigor that defied his age.

He glanced over his shoulder, his beady eyes glinting with that sick delight, and mouthed something sharp and his hand gesturing toward his reawakened hard-on. My wife's shaky hand slid forward, reaching between his hairy thighs from behind, fingers wrapping around his sweaty, pulsing cock. She stroked him, slow at first, her grip slick with spit and grime as she tongued his ass, the dual act making her gag harder, her throat convulsing as she serviced him front and back.

Her dusky fingers pumped faster, the veiny shaft throbbing under her touch, precum leaking onto the couch as she licked deeper, her disgust swallowed by his will. He groaned silently, his hairy frame shuddering, lost in the double pleasure—her tongue in his filthy crack, her hand jerking his swollen cock. But then, abruptly, he stopped, pulling away with a rough grunt. His hand yanked her hair hard, dragging her up from her knees, her face a mess of sweat, spit, and smeared filth as she stumbled to her feet. He mouthed something—maybe “Bedroom, now”—his crooked teeth flashing as he hauled her toward the hall, her naked body staggering behind him.

They disappeared from the living room feed, and my heart lurched, fingers fumbling to switch to the bedroom camera—one I’d hidden in the corner, angled perfectly at the bed. The screen flickered, then cleared, and there they were: him shoving her onto the mattress, her curvy frame bouncing as she landed, her face still twisted in reluctant submission. He climbed up after her, his hard-on bobbing, hairy ass swaying as he positioned himself, ready to take her further, his dominance unbroken and hungry for more.

The bedroom feed sharpened, and my breath hitched—Aradhya on the mattress, her curvy frame trembling as the perverted Mr. Banerjee loomed behind her, his hairy, pudgy body a grotesque shadow against her dusky skin. This was it, the second time I’d watch her get fucked by another man, and the anticipation clawed at me, sharper than before. Having said that, Mr. Banerjee was completely different compared to that low-class plumber. He was shorter, only a couple inches taller than my sweet dusky wife, his balding head and sagging paunch a far cry from Harpreet’s chiseled bulk. Where Harpreet was raw power, Banerjee was perverse decay, his hairy ass and thick beard reeking of filth, his dominance less about strength and more about sleazy control. Yet here he was, hard again, his thick, veiny cock swaying ready to claim her in our marital bed.

He grabbed her hips, yanking her up onto her knees with a rough tug, positioning her ass in the air—doggy style, just like Harpreet had done, but this felt dirtier, more humiliating. Aradhya’s hands clutched the sheets, her face half-buried in the pillow, her plump ass trembling as he lined himself up. His pudgy fingers dug into her flesh, spreading her cheeks, his crooked teeth glinting as he pressed the fat, leaking head of his cock against her entrance. She tensed, her body stiffening, and I could see the struggle already—his girth was monstrous, a slab of meat that dwarfed me, and even Harpreet hadn’t stretched her like this was about to.

He pushed in slow, the thick head forcing her open, and her mouth gaped—maybe a silent yelp—as her pussy strained around him, the lips stretching tight, glistening with reluctant wetness. She shifted forward, instinctively pulling away, but his hands clamped harder, pulling her back as he sank deeper, inch by veiny inch. Her thighs quivered, her face twisting in discomfort. Compared with me, it was immense—my thin, average-length prick slipped in easy, barely filling her, but this—this was a battle, her body fighting to accommodate his obscene size, her pussy clutching him like it couldn’t cope.

Mr. Banerjee groaned silently, his hairy back arching as he buried himself halfway, then thrust harder, forcing more in. Aradhya’s hands fisted the sheets, her knuckles whitening, her ass jiggling with every push as he stretched her wider than I’d ever seen. My chest tightened, anticipation and dread twisting together. The landlord was slow, teasing, cruel, his girth splitting her open while his paunch slapped her back, a filthy old man ruining her where I’d failed. My cock throbbed, harder than with Harpreet, the shame of my inadequacy burning hotter—she’d never struggled with me, never winced, because I was nothing compared to this old, ugly beast tearing into her now.

Our landlord gradually picked up the pace, his saggy hairy ass clenching as he pounded her, his balls swinging heavy against her thighs, her pussy gripping him tight, slick but strained. Her head dropped lower, her moans lost to me - his dominance owning her in ways I never could, and I hated it, loved it, drowned in it all at once. Sweat poured off him, his pudgy frame glistening, droplets matting his thick beard and hairy back as he thrust deeper, his massive cock stretching her wide. Aradhya’s dusky skin shone too, slick with perspiration, her curvy body rocking under him. She lifted her head slightly, her bouncy tits swaying beneath her, jiggling with every thrust, the dark nipples hard and glistening with sweat. Her hands unclenched from the sheets, sliding back to grip his hairy thighs, pulling him in deeper, aiding him now as her hips rocked back to meet his pounding. Her face softened, lips parting wider—maybe a moan, maybe his name—her reluctance melting into a reluctant pleasure, then something more, her body bouncing eagerly under his sweaty bulk

Mr. Banerjee grinned. His crooked teeth flashing as his paunch slapped her ass with wet, meaty smacks, his stamina relentless. He’d been at her for what felt like forever - longer than I could ever dream of lasting with my pathetic, quick-trigger dick. This old bastard, his balding head dripping, his hairy ass pumping, was giving her what I never could, his thick cock plowing her for ages while I’d have finished in seconds. Sweat streaked down her back, pooling in the curve of her spine, her bouncy tits swinging faster as she pushed back harder, urging him on, lost in the filthy thrill of it. He’d outlasted me a hundred times over, and I hated him, envied him, burned for it, my hand twitching closer to my cock, fighting the inevitable even as I drowned in their filthy, endless fuck.

Mr. Banerjee’s thrusts soon slowed, his pudgy hands sliding from her hips up her slick back, guiding her with a firm but steady grip. My wife sensed the shift, her rhythm easing as she pushed back less frantically. His fingers dug into her waist, urging her to rise, and she followed, lifting her hips with a smooth, deliberate motion, his thick, glistening cock slipping free from her pussy with a wet, heavy slide. He sank fully onto his back then, his hairy, sweaty body sprawling flat across the bed, paunch rising and falling as he settled into the sheets.

She pivoted smoothly, her knees sliding along the mattress as she turned to face him, straddling his hips in one fluid motion, her fat ass brushing his hairy thighs. Aradhya hovered above him, her trimmed bush grazing his hairy crotch as she rocked her hips, grinding against his slick shaft, teasing him with the heat of her pussy smearing their sweat together. Her bouncy tits jiggled with the motion, dark nipples stiff and glistening, and she bit her lip—maybe a moan slipping out—her eyes half-lidded with lust, fully committed now. His hands shot up, grabbing her tits aggressively, pudgy fingers sinking into the soft flesh, squeezing hard enough to make them bulge between his knuckles as he twisted her nipples with a rough tug, his beard twitching with delight.

She sank down, taking his massive cock back inside her with a slow, eager thrust, her pussy swallowing him as she started to ride. Her hands planted on his sweaty chest, fingers curling into the matted hair for leverage, and her plump, womanly ass bounced, slapping his thighs with wet, rhythmic smacks. Her tits jiggled wildly in his grip as he mauled them—kneading, slapping, pinching them red—his aggressive play making them bounce even more as she set the pace. Sweat dripped from her brow onto his hairy belly, mingling with his own as she rolled her hips, grinding down hard, her body a sweaty, eager mess driving the filthy rhythm all on her own.

I watched, my phone shaking in my grip, the stall’s cold air a faint whisper against the inferno inside me. Her eagerness—gosh, she was loving it, riding him like I’d never seen, her bouncy tits dancing under his filthy hands, and I couldn’t breathe. My cock pulsed, leaking, my hand so close but paralyzed—knowing one touch and I’d blow, my premature curse mocking me while this sweaty, hairy old bastard lasted forever, pleasuring her in ways my thin prick never could. I hated it, craved it, drowned in the contrast of her lust and my failure.

Aradhya’s pace quickened, her hips rolling faster, grinding his thick cock deeper inside her as her breath hitched—visible in the rapid rise of her bosom. Her hands pressed into his hairy chest, nails digging into the sweaty mat as her body tensed, her thighs clamping tight around his hips. Then it hit—her head snapped forward, mouth wide in a silent scream, her eyes squeezing shut as she came, her pussy clenching around him in shuddering waves. Her juicy ass trembled, her whole frame shaking as she rode out the orgasm, sweat pouring off her brow, dripping onto his hairy belly until she slumped forward, collapsing onto his chest, her slick tits flattening against his hairy pecs, her plastered hair splayed across his shoulder. I couldn’t hold back anymore—my hand darted to my cock, wrapping around its pitiful length, and I stroked once, twice, my premature curse kicking in as I exploded in seconds, hot spurts splattering my thigh, perfectly timed with what came next, my shame and relief crashing together.

Mr. Banerjee grunted his pudgy face twisting as her weight settled on him, her heaving breaths syncing with his. His hands slid from her tits to her hips, gripping her slick skin as he mustered his last reserves of energy. His hairy legs flexed, knees bending slightly as he planted his feet on the mattress, and he thrust up—slow at first, his paunch jiggling with the effort, his thick cock plunging into her still-quivering pussy. Aradhya gasped, her head lifting slightly, her hands weakly clutching his shoulders as he pumped into her, his hairy crotch slapping her bush with wet, labored smacks. His energy was fading, each thrust a struggle, but he kept going, his balding head slick with sweat, his thick beard trembling as he chased his own release.

His thrusts grew erratic, his hairy ass clenching as he drove into her, his balls tightening against her thighs. Aradhya’s body rocked with him, her tits bouncing faintly against his chest, her pussy gripping him tight as he pushed harder, his last gasps of strength pouring out. Then his mouth gaped—maybe “Fuck”—his crooked teeth bared as his body seized, his cock pulsing inside her. He came, thick spurts flooding her, his hips jerking unevenly as he emptied himself, sweat streaming down his face, pooling in the creases of his paunch. His thrusts stuttered to a stop, his energy spent, and he collapsed fully beneath her, his hairy chest heaving, his slick, flabby body a sweaty wreck tangled with hers.

[RCF]

Underrated story on this forum. Awesome updates!

[Suraj76626]

Great update... But I missed the conversation between Aradhya and Banerjee. Could have been more erotic if included.

And one request if possible don't make it disgusting. It's off putting.

[Sad Ash Rafa]

The filthy nature of the ugly old man defiling the beautiful wife is the most erotic part of this story

[Mayur5555]

Awesome

[Safestguy]

Good Update

[incest_cuck]

I watched, my phone nearly slipping from my grip, the stall’s cold air useless against the heat choking me. Her orgasm—gosh, my sweet, sexy wife had cum so hard, slumping on him like that—and then he’d still fucked her, outlasting me even at his limit, his thick cock giving her what my pencil-dick never could. My own release stained my thigh, a pathetic burst gone in a blink. Oh how my quick, useless cum mocked his long, filthy climax. Their sweaty, spent bodies sprawled there, her on top, him beneath, and I was nothing—burning, breaking, lost in their mess.

Then, to my shock, Mr. Banerjee’s pudgy arms slid around her, pulling her against his hairy chest, her slick tits squishing into him as she slumped there, her head lolling on his shoulder. His thick beard brushed her cheek as he leaned in, planting a soft, sloppy kiss on her lips—wet and lazy, spit smearing between them, nothing tender, just tired and messy. She kissed back, her hand resting on his sweaty paunch, fingers idly patting it as his cum leaked from her pussy, a thick, white trickle oozing down her dusky thigh onto the sheets. He kissed her again, softer but sloppier, his tongue poking out to lap at her mouth, leaving a shiny trail on her chin.

This was a stark contrast to Harpreet—when that brutish plumber accidentally came inside her, she’d freaked out. But here, with Banerjee’s deliberate load dripping from her, she just lay there, unbothered, letting it stain the bed like it was nothing. My jaw dropped, the phone trembling in my hand—despite my useless sperm, I was still surprised she took it so casually, her ease with this old bastard’s mess hitting me harder than the sex itself, twisting my gut with a raw, confusing sting.

After a while, he stirred. He patted her hip with a heavy hand, mouthing something before peeling himself off the bed, his hairy ass swaying as he stood. Aradhya stayed sprawled there, her dusky skin slick with sweat and his cum, her bouncy tits rising with shallow breaths as she watched him dress. He pulled his stained underwear up over his softened cock, then tugged his trousers and kurta back on, the fabric clinging to his sweaty frame. With a final leer at her leaking pussy, he shuffled out of the room, leaving her alone on the wrecked sheets.

She lay there a moment, catching her breath, the cum still trickling from her, then reached for her phone on the nightstand. My screen flickered as my own phone buzzed in my hand—her name flashing across it. I fumbled to answer, my heart racing, but it cut off before I could swipe, a missed call blinking at me. Then a message popped up: “Hope you enjoyed that, baby,” followed by a winking emoji. On the feed, she sat up slightly, her sweaty hair falling over her shoulders, and looked right at the camera—my hidden lens—and blew a slow, deliberate kiss, her lips curling into a teasing smile before she flopped back onto the bed, stretching out like she owned the aftermath.

I sat frozen, my cum-sticky thigh cold now, my phone heavy in my grip. The kisses, the cum leaking from her—fuck, it was casual, dirty, not like with Harpreet, and that contrast shredded what little I had left. Despite my infertility, her nonchalance shocked me, and that message, that kiss—she knew I’d watched, knew I’d cum, and she played it like a game, leaving me here, spent and small, while she lounged in our bed, marked by him. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, just stared at her through the screen, for a few odd minutes.

Then something snapped—an electric jolt shot through me, excitement bubbling up past the shame, hot and urgent. I had to get home, now. I fumbled with my trousers, yanking them up over my sticky thighs, the fabric chafing as I zipped up, my cock already twitching again despite the quick release. I shoved my phone into my pocket, hands trembling, and bolted from the stall, the cold office bathroom air hitting me like a slap as I stumbled toward the sink.

I splashed water on my face, barely glancing at the mirror—my flushed cheeks, wild eyes, sweat-matted hair staring back, a man unhinged but alive with it. The excitement churned, a twisted thrill I couldn’t name—part dread, part need—driving me to get to her, to see her in the flesh, still dripping with him, still smirking like she’d won. I grabbed my bag from my cubicle, muttering some excuse to a coworker about feeling sick, my voice shaky but insistent. The elevator ride down was torture, every second stretching as I tapped my foot, imagining her on that bed, her dusky skin slick, her bouncy tits bare, that message echoing in my skull: “Hope you enjoyed that, baby.”

Out on the street, the late afternoon sun blared, but I barely felt it, my legs carrying me to the car in a haze. I slid into the driver’s seat, keys jangling as I started the engine, my breath ragged with anticipation. The drive home loomed—twenty minutes if traffic was kind, an eternity if it wasn’t—and every red light would be a taunt, every mile a test of this buzzing, reckless energy pushing me forward. I didn’t know what I’d do when I got there—confront her, fuck her, collapse at her feet—but I had to see her, had to feel the weight of what she’d done, what I’d let happen, what I’d loved despite myself. I peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing, the excitement a live wire in my veins, pulling me home to her.

The drive was a blur—red lights ignored, horns blaring as I weaved through traffic, my pulse hammering in my ears. Twenty minutes shrank to fifteen, my knuckles white on the steering wheel, every thought fixed on my wife—her sweaty body, that teasing kiss, the cum leaking from her. I parked crooked in the driveway, nearly slamming the car door off its hinges as I bolted inside, keys clattering to the floor as I burst through the front door, my breath ragged and wild.

The bedroom door was ajar, and there she was—sprawled across our bed, a vision of filthy aftermath. Her dusky skin gleamed with dried sweat, her hair a tangled, damp mess fanned out on the pillow. Her bouncy tits rose and fell with slow, resting breaths, nipples still faintly red from his hands, glistening faintly in the dim light. Her legs were splayed, thighs parted just enough to show the sticky mess between them—Mr. Banerjee’s thick, white cum still oozing from her pussy, streaking her bush and pooling on the sheets beneath her plump ass. The air stank of sex—sweat, musk, and him—a raw, used-up scent that hit me like a drug. She looked wrecked, claimed, resting there like a queen in the ruin he’d left, and it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

I lost it. The excitement, the shame, the need collided in a roaring explosion, and I couldn’t hold back—I lunged at the bed, my hands shaking with a hunger I couldn’t name, desperate to touch her, to feel her under me. She’d been dozing, her body relaxed in the aftermath, but as I climbed onto the mattress, the creak of the springs and the shift of my weight stirred her. My hands grabbed her shoulders, not hard enough to jolt her, but firm, possessive, pulling her toward me as I loomed over her. Her eyes fluttered open, bleary at first, then widening with surprise as she registered me—“Ari?”—her voice thick with sleep, husky and soft, a question hanging in the air. She didn’t push me away, didn’t flinch, just blinked up at me, her gaze catching the wild, feral hunger in my eyes, the flush on my face, the way my chest heaved like I’d run a marathon to get to her. She was caught off guard, her brows lifting slightly, but there was no resistance—just a curious stillness as she woke fully, her body shifting under my grip.

I crashed my mouth onto hers, kissing her hard and sloppy, my lips smashing against hers with a desperate edge, my tongue shoving past her lips to claim her. I tasted her—faint salt of sweat, the lingering heat of her exertion, and maybe a trace of him still there, a dark, filthy echo clinging to her breath and tongue. It wasn’t just sweat or her—it was him, that old bastard, his rank, musky stench from when she’d buried her face in his hairy, grimy ass, her tongue lapping at his sweaty crack, swallowing down the sour filth of his unwashed skin. And those sloppy kisses they’d shared after, his thick beard smearing spit across her mouth, his tongue shoving into her, leaving behind the bitter tang of his cum and sweat, a nasty cocktail she’d taken without flinching. I could taste it now, faint but unmistakable—a stale, earthy bite, a mix of his hairy ass and his lecherous mouth lingering on her lips, her breath, coating my tongue as I plunged deeper, the thought of it twisting my gut and spiking my lust into something primal.

Aradhya didn’t resist, didn’t pull back; instead, she let me take her, her lips softening under mine, parting wider as she woke to my need, her surprise melting into a passive surrender that only fueled me more. I yanked my trousers down, my average cock springing free—nothing special, not thin but no match for Banerjee’s girth—already leaking as I shoved her thighs apart. “You’re—sooooo eager.”, she mumbled, half-laughing, still surprised, but her legs parted wider, welcoming me as I pressed into her. She was slick, sloppy from him, and I thrust in fast, my cock sliding into that old bastard's mess, feeling her stretched heat swallow me. She moaned softly, her hips shifting to meet me, and I fucked her hard, my hands gripping her hips, her bouncy tits jiggling under me as I tried to reclaim her. My premature curse loomed—I knew I wouldn’t last—my thrusts frantic, sloppy, driven by a need to mark her over him, but within seconds, my balls tightened, and I groaned, spilling into her, my quick, pitiful load mixing with his, my body shaking as I collapsed over her, spent too soon.

I didn’t pull away. My suit jacket clung to my sweaty back, tie askew, shirt rumpled, but my trousers stayed pooled around my ankles, my bare legs tangled with hers. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close, and I slumped into her embrace, my head resting on her shoulder, her bouncy tits pressed against my chest through the fabric. My softening cock stayed nestled against her thigh, slick and sticky with her juices, my cum, and the thick, lingering mess of Banerjee’s load—a filthy cocktail coating me, dripping down my shaft, smearing onto her skin as we lay there. Her dusky body was warm, still faintly trembling from everything, and we rested like that, breathing together, the room heavy with the stench of sex and sweat.

After a quiet stretch, her fingers traced lazy lines along my arm, and she spoke first, her voice soft but steady.

“You’re a mess, Ari.”, she said, a faint tease in her tone, her breath warm against my ear.

I shifted, glancing down at my cum-streaked dick, then back at her, my throat tight. “Yeah, well… so are you.”, I muttered, my voice rough, jealousy spiking through me as I pictured Banerjee’s fat cock stretching her, leaving her like this. But there was something else too—relief, maybe happiness, seeing her relaxed, satisfied in a way I couldn’t manage alone. “You liked it, didn’t you? Him fucking you like that?”

She didn’t flinch, just met my eyes, her lips curling into a small, tired smile. “It was… intense.”, she admitted, her hand resting on my chest now, feeling my heartbeat through the suit. “But I’m okay—better than okay, actually. You don’t have to worry.” Her voice softened, a flicker of gratitude in it. “I’m lucky, you know? Having you… letting me have this. Not every guy would.” She squeezed my arm, her touch gentle but firm, like she meant it.

“I just… I hate that he can do that to you, give you that, and I—”, I stopped, my voice cracking, the inadequacy stinging. “But you’re happy, right? That’s what matters. I just… I need to know you’re okay after him.” My hand slid to her hip, possessive but careful, feeling the sweat and stickiness there, my concern mixing with the strange, quiet joy of her being here with me now.

“I am.”, she murmured, leaning in to press her forehead against mine, her damp hair brushing my face. “I’m good, Arijit. And I’ve got you—my crazy, understanding husband who ran home like that.” She chuckled softly, the sound lightening the air, and I couldn’t help a small, shaky laugh back, the tension easing just a bit. We stayed like that, her naked and me half-dressed in my suit, sticky and spent, talking in low whispers—jealousy, happiness, and gratitude tangling together in the messy afterglow.

[veenaimo]

superb update...

[Eswarraj3372]

Sexy update.... please continue

[Krish_69]

Waiting for your next update and try to make out more with banerjee it is more spicer and cuckold

[incest_cuck]

The next morning, I woke to the buzz of my phone on the nightstand, sunlight creeping through the curtains. Aradhya was still asleep beside me, her dusky skin bare against the sheets, her breath steady. I grabbed the phone, squinting at the screen—a text from Tashan at 9:17: “Hey man, thought about my offer? You and your wife up for it?” My pulse jumped, a sharp kick in my chest as memories of his proposition flooded back—him, lean and cocky, lounging across from me at that café last week, sipping his black coffee with a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with a challenge as he’d casually asked if I’d like to watch him fuck my wife, like it was no big deal, just another Tuesday.

My cock stirred instantly, a painful throb stretching against my boxers as I reread his words, the weight of them sinking in. Tashan wasn’t just some random guy—he was Aradhya’s ex from college, a wiry, charming asshole who’d dated her back when she was all shy smiles and textbooks, before I’d even met her. I already knew he’d fucked her once since then - just a few days ago.

I had asked Aradhya about his offer just before the incident with our landlord, that late night last week when we’d lain in bed, the air thick with the afterglow of talking about Banerjee and Harpreet. Her noncommittal answer had left me hanging, her eyes searching mine before she’d turned over, leaving it unresolved.

I typed back fast: “Yeah, we’re both ready. Let’s make a plan.” My finger hovered over send, my stomach twisting tighter. I hit send anyway, my breath shallow, jumping the gun despite the flicker of conflict gnawing at me. It wasn’t just the thrill pushing me now—there was a jagged edge to it, knowing he’d had her before, knowing he was her ex, someone who’d known her body years before I did. Banerjee was a sleazy old pig, Harpreet a brute, but Tashan—he was personal, tied to her past, and that made this feel riskier, heavier. Still, the image of him fucking her in front of me, his lean frame over her curvy one, her moaning his name like she had back then—it lit me up, a sick, pulsing heat I couldn’t resist, even if it left me slightly unsteady, wondering if I was diving too deep this time.

I set the phone down and turned to her, hesitating as she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Morning,” she mumbled, stretching, her bouncy 34C tits shifting under the sheet, her voice still groggy.

I swallowed, steeling myself. “Aradhya… I told Tashan we’re in. For his offer.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion snapping into something sharper as she sat up fast, the sheet slipping to her waist, her gaze piercing. “What? You mean him taking me while you’re there?”, she demanded, her voice rising, tinged with anger and disbelief.

I nodded, my tone steady despite the heat in my chest. “Yeah, we’re ready for this. Banerjee, Harpreet, Tashan—they’ve all given you such incredible highs, Aradhya, and being part of that with you has been amazing. This is the next piece for us—me being right there, watching you light up like you do.”

Her eyes narrowed, her fingers clutching the sheet tight, her breath quickening. “Ari, are you serious? Watching on camera’s one thing—this is in person. How can you be so sure?” Her voice cracked, skepticism cutting through, her upset clear as she leaned back, arms crossing over her chest.

I slid closer, my hand finding hers, holding it gently. “I’m sure because we’ve built this together—you’ve told me how Mr. Banerjee’s intensity shook you, how Harpreet’s roughness drove you wild, how Tashan knew just what you liked. I’ve seen it, heard it. But this time I want to be there for real, Aradhya, watching you feel that pleasure right in front of me.” I kept my voice soft, letting her see it wasn’t just about me—it was about her, about us sharing what got her off.

She scowled, chewing her lip, her upset spilling out. “This isn’t some video you can shut off! What if it fucks us up? I love you—I don’t want to lose you over this!” Her voice trembled, raw with fear and frustration, her eyes searching mine—Banerjee’s filth, Harpreet’s power, Tashan’s past with her all flashing behind her glare.

I squeezed her hand, my tone calm but firm. “It won’t mess us up—I won’t let it. We’ve shared how good they’ve made you feel. I just want to see it live, sweetheart, see you lose yourself like that. We’ll handle it together, like always—you’re not losing me.”

She stared at me, her anger softening into a conflicted frown, her fingers twitching in mine. “You’re insane!”, she muttered, then paused, her voice dropping. “Fine… I’ll admit it—telling you how they’ve made me feel, knowing you’ve watched… it turns me on too. A lot. But in person? I’m scared, Arijit. What’s this going to do to us later? I don’t know if I can handle it shifting things.” Her confession warmed me—her arousal echoing mine—but her skepticism lingered, heavy with worry about our future.

I leaned in, my grip reassuring. “It won’t shift what we’ve got. We’ve loved how they’ve pleasured you—this is just closer, more real. I want to see you feel that good, Aradhya, and I'll be strong through it. If it’s too much, we stop—together.”

She studied me, her eyes still wary but easing, her fingers lacing with mine. “Okay… but you better be damn sure about this!”, she said at last, her tone reluctant but softening, a shaky nod following. “I’ll do it—for you, for us—but if it feels off, even for a second, we’re both out. Deal?” I nodded back, relief and a quiet thrill building, my cock stiffening at the thought of Tashan making her moan in front of me, her pleasure the heart of it all.

“Deal!”, I exclaimed, my voice steady as I pulled her into a soft, careful kiss, sealing this step we’d take together, her caution a thread I’d weave into our shared ride.

After our shaky kiss, my wife slipped out of bed to shower, leaving me alone with the rumpled sheets and my buzzing thoughts. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, my fingers hovering over the screen, a jittery mix of anticipation and nerves sparking through me. My chest tightened as I started typing, thumbs fumbling slightly, the weight of what my wife and I had just agreed to sinking in. I laid out what we’d talked about — how we were stepping into this together, how I wanted to see her feel that rush in person—my breath shallow as I pictured Tashan reading it, smirking that cocky smirk of his.

I suggested a date—Saturday night, three days away—and a time, 8 p.m., my fingers trembling as I hit send, locking us into this. The wait for his reply stretched, my leg bouncing against the mattress, anticipation swelling like a tide I couldn’t hold back, laced with a jittery edge that made my palms sweat. When the phone buzzed back, confirming it, my heart lurched—half exhilaration, half dread—Saturday was coming, and I’d be there, watching her glow, nerves and all.

***

The next day, Friday, I sat at my office desk, the hum of keyboards and muted chatter fading as my mind drifted to tomorrow. I pulled out my phone and texted Aradhya: “Hey, get ready after I’m back—we’ll go shopping for tomorrow night before the date.” Her reply came quick, “Okay, sounds good.”

I smiled despite the nervous flutter in my chest, already imagining her prepping for her ex. The workday dragged, but when I finally stepped into our apartment that evening, the sight of her stopped me cold. My sweet, sexy wife, stood by the mirror, brushing on light mascara, her dusky skin glowing under a touch of blush and a slick of pink gloss. She wore a sleeveless, backless anarkali top—deep red, sheer at the sides, clinging tight to her modest mammaries, the thin fabric letting her nipples hint through without a blouse beneath. The plunging neckline dipped low, framing her cleavage, while the flared skirt stopped mid-thigh, slit high on one side to flash her smooth, toned leg with every step—a sexy twist on tradition that left little to the imagination. No churidar, just the top and a pair of gold anklets tinkling faintly, her confidence radiating. She used to step out in modest salwar suits or long kurtas, always covered, shy about drawing eyes—now she looked like she craved them, and I was floored.

“You look… amazing!”, I managed, my voice catching, impressed and stunned by this bold new Aradhya, her transformation hitting me hard after Harpreet, Banerjee, and Tashan had peeled away her old shell.

She caught my stare in the mirror, smirking. “Thought I’d switch it up,” she said, tossing her hair, that newfound edge in her tone making my pulse skip. We grabbed our metro cards and headed out, the local train packed with evening commuters. As we stood holding the rail, heads turned—guys in suits, college kids, even a grizzled old man—all ogling her bare back, the curve of her hips, the flash of thigh through the slit as the train rocked. She noticed, her eyes flicking over the crowd, and then—fuck—she smirked at a tall guy in a hoodie across from us, a quick, flirty curl of her lips right in front of me. My throat tightened, a jolt of shock and heat hitting me — her boldness was unreal now.

At the mall, we headed to an upscale boutique, the kind with sleek racks and overpriced tags. A young sales assistant — 19 or 20, lanky with a mop of dark hair — couldn’t peel his eyes off her as we walked in, his gaze lingering on her exposed skin. She smiled at him, a small, playful curve of her lips, and that emboldened him to stride over.

“Can I help you find something?”, he asked, his voice eager, almost tripping over itself.

I cleared my throat, a reflex kicking in. “Uh, is there a lady available? We’re here for her outfit.”, I said, pointing at my wife.

But the kid grinned, unfazed. “I’ve got this, sir—trust me, I know my stuff.”

Aradhya shrugged, her eyes glinting with amusement. “He’s fine, Ari—I don’t mind.”, she said, her tone light but firm, another flash of that boldness I was still wrapping my head around.

The young sales assistant’s eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his boyish face as he realized he’d scored the chance to help this sweet, sultry married woman who radiated a vibe he couldn’t resist. I stood back, arms crossed, a skeptical knot tightening in my chest—jealousy prickling as I watched him practically bounce on his heels, too eager for my liking. But Aradhya’s calm confidence steadied me; she knew what she was doing, and I trusted her, even if my gut churned watching this young man eye her like a prize.

He stepped closer, brushing a hand through his dark mop of hair. “By the way, myself Param. What’re you looking for today, ma'am?”

Aradhya turned to him, her lips curling into a sly smile as she adjusted her anarkali top, the sheer fabric shifting to tease more of her dusky skin. “Oh, just something… eye-catching. For a date tomorrow night.”, she paused, then shot me a quick wink, her eyes glinting with mischief.

I swallowed, my throat dry, caught off guard by that wink—playful, knowing, like she was pulling me into her game. Param didn’t notice, too busy nodding enthusiastically as he darted toward a rack of shimmering outfits, pulling out a sleek lehenga with a cropped, sequined choli.

Param: This one’s killer—shows off the right curves, perfect for a night out. What do you think?

He held it up, his gaze flicking between the outfit and her plunging neckline, clearly thrilled to dress her up. Aradhya stepped closer, brushing her fingers along the fabric, her hip cocked as she leaned in just a bit too much.

“It’s nice, Param, but… I’m thinking something a bit more modern for this date. Something fresh, you know?”, she tilted her head, her voice smooth and playful, her fingers lingering on the sequined choli before letting it drop back to the rack.

Param’s eyes widened, his grin stretching as he nodded eagerly, practically buzzing with excitement at her request. “Modern, got it! I’ve got just the thing—hang on, you’re gonna love this.” He darted to another rack, pulling out a sleek, off-shoulder crop top in midnight blue, paired with a high-slit maxi skirt that shimmered faintly under the store lights. “This is trendy, super chic—perfect for a hot date.”

I watched, my arms still crossed, a skeptical edge sharpening as Param’s enthusiasm grated on me—his eyes kept darting to her bare shoulders, her exposed cleavage, like he was dressing his own fantasy. Aradhya took the outfit from him, holding it up against herself, her anklets jingling as she turned to the mirror nearby. She smoothed the fabric over her curves, her lips curling into that sly smile again.

“This is really cute… I love the vibe.”, she said, her voice bright with approval, then turned slightly to Param, her smile softening into something more playful. “But, you know, this date’s indoors… I’m thinking something one-piece, maybe a little… showy?”, she trailed off, her tone dipping flirtatiously as she ran a finger lightly along the plunging neckline of her anarkali, drawing attention to her cleavage with a sly glance at Param, her anklets chiming with a subtle sway of her hips.

Param’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up like he’d just been handed a golden ticket, clearly eating up her every word. “Indoors, huh? One-piece and showy—I’ve got you. Wait ‘til you see this.” He bolted back to the racks, rummaging with renewed energy, and pulled out a deep green, off-shoulder mini dress—tight, with a plunging V-neck that’d bare half her chest and a hem that’d barely cover her thighs. “This one’s perfect—sexy, modern, total knockout for an indoor thing.”

I stood there, my arms still crossed, skepticism warring with the heat creeping up my spine as Param dangled the dress like a trophy, his gaze flicking to her plunging anarkali neckline again.

Aradhya took the dress from him, holding it up to her frame, her sly smile growing as she pressed it against her dusky skin, letting the V-neck align with her cleavage.

“Oh, this is cute… and it’d definitely show off a little, right, Param?”, she giggled, her eyes locking on his for a beat, her tone teasing as she leaned in just a touch closer, then glanced at me with that knowing smirk, like she was testing the air between us.

[Eswarraj3372]

So sexy'..please continue

[sexvrgame]

story is going beautifully. superbly erotic etc.
but the title is not getting justfied, its more wife is being pulled ito cuckolding not her pulling him into this.

If hse manipulates him into cuckolding etc, it woukd be more hot.

[Blackdick11]

Wonderful!!! now I’m just impatiently waiting for saturday date night. can’t wait!

[ricah43165]

just look at this sexy and horney wifey! 
her expression reveals she's filled with anticipation, practically dripping at the thought of her ex’s massive cock inside her wet pussy again.
this time, it’s even more thrilling because her husband will witness every moment live.
It’ll be an intensely erotic sight when she’s fucked by her ex, all while gazing into her husband’s eyes!
this saturday night, I wish aradhya would slip into the red lingerie her ex adored—the same one she wore during their college romance—and take him down memory lane.

[Lovecraft]

Keep it going, bro! Your great work is really awesome! & Eagerly waiting for next update