24-04-2025, 04:59 AM
The plane crashed onto Melbourne’s tarmac, and my cock was a bloody beast, throbbing like a damn jackhammer, so swollen it was shredding my jeans, leaking precum like a busted tap as I stumbled off, mad to get home to Radha—my sweet, sexy, slutty Indian vixen, my cock-hungry devil. Four weeks away was the rubbish plan, a torture of jerking my cock to her fading shadow, but that testing job blew up early, and my boss said, “Forget it, get lost.” Our 5th anniversary was next week, and I’d burn the world to make her choke on her own dirty screams. I’d raided some shady lingerie shop, my hands shaking with horny madness as I grabbed the most disgusting loot: sheer baby dolls that’d make my balls scream, paired with a bralette and crotchless boy shorts so tight they’d strangle her curves into a dripping, trembling mess. I picked pink and blue to tease her naughty heart, red to match the fire in my cock, and a white set so vile and twisted I nearly blew my load imagining it plastered to her light brown, sweat-soaked skin.
By the time I hit the road, my cock was a filthy wreck, oozing like a sewer as I pictured Radha—my light brown, cock-starved goddess—strutting in those flimsy rags. Her 34C breasts, plump and juicy, would bounce like a cheap tart’s, those dark, rock-hard nipples slicing through the sheer fabric, begging me to suck them till she’s sobbing. Those short baby dolls would ride up, barely brushing her thick, wet thighs, leaving her 36-inch arse—fat, round, and screaming for slaps—swinging bare, that light brown peach shaking like a bar dancer with every dirty step. I’d given her some rubbish stuff before, but this was pure nasty filth—slut-level, the bralette crushing her breasts like a monster’s grip, the boy shorts digging into her waist, showing her soaked, throbbing pussy like a flashing sign shouting “Fuck me.” Ever since I’d drowned in those Blacked videos—those slutty girls teasing big studs with lacy bralettes and tight boy shorts, flashing their wet pussies till the air stank of sex—I’d been mad to see Radha as my own porn star, her light brown skin shining with sweat, making me a howling, horny animal.
She’s my dirty dream—sweet like ladoo one minute, a shameless, cock-craving bitch the next. She loves to torment me, flashing that light brown skin when I’m not looking, bending over to hike her skirt, shaking her arse like she’s daring me to smack it black and blue. Her filthy giggles echo in my ears, her almond eyes sparkling with mischief, those full lips smirking as she catches me staring, knowing my cock’s ready to burst. I could hear her now, her voice thick with sex fever as she slips into the pink set, the fabric sucking her sweaty curves, breasts bouncing as she bends to flash her arse, growling, “Look at your dirty slut, mate—shaking this fat arse in pink, my breasts hanging out like a cheap tart. Your big cock gonna slam this slutty wife, fuck me so hard my shorts are dripping with your cum?” The blue would make her a soaked tramp, sticking to her waist as she grinds the air, her pussy flooding the shorts, her tongue out as she grunts, “I’m your filthy bitch, mate—see this wet pussy? Rip these off and pound me till I’m screaming, choke my throat with that cock till I’m spitting.”
The red set would turn her into my jungle slut, the sheer top so tight her nipples could tear it, her light brown skin shining like she’s oiled up, the shorts low to show her soaked pussy as she roars, “Like your slutty Radha in red, eh? Fuck me like a beast—slam that cock in, slap this arse till it’s bleeding, make me your dirty cum bucket till I’m begging.” And the white—bloody hell, the white—would make her a walking sex circus, transparent as it sticks to her drenched body, her dark areolas flashing like lightning, the shorts so deep her pussy’s every bit shows, her voice a guttural scream: “Look at your horny slut-wife, flashing this pussy like a street tart—tie me up, fuck my pussy and arse till I’m crying, fill me till your cum’s dripping down my legs?” She’d crawl to me, her light brown skin sticky and hot, her breath a ragged gasp as she snarls, “I’m your dirty cock addict, mate—bend me over, ram it in my arse, make your sweet Radha your filthy, screaming bitch till I’m wrecked.”
But as I screeched up to our gate, my horny haze shattered—there it was, a big, luxurious Beamer parked like a king in the drive, gleaming under the lights like it’s mocking me, saying, “Your wife’s filthy.” My cock surged harder, but now a dirty, burning rage exploded in my gut, mixed with a horny fever. Someone’s here—and it’s probably that bastard, her boss, his big cock already in her heart. The doubt made me a mad, horny monster—hungrier, my cock roaring to storm in, rip those new sets onto her, and fuck her till she’s a broken doll, proving she’s my slut, my dirty cock-worshipping queen, mine for this filth. I’d throw those sets down like a war cry, watch her slink into them, her hips swaying as she taunts, “Gonna punish your slutty wife, mate? Fuck this cock-hungry bitch till she’s crying, make her forget any other cock forever?”—till I’m tearing them off, pinning her to the wall, and fucking her so hard the house collapses, her screams drowning that Beamer’s shadow, making her my horny, cock-worshipping goddess, her holes mine to wreck.
Our role plays flashed back to me as I walked to the door —those dirty nights where I’d whisper in her ear, dressing her up as my slutty fantasy, making her play the naughty seductress. I’d push her to tease me, to act like she’s luring some big shot, her boss maybe, flashing her breasts or arse while I watched, my cock rock-hard. “Yeah, Radha, show that bastard your pussy,” I’d growl, begging her to describe how she’d bend over his desk, skirt up, purring, “Sir, you like this, don’t you?” Her almond eyes would light up, her voice turning filthy as she’d play along, moaning, “Yeah, mate, I’d spread my legs for him, suck his cock while you watch.” My cuck fantasies pushed her further—late nights, cock in hand, I’d beg her to talk about her boss, that sod, fucking her while I watched like a horny loser. “Tell me, Radha, how he fucked your pussy, made you his slut,” I’d hiss, and she’d smirk, her voice dripping, “Yeah, mate, he bent me over the table, fucked my arse, said, ‘Radha, you’re my tart now.’” Those talks, that dirty game, must’ve sunk into her heart, tempting her to make it real, to cross the line with that bastard boss while I was gone, her pussy itching to live out the filth we’d played with.
And she’d always thought her boss was bigger—his cock a monster she couldn’t unsee. She’d come home from work, her eyes gleaming with a horny spark, telling me how she’d spotted his swollen crotch, that massive bulge in his tight trousers, when he’d call her to his cabin, flirting with her, his voice low and dirty. “Radha, check this file,” he’d say, leaning close, his cock outlined like a bloody cannon, and she’d blush, her pussy getting wet, loving the thrill, her kinky heart racing. She’d tell me, giggling, “Mate, his cock looks so big—bigger than yours, probably tear my pussy apart.” I’d get horny hearing it, pushing her to describe it in our roleplays, saying, “Yeah, Radha, suck his massive cock, be his slut.” She’d moan, “Yeah, mate, I’d bend in his cabin, take his fat cock in my mouth, while you watch.” His flirting—those “Radha, you’re so gorgeous” lines, his hand brushing her waist—made her pussy throb, her kinky desires exploding, our cuck talk egging her to crave it for real. She’d imagine his huge cock stretching her, filling her pussy deeper than mine, and our roleplays made her ache for it, her heart ready to turn our dirty game into a dirty truth.
I pictured her, my slutty wife, using our roleplay tricks to hook him. In his office, blouse buttons undone, breasts peeking out, skirt hiked up as she leans over his papers, arse swaying, her light brown skin glowing like butter, purring, “Sir, drop me home, yeah? I’ll be your real good girl—look at these plump breasts, this round arse, all for you.” She’d catch his bulge swelling, her pussy dripping as she teases, “Sir, what’s that big cock you’re hiding? Show me, na.” Or in his Beamer, saree pulled up, pussy soaked as she rubs her bare thigh against him, moaning, “I’m so hot for you, sir—take me home, fuck me with that massive cock till I’m screaming, make me your dirty girl.” Maybe she’d send him filthy texts, a selfie of her in those old panties, pussy outlined, captioned, “Sir, come over, this Radha’s dying for your fat cock.” Or at work, swaying in a tight dress, flashing her waist, whispering, “Come home, yeah? I’ll give you a fuck you’ll never forget, shove that big cock in my pussy.”
I saw her in our house, that Beamer outside, her in some old set—maybe that short black nighty, tight and slutty—bent over the sofa, arse up, her boss’s fat cock slamming in as she growls, “Fuck me harder, you bastard—fill your slutty Radha, your big cock tearing my pussy, it’s yours till he’s back.” Or on our bed, her breasts bouncing like mad, lips wrapped around his cock, slurping like a market tart as she giggles, “See how filthy I am—sucking your huge cock, fill me up, make this arse shake till I swallow your cum.” Or in the kitchen, blouse open, boy shorts yanked down, her light brown skin shining as she spreads her legs on the counter, hissing, “Sir, this pussy’s yours—slam that big cock in, fuck me, slap my arse till I can’t walk.” Or in our bathroom, naked under the shower, her boss pinning her to the tiles, his massive cock stretching her pussy, her screams echoing as she moans, “Yes, sir, fuck my pussy, make me your tart with that huge cock—till he’s back, I’m yours.”
By the time I hit the road, my cock was a filthy wreck, oozing like a sewer as I pictured Radha—my light brown, cock-starved goddess—strutting in those flimsy rags. Her 34C breasts, plump and juicy, would bounce like a cheap tart’s, those dark, rock-hard nipples slicing through the sheer fabric, begging me to suck them till she’s sobbing. Those short baby dolls would ride up, barely brushing her thick, wet thighs, leaving her 36-inch arse—fat, round, and screaming for slaps—swinging bare, that light brown peach shaking like a bar dancer with every dirty step. I’d given her some rubbish stuff before, but this was pure nasty filth—slut-level, the bralette crushing her breasts like a monster’s grip, the boy shorts digging into her waist, showing her soaked, throbbing pussy like a flashing sign shouting “Fuck me.” Ever since I’d drowned in those Blacked videos—those slutty girls teasing big studs with lacy bralettes and tight boy shorts, flashing their wet pussies till the air stank of sex—I’d been mad to see Radha as my own porn star, her light brown skin shining with sweat, making me a howling, horny animal.
She’s my dirty dream—sweet like ladoo one minute, a shameless, cock-craving bitch the next. She loves to torment me, flashing that light brown skin when I’m not looking, bending over to hike her skirt, shaking her arse like she’s daring me to smack it black and blue. Her filthy giggles echo in my ears, her almond eyes sparkling with mischief, those full lips smirking as she catches me staring, knowing my cock’s ready to burst. I could hear her now, her voice thick with sex fever as she slips into the pink set, the fabric sucking her sweaty curves, breasts bouncing as she bends to flash her arse, growling, “Look at your dirty slut, mate—shaking this fat arse in pink, my breasts hanging out like a cheap tart. Your big cock gonna slam this slutty wife, fuck me so hard my shorts are dripping with your cum?” The blue would make her a soaked tramp, sticking to her waist as she grinds the air, her pussy flooding the shorts, her tongue out as she grunts, “I’m your filthy bitch, mate—see this wet pussy? Rip these off and pound me till I’m screaming, choke my throat with that cock till I’m spitting.”
The red set would turn her into my jungle slut, the sheer top so tight her nipples could tear it, her light brown skin shining like she’s oiled up, the shorts low to show her soaked pussy as she roars, “Like your slutty Radha in red, eh? Fuck me like a beast—slam that cock in, slap this arse till it’s bleeding, make me your dirty cum bucket till I’m begging.” And the white—bloody hell, the white—would make her a walking sex circus, transparent as it sticks to her drenched body, her dark areolas flashing like lightning, the shorts so deep her pussy’s every bit shows, her voice a guttural scream: “Look at your horny slut-wife, flashing this pussy like a street tart—tie me up, fuck my pussy and arse till I’m crying, fill me till your cum’s dripping down my legs?” She’d crawl to me, her light brown skin sticky and hot, her breath a ragged gasp as she snarls, “I’m your dirty cock addict, mate—bend me over, ram it in my arse, make your sweet Radha your filthy, screaming bitch till I’m wrecked.”
But as I screeched up to our gate, my horny haze shattered—there it was, a big, luxurious Beamer parked like a king in the drive, gleaming under the lights like it’s mocking me, saying, “Your wife’s filthy.” My cock surged harder, but now a dirty, burning rage exploded in my gut, mixed with a horny fever. Someone’s here—and it’s probably that bastard, her boss, his big cock already in her heart. The doubt made me a mad, horny monster—hungrier, my cock roaring to storm in, rip those new sets onto her, and fuck her till she’s a broken doll, proving she’s my slut, my dirty cock-worshipping queen, mine for this filth. I’d throw those sets down like a war cry, watch her slink into them, her hips swaying as she taunts, “Gonna punish your slutty wife, mate? Fuck this cock-hungry bitch till she’s crying, make her forget any other cock forever?”—till I’m tearing them off, pinning her to the wall, and fucking her so hard the house collapses, her screams drowning that Beamer’s shadow, making her my horny, cock-worshipping goddess, her holes mine to wreck.
Our role plays flashed back to me as I walked to the door —those dirty nights where I’d whisper in her ear, dressing her up as my slutty fantasy, making her play the naughty seductress. I’d push her to tease me, to act like she’s luring some big shot, her boss maybe, flashing her breasts or arse while I watched, my cock rock-hard. “Yeah, Radha, show that bastard your pussy,” I’d growl, begging her to describe how she’d bend over his desk, skirt up, purring, “Sir, you like this, don’t you?” Her almond eyes would light up, her voice turning filthy as she’d play along, moaning, “Yeah, mate, I’d spread my legs for him, suck his cock while you watch.” My cuck fantasies pushed her further—late nights, cock in hand, I’d beg her to talk about her boss, that sod, fucking her while I watched like a horny loser. “Tell me, Radha, how he fucked your pussy, made you his slut,” I’d hiss, and she’d smirk, her voice dripping, “Yeah, mate, he bent me over the table, fucked my arse, said, ‘Radha, you’re my tart now.’” Those talks, that dirty game, must’ve sunk into her heart, tempting her to make it real, to cross the line with that bastard boss while I was gone, her pussy itching to live out the filth we’d played with.
And she’d always thought her boss was bigger—his cock a monster she couldn’t unsee. She’d come home from work, her eyes gleaming with a horny spark, telling me how she’d spotted his swollen crotch, that massive bulge in his tight trousers, when he’d call her to his cabin, flirting with her, his voice low and dirty. “Radha, check this file,” he’d say, leaning close, his cock outlined like a bloody cannon, and she’d blush, her pussy getting wet, loving the thrill, her kinky heart racing. She’d tell me, giggling, “Mate, his cock looks so big—bigger than yours, probably tear my pussy apart.” I’d get horny hearing it, pushing her to describe it in our roleplays, saying, “Yeah, Radha, suck his massive cock, be his slut.” She’d moan, “Yeah, mate, I’d bend in his cabin, take his fat cock in my mouth, while you watch.” His flirting—those “Radha, you’re so gorgeous” lines, his hand brushing her waist—made her pussy throb, her kinky desires exploding, our cuck talk egging her to crave it for real. She’d imagine his huge cock stretching her, filling her pussy deeper than mine, and our roleplays made her ache for it, her heart ready to turn our dirty game into a dirty truth.
I pictured her, my slutty wife, using our roleplay tricks to hook him. In his office, blouse buttons undone, breasts peeking out, skirt hiked up as she leans over his papers, arse swaying, her light brown skin glowing like butter, purring, “Sir, drop me home, yeah? I’ll be your real good girl—look at these plump breasts, this round arse, all for you.” She’d catch his bulge swelling, her pussy dripping as she teases, “Sir, what’s that big cock you’re hiding? Show me, na.” Or in his Beamer, saree pulled up, pussy soaked as she rubs her bare thigh against him, moaning, “I’m so hot for you, sir—take me home, fuck me with that massive cock till I’m screaming, make me your dirty girl.” Maybe she’d send him filthy texts, a selfie of her in those old panties, pussy outlined, captioned, “Sir, come over, this Radha’s dying for your fat cock.” Or at work, swaying in a tight dress, flashing her waist, whispering, “Come home, yeah? I’ll give you a fuck you’ll never forget, shove that big cock in my pussy.”
I saw her in our house, that Beamer outside, her in some old set—maybe that short black nighty, tight and slutty—bent over the sofa, arse up, her boss’s fat cock slamming in as she growls, “Fuck me harder, you bastard—fill your slutty Radha, your big cock tearing my pussy, it’s yours till he’s back.” Or on our bed, her breasts bouncing like mad, lips wrapped around his cock, slurping like a market tart as she giggles, “See how filthy I am—sucking your huge cock, fill me up, make this arse shake till I swallow your cum.” Or in the kitchen, blouse open, boy shorts yanked down, her light brown skin shining as she spreads her legs on the counter, hissing, “Sir, this pussy’s yours—slam that big cock in, fuck me, slap my arse till I can’t walk.” Or in our bathroom, naked under the shower, her boss pinning her to the tiles, his massive cock stretching her pussy, her screams echoing as she moans, “Yes, sir, fuck my pussy, make me your tart with that huge cock—till he’s back, I’m yours.”
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