Adultery Husband's mistake -Wife's bang bang

[Suresh@123]

so no third day action?

Let's wait may or may not be.... depends upon....?

[Suresh@123]

Please post images as it helps in imagination and more erotic

OK bro  may be  I will edit and post sex gif and images of bang..... May n

[me.you]

Let's wait may or may not be.... depends upon....?

depends on what sir?

[qatar2000]

totally awesome, can't hardly wait for the next story update.
Good writing 

[Muralimm]

Superb erotic writing script man

What about day 3 is it cancelled or any other place for it

[Suresh@123]

DAY 3: Tomorrow..

[Suresh@123]

Thank you to all

[Suresh@123]

totally awesome, can't hardly wait for the next story update.
Good writing 

Thankyou

[Suresh@123]

Superb erotic writing script man

What about day 3 is it cancelled or any other place for it

Thank you bro

[rajboy]

Just superb. Now adithi and shailaja both should be stoned with cocaine and then made strip dance

[Suresh@123]

Just superb. Now adithi and shailaja both should be stoned with cocaine and then made strip dance

Thankyou

[Suresh@123]

Day 3 – Part 1: The Mumbai Echo


In a high-rise apartment in Bandra, Mumbai, Kamal sat hunched over his laptop at 7:45 AM, the city already

buzzing far below. The Excel sheets for the quarterly audit blurred in front of his tired eyes. Coffee had gone

cold in the mug beside him. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus on the numbers, when his phone vibrated

once—then beeped sharply with the familiar notification tone he had come to dread.

He froze.

The same private chat group. The same three dots that always appeared before something devastating

arrived.

He tapped it open.

The video thumbnail loaded slowly on his 4G connection: a still frame of Athidhi lying on crisp white sheets,

arms stretched high above her head, wrists loosely tied to the ornate wooden headboard of the master

bedroom on the island. Her eyes were half-closed in exhausted sleep, dark hair fanned across the pillow, bare

except for a tiny black lace bra and matching thong. The timestamp in the corner read 6:12 AM IST—barely

an hour ago.

Then the message from Gupta appeared below the video:

Good morning, cuck. Fresh clip just dropped. Today we have a new crew member joining. Meet Moin—our

muscular strongman, 6'3", built like a fucking tank. Your shy little wife is about to get properly introduced.

Watch live if you want. Or keep pretending to work. Up to you.

Kamal's stomach dropped. His hand trembled as he pressed play.

The footage began.

The camera—hidden high in the corner of the bedroom—showed Athidhi stirring awake as the door opened.

Gupta entered first, shirtless, followed by Rahul in loose shorts, and then a third man: Moin. Broad shoulders,

thick arms veined and bulging, dark skin glistening under the morning light filtering through the curtains, a

short beard framing a stern face. He wore only black boxer briefs that did little to hide the heavy bulge.

Athidhi's eyes widened. She pulled the sheet up instinctively.

"No… please… not another person…" Her voice was small, hoarse from the previous night's screaming.

Gupta's tone was calm steel. "Good morning, Athidi. New day, new rules. Go freshen up. Shower, brush your

teeth, then come straight back here. Lie down on the master bed in only your inners. Arms raised above your

head—hold the headboard posts. Don't make us repeat it."

She looked between them, cheeks flaming. "Gupta… I can't… I'm so sore already…"

Moin's deep voice rumbled for the first time. "You'll handle it. Or we make it harder."

Rahul smiled. "Clock's ticking, baby. Move."

Athidhi slid off the bed on shaky legs and disappeared into the attached bathroom. The camera picked up

the sound of running water, soft sobs mixed with it.

Ten minutes later she returned—hair damp, skin flushed from the hot shower, wearing only the black lace set.

She climbed onto the massive bed without a word, lay on her back, and slowly raised both arms. Her fingers

curled around the two thick wooden posts of the headboard. The position lifted and spread her breasts,

made her ribs visible with each nervous breath.

Gupta nodded approval. "Good girl."

The three men surrounded the bed. No rush. They simply looked at her stretched-out body for a long

moment—possessive, hungry.

Then they descended.

Gupta took her left nipple through the lace, sucking hard, teeth grazing. Rahul claimed the right, tongue

swirling, then biting just enough to make her gasp. Moin knelt between her spread thighs, pushed the thong

aside with two thick fingers, and fastened his mouth directly onto her swollen labia. His tongue was broad,

insistent—lapping from bottom to top in long, slow strokes before focusing on her clit with firm suction.

Athidhi's back arched immediately. "Ohhhhhh… haaaaa… no… too many mouths… aaa…"

They didn't speak. They just devoured.

For ten full minutes they sucked and chewed in unison—nipples pulled taut, labia tugged between lips, anus

circled by Moin's tongue when he spread her wider. Wet sounds filled the room: slurping, soft pops when

mouths released flesh only to latch again. Athidhi's hips jerked helplessly, wrists straining against her self-

imposed bondage.

"Haaaa… aaa… please… slow… margayiiii… ohhhhh… it's too much at once…"

Her pussy glistened, then dripped—clear fluid sliding down toward her ass. Moin caught it with his tongue,

groaning against her.

Gupta lifted his head just long enough to murmur, "Camera's rolling, Athidi. Say hello to Kamal. Tell him how

wet you are already."

She whimpered, eyes glassy. "Kamal… haaaaa… they're… licking everywhere… I'm dripping… ohhhhh… I'm

sorry…"

Rahul chuckled against her nipple. "Ask her about your dick, Moin. She loves comparing."



roll die freeonlinedice

Moin raised his head, lips shiny. His voice was gravel. "Tell us, Athidi. Whose cock is bigger—your husband's or mine?"

Athidhi bit her lip, tears welling. "Yours… haaaaa… much bigger… thicker… Kamal's is… smaller…"

Gupta grinned. "And who fucks you better?"

"You… all of you… haaaaa… Kamal never… made me scream like this… aaa… please don't make me say…"

Moin slid two thick fingers inside her, curling toward her g-spot while his thumb pressed her clit. "Keep

talking. Or I stop."

She sobbed. "You fuck me deeper… harder… humiliate me more… Kamal… he… he never… ohhhhh…

margayiiii…"

The confession seemed to ignite them.

Rahul reached to the nightstand and picked up a sleek, curved G-spot vibrator—bright pink, ridged, with a

pronounced hooked head. He handed it to Moin.

"Make her cry with this first."

Moin pressed the buzzing tip against her entrance, teasing, then pushed it in slowly. The curve nestled

directly against her front wall. He turned it to medium.

Athidhi's scream was instant and raw. "HAAAAA… aaa… nooooo… too strong… g-spot… haaaaa… it's hitting

right there… margayiiii… please… slow… slow… slow…"

Her hips bucked wildly. Pussy lips fluttered around the vibrating toy. Fluid gushed—first a trickle, then a small

squirt that soaked Moin's wrist.

Gupta pinched both nipples hard. "Louder. Let Kamal hear how easily you break."

Rahul stroked himself through his shorts, watching. "Beg Moin to fuck you instead of the toy."

Athidhi's voice cracked. "Moin… please… fuck me… haaaaa… the vibrator… making me crazy… I need real cock…

big cock… yours… ohhhhh… margayiiii…"

Moin pulled the toy out with a wet pop, tossed it aside, and yanked his boxers down. His cock sprang free—

heavy, veined, easily nine inches, girthy enough that Athidhi's eyes widened in fresh panic.

He positioned himself, rubbed the fat head along her soaked slit. "Say it again. For the camera. For your

husband."

Athidhi's wrists trembled on the headboard. Tears streamed sideways into her hair. "Moin… your cock is so

much bigger than Kamal's… haaaaa… please fuck me with it… stretch me… humiliate me… show Kamal how a

real man takes his wife… aaa…"

Moin thrust in one brutal stroke—halfway, then all the way when she screamed.

"HAAAAAAAA… aaa… too deep… splitting me… ohhhhh… margayiiii… haaaaa…"

He didn't pause. He fucked her hard, hips snapping, balls slapping wetly against her ass. The bedframe

banged the wall in rhythm. Athidhi's moans turned into continuous wails, echoing off the high ceilings.

"Haaaa… aaa… haaaaa… so thick… filling me… Kamal never… haaaaa… never this full… ohhhhh… margayiiii…

fuck… deeper… no… slow… no… don't stop… haaaaa…"

Gupta and Rahul took turns feeding her their cocks—first one, then the other—silencing her cries

momentarily only for them to erupt louder when her mouth was free.

Moin growled questions between thrusts. "Who owns this pussy now?"

"You… haaaaa… you do… all of you… aaa…"

"Whose cum are you going to take first?"

"Yours… haaaaa… fill me… please… show Kamal… ohhhhh…"

The pace built. Athidhi's body shook with approaching climax—thighs quivering, toes curling, back arching so

high only her shoulders and heels touched the mattress.

"I'm… cumming… haaaaa… nooooo… margayiiii… cumming on your huge cock… Kamal… he's watching… I'm

sorry… haaaaa… aaa… ohhhhhhh…"

She shattered—squirting hard around Moin's pistoning shaft, soaking his abs, the sheets, even splashing onto

Gupta's thigh. Her scream cracked, hoarse and endless.

Moin didn't stop. He fucked her through it, prolonging the spasms until she was babbling incoherently.

"Haaaa… too much… mercy… no more… haaaaa… margayiiii…"

But he only slowed enough to let her breathe—then started again, harder.


The camera kept rolling.

In Mumbai, Kamal stared at the screen, face pale, breathing shallow. The live feed continued, merciless.

And the morning on the island had only just begun.










To be continued.......

[Suresh@123]

The camera never wavered.

Moin stayed buried to the hilt inside Athidhi even as her orgasmic spasms finally began to ebb. Her inner

walls still fluttered weakly around his thickness, milking him in involuntary aftershocks. Sweat beaded on her

collarbones, trickled between her breasts still heaving under the stretched black lace. Her wrists—reddened

now from gripping the headboard posts—trembled but remained obediently high.

Moin rolled his hips once, slowly, letting her feel every ridged vein dragging along her over-sensitized

channel.

"Haaaa… still so sensitive… Moin… please… just a second…" Athidhi's voice cracked into a fragile whisper.

He ignored the plea.

Instead he hooked her knees over his thick forearms, folding her almost in half. The new angle drove him

impossibly deeper; the fat head of his cock pressed directly against her cervix with each lazy roll. Her eyes

rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent scream before sound finally tore free.

"Aaaaahhhhh… too deep… hitting my womb… haaaaa… margayiiii… it's pressing right there… oh god…"

Gupta leaned in from the left side, fingers twisting cruelly into the damp lace covering her left nipple. He

pulled the bra cup down roughly, exposing the swollen, dark areola completely.

"Look how hard these little buds still are," he murmured to the camera. "Even after cumming like a whore, her

body's begging for more."

Rahul mirrored him on the right, yanking the other cup down so both breasts spilled free—full, flushed,

nipples glistening from earlier saliva. He pinched the right one between thumb and forefinger, rolling it slowly

while watching her face contort.

"Tell Kamal which part of you hurts the most right now, Athidi."

She sobbed once, hips twitching involuntarily around Moin's slow-grinding cock.

"My… my pussy… haaaaa… it's burning… stretched so wide… and my cervix… every time he pushes… it aches so

good… aaa… I hate that it feels good…"

Moin chose that moment to pull almost all the way out—only the broad head remaining inside—then slam

back in with punishing force.

Her entire body jolted. Breasts bounced violently. A fresh gush of her arousal squirted out around his shaft,

trickling down to soak the cleft of her ass.

"HAAAAAAAAA… FUCK… aaa… again… do it again… no… slow… haaaaa… margayiiii…"

He repeated the brutal withdrawal-and-plunge five more times—each one drawing a higher, more broken

scream. By the sixth her voice had gone raw, almost silent, just desperate air exploding from her lungs.

Gupta slid two fingers into her mouth, forcing her to suck while Moin kept that punishing rhythm.

"Clean them," Gupta ordered. "Taste how wet your husband's shame makes you."

She obeyed instantly, tongue swirling around his knuckles even as tears streamed continuously.

Rahul, meanwhile, reached under Moin's thrusting hips and pressed two fingers against her tightly puckered

anus—still slick from earlier tongue attention. He didn't penetrate yet—just circled, pressed, circled again,

matching Moin's tempo.

Athidhi's eyes flew wide.

"No… not there… not at the same time… please… haaaaa… I can't take both…"

"You will," Rahul said simply, and pushed one finger past the first tight ring.

Her back bowed off the mattress. The dual invasion—cock stretching her pussy to its absolute limit, finger

breaching her ass—sent her spiraling toward another edge almost immediately.

"Aaaaahhhh… both holes… filling me… ohhhhh… it's too full… margayiiii… I'm going to… again… haaaaa…"

Moin growled low in his throat—the first real sound of strain from him—and sped up. The wet slap-slap-slap of

flesh on flesh filled the room, punctuated by the creak of the heavy teak bedframe protesting.

Gupta pulled his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop and replaced them with his cock—thick, already

leaking pre-cum. He fed it past her lips until her nose pressed against his trimmed pubic hair.

"Suck while you get ruined, baby. Show Kamal how multi-tasking his wife has become."

Her cheeks hollowed. Throat worked visibly around the intrusion even as muffled whimpers vibrated against

Gupta's shaft. Drool leaked from the corners of her stretched mouth, running down her chin to mix with the

sweat on her neck.

Rahul added a second finger to her ass—scissoring slowly, stretching the tight ring while Moin hammered her

g-spot relentlessly.







The triple stimulation broke something fundamental inside her.

Her next orgasm wasn't graceful.

It was violent.

Legs locked straight, toes splayed, every muscle in her body seizing at once. A high, keening wail escaped

around Gupta's cock—muffled but unmistakable. Her pussy clamped down so hard Moin hissed through

clenched teeth. Clear fluid jetted out in rhythmic pulses, soaking his balls, the sheets, Rahul's wrist.

"Hmmmmmmph… mmmph… cummmm… ing… haaaaa… again… sorry Kamal… sorry… haaaaa…"

Gupta pulled out of her mouth just long enough for her to scream properly—raw, animal, endless—before

shoving back in, fucking her throat in short, sharp strokes while she convulsed.

Moin finally showed mercy… of a sort.

He buried himself to the root and held still, letting her ride the aftershocks around his unmoving length while

Rahul kept slowly finger-fucking her ass.

When her trembling eased to shivers, Moin spoke—voice like crushed gravel.

"Time to change positions. I want to see her ride."





online randomizer heads tails








They moved her like she weighed nothing.

Gupta lay on his back in the center of the bed. Athidhi—legs still shaking—was lifted and positioned to

straddle him reverse-cowgirl style. Her back to his chest, facing the hidden camera. Gupta guided his cock to

her dripping entrance and pulled her down slowly until she was fully seated.

"Haaaa… still so full… Gupta… deeper than before… aaa…"

Rahul knelt in front of her. His cock—slick from her earlier saliva—bobbed near her lips.

"Open," he said.

She did.

Moin stood at the foot of the bed, stroking his glistening length while watching her impaled on Gupta.

"Now the real fun begins," Moin rumbled.

Gupta began thrusting upward—short, powerful strokes that made Athidhi's breasts bounce wildly. Each

upward snap forced a fresh whimper from her stuffed mouth.

Rahul reached down and spread her ass cheeks wide—exposing her stretched, pink hole to the camera.

Moin stepped forward.

The head of his massive cock pressed against that forbidden entrance.

Athidhi's eyes rolled in panic. She tried to speak around Rahul's shaft—only garbled pleading emerged.

Moin pushed.

The first inch breached her slowly, inexorably.

Her entire body locked up. Gupta froze mid-thrust to let her adjust. Rahul held her head steady, cock still

buried in her throat.

Another inch.

Then another.

By the time half his length was inside her ass she was shaking violently—tears pouring, body glistening with

fresh sweat.

"Hmmmmph… too big… splitting… both holes… haaaaa… can't… can't breathe…"

Moin didn't stop.

One final, steady push—and he bottomed out.

Athidhi's scream was completely muffled. Her body jerked once, hard, then went rigid as another shattering

orgasm tore through her without warning—triggered purely by the impossible fullness.

Gupta and Moin began moving—opposite rhythms at first, then finding a brutal synchronization. When one

withdrew, the other thrust. Her body rocked helplessly between them like a vessel caught in storm waves.

Rahul fucked her mouth in time with their thrusts—three cocks claiming her completely.

The room filled with obscene symphony:

Wet squelching from her overstuffed pussy and ass.

Gagging, choking sounds from her throat.

The heavy slap of Moin's balls against her perineum.

Gupta's low grunts.

Rahul's hissed praise: "That's it… take it all… show your husband what a perfect three-hole slut you've

become…"

Athidhi could only drool and shudder—lost, broken open, remade in their image with every punishing stroke.

Minutes stretched into eternity.

When Moin finally growled that he was close, Gupta matched his urgency.

They didn't ask where she wanted it.

They simply took.

Moin came first—deep in her ass, hips grinding, flooding her with heat she could feel pulsing inside. The

sensation triggered her yet again—silent this time, just violent trembling and fluttering walls.

Gupta followed seconds later—burying himself and pumping rope after thick rope into her spasming cunt.

Rahul pulled out at the last moment, aimed at her tear-streaked face, and painted her cheeks, lips, closed

eyelids with heavy white streaks.

Athidhi collapsed forward—still impaled, cum leaking from every hole, body twitching with aftershocks.

The three men stepped back.

Let the camera drink in the wreckage:

Wrists bruised.

Nipples swollen dark red.

Pussy gaping slightly, creamy white leaking steadily.

Ass winking around the slow trickle of Moin's load.

Face glazed, mascara ruined.

She managed one broken whisper toward the lens—voice barely audible.

"Kamal… haaaaa… they… they own me now… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

The feed cut.

But on the island, the morning was far from over.

Gupta wiped himself casually on the sheet.

"Round three in 50 minutes. Someone bring the restraints from the playroom."

Athidhi whimpered softly—already anticipating.











roll dice for board turn












Her husband get hard he stroks continuously the video running... But after her tremoundeous organism the video

closed. The video ended there, black screen fading to static. Back in Mumbai, Kamal slumped back, hand sticky in his

lap, breath ragged. Shock warred with arousal, betrayal twisting like a knife. He replayed the final moan, cock

twitching anew. What have they done to you? But deep down, a dark whisper: What will they do next?



To be continued..... Next....

[Kartikjessie]

Good update

[Muralimm]

What a day start man superb erotic writing script.

The first' part of day 3 is excellent proceedings

My only suggestion is please complete one story and write another one

[Suresh@123]

What a day start man superb erotic writing script.

The first' part of day 3 is excellent proceedings

My only suggestion is please complete one story and write another one

Thank you bro

[Suresh@123]

Good update

Thank you.

[Rockket Raja]

Just excellent

[Suresh@123]

Just excellent

Thank you..

[Suresh@123]

After the camera cut and the men stepped away, Athidhi remained curled on her side in the center of the

ruined sheets—knees drawn toward her chest, breath still coming in shallow, uneven hitches. Cum slowly

leaked from between her thighs in lazy white rivulets; her skin glistened everywhere, a map of sweat, spit,

and semen. The room smelled thickly of sex and salt.

No one spoke for several long minutes. Only the low hum of the ceiling fan and her occasional soft,

involuntary whimper broke the quiet.

Exactly sixty-three minutes later—Gupta had set a silent timer on his phone—the door to the attached

playroom clicked open again.

This time there was no rush, no barked orders.

Moin entered first, carrying nothing but a small bottle of warmed coconut oil. He moved with deliberate calm,

like a man who knew the next act would unfold exactly as he wished. Gupta followed, shirtless now, holding

only a length of soft black silk rope—thin, almost decorative. Rahul came last, bare to the waist, a single white

feather held loosely between his fingers.

Athidhi’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of their footsteps. She didn’t try to cover herself or sit up. She

simply watched them approach, pupils still blown wide from earlier overstimulation.

Moin knelt on the mattress beside her.

“On your back, sweetheart,” he said quietly—almost tenderly. “Arms above your head. Legs apart.”

She obeyed without hesitation, though her limbs shook. The silk rope came next—not for brutal binding this

time, but for slow, sensual restraint. Gupta tied her wrists together, then secured the loose end to the same

headboard posts she’d gripped earlier. The knots were firm but padded; the rope cradled rather than bit.

Rahul trailed the feather down the inside of her left arm—from elbow to wrist—then across her collarbone,

between her still-flushed breasts, circling each swollen nipple without ever quite touching. Her back arched

instinctively toward the ghost of contact.

Moin poured a thin stream of warm oil directly onto her sternum. It pooled between her breasts before he

spread it with broad, unhurried palms—down her ribs, over the soft curve of her belly, along her hip bones. He

avoided her core deliberately, letting the anticipation build.

Gupta mirrored him on her legs—oil slicked from ankles upward, thumbs pressing into the tender flesh behind

her knees, then along her inner thighs until he was inches from where she still dripped their earlier release.

He massaged the oil in slow circles, never breaching, only teasing the sensitive crease where thigh met torso.

Athidhi’s breathing turned deep and liquid.

“Haaaa… so gentle… after… after everything…” Her voice was hoarse, cracked, but softer now—almost

wondering.

Rahul leaned close to her ear. “We’re not done ruining you. We’re just changing the tempo.”

He finally let the feather drift lower—over her pubic mound, then along her outer lips—light enough that it felt

like breath rather than touch. Her hips rolled upward on pure reflex, seeking more.

Moin settled between her spread thighs. This time he didn’t plunge. He simply lowered his mouth and began

to lick—long, languid strokes that cleaned the mingled cum from her folds, then delved deeper, tongue

curling softly around her still-swollen clit without direct pressure. Every few passes he would pause to blow

cool air across the slick, heated flesh.

She moaned low and long, the sound vibrating through her entire body.

Gupta moved to her breasts—oiled palms cupping their full weight, thumbs brushing feather-light over

nipples in time with Moin’s tongue. No pinching, no twisting—just endless, slippery circles that made her arch

and sigh.

Rahul finally set the feather aside. He straddled her chest—careful not to put weight on her—his cock already

hard again, resting heavy and hot between her breasts. He pressed them together gently, creating a warm,

oiled channel, and began to rock slowly.

“Feel that?” he murmured. “Just sliding… no hurry…”

Athidhi’s head tipped back, throat exposed, lips parted. She didn’t speak anymore—only breathed,

whimpered, trembled.

Moin finally rose to his knees. He coated his length with more oil—slow, deliberate strokes—then pressed the

broad head against her entrance. No sudden thrust this time. He sank in millimeter by millimeter, letting her

feel every ridge, every vein, until he was seated fully once more. Then he simply held still, pulsing inside her

without moving.

Gupta took his place at her side. He guided her head toward him; she opened immediately, accepting him

with a soft, wet suck. No face-fucking—just slow, shallow slides past her lips while her tongue cradled him.

Rahul continued the languid tit-fuck—hips rolling in dreamy rhythm—occasionally pausing to let the head of

his cock brush her chin, her cheek, her parted lips.

For long minutes the only sounds were:

The slick glide of oiled skin.

Soft, wet sucking.

Moin’s low, steady exhales as he throbbed inside her without thrusting.

Athidhi’s increasingly desperate, muffled moans.

Then—gradually—Moin began to move.

Not hard. Not fast.

Deep, rolling grinds that stirred her from the inside, dragging against every oversensitive inch. Each slow

withdrawal pulled a fresh gush of arousal; each re-entry made her toes curl.

Gupta and Rahul matched the pace—unhurried, almost hypnotic.

She came like that—quietly at first.

A slow, rolling wave that built and built until her entire body bowed, thighs quivering, a long, trembling sigh

escaping around Gupta’s cock. No screaming this time. Just deep, pulsing contractions that milked Moin in

long, luxurious ripples.

He followed soon after—grinding deep and spilling inside her with a low groan, letting her feel every pulse.

Gupta came across her tongue a moment later—thick, warm spurts that she swallowed automatically, dazed.

Rahul finished between her breasts—painting the oiled valley white, then rubbing the head gently through

the mess he’d made.

They didn’t pull out immediately.

Moin stayed buried, softening slowly inside her while Gupta and Rahul untied her wrists with careful fingers.

They massaged the faint red marks, kissed the inside of each palm.

When Moin finally withdrew, a thick trickle followed—pale against her flushed skin.

They laid her gently on her side, curled around her like a protective cocoon—Rahul at her back, Gupta facing

her, Moin stretched along her legs. No words. Just warm skin, slowing breaths, the faint scent of coconut and

spent lust.

Athidhi’s eyes drifted closed.

She whispered once—barely audible—before sleep finally claimed her.

“…thank you…”