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

[Suresh@123]

great update bro

Thankyou

[Suresh@123]

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over Deepa as she moved gracefully around the space. She had woken up early, determined to start the day on a positive note after the emotional turmoil of the previous night. Dressed in a simple yet elegant light green cotton saree that clung softly to her voluptuous curves, she prepared lunch for both her husband and brother. The aroma of fragrant basmati rice, spicy mutton curry, dal tadka, and fresh rotis filled the air. She packed the tiffin boxes carefully — extra portions for Charan to celebrate his tender success, and Rahul’s favorite aloo paratha on the side.
Charan entered the kitchen, freshly showered and looking energetic in his formal shirt and trousers. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing the side of her neck. “Mmm, this smells amazing, jaan. You’re the best wife anyone could ask for.” His hands rested on her soft waist, squeezing gently. Deepa leaned back into him, forcing a warm smile despite the lingering guilt from last night’s intimate moments.
“I want you both to have a good day,” she replied softly, turning to hand him his tiffin. “Congratulations again on the project. You deserve every bit of success.”
Rahul soon joined them, looking more relaxed than the previous days. The news of Charan’s big tender win had lifted his spirits. “Bhaiya, this is huge! Our family is going to shine now,” he said with a genuine grin, accepting his lunch box from Deepa. “Didi, thank you for the paratha. You always know what I like.”
The three of them shared a quick, happy breakfast at the table — light banter, laughter, and plans for the evening. Charan felt proud and content, kissing Deepa on the forehead before leaving. “I’ll try to come home early today. Love you.”



Rahul followed soon after, giving his sister a quick hug. “Take care, Didi. Everything feels better with bhaiya back.”
Deepa waved them off from the doorstep, watching the car disappear down the street. For the first time in days, a small sense of relaxation settled over her. Charan was happy and busy with his new project. Rahul seemed more at ease. Maybe the nightmare with Johnny would fade. Maybe she could slowly rebuild her peace.
She spent the next hour tidying the house, her mind drifting between relief and the heavy secret she carried. The soreness between her legs had lessened, but the memories of Johnny’s thick cock stretching her, the way he made her squirt, and the unwanted comparisons during sex with Charan still haunted her.


Now after in college Johnny smiles at Rahul again and with cunning ness.. In middle of the class Johnny by laughing at Rahul he went outside.. But Rahul confused why he laughing at me.

After 5 min. Her phone rang sharply around 11:30 AM, breaking the quiet. The number was unknown, but she knew instantly who it was. Her heart leaped into her throat with panic as she answered.
“Hello?”
Johnny’s voice came through, smooth, confident, and dripping with wicked amusement. “Hey, Deepa baby… miss me?”
Deepa’s grip tightened on the phone. Her voice trembled. “Johnny… what do you want? Please… not now.”
He laughed softly. “I’m coming to your house. Within 30 minutes. Be ready exactly as I order. No single hair on your body — shave everything smooth. Lie down on your marital bed with the bedroom door ajar. And one more thing… wear only red inners. Red bra and red panty. Nothing else. Understood?”
Deepa’s breath caught. Panic surged through her like ice water. “No… no, Johnny! You already had me two days back. Not now. My husband is back in town. He could come home any time. Please stop this. I can’t—”
A big, cruel laugh erupted from the other end. “No baby. You have to obey. Exactly as I ordered. You belong to me now. Don’t make me angry. 30 minutes. Tick tock.”
The line went dead.
Deepa stood frozen in the living room, phone still pressed to her ear, her heart hammering wildly. Five minutes had already passed in shock. What do I do? Charan is in town… if he comes back early for any reason… if Rahul returns… God, what will happen? The door… the neighbors…
Her mind raced with terrifying scenarios. Yet the memory of the lock-up, the beating Rahul had endured, and the deal she had made forced her into action. With trembling hands, she rushed to the bathroom.
She took a quick but thorough bath, shaving every inch of her body with shaking fingers — her underarms, legs, and especially her pussy until it was completely smooth and bare. The cool water did nothing to calm the storm inside her. As she dried herself, a confusing mix of tension and unwanted arousal began to build low in her belly. Her nipples hardened against the towel, and a faint wetness gathered between her freshly shaved folds.
She stepped into the bedroom, heart pounding. The king-sized marital bed — the same bed where Charan had made love to her last night — now felt like a stage for her humiliation. She stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, staring at her own reflection. Her heavy breasts rose and fell rapidly, dark nipples erect with a mix of fear and forbidden excitement. Her soft, curvy tummy with its deep navel quivered. Her wide hips and thick thighs looked even more sensual now that every hair was gone.
How has this happened? she thought, shame burning her cheeks. A boy almost three years younger than me… a rowdy who beat my brother… now ordering me like his personal whore. And here I am, obeying him. Shaving my body smooth for him. Why is my body reacting like this?
She picked up her bra and panty drawer, then remembered the color. With trembling fingers, she selected the matching red lace set — a delicate bra that barely contained her full breasts and a tiny red panty that would hug her smooth mound tightly. She stood before the mirror and slowly put them on. The red fabric contrasted beautifully against her golden skin. The bra pushed her breasts up, creating deep, inviting cleavage. The panty sat low on her hips, the thin material already showing a faint damp spot at the crotch from her growing arousal mixed with panic.
She looked at herself — a married woman in her late 20s, reduced to waiting in sexy red inners for a younger man’s pleasure. The shame was overwhelming, yet her pussy clenched involuntarily at the thought of Johnny’s thick 9-inch cock.
Exactly 30 minutes had passed.
Deepa’s panic reached a fever pitch. What if someone comes? The main door… the neighbors… Charan might return unexpectedly… Rahul… Her hands shook as she moved through the house. She left the main entrance door unlocked and slightly open — just enough for Johnny to enter without knocking. Then she returned to the bedroom. She closed the bedroom door but left it ajar by about 2 centimeters, exactly as ordered. The gap allowed a sliver of light from the hallway and made her feel terrifyingly exposed.
She climbed onto the king-sized marital bed and lay down on her back as instructed. Following the last part of the order, she raised her smooth, soft arms above her head, resting them on the pillow. The position stretched her body beautifully — lifting her heavy breasts higher, making her tummy taut, and exposing the smooth curves of her underarms. Her red bra strained against her chest, nipples visibly hard through the lace. Her red panty clung to her freshly shaved pussy, the fabric slightly darkened where her arousal had leaked.
What a sight she made — a voluptuous, married beauty lying almost naked on her husband’s bed, waiting helplessly for her blackmailer. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly with every panicked breath, the deep cleavage heaving. Sweat began to form on her skin despite the AC, making her navel glitter and her underarms shine. Her thick thighs pressed together slightly, but the position left her completely vulnerable.
Deepa’s mind was a whirlwind of intense emotions. This is madness. My husband just won a big project. We were happy this morning. And now I’m lying here like a slut in red lingerie, door open for that monster. If Charan walks in… if anyone sees… my life will be destroyed. Yet my body is getting wet. Why? Why am I aroused by this humiliation? Have I really transformed so much in just a few days?
Every second felt like an eternity. She strained her ears for any sound — footsteps, the creak of the main door, Johnny’s voice. Her heart hammered so loudly she could hear it in her ears. Her smooth arms stayed raised above her head, making her feel even more exposed and submissive. The red panty grew damper, the thin material outlining the shape of her swollen outer lips.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her breathing, but the images flooded in — Johnny’s wicked smile, his tongue slurping loudly on her cunt, his massive cock stretching her open on this very bed, the way he forced her to look into his eyes while she squirted.
A soft, involuntary whimper escaped her lips. “Please… come soon or don’t come at all…”
The tension was unbearable — a perfect storm of panic, shame, guilt, and dark, burning arousal. Her body betrayed her completely: nipples aching, pussy leaking, tummy fluttering with nervous excitement.
She was now completely at Johnny’s mercy once again.
The bedroom door remained 2cm ajar.
The main door was unlocked.
And Deepa lay there — hot, trembling, half-naked in red, arms raised submissively above her head on her marital king-sized bed — waiting for the man who now controlled her body and her secrets.
The gripping wait had begun....



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

[Suresh@123]

Deepa lay motionless on the king-sized marital bed, her voluptuous body stretched out like an offering. Her smooth arms remained raised obediently above her head, resting on the pillow, making her heavy breasts thrust upward. The red lace bra barely contained them — the thin material stretched tight, her dark nipples visibly hard and poking against the fabric with every rapid breath. Her soft, flat tummy quivered violently with high tension, the deep navel glistening with tiny beads of nervous sweat that caught the light. Lower down, the tiny red panty clung to her freshly shaved pussy like a second skin. The crotch was already damp, a dark wet patch slowly spreading as unwanted arousal mixed with sheer panic.
Her heart pounded wildly inside her chest — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB — the sound so loud in her ears that it drowned out everything else. Each beat sent fresh waves of fear through her veins. Sweat trickled from her smooth underarms, down the sides of her breasts, and into the deep valley of her cleavage. Her thick golden thighs pressed together tightly, but the position left her completely vulnerable and exposed.
She kept her eyes fixed on the bedroom door — the 2cm gap taunting her. Every second felt like torture.
Ten more minutes… she thought desperately, her mind racing. Why is he taking so long? What if Charan suddenly comes home for lunch? What if a neighbor walks in? What if Rahul forgets something and returns? Oh God… I’m lying here semi-naked on my husband’s bed, shaved smooth, wearing only red inners like a cheap whore… all because a blackmailer ordered me to. How low have I fallen? Just a few days ago I slapped him in public. Now I’m obeying every filthy command. My body is betraying me again… why am I getting wet?
The humiliation burned hotter than ever. She was a married woman, a respectable housewife, yet here she was — arms raised submissively, breasts heaving, pussy leaking into the red panty — waiting helplessly for a younger rowdy who had ruined her life. The tension was unbearable. Her tummy shivered continuously, the muscles fluttering visibly under her golden skin. Her navel rose and fell with every shallow breath. She bit her full lower lip hard, trying to control the soft whimpers threatening to escape.
LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB…
Time crawled. Five minutes passed. Then seven. Still no sound. The silence was its own kind of torture. Deepa’s mind tortured her with vivid images — Charan’s loving face this morning, Rahul’s trusting smile, and then Johnny’s cruel smirk as he buried his thick 9-inch cock inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, but the images only grew stronger.
This is pure torture… lying here half-naked as per the orders of a blackmailer. My husband is out there celebrating his success, and I’m waiting to be used again on the same bed. If anyone walks in right now… my life is finished. Yet my nipples are so hard… my pussy is dripping… what is wrong with me? Have I really become his slut?
Suddenly — CREEEEEEAK.
The sound came from the main door downstairs. Someone had pushed it open.
Deepa’s heart nearly stopped. LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB… The beats turned frantic, hammering against her ribs like a drum. Her entire body tensed. Her tummy shivered violently. Fresh sweat broke out across her skin, making her underarms shine and her navel glitter even more.
He’s here… Oh God, he’s really here…
Her eyes flew wide open, locked on the bedroom door. She didn’t dare move. Her arms stayed raised above her head exactly as ordered. Her heavy breasts rose and fell faster now, the red bra straining with each panicked breath. The wet spot on her red panty grew noticeably darker.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase — slow, deliberate, confident. Each step made her flinch internally. She could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.
LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB…
The footsteps reached the landing. Then they stopped right outside the bedroom door.
Deepa’s breathing turned shallow and ragged. Her thick thighs trembled. A fresh trickle of arousal leaked from her smooth, shaved pussy, soaking the red panty further. She wanted to scream, to run, to cover herself — but she stayed frozen in position, arms raised, body displayed, completely at his mercy.
The bedroom door slowly pushed open with a soft creak.
Johnny stood in the doorway, filling the frame with his muscular body. He was dressed casually in a tight black t-shirt and jeans, a wicked, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. His eyes immediately devoured the erotic sight before him — the beautiful married woman lying obediently on her husband’s bed in nothing but red lace bra and panty, arms raised submissively above her head, body glistening with nervous sweat, tummy shivering, breasts heaving, and the obvious wet patch between her legs.
For a long moment, he just stood there, drinking in every detail. His gaze lingered on her smooth underarms, the deep glittering navel, the way her red bra pushed her heavy breasts together, and the way her red panty clung to her freshly shaved mound.
“Fuck…” he breathed, voice low and thick with lust. “Look at you, Deepa baby. So obedient. So fucking hot. Lying here on your marital bed exactly as I ordered… arms up like a good little slut… pussy already leaking for me.”
Deepa’s face burned with shame. Her voice came out as a broken whisper, trembling with tension. “Johnny… please… my husband might come… close the door properly… I’m begging you…”
Johnny stepped inside and closed the bedroom door behind him with a soft click, but he left it unlocked — another deliberate act of risk. He walked slowly toward the bed, his eyes never leaving her body. He stopped at the foot of the bed, towering over her stretched-out form.
“You followed every instruction perfectly,” he said, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Shaved smooth… red inners… arms raised… door ajar… Good girl.”
He reached out and traced one rough finger slowly from her raised wrist, down her smooth underarm, making her shiver violently. Then lower — over the curve of her breast, circling the hard nipple through the red lace without touching it directly. Deepa’s tummy fluttered wildly under his gaze.
“See how your body responds even when you’re terrified?” he murmured. “Your nipples are rock hard. Your panty is soaked. Your tummy is shivering so erotically. You hate me… but your married cunt is dripping for me.”
Deepa’s heart continued its frantic rhythm — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB… She kept her arms raised, too scared to move. Tears of shame and panic welled in her eyes.
“Please… not today… Charan is back… if he comes home early…”
Johnny only smiled wider. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs. His hands gripped her soft waist, thumbs pressing into the warm flesh on either side of her glittering navel.
“The risk makes it hotter, doesn’t it, bhabi?” he whispered, leaning down until his breath fanned her cleavage. “Now keep those arms up. Don’t move them. Today I’m going to enjoy my married whore slowly… while your husband is out there thinking everything is perfect.”
Deepa’s entire body trembled with intense tension — fear, shame, guilt, and dark arousal all crashing together. Her heart pounded louder than ever.
LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB…
She was completely trapped — semi-naked, shaved, displayed on her marital bed, waiting for whatever filthy pleasures Johnny had planned, while the real world outside the slightly risky door threatened to destroy everything at any moment.






Deepa’s heart hammered violently against her ribs — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB — each beat so loud she was sure Johnny could hear it. She lay frozen on the marital king-sized bed, arms obediently raised above her head, smooth underarms fully exposed and glistening with nervous sweat. Her heavy breasts rose and fell rapidly inside the red lace bra, the thin fabric stretched tight over her stiff, aching nipples. Her soft tummy shivered uncontrollably, the deep round navel glittering with tiny droplets of sweat that slowly trickled down toward the waistband of her tiny red panty. Between her thick, golden thighs, the red panty was already soaked, the dark wet patch clearly outlining the shape of her freshly shaved, swollen pussy lips.
Johnny knelt between her spread legs, his muscular body towering over her. He didn’t rush. His dark eyes roamed slowly over every inch of her displayed body, savoring the sight of the married woman lying helplessly on her husband’s bed, waiting for him like an obedient slut.
“Look at you…” he murmured, voice low and thick with lust. “Arms up exactly as I ordered. Red bra pushing those big tits up so nicely. That tiny red panty already wet for me. Your tummy shivering so beautifully. You’re terrified… but your body is ready.”
Deepa’s breath caught in her throat. A soft, broken whimper escaped her lips. “Johnny… please… my husband could come home any minute… Charan is back… this is too dangerous…”
Johnny smiled wickedly. He placed both hands on her waist, his rough palms sliding slowly over her warm, soft skin. His thumbs traced lazy circles just above her hips, pressing gently into the yielding flesh. He leaned down, his face hovering inches above her quivering tummy.
“Shhh… the danger makes it sweeter, baby,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her navel. “Keep your arms exactly where they are. Don’t move them even an inch.”
Deepa’s breathing became shallow and ragged. Her chest heaved faster, making her breasts strain harder against the red bra. She kept her arms raised, fingers gripping the pillow tightly, her smooth underarms shining with fresh sweat.
Johnny lowered his head and pressed his lips softly to her navel. He didn’t suck hard — he teased. His tongue circled the deep dip slowly, licking up the salty sweat, then dipping inside with gentle, wet strokes. He sucked lightly on the sensitive skin around it, making her tummy flutter violently.
Deepa’s breath caught sharply in her throat. “Haaa…” A helpless moan slipped out before she could stop it. Her hips twitched involuntarily.
He continued the slow torment, kissing and licking her navel for long, unhurried minutes, occasionally blowing cool air into the wet dip, watching her skin break out in goosebumps. His hands never left her waist, squeezing and caressing the soft curves.
Then he moved higher.
His mouth trailed wet kisses up her trembling tummy, over her ribs, until he reached the underside of her heavy breasts. He kissed the soft, creamy flesh slowly, deliberately avoiding her nipples. His tongue traced the deep valley of her cleavage, licking the sweat that had gathered there.
Deepa’s breath hitched again. “Johnny… oh god… please don’t…”
But her body betrayed her. Her nipples hardened even more, aching painfully inside the lace. She could feel her pussy leaking more, the red panty growing wetter.
Johnny looked up at her face, eyes dark and commanding. “Keep looking at me, Deepa. Eyes open. I want to see the shame and the hunger in them.”
She forced her eyes to stay open, tears of humiliation and unwanted arousal shimmering in them. Her heart continued its frantic rhythm — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB…
Johnny finally hooked his fingers into the cups of her red bra and slowly pulled them down, folding the lace beneath her breasts so they spilled out fully — heavy, round, and trembling. Her dark nipples stood erect, begging for attention.
He cupped both breasts in his rough palms, lifting them gently, feeling their weight. His thumbs brushed lightly over the stiff peaks — feather-light circles that made her gasp.
Deepa’s breath caught in her throat once more. “Ahhh… haaa…”
He lowered his mouth to one nipple and began the slowest, most torturous teasing. His tongue flicked the tip lightly, then circled it in lazy, wet strokes. He sucked gently, rhythmically, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth with soft pulses, then releasing it with a wet pop, only to repeat the process. He gave the same passionate, unhurried attention to the other nipple — licking, sucking, occasionally grazing his teeth very lightly, never giving her the hard pressure she secretly craved.
Deepa’s entire body trembled. Her raised arms shook. Her tummy quivered nonstop. Sweat poured down her sides. Her pussy clenched emptily inside the soaked red panty, leaking steadily.
“Johnny… please… it’s too slow… I can’t take it…” she whimpered, voice hoarse with tension.
But Johnny only smiled against her breast. “That’s the point, baby. I want you burning. I want you dripping and desperate while your husband might walk in any second.”
He spent what felt like an eternity on her breasts — sucking, licking, kissing the soft flesh all around, making her nipples shiny and swollen. Every time her hips tried to lift toward him, he pressed them back down firmly.
Finally, he moved lower again.
His hands slid down her sides, over her hips, and hooked into the waistband of her tiny red panty. He peeled it down excruciatingly slowly, inch by inch, watching her face the entire time. The thin fabric stuck briefly to her wet folds before coming free, revealing her completely smooth, pink, married pussy — swollen outer lips glistening with arousal, inner folds peeking out, clit already erect and throbbing.
Johnny spread her thick thighs wider apart and settled between them. He blew a gentle stream of cool air directly onto her dripping cunt.
Deepa’s breath caught sharply in her throat. Her hips jerked. “Shhhh… haaa…”
He started with the slowest, longest licks possible — flat, broad strokes of his tongue from the bottom of her slit all the way up, deliberately avoiding her clit. He licked her outer lips, sucked them gently into his mouth one by one, then traced every fold with patient, burning slowness. His tongue dipped shallowly into her entrance, tasting her sweet nectar, then withdrew, only to repeat the teasing cycle.
Deepa’s moans grew broken and desperate. “Ahhh… Johnny… please… touch my clit… I’m dying…”
But he refused. For long, agonizing minutes he licked and sucked everywhere except the one spot she needed most. Her pussy leaked profusely now, clear juices coating his chin and dripping down to soak the bedsheet.
Only when her thighs were shaking violently and her raised arms were trembling did he finally focus on her clit.
He circled the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue — painfully slow, deliberate circles. Then he sucked it gently between his lips, pulsing softly, never increasing the pressure too quickly.
Deepa’s breath kept catching in her throat. “Haaaa… oh god… Johnny… haaaa…”
Her entire body was on fire. Tension, shame, fear of discovery, and overwhelming arousal mixed into a intoxicating storm. Her heart still pounded — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB — while her smooth underarms shone with sweat, her navel glittered, her heavy breasts heaved, and her freshly shaved pussy dripped endlessly onto the marital bed.
Johnny looked up at her flushed face, lips shiny with her juices, and whispered huskily:
“Tell me, Deepa… does your husband make you this wet? Does he tease you this slowly? Or do you only leak like a fountain when a younger man like me owns you on his own bed?”
Deepa could only sob softly, arms still raised submissively, body burning with the slowest, most intense seduction she had ever endured — every second filled with the terrifying possibility that the door could open and her entire world could collapse.
The tension was unbearable.
And Johnny was nowhere near finished


Deepa lay trembling on the marital king-sized bed, arms still obediently raised above her head, smooth underarms glistening with sweat. Her heavy breasts heaved with every shallow breath, dark nipples stiff and shiny from Johnny’s slow, torturous sucking. Her soft tummy quivered violently, the deep navel glittering like a wet jewel. Between her widely spread thighs, her freshly shaved pussy was completely exposed — swollen, pink, and dripping profusely, clear juices leaking steadily onto the bedsheet beneath her ass. The tiny red panty lay discarded somewhere on the floor.
Johnny knelt between her legs, his face hovering inches above her soaked cunt. His lips and chin were already shiny with her nectar. He looked up at her flushed, tear-streaked face with dark, hungry eyes, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
He didn’t dive in. Instead, he blew another gentle stream of cool air directly onto her throbbing clit.
Deepa’s breath caught sharply in her throat. “Haaaa…” Her hips jerked involuntarily, but his strong hands pinned her waist down firmly.
“Tell me, Deepa baby,” Johnny whispered, his voice low and filthy, “does your husband ever make this married pussy drip like a broken tap? Look how wet you are… leaking all over his bed just because I’m breathing on it.”
Deepa’s face burned with shame. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, but his commanding tone forced them open again.
“Eyes on me,” he ordered softly. “Answer honestly. When Charan fucks you at night, does your cunt get this sloppy and desperate?”
Deepa’s voice came out as a broken, humiliated whisper. “No… please don’t ask that… haaa…”
Johnny chuckled darkly. He leaned closer and dragged the flat of his tongue in one excruciatingly slow lick from the bottom of her slit all the way up, stopping just before touching her swollen clit.
“Slurrrp…”
Deepa’s breath caught again. Her tummy fluttered wildly. “Ahhh…”
“Be honest, bhabi,” he continued, licking her outer lips with lazy, wet strokes. “When your husband puts his average cock inside you, do you moan like this? Or do you have to fake it now… after tasting what a real thick cock feels like?”
He sucked one swollen outer lip gently into his mouth, rolling it between his lips while his eyes bored into hers.
Deepa’s raised arms trembled. Fresh tears of shame rolled down her temples. “Johnny… stop… it’s wrong… haaa… I love my husband…”
“But your body doesn’t lie,” Johnny murmured against her folds. His tongue dipped shallowly into her entrance, tasting her deeply, then withdrew slowly. “Feel how your cunt is clenching and leaking for me? Tell me, Deepa… whose name do you think about when Charan is thrusting on top of you? Mine?”
He circled her entrance with the tip of his tongue in slow, teasing spirals, never pushing inside fully.
Deepa’s breath kept catching in her throat. “No… please… don’t make me say it… shhhh…”
Johnny moved slightly higher. He placed the softest, feather-light kiss directly on her swollen clit, then pulled back.
Deepa’s entire body jolted. A desperate whimper escaped her. “Ahhh… Johnny…”
“Answer me,” he demanded softly, blowing cool air on her clit again. “When you cum with your husband, is it this strong? Or do you close your eyes and remember how I stretched your tight married hole and made you squirt like a whore on this very bed?”
He finally gave her clit a slow, deliberate lick — long and flat — then sucked the sensitive bud between his lips with gentle, rhythmic pulsing.
Deepa’s back arched off the bed. Her heavy breasts bounced. Her smooth underarms shone brighter with sweat. “Haaaa… oh god… it’s… it’s different… haaa…”
Johnny released her clit with a wet pop and looked up again, eyes gleaming with victory.
“Different how, baby? Tell me. Is my tongue better? Does it reach places your husband’s cock never can? Be honest while I eat this cheating pussy.”
He dove back in, licking her slowly and thoroughly — long strokes covering her entire slit, occasional gentle sucks on her clit, and deep, lazy thrusts of his tongue into her dripping hole. Every movement was deliberate, burning, and maddeningly slow.
Deepa’s moans grew louder and more broken despite her shame. “Ahhh… Johnny… your tongue… it’s… it’s making me crazy… haaa… please don’t ask more…”
But Johnny was relentless.
He pulled back again, replacing his tongue with two thick fingers that he slid slowly along her slick folds, teasing her entrance without entering.
“Tell me, Deepa… when Charan cums inside you, do you feel full? Or do you secretly wish it was my thick 9-inch cock flooding your womb instead?”
He pushed one finger inside her — painfully slow — curling it gently against her front wall while his thumb brushed her clit in tiny circles.
Deepa’s breath caught violently in her throat. Her thighs shook. “Haaaa… it’s… bigger… yours is bigger… oh god… I’m ashamed… please stop asking…”
Johnny smiled triumphantly and added a second finger, stretching her slowly, pumping in and out with controlled, deep strokes while his tongue returned to her clit — slow, wet circles that built the fire higher without letting her cum.
“Such a honest slut,” he praised between licks. “Your husband is out there celebrating his big tender win, thinking his faithful wife is waiting for him… and here you are — arms up, legs spread, pussy dripping on his bed while a younger man fingers and licks you. Does that make you wetter, Deepa? Knowing how wrong this is?”
Deepa sobbed softly, her raised arms trembling, tummy shivering nonstop, breasts heaving. Every slow thrust of his fingers, every lazy lick on her clit, every filthy question pushed her deeper into a burning sea of shame and arousal.
“Johnny… I can’t… haaa… I’m going to… please let me cum… I’m burning…”
But Johnny kept the pace torturously slow. He curled his fingers against her G-spot with precise, unhurried pressure while his tongue flicked her clit in gentle, rhythmic strokes.
“Beg properly, bhabi,” he whispered against her soaked flesh. “Tell me whose pussy this is now. Tell me who fucks you better — your loving husband or the man who blackmailed you. Say it while you look into my eyes.”
Deepa’s eyes were glassy with tears and desperate lust. Her breath kept catching in her throat as the slow, intense teasing pushed her right to the edge but refused to let her fall.
Her heart still pounded — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB…
The risk of the unlocked door and the possibility of Charan or Rahul returning at any moment made every second feel like pure erotic torture.
Johnny continued his slow, burning seduction — fingers pumping lazily, tongue working her clit with maddening patience, filthy questions pouring from his mouth, forcing her to confront her own shameful transformation with every wet lick and thrust.
Deepa was completely lost — ashamed, dripping, trembling, and helplessly burning under his control on her own marital bed.





To be continued.... Pls give feed back

[Arya321]

Super update. Mind blowing

[gvsubu1995]

Excellent update super.... Make her tremble more

[gvsubu1995]

[yuvamuthu]

The tension you built in Deepa's mind is so so good.
Keep going bro.. such a erotic narrative...

[Suresh@123]

The tension you built in Deepa's mind is so so good.
Keep going bro.. such a erotic narrative...

Thank you bro

[Suresh@123]

Deepa’s body was a live wire of tension on the marital king-sized bed. Her smooth arms remained raised submissively above her head, fingers clutching the pillow so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Sweat glistened in the hollows of her smooth underarms, trickling slowly down the sides of her heavy breasts. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow bursts, making the red lace bra — now pulled down beneath her breasts — push her full, round tits upward like an obscene offering. Her dark nipples stood painfully erect, swollen and shiny from Johnny’s earlier teasing.
Her soft tummy quivered nonstop, the deep navel filled with a tiny pool of sweat that sparkled under the bedroom light. Lower still, her thick golden thighs were spread wide apart, completely at Johnny’s mercy. Her freshly shaved pussy was obscenely exposed — puffy outer lips glistening, inner folds parted and dripping, her swollen clit peeking out desperately from its hood. Clear arousal leaked steadily from her hole, forming a growing wet spot on the bedsheet beneath her ass. The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air.
Johnny knelt between her legs like a predator savoring his meal. He had all the time in the world, and he knew it. His rough hands rested on the insides of her thighs, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin in slow, lazy circles, keeping her spread open.
He leaned in close, his hot breath fanning directly over her soaked cunt.
Deepa’s breath caught sharply in her throat. “Haaaa…” Her hips twitched, but his strong grip held her firmly in place.
“Relax, baby,” Johnny murmured, voice low and velvety. “We’re going to take this very, very slow today. I want you to feel every single second. I want your mind to burn with shame while your body begs for more.”
He started with the lightest possible touch — the very tip of his tongue tracing the outer edge of her left pussy lip in one long, excruciatingly slow stroke. Then he repeated it on the right lip. No pressure. No hurry. Just wet, teasing contact that made her folds flutter.
Deepa’s breath hitched again. “Johnny… please… don’t tease me like this…”
Johnny looked up at her flushed face, eyes locking with hers. “Why not, Deepa? Your husband is probably sitting in his office right now, proudly telling everyone about his big tender win. And here you are — lying naked on his bed with your legs spread for another man. Tell me… does that thought make your cunt throb harder?”
He followed the question with another slow, flat lick — this time from the bottom of her slit all the way up, stopping just short of her clit. The wet sound was loud and obscene in the quiet room.
“Slurrrp…”
Deepa’s tummy fluttered violently. A fresh gush of juices leaked out. “Ahhh… haaa… don’t say that…”
Johnny smiled against her flesh. He sucked one swollen outer lip gently into his mouth, rolling it slowly between his lips while his tongue stroked the sensitive skin inside. He released it with a wet pop, then did the same to the other lip, taking his time, savoring her taste.
“Answer me honestly, bhabi,” he whispered, his breath hot against her dripping entrance. “When Charan comes home tonight and wants to fuck you again, will you be thinking about my tongue? Will you close your eyes and remember how a younger man made your married pussy leak like this?”
He pushed the very tip of his tongue inside her hole — just the tip — and swirled it slowly in shallow circles, tasting her deepest nectar without giving any real penetration.
Deepa’s breath caught violently in her throat. Her raised arms trembled. “Haaaa… Johnny… stop asking these things… it’s so wrong… I feel so ashamed…”
But her pussy clenched hard around his invading tongue tip, pushing out more slick fluid that he eagerly lapped up.
Johnny withdrew his tongue and replaced it with one thick finger. He slid it inside her with agonizing slowness — inch by inch — until it was buried deep. Then he held it completely still, letting her feel the fullness without any movement.
“Feel that?” he asked softly. “Just one finger and you’re already fluttering around it like a desperate slut. Now imagine if it was my thick 9-inch cock instead. Would you cum faster than you do with your husband?”
He began the slowest possible thrusting — pulling his finger out almost completely, then sliding it back in with deliberate care, curling it gently against her front wall on every inward stroke. At the same time, his tongue returned to her clit, giving it the lightest, laziest circles imaginable.
Deepa’s entire body was on fire. Sweat poured down her sides. Her navel glittered brighter. Her heavy breasts bounced slightly with every ragged breath. Her smooth underarms shone wetly.
“Johnny… haaa… please… faster… I can’t bear this slow teasing…” she whimpered, voice cracking with humiliation and need.
Johnny chuckled softly against her clit. “No, baby. This is how I want you — burning slowly, dripping, ashamed, and completely aware of what a cheating whore you’ve become. Tell me the truth while I lick you. Whose tongue feels better on your married cunt — mine or Charan’s?”
He sucked her clit gently between his lips and pulsed softly, while his finger continued its maddeningly slow, deep strokes inside her.
Deepa’s head thrashed on the pillow. Tears of shame streamed down her cheeks even as her hips tried to chase his mouth. “Yours… oh god… yours feels better… haaa… I hate myself for saying it…”
Johnny rewarded her honesty with a slightly firmer suck on her clit, but still kept the overall pace torturously slow. He added a second finger, stretching her gradually, scissoring them open inside her while his tongue continued its lazy circles.
“Such a good girl,” he praised between licks. “Now tell me… when you squirted on my cock the other day, did you feel guilty? Or did it feel better than any orgasm your husband has ever given you?”
He curled both fingers firmly against her G-spot and held them there, applying steady pressure without thrusting, while his tongue flicked her clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
Deepa’s breath kept catching in her throat. Her thighs shook uncontrollably. “It… it felt better… much better… haaaa… I’m so ashamed… please let me cum… I’m burning inside…”
Johnny pulled his fingers out almost completely, then pushed them back in with the same slow, controlled motion. He alternated between long, flat licks covering her entire slit and gentle sucking on her clit. Every movement was calculated to keep her right on the edge without pushing her over.
“Look at your body, Deepa,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. “Arms up like a surrendered slut. Tits bouncing. Tummy shivering. Pussy dripping all over your husband’s bed. Every time I ask you a question, your cunt clenches harder around my fingers. You love being exposed like this, don’t you? You love knowing that at any moment the door could open and Charan could walk in and see his faithful wife getting her married pussy eaten by the man who blackmailed her brother.”
Deepa sobbed openly now, the combination of filthy questions, slow burning teasing, and the constant fear of discovery driving her mad with arousal and guilt.
“Johnny… please… I can’t take anymore… haaa… I’m going crazy…”
But Johnny had no intention of speeding up. He kept the pace deliberately slow and intense — fingers sliding in and out with long, deep strokes, tongue working her clit in lazy, wet circles, mouth occasionally sucking her swollen lips or dipping into her leaking hole.
He continued asking hot, erotic questions between every slow lick and thrust, forcing her to confront her shameful transformation with every word:
“Does your husband know his wife’s pussy gets wetter for a rowdy than for him?”
“When he kisses you tonight, will you still taste my tongue on your lips?”
“Tell me, Deepa… if I asked you to spread your legs for me every single day while Charan is at work, would you obey like the obedient married slut you’ve become?”
Each question was delivered with another long, slow lick or a deep, curling stroke of his fingers. The slow burning seduction stretched on and on, building the fire inside Deepa higher and higher without mercy.
Her heart continued its frantic rhythm — LUB DUB… LUB DUB… LUB DUB…
Her body was drenched in sweat. Her raised arms ached. Her pussy throbbed and leaked endlessly. Shame, guilt, fear, and unbearable arousal twisted together into one overwhelming storm.
Johnny looked up at her tear-streaked, desperate face with a dark, satisfied smile.
“We still have a long way to go, baby,” he whispered against her dripping cunt. “I’m going to keep you right on this edge for a very long time… until you’re begging me to ruin you completely on your husband’s bed.”
The slow, intense, gripping teasing continued — relentless, filthy, and mercilessly slow — while the unlocked door and the real world outside waited like a ticking bomb.
Deepa was completely lost in the burning flames of her own shameful surrender.











upload gifs online




Deepa was a trembling, dripping mess on the marital bed. Her smooth arms still raised submissively above her head, underarms shining with sweat. Her soft tummy quivered violently, deep navel glittering. Her freshly shaved pussy leaked continuously, the inner thighs slick and shiny. Every slow lick and filthy question from Johnny had pushed her closer and closer to the edge without letting her fall.
Johnny finally pulled his fingers out of her dripping hole with a wet sound. He crawled up her body slowly, his muscular frame hovering over her voluptuous curves. His eyes locked onto her heavy, heaving breasts — full, round, and begging for attention. The red bra was still pushed down beneath them, framing the soft creamy flesh beautifully.
“Such big, beautiful tits,” he murmured huskily. “I’ve been thinking about these since the day you slapped me. Time to give them proper attention.”
He lowered his head and started with the slowest, most sensual licking. His hot tongue traced the underside of her left breast in long, wet strokes — from the outer curve all the way to the deep valley of her cleavage. He repeated it on the right breast, savoring the salty taste of her sweat. Deepa’s breath caught sharply in her throat with every slow pass.
“Haaaa…”
Johnny took his time. He kissed the soft flesh all around her nipples in lazy circles, never touching the stiff peaks yet. His stubble grazed her sensitive skin, sending electric sparks straight to her core. He licked the deep cleavage slowly, tongue dipping between her breasts, then moved back to circle the areola of her left nipple with feather-light strokes.
Deepa’s raised arms trembled harder. “Johnny… please… not so slow… I can’t control…”
But he ignored her plea. He finally took her left nipple into his mouth — not sucking hard, but with gentle, rhythmic pulsing. He sucked softly, then released, then sucked again, his tongue flicking the stiff bud inside his mouth. At the same time, his hand cupped her right breast, thumb rolling the nipple in slow, maddening circles.
Deepa’s breath kept catching in her throat. “Ahhh… haaa… oh god…”
Johnny switched breasts, giving the right nipple the same slow, passionate treatment — sucking, licking, occasionally grazing his teeth very lightly over the sensitive tip. He alternated between both breasts for long, unhurried minutes, making them shiny with his saliva, swollen and aching. He even gently chewed on her nipples with his lips and teeth — not painful, but firm enough to make her back arch off the bed.
Deepa could no longer control herself. The slow burning on her breasts, combined with the earlier teasing on her pussy, pushed her over the edge without any direct touch on her clit.
Her body suddenly tensed. Her raised arms shook violently. Her tummy fluttered wildly.
“Haaaaaaa… Johnny… I’m… I’m cumming… ahhhhhh!!”
A powerful orgasm ripped through her even though he was only sucking her nipples. Her pussy clenched hard, gushing fresh juices onto the bedsheet in rhythmic spasms. Her heavy breasts bounced in his mouth as her body convulsed. She moaned loudly, shamefully, unable to stop the broken cries escaping her throat while her arms stayed raised as ordered.
Johnny kept sucking gently through her orgasm, prolonging it until her body finally went limp, breathing heavily, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He pulled back slightly, lips shiny, and looked at her flushed face with a satisfied smirk.
“Good girl. You came just from me sucking your big tits. Now… get on your knees and suck my cock.”
Deepa’s eyes widened in fresh shame. She shook her head weakly, still panting. “No… Johnny… please… I’ve never done that for anyone except my husband… I can’t…”
Johnny’s expression hardened slightly, though his voice remained low and commanding. “I said suck my cock, Deepa. You’re already lying naked on your husband’s bed with your pussy dripping for me. Don’t act like a faithful wife now. Get on your knees.”
She hesitated for a long moment, shame burning her face. But the memory of the lock-up, Rahul’s bruises, and the power Johnny held over her family made her obey. With trembling limbs, she lowered her arms and slowly got on her knees on the bed, facing him.
Johnny stood up beside the bed and unzipped his jeans, pulling out his thick 9-inch cock. It was rock-hard, heavily veined, and already leaking precum from the swollen head.
Deepa stared at it with wide eyes, her breath catching again. It looked so much bigger and thicker than Charan’s.
Johnny gripped the base and brought the head close to her full lips. “Open your mouth, bhabi. Suck it slowly. Show me how grateful you are for saving your brother.”
With tears of humiliation in her eyes, Deepa parted her lips and took the thick head into her warm mouth. She started sucking gently, her tongue swirling around the head in hesitant circles. Johnny groaned softly, one hand resting on the back of her head, guiding her but not forcing.
“That’s it… good girl. Take more. Suck it like you mean it.”
Deepa obeyed, taking more of his thick shaft into her mouth, sucking with slow, wet movements. Her cheeks hollowed as she worked him, saliva dripping down her chin. The taste was strong and masculine. Shame flooded her, but she continued, bobbing her head slowly while her heavy breasts swayed beneath her.
Johnny watched her with dark pleasure. “Look at you… the respectable housewife sucking cock on her marital bed. Your husband would die if he saw this.”
After several minutes of her slow, reluctant sucking, Johnny pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop. He pushed her gently onto her back again and climbed between her spread thighs.
He rubbed the thick head of his cock up and down her soaked slit — slow, teasing strokes that coated him in her juices.
“Beg for it, Deepa,” he whispered.
“Please… Johnny… fuck me…” she whimpered, voice broken.
He pushed the head inside her slowly — stretching her tight married pussy inch by inch. Deepa’s breath caught in her throat as he filled her. When he was fully buried, balls-deep inside her, he stayed still for a long moment, letting her feel every throbbing inch.
Then he began to fuck her — gently at first. Long, slow, deep strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. His hands gripped her soft waist, thumbs pressing into her flesh as he rolled his hips in controlled, passionate rhythm.
Deepa moaned loudly, her arms wrapping around his back. “Haaaa… so deep… ahhh…”
Johnny gradually increased the intensity. His strokes became harder, faster, rougher. The bed started creaking loudly under his powerful thrusts. Skin slapped against skin. Her heavy breasts bounced wildly with every rough stroke.
He pounded her relentlessly now — deep, hard thrusts that hit her cervix again and again.
Deepa came the first time with a loud cry. “I’m cumming… haaaaa… Johnny… I’m cumming!!”
Her pussy clenched violently around his thick cock, squirting hot juices around his shaft as her body shook.
Johnny didn’t stop. He fucked her through her orgasm with even rougher strokes, gripping her hips tightly.
A second, even stronger orgasm ripped through her just minutes later. “Ahhhhhh… again… I’m cumming again… oh god!!”
Her walls fluttered and milked him hard. Johnny groaned deeply and buried himself to the hilt, flooding her married womb with thick, hot ropes of cum.
They both collapsed, breathing heavily, bodies slick with sweat. Johnny’s cock remained buried inside her, twitching as the last drops spilled.
Deepa lay beneath him, completely spent, tears of shame and overwhelming pleasure mixing on her cheeks. The slow burning seduction had turned into raw, intense fucking — and she had cum harder than she ever had with her husband.
The risk of the unlocked door still hung in the air.
Johnny kissed her neck softly and whispered, “This is only the beginning, my sweet bhabi. I’ll be back soon.”
He finally pulled out, leaving her pussy gaping and leaking his cum onto the marital bedsheet.
Deepa could only lie there, destroyed and dripping, wondering how much more of her soul she would lose to this dangerous man.

[Suresh@123]

Deepa lay completely destroyed on the marital king-sized bed, her voluptuous body glistening with sweat and shame. Her heavy breasts rose and fell in uneven, exhausted breaths, the dark nipples still swollen and shiny from Johnny’s relentless sucking and chewing. Her soft tummy quivered with aftershocks, the deep navel filled with a small pool of sweat that slowly trickled down toward her wide hips. Between her thick, golden thighs, her freshly shaved pussy remained gaping slightly open, leaking a thick mixture of Johnny’s hot cum and her own juices onto the bedsheet in a shameful, spreading puddle. The wet spot beneath her ass was large and undeniable — clear evidence of how many times she had cum for the younger rowdy on her husband’s own bed.
She stared blankly at the ceiling, tears silently rolling down her temples and into her hair. Her arms, which had been raised submissively for so long, now lay limp at her sides. The room smelled of sex — heavy, musky, forbidden. The faint creak of the bed still echoed in her ears, along with the wet slapping sounds of Johnny’s rough strokes and her own broken moans.
The crushing guilt hit her like a tidal wave the moment Johnny pulled out and left.
What have I done?
The thought repeated in her mind like a scream. She turned her head slowly toward the pillow where Charan slept every night. The same pillow that still carried his familiar scent. Fresh tears burned her eyes.
This is our bed… the bed where we made love just last night. Where he held me gently and told me he loved me. And today… I let that monster fuck me raw on it. I came so hard for him. Twice. I squirted like a whore while he pounded me. I even sucked his cock on my knees like a cheap slut.
A broken sob escaped her throat. She pressed both hands over her face, trying to muffle the sound, but the guilt was too heavy.
How could I compare Charan’s loving touch with Johnny’s rough, thick cock? Last night I felt disappointed because Charan felt smaller… and today I was screaming for Johnny to fuck me harder. What kind of wife am I? What kind of sister? I sacrificed my body to save Rahul… but now I’m enjoying it. My body is craving that bastard even when I hate him.
She slowly sat up, wincing at the deep soreness between her legs. Thick white cum oozed out of her well-fucked pussy and ran down her inner thighs in obscene rivulets. She stared at it in horror — Johnny’s seed inside her married womb, mixing with her own shameful wetness.
He came so much… so deep. What if I get pregnant? What if Charan finds out? He just won the biggest project of his life and came back so happy… and I betrayed him in the worst way possible.
Deepa stumbled to the bathroom on shaky legs. She turned on the shower and stood under the hot water for a long time, scrubbing her body furiously — her breasts, her tummy, her pussy, even her mouth. She brushed her teeth twice, trying to wash away the taste of Johnny’s cock. But no matter how hard she scrubbed, the memories refused to leave.
She could still feel his rough hands gripping her waist.
She could still hear his filthy questions ringing in her ears.
She could still feel the way her pussy had clenched and squirted around his thick 9-inch cock while she screamed his name.
When she finally stepped out of the shower and looked at herself in the mirror, she barely recognized the woman staring back. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her full lips were slightly bruised from sucking him. Her heavy breasts carried faint red marks from his sucking and chewing. Between her thighs, even after washing, her pussy felt swollen and sensitive — still tingling from the rough pounding.
She dressed quickly in a simple cotton saree, trying to look normal again. But every movement reminded her of what had happened. The soreness when she walked. The slight stickiness between her legs. The way her nipples still felt tender against the blouse.
She changed the bedsheet with trembling hands, stuffing the cum-stained one deep into the washing machine. She sprayed room freshener to hide the smell of sex. She opened the windows to let fresh air in. But nothing could clean the guilt inside her heart.
Rahul is safe because of me… but at what cost? I’ve become a liar, a cheater, and a slut for that rowdy. Every time Charan touches me from now on, I’ll be remembering Johnny’s cock stretching me open. Every time I look at my brother, I’ll remember that I let myself be used like this to protect him.
She sat on the edge of the freshly made bed and buried her face in her hands. Silent sobs shook her shoulders.
Why did my body betray me so completely? Why did I cum harder for Johnny than I ever have for my own husband? Am I really transforming into something disgusting? A woman who gets wet when a blackmailer orders her to lie naked on her marital bed?
The sound of the main gate opening made her heart jump. She quickly wiped her tears, pinched her cheeks to bring some color back, and forced a smile on her face.
Charan and Rahul returned home together in the evening. Charan looked tired but happy from work. Rahul still carried that quiet worry in his eyes, but he tried to smile for his sister.
“Jaan, something smells good,” Charan said warmly, pulling Deepa into a gentle hug and kissing her forehead. “Did you miss me today?”
Deepa hugged him back tightly, hiding her face in his chest so he wouldn’t see her red eyes. “Of course I missed you,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “Welcome home.”
During dinner, she served them with forced cheerfulness, laughing at Charan’s office stories and asking Rahul about college. But inside, every bite of food tasted like ash. Every time Charan looked at her lovingly, the guilt stabbed deeper.
If only you knew that just a few hours ago, another man was fucking your wife on the same bed you sleep on. If only you knew how loudly I moaned for him.
That night, when Charan pulled her close in bed and started kissing her neck, Deepa froze for a split second. She forced herself to respond, moaning softly when he entered her gently. But her mind kept flashing back to Johnny’s rough, deep strokes. Charan felt so much smaller, so much gentler. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from comparing them out loud.
After Charan finished and fell asleep satisfied, Deepa lay awake beside him, staring at the ceiling with fresh tears in her eyes.
The crushing guilt was suffocating.
She had saved her brother.
She had pleased the blackmailer.
But in the process, she had lost a big piece of herself — her self-respect, her fidelity, and the pure love she once felt for her husband without any shadows.
And deep down, she knew Johnny would come back again.
Soon.

[Losliyafan]

Super update. Now she cannot be satisfied by her husband anymore

[Suresh@123]

Super update. Now she cannot be satisfied by her husband anymore

Yes thank you bro.

[Dumeelkumar]

Very good

[Suresh@123]

Very good

Thank you bro

[Suresh@123]

Johnny reached college just as the final period was ending. He walked into the corridor with a fresh, arrogant glow on his face. His muscles felt relaxed yet slightly sore from the vigorous fucking. The moment he spotted Rahul coming out of the classroom with his bag, a wide, mocking laugh escaped his lips.
“Hahaha… wow, look at this guy!” Johnny laughed loudly, shaking his head while staring straight at Rahul.
Rahul stopped walking. His jaw tightened. This was the second time today Johnny was laughing at him without any clear reason. Confusion and suspicion flared up again.
Johnny didn’t stop there. He stretched his arms high above his head in front of everyone, flexing his biceps and broad chest. His t-shirt rode up, revealing his toned abs. He rolled his shoulders and neck slowly, letting out a loud, satisfied groan.
“Ahhh… fuck, man. My body is aching so much today,” Johnny said loudly to his group of friends, making sure Rahul could hear every word. “I had such a super hot body massage this morning. The woman was so soft and curvy… damn, she had some serious stamina. Took me so deep and hard. My shoulders, back, hips… everything is paining now. But it was worth it. Best massage of my life.”
His friends burst into crude laughter, whistling and making dirty jokes.
One of them asked, “Bhai, was she professional or personal?”
Johnny grinned wickedly, still stretching his body in a very suggestive way. “Personal. Very personal. Married woman, but she knows how to take care of a man. Screamed so nicely when I gave her special treatment. My cock is still tingling.”
He laughed again while looking directly at Rahul, his eyes full of filthy meaning.
Rahul stood frozen a few meters away. His face turned pale, then red with rage and growing horror. Many doubts exploded in his mind like fireworks.
Why is he laughing at me again?
Why does he keep stretching like that — showing off his body?
Super hot body massage? This morning? He was near my street this morning… and now he’s talking about a married woman who screamed for him…
Rahul’s stomach twisted painfully. The timing matched too perfectly. Johnny disappeared after being seen near their house, came to college late, and now he was openly bragging about a “hot massage” with a married woman while laughing at him.
Is he talking about Didi? No… it can’t be. But why is he looking at me while saying all this? Why does he keep mentioning my sister? Didi has been acting so strange lately… avoiding eye contact, forcing smiles, looking tired…
The suspicion that had been building for days now felt like a knife in his chest. Rahul felt nauseous. His fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms.
Johnny noticed Rahul’s reaction and laughed even louder. He stretched his arms once more, groaning dramatically.
“Yaar, that woman had such soft thighs and big juicy breasts… I fucked her so deep she was crying in pleasure. My back is killing me now. But I’ll go again soon. She can’t say no to me.”
He winked at his friends and walked away, still chuckling, leaving Rahul standing there paralyzed by doubt, anger, and fear.
Back at Home – Evening
Rahul returned home earlier than usual, his mind in complete chaos. The moment he entered, he saw Deepa in the kitchen, wearing a simple saree, trying to act normal. But he noticed small things now — the slight redness on her neck that she tried to hide with her pallu, the way she walked a little carefully, the forced smile when she asked about his day.
“Didi… are you okay?” Rahul asked suddenly, his voice serious.
Deepa froze for a second, then turned with a smile. “Yes, beta. Why? Everything is fine.”


Rahul stared at her for a long moment. He wanted to ask directly — Did Johnny come here today? Did something happen? — but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t bear to voice his worst fears.
He simply nodded and went to his room, but the suspicion had now turned into a burning fire inside him.
Meanwhile, Deepa leaned against the kitchen counter, her legs still weak. Her pussy was still sore and leaking Johnny’s cum even after cleaning. The memory of both father and son teasing her for hours, making her sign the contract with her own juices, and then fucking her senseless kept flashing in her mind.
She pressed her thighs together, feeling fresh shame and a traitorous throb between her legs.
The trap was tightening.

[Suresh@123]

Two days later, the connection finally exploded.
Johnny was at his father’s bungalow, lounging in the living room while Mr. Raghav Reddy raged on the phone again about the lost tender.
“That bastard Charan Sharma! He snatched the  rail connectivity project right from under our noses. I had everything fixed — officials, cuts, everything. Now that middle-class fucker is celebrating while we suffer losses. I’ll destroy him. I’ll make sure his project gets stuck in endless delays and inquiries!”
Johnny, who had been half-listening while scrolling on his phone, suddenly froze.
Charan Sharma?
The name hit him like a lightning bolt.
He sat up straight. “Dad… did you say Charan Sharma? The one who won the big tender?”
Mr. Raghav slammed the phone down, still fuming. “Yes! Charan Sharma. Lives somewhere in Vijayawada with his wife and brother-in-law. Some nobody who got lucky with better paperwork and connections. Why?”
Johnny’s mind raced. Pieces clicked together rapidly — the “sweet sister Deepa,” the house he had visited multiple times, the married woman he had fucked on her own bed, the brother named Rahul.
He remembered Deepa’s panicked words during their sessions: “My husband is back… Charan…”
A slow, dark, triumphant grin spread across Johnny’s face.
“Dad… that Charan Sharma… his wife’s name is Deepa, right? And he has a brother-in-law named Rahul who studies in my college?”
Mr. Raghav looked at his son, surprised. “How do you know that?”
Johnny leaned back on the sofa, laughing softly at first, then louder — a cruel, victorious laugh that echoed in the room.
“Because I know them very well, Dad. Very well.”
He stood up, eyes shining with a dangerous mix of lust and revenge.
“Deepa is that same hot saree-clad bitch who slapped me in front of the entire college. Rahul is her brother — the golden boy I filed the false case against. And now you’re telling me her husband is the same Charan who took our tender?”
Johnny’s laugh turned darker. “This is perfect. I’ve been fucking Charan Sharma’s wife behind his back for days. On his own marital bed. While he was celebrating his big win, I was stretching his wife’s tight married pussy and making her scream my name.”
Mr. Raghav’s eyes widened in shock, then a slow, vicious smile appeared on his face too. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” Johnny replied, his voice dripping with filthy pride. “She’s my personal slut now. She spreads her legs whenever I order her to — shaved smooth, wearing red inners on her husband’s bed, sucking my cock, cumming harder for me than she ever did for him. And she’s doing it to protect her brother.”
He cracked his knuckles, eyes blazing with new excitement.
“Dad, this changes everything. We don’t just destroy Charan’s project. We destroy his entire family from inside. I own his wife’s body now. Every time he kisses her, she’ll be tasting my cock. Every time he fucks her, she’ll be remembering how much deeper and better I feel.”
Johnny’s grin turned predatory.
“I’m going to ruin Deepa completely. Make her addicted to my cock. Record everything. And when the time is right, we’ll use it all — against Charan, against his tender, against their perfect little family.”
The discovery had turned Johnny’s personal revenge into something far more dangerous and intoxicating.
He already knew Deepa’s address. He knew her body. He knew her weaknesses.
And now he knew exactly whose wife she was.


To be continued........

[Gopal Ratnam]

Awesome update.

What charan thought he won is nothing compared to that he had lost

[olumannan]

Johnny will now plan to kill charan to get the project back to his dad.

[Suresh@123]

Johnny will now plan to kill charan to get the project back to his dad.

No bro he will not kill. But they make him as cuckload hubby.. And use Deepa so erotically..

[Karmayogee]

No bro he will not kill. But they make him as cuckload hubby.. And use Deepa so erotically..

Will she get impregnated by Johnny, his friends and his dad and deliver a bastard child.