Adultery Deepa - An innocent Wife and Elder sister and her sacrification

[Suresh@123]

great update bro.  eagerly waiting to see what jhonny will do next

Thank you bro

[Suresh@123]

Deepa is a woman that needs a deep fuck and these men are making it real. Her husband did not give that.

Sure the men will use Deepa... Thankyou

[Arya321]

Super awesome update.

[Suresh@123]

Super awesome update.

Thank you bro

[Suresh@123]

Deepa has been using in farm house by Johnny S father also...

[Arya321]

Pls update?

[bananna123]

Waiting for the next update

[girrich9486]

Update bro nice story

[Harsha037]

provide fast updates bro

[Suresh@123]

provide fast updates bro

OK bro

[Suresh@123]

Deepa will be screwed by Johnny father... And johnny

[Suresh@123]

Waiting for the next update

OK bro sure... Thank you.

[Suresh@123]

Deepa lay completely spent on her marital bed, naked and glistening with sweat. Her voluptuous body was a beautiful mess — heavy breasts rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths, dark nipples still stiff and shiny from Johnny’s passionate sucking. Her soft tummy quivered, the deep navel still glittering with beads of sweat. Between her thick, golden thighs, her pussy remained swollen and open, leaking a steady trickle of Johnny’s thick white cum mixed with her own juices onto the bedsheet. The wet spot beneath her ass was large and shameful, evidence of how intensely she had cum twice while her husband’s bed creaked under another man’s thrusts.
She stared blankly at the ceiling, chest heaving. Her mind was a storm of guilt, shame, and lingering pleasure.
How did things come to this? she thought bitterly. Just a few days ago I was a faithful wife, slapping that rowdy in front of everyone to protect a girl. Now… now that same monster has fucked me raw in my own bedroom. I moaned like a whore. I squirted on his cock. I let him flood my womb with his seed while Charan is still abroad. What have I become?
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her temples. Her pussy gave another involuntary twitch, pushing out more of Johnny’s cum, reminding her of how deep he had gone — deeper than Charan had ever reached. The slow, gripping way he had fucked her, the way he forced her to keep her eyes on him the entire time, the mind-blowing orgasms he had ripped from her body… it all burned in her memory. She felt dirty, used, and yet a tiny, traitorous part of her body still hummed with satisfaction.
She slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness between her legs. Cum dripped down her inner thighs as she walked to the bathroom on shaky legs. She showered quickly, scrubbing herself hard, trying to wash away the evidence and the scent of Johnny. But no matter how much soap she used, the memory refused to leave.





Deepa lay completely spent on her marital bed, naked and glistening with sweat. Her voluptuous body was a beautiful mess — heavy breasts rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths, dark nipples still stiff and shiny from Johnny’s passionate sucking. Her soft tummy quivered, the deep navel still glittering with beads of sweat. Between her thick, golden thighs, her pussy remained swollen and open, leaking a steady trickle of Johnny’s thick white cum mixed with her own juices onto the bedsheet. The wet spot beneath her ass was large and shameful, evidence of how intensely she had cum twice while her husband’s bed creaked under another man’s thrusts.
She stared blankly at the ceiling, chest heaving. Her mind was a storm of guilt, shame, and lingering pleasure.
How did things come to this? she thought bitterly. Just a few days ago I was a faithful wife, slapping that rowdy in front of everyone to protect a girl. Now… now that same monster has fucked me raw in my own bedroom. I moaned like a whore. I squirted on his cock. I let him flood my womb with his seed while Charan is still abroad. What have I become?
Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her temples. Her pussy gave another involuntary twitch, pushing out more of Johnny’s cum, reminding her of how deep he had gone — deeper than Charan had ever reached. The slow, gripping way he had fucked her, the way he forced her to keep her eyes on him the entire time, the mind-blowing orgasms he had ripped from her body… it all burned in her memory. She felt dirty, used, and yet a tiny, traitorous part of her body still hummed with satisfaction.
She slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness between her legs. Cum dripped down her inner thighs as she walked to the bathroom on shaky legs. She showered quickly, scrubbing herself hard, trying to wash away the evidence and the scent of Johnny. But no matter how much soap she used, the memory refused to leave.


The next day at college, Johnny was in his element — walking through the corridors like he owned the campus. His gang followed him, laughing at his jokes. Rahul was in the library, trying to focus on his books, when Johnny and two of his friends entered.
Johnny spotted Rahul immediately. A cruel smile spread across his face. He walked straight to Rahul’s table and leaned over it, voice loud enough for nearby students to hear.
“Well, well… if it isn’t the college topper. Still studying hard after your little security officer adventure?” Johnny laughed mockingly. “Don’t underestimate me, hero. I can destroy your entire future with one phone call. Remember that.”
Rahul’s fists clenched under the table. His jaw tightened, bruises still faintly visible on his face. He wanted to shout, to punch Johnny, but he knew it was useless. The power imbalance was too great.
Johnny leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “By the way… how is your sweet sister Deepa? Still as fiery as ever? Or has she become… softer lately?”
The way he said “sweet sister” carried heavy, filthy undertones. Rahul’s face burned with rage and deep shame. He knew something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t prove anything. The memory of being beaten in the lock-up while Deepa was taken away flashed in his mind. He felt helpless, humiliated.
“Stay away from my family,” Rahul muttered through gritted teeth, voice trembling with anger.
Johnny only laughed louder and patted Rahul’s shoulder roughly. “Good boy. Keep studying. And tell your didi I said hello… very personally.”
He walked away with his gang, laughing loudly, leaving Rahul sitting there, fists shaking, eyes burning with impotent fury and shame.



One day later, the front door opened in the evening. Charan stepped inside, suitcase in hand, looking tired but smiling.
“Deepa! Jaan, I’m back!”
Deepa, who had been anxiously waiting in the living room wearing a beautiful red saree, rushed to him. Her eyes lit up with genuine happiness and relief. She threw her arms around him, pressing her soft, curvy body against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.
“Charan! Finally… I was so worried. Your phone wasn’t connecting at all. I called so many times. What happened?”
Charan hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry, baby. The deal in Singapore went into emergency mode. We were in back-to-back meetings in a remote industrial area with terrible network. Then the phone got some issue with international roaming and had to be repaired. I tried to message from the office computer but the internet was restricted. I’m really sorry for making you tense.”
Deepa buried her face in his neck, hiding the tears of relief and the heavier tears of guilt. She had hidden everything — the false case, the lock-up beating, the humiliating “search,” being tied and molested, the slow seduction, and the intense fucking on this very bed just two days ago. She couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not ever. It would destroy their marriage and Rahul’s future.
“It’s okay… you’re back now. That’s all that matters,” she whispered, forcing a bright smile as she pulled back and looked at his face lovingly.
That evening, Rahul returned from college. The moment he saw Charan sitting on the sofa with Deepa, relief washed over his face. He rushed forward.
“Bhaiya! You’re finally back!” Rahul’s voice cracked slightly. He wanted to blurt everything out — the false case, the beating, how Johnny had threatened him again today, and the strange way Deepa had saved him.
But before Rahul could speak further, Deepa quickly stood up and interrupted.
“Rahul, beta, first go freshen up. Charan bhaiya is tired from the long flight. Let him rest a little. I’ve made his favorite filter coffee. Come, sit and relax first.”
She gave Rahul a sharp, pleading look behind Charan’s back — eyes begging him not to say anything yet. Rahul hesitated, mouth half-open, but the silent desperation in his sister’s eyes stopped him. He nodded slowly and went to his room, heart heavy with unspoken words and fresh shame from Johnny’s taunts earlier.
Deepa quickly diverted the topic, chatting brightly with Charan about his Singapore trip, the food he ate, the weather, anything to keep the conversation light and away from the nightmare of the past week. She laughed at his stories, served him snacks, and sat close to him on the sofa, her hand resting on his thigh possessively, as if trying to reclaim some normalcy.
Later at dinner, the three of them sat together. Rahul kept glancing at Deepa, wanting to speak, but every time he tried to bring up “that day” or “the security officer,” Deepa smoothly changed the subject — asking about college assignments, complimenting Charan’s new shirt, or serving more food.
“Rahul, eat properly. You’ve become so thin these days,” she said with forced cheerfulness, placing extra curry on his plate.
Charan noticed nothing unusual. He was happy to be home, enjoying his wife’s cooking and the warm family atmosphere. He pulled Deepa close after dinner, kissing her cheek affectionately. “I missed you so much, jaan.”
Deepa smiled and leaned into him, but inside her heart was breaking. If only you knew what I had to do while you were away… how I let that monster fuck me on our bed… how I’m still leaking his cum even now…
That night, after Charan fell asleep beside her, Deepa lay awake staring at the ceiling. Her body still felt the ghost of Johnny’s deep thrusts. The soreness between her legs was a constant reminder. She turned toward Charan, gently placing her hand on his chest, trying to find comfort in his presence.
But sleep didn’t come easily. She kept remembering Johnny’s wicked laugh at college today, the way he had mocked Rahul, and the terrifying knowledge that he could call or visit anytime he wanted.
The secret was heavy. Very heavy.
Rahul, in his own room, also lay awake, fists clenched. He knew something was terribly wrong with his sister. The way she had stopped him from speaking, the forced smiles, the hidden pain in her eyes — it all pointed to a sacrifice he couldn’t yet understand. And Johnny’s mocking question about “how is your sweet sister” kept ringing in his ears.
The house looked peaceful from outside — husband back, family together again.
But inside, the tension was thick, the guilt burning slowly, and the danger of Johnny’s next move looming just beyond the walls.






The next two days passed in a fragile illusion of normalcy in Deepa’s home. Charan was back, filling the house with his warm laughter and gentle affection. He spent time catching up with Rahul, asking about college and praising his dedication despite the recent “misunderstanding” with the security officer. Deepa played the perfect wife — cooking his favorite meals, wearing sarees he loved, and sharing intimate moments in bed at night. But every time Charan touched her, kissed her neck, or slid inside her, Deepa had to bite her lip to hide the slight soreness that still lingered from Johnny’s thick cock. She moaned softly for her husband, faked her pleasure when needed, and cried silently afterward when he fell asleep, her guilt eating her alive.
Rahul remained tense and watchful. He tried once more to speak privately with Deepa about the false case and Johnny’s taunts at college, but she always diverted the topic with a pleading look or a quick hug, whispering, “Not now, beta. Everything is fine. Focus on your studies.” Rahul obeyed out of love and respect, but the shame and anger simmered inside him, especially whenever he remembered Johnny’s mocking question about “sweet sister Deepa.”
On the morning of the third day after Charan’s return, good news arrived like a ray of sunshine. Charan received an official email and a phone call confirming that his company had won a major national infrastructure tender project worth hundreds of crores — a high-speed rail connectivity project that many big players had bid for. He had worked tirelessly on the proposal during his Singapore trip, and his efforts had paid off.
Charan burst into the kitchen where Deepa was preparing breakfast, his face glowing with joy. He lifted her in his strong arms, spinning her around as her maroon saree swirled.
“We did it, jaan! We won the tender! The biggest project of my career. This will change everything for us!” He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming possessively over her waist and hips. “All those sleepless nights in Singapore were worth it.”
Deepa laughed happily, her eyes shining with genuine pride and relief. For the first time in days, she felt a spark of real joy. “I’m so proud of you, Charan. You deserve this. Our future is going to be so bright now.”
Rahul, who had just come downstairs, joined the celebration with a wide smile. The three of them had a joyful breakfast, talking about the new opportunities, possible relocation, and how this success would secure Rahul’s future too. For a few hours, the dark cloud of Johnny and the lock-up seemed far away.





Meanwhile, across the city in a luxurious but tense bungalow, Johnny’s father — Mr. Raghav Reddy, a powerful local politician and businessman — was in a raging fury. He paced his home office like a caged tiger, phone in hand, shouting at the top of his voice.
“Bloody useless officers! Corrupt bastards! How the hell did that outsider Charan Sharma win the tender? I had everything arranged — bribes, pressure, everything! And now some middle-class businessman from nowhere takes the biggest national project? Fuck him! Fuck his company! I will destroy that Charan bastard!”
He slammed the phone down and continued cursing loudly, using the filthiest language.

Johnny had just returned home after a morning gym session, still in his workout clothes, sweat glistening on his muscular arms. He walked into the office casually, wiping his face with a towel, and frowned when he heard his father’s outburst.
“What happened, Dad? Why are you so angry? Who is this Charan?”
Mr. Raghav Reddy turned to his son, face red with rage. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself, but the anger poured out anyway.
“We lost the big national rail project tender, Johnny. A project worth more than 500 crores. I had it almost in my pocket — the officers were ready to favor us. But that bastard Charan Sharma came from nowhere and snatched it with a better technical bid and some political connections I didn’t expect. He was in Singapore finalizing the deal while we were relaxing. Now the contract is his. All our plans for this year are ruined. I’m suffering heavy losses because of this.”
Johnny’s eyes narrowed. The name “Charan” sounded vaguely familiar, but he didn’t connect it immediately. He had been too focused on his personal revenge against Rahul and the delicious conquest of Deepa to pay attention to business matters.
“Charan Sharma?” Johnny asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Who is he exactly? Some big shot?”
His father waved a dismissive hand, still fuming. “Just a medium-level businessman who got lucky this time. Lives somewhere in Vijayawada with his wife and brother-in-law. But mark my words — I will make his life miserable. I’ll use every contact I have to create hurdles in his project. He will regret winning this tender.”
Johnny smirked slightly, not particularly interested yet. “Don’t worry, Dad. We’ll handle it. You have enough power. One phone call and we can delay his clearances for months.”
Mr. Raghav nodded, still muttering bad words under his breath. “That Sharma doesn’t know who he messed with. I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.”
Johnny left the room, his mind already wandering back to Deepa’s soft, curvy body and the way she had moaned beneath him two days ago. He had no idea that the “Charan Sharma” his father was cursing was the same man whose wife he had fucked so passionately on her marital bed — the same Deepa whose brother he had humiliated and whose body he now owned in secret.
For now, Johnny only felt mild curiosity about this new enemy of his family. He sent a quick text to Deepa: “Miss your tight pussy already, bhabi. When can I visit again? Don’t keep me waiting.”

[Suresh@123]

She froze suddenly.


Johnny still didn’t know the connection.
But he would find out soon enough.
And when he did, his obsession with Deepa would burn even hotter — mixing business revenge with personal lust in the most dangerous, gripping way.



To be continued......

[Suresh@123]

The evening unfolded into a warm, joyful family gathering. After the excitement of Charan’s big tender victory, the house felt lighter than it had in weeks. Deepa prepared a special dinner — spicy chicken biryani, fresh raita, crispy papad, and mango kesari for dessert. The aroma filled every corner, mixing with laughter and light conversation.
Charan sat at the head of the dining table, looking relaxed and proud in a simple white kurta. Rahul sat opposite him, trying his best to match the cheerful mood, though occasional shadows of worry crossed his face whenever he glanced at his sister. Deepa moved gracefully between the kitchen and table in a soft peach-colored silk saree that dbangd beautifully over her voluptuous figure. The low blouse accentuated the deep cleavage, and the saree hugged her wide hips and soft waist. She laughed at Charan’s jokes, served extra helpings to both men, and kept the conversation flowing — deliberately steering it away from anything related to the security officer case or college troubles.
“Today we celebrate your success, Charan,” she said warmly, raising a glass of fresh mango juice. “To new beginnings and brighter days.”
Charan clinked his glass with hers and Rahul’s. “To family. Without your support, especially yours, Deepa, I couldn’t have done it.” He looked at her with genuine love, his hand reaching under the table to squeeze her thigh affectionately.
Rahul smiled, though his eyes held unspoken questions. He wanted to tell Charan everything, but Deepa’s earlier warning glances kept him silent. For tonight, he pushed the thoughts aside and enjoyed the meal.
After dinner, the three watched a light comedy movie on TV. Charan pulled Deepa close on the sofa, his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. For a few hours, the nightmare of Johnny, the lock-up, and the secret deal felt distant. Rahul eventually retired to his room, saying he had an early class.
Once the house grew quiet, Charan turned to Deepa with a hungry, loving gaze. “I’ve missed you so much, jaan. Come… let’s go to our room.”
Deepa’s heart fluttered with a mix of genuine happiness and deep nervousness. She nodded, letting him lead her upstairs by the hand. In the bedroom, Charan dimmed the lights and pulled her into a slow, passionate kiss. His hands roamed over her saree-clad body, squeezing her soft waist, then sliding up to cup her heavy breasts through the thin fabric.
“You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmured against her lips, slowly unwrapping her pallu. The silk whispered down, revealing her low-cut blouse. He unhooked it with practiced ease, freeing her full, round breasts. He kissed them tenderly, sucking gently on her nipples until they hardened.
Deepa closed her eyes and moaned softly, trying to lose herself in the moment. “Charan… haaa…”
He laid her down on the bed and removed the rest of her saree and petticoat with loving care, leaving her in just a thin panty. His hands caressed her smooth tummy, dipping a finger teasingly into her deep navel, then moved lower. He pulled her panty down and spread her thighs. Charan was a gentle lover — he kissed her inner thighs, then licked her pussy with slow, affectionate strokes, focusing on making her feel cherished.
Deepa’s body responded. Her breathing quickened, her hips rolled gently. “Ahhh… yes…”
When he finally positioned himself between her legs, his cock — average in size, familiar and comfortable — pressed against her entrance. He entered her slowly, sliding in with one smooth thrust until he was fully buried.
Deepa gasped and wrapped her legs around him. At first, the sensation felt good — warm, intimate, loving. She enjoyed the familiar rhythm as Charan began thrusting steadily, kissing her neck and whispering sweet words. “I love you, Deepa… you feel so good…”
She moaned for him, her hands running down his back. “Haaa… Charan… deeper…”
But as the minutes passed and the pace remained steady, an unwanted comparison crept into her mind. Charan’s organ felt… smaller. Much smaller than Johnny’s thick 9-inch cock. Where Johnny had stretched her to the limit, hitting depths she never knew existed, filling her completely and grinding against her cervix with every powerful stroke, Charan’s cock felt modest, barely touching the sensitive spots Johnny had awakened so brutally.
Why am I thinking this? Deepa thought, shame flooding her chest even as her body continued to respond. This is my husband… the man I love. Why is my mind comparing his cock with that monster’s? Johnny fucked me like an animal… made me scream and squirt. But Charan is gentle, loving… Why does it feel less now? What has happened to me?
The thoughts grew stronger with every thrust. She tried to push them away, focusing on Charan’s loving kisses and the way he held her. She arched her back, moaning louder to encourage him. “Yes… like that… haaa…”
Charan picked up speed, his breathing growing ragged. He gripped her hips and thrust harder, but to Deepa it still felt different — pleasant, but not the mind-blowing, cervix-kissing fullness Johnny had given her. Her pussy, still slightly sore and shaped by the recent rough use, clenched around Charan, but the intense pleasure she had experienced with Johnny refused to fully ignite.
Guilt crashed over her like a wave. I am a terrible wife. How can I compare my husband’s manhood with the man who blackmailed me? Why am I transforming into this? That bastard has ruined me. Even when my loving husband is inside me, my body remembers that thick, veined cock stretching me open, making me cum so hard I squirted everywhere.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, burying her face in Charan’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see. She forced her moans to sound more passionate, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing her inner muscles around him.
“Cum for me, jaan,” Charan groaned, his pace becoming erratic.
Deepa faked the intensity, crying out as if she was reaching her peak. “I’m close… haaaa… Charan!”
Charan thrust a few more times and then stiffened, releasing inside her with a deep groan. Warm spurts of his cum filled her, but it felt nowhere near as voluminous or deep as Johnny’s heavy loads.
He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, kissing her forehead lovingly. “That was amazing, Deepa. I needed that so much.”
Deepa smiled softly, snuggling against his chest. “Me too, my love.”
But inside, her mind was in turmoil. As Charan drifted off to sleep, satisfied and content, Deepa lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her pussy still tingled, leaking a mixture of Charan’s cum and the lingering soreness from Johnny. The guilt was suffocating.
Why did my body betray me like this? Why does Charan’s cock feel smaller now? I used to love our lovemaking… now all I can think about is how Johnny stretched me, how he made me scream, how he made me squirt like a fountain while forcing me to look into his eyes. Am I becoming a slut? Am I ruined forever? I sacrificed my body for Rahul… but at what cost? My marriage, my self-respect… everything feels tainted.
Fresh tears silently rolled down her cheeks. She gently disentangled herself from Charan’s arms and went to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at her naked reflection — the same beautiful, curvy wife, but now carrying invisible scars. She cleaned herself, feeling Johnny’s earlier claim on her body even though days had passed.
Back in bed, she curled up beside her sleeping husband, one hand resting protectively on his chest. On the surface, the night looked perfect — a happy family celebrating success, a loving couple reconnecting physically.
But Deepa’s heart wept in silence. The slow-burning transformation had begun. Johnny’s passionate, gripping conquest had planted seeds of comparison and forbidden craving that refused to die. And somewhere in the city, Johnny was already planning his next move, completely unaware that the “Charan Sharma” his father hated was the same man sleeping peacefully beside the woman he now owned in secret.
The peace in the house was fragile. Very fragile.

[Arya321]

Super update

[yuvamuthu]

Good flow, let her mind gets memories of that intense pleasure.. She should crave for Johanny's touch n hard handling.. one request,
Please give frequent update bro...

[Harsha037]

great update bro

[Suresh@123]

Good flow, let her mind gets memories of that intense pleasure.. She should crave for Johanny's touch n hard handling.. one request,
Please give frequent update bro...

Thank you so much bro... Frequent updates will give

[Suresh@123]

great update bro

Thankyou