Adultery My wife his slut

[Rupakpolo1]

Going to start a new cuckold story.

[Hotgiri]

Awaiting for update

[anushka]

Heyy

Please start

But make husband unwillingly and unwantedly a cuckold.
A circumstances comes where slowly gradually he gets in to cuck thing..

And also please if possible add gifs..

[Rupakpolo1]

AI image story cover-
Note:
Many readers may find my story distressing and controversial. Please check my previous stories before reading this story. If you don’t like my content, please don’t read this story. This story is only for the reader who liked my previous stories.

[bananna123]

Start pls
Waiting

[bananna123]

AI image story cover-
Note:
Many readers may find my story distressing and controversial. Please check my previous stories before reading this story. If you don’t like my content, please don’t read this story. This story is only for the reader who liked my previous stories.

[Hotgiri]

Please update

[Rupakpolo1]

"Sir, you cannot stand here."

The Heathrow security guard looked very tired and impatient. I blinked at him, holding my crushed boarding pass in one hand and my phone in the other. I was staring at Bidisha’s last message: *Landing gate C, see you soon.* Eight months. Two hundred and forty-three days of waiting.

The guard sighed and told me. "Keep moving, sir." I nodded and adjusted my bag, but my feet were stuck. People were rushing past me with their suitcases, but all I could see was the arrivals hall ahead. This was my first international travel. My heart was beating so fast it was loud in my ears. Then, there she was. Between the crowd, I saw a flash of deep red. It was Bidisha’s scarf. The one I had bought her at the Pantaloons sale before she left.

She hadn't seen me yet. She was leaning against a pillar, checking her phone, tapping her foot. The lights caught her silver elephant earrings—the ones she wore the night I dropped her at the Kolkata airport.

The moment she looked up and saw me, everything else disappeared. Eight months had changed her; she looked fairer and more elegant. When her lips parted in surprise, I felt a rush of warmth in my chest.

She was wearing a new dark green wool jacket with big buttons. Under it was a white linen shirt and trousers that fit her perfectly. My throat went dry.

"You look like you've been electrocuted," she joked, reaching for my bag. Her perfume hit my nose and it smelled like jasmine and something smoky. London had changed her in small, mysterious ways.

"Rain stopped just for you," Bidisha whispered as we walked through the automatic doors. The London air was cool, nothing like the sticky heat of Kolkata. "You will always see rain here" she added with a wink, leading me to the taxi queue.

Bidisha asked to get in a taxi. Bidisha told the driver her address in a new, polished accent. I didn't even notice the city passing by; I was only noticing how much she has changed. While she has always possessed fair, warm-toned skin and striking, large eyes, her complexion now carries an even more vibrant, radiant glow. Eight months ago, she would have been shy to touch me in public, but now she was tracing patterns on my knee with her thumb.

The taxi stopped at a brick building. Bidisha paid the driver. She pointed to a balcony on the third floor of the apartment and said - “This is where I stay”.

I looked at the balcony which had potted flowers around it. Bidisha used to show me on video call the flowers that she was nurturing on her balcony.

"Sophia is out tonight," she said, dangling her keys. Then she added softly, "We have the place to ourselves."

As soon as the door opened, I pushed her against the wall and kissed her with all the hunger of eight months. Her scarf got tangled between us. But then she pushed me back with a laugh.

"Arjun, stop—" She put her hand on my chest, her cheeks red. She wrinkled her nose but looked at me with dark, longing eyes. "Go shower first. Then... whatever you are planning."

I caught her wrist. "We used to save water back home, remember?" I remembered those steamy Kolkata afternoons in our old bathroom. "Let's be environmentally conscious."

Bidisha winked at me—a look full of mischief. "Do you remember we used to talk about relaxing together in a bathtub back in Kolkata," she whispered, walking toward the bathroom and undoing the buttons of her jacket. "But in this apartment, we have one."

She put her warm palm on my cheek. Her eyes were searching mine. "Tell me," she whispered, "did you miss me? Really?"

I was surprised, not because I didn't miss her, but because her voice sounded like she had been carrying a heavy burden. "Every single day," I said, kissing her palm.

I kissed her hard- “Do you really want to see how much I used to miss you”

I pushed her against the wall and slid my hands under her jacket. She laughed- "You are too impatient," she murmured, but her fingers were already pulling at my shirt buttons.

"More than you know," I growled, pinning her wrists above her head. She arched against me, and for a second, she went still. I wondered if I was being too fast. Then she moved against me, and a moan escaped her.

"I want to see you," I said. "All of you. Now." But as my fingers reached the waistband of her trousers, she suddenly panicked. She pushed me away with a lot of force. "Wait—" her voice cracked. "I can't... not right now."

"Bidisha—" I was confused. "Please." I kissed her neck, but she stiffened.

She pushed me away again. "Arjun, enough." Her voice was sharp, like she was in a business meeting. "I am making tea. You go to the bathroom."

I knew my wife always had mood swings, so I stayed quiet. "Not going to make you angry," I whispered and went to the shower. The water pressure in London was amazing—hot water pounding my shoulders—but I couldn't stop thinking about that moment of panic.

After the shower, I found a cup of Darjeeling tea on the table. No milk, one sugar, just how I like it. But the flat was too quiet.

I went to the bedroom and saw Bidisha standing in front of the mirror. Her blouse was half-open. She was touching her left breast and was checking something on her breast from the reflection of the mirror. She froze when she saw me.

"What happened?" I asked.

She quickly buttoned her blouse. "Nothing," she said too fast. "Just a small injury. The strap rubbed the wrong way."

I smiled mischievously, "Do you want me to check that for you?."

She didn't move for a second, looking at me as if I might burn her. Then she brushed past me without looking in my eyes.

As we sat at the table, the silence was very heavy. "Tell me about work," I asked . "How are things?"

She gave a tired laugh. "Same corporate circus. I spoke to my boss last week."

"About what?"- I asked.

"The transfer request," she said, looking at me. "I told her I'm done. Two more months and then... I want to go home."

I almost choked on my tea. "You—what?"

Bidisha looked into her cup. "I can't do this alone anymore, Arjun. Not like this."

I held her wrist. "But I thought you loved it here."

She slammed her mug down. "You are not listening!" she snapped. "I changed my mind."

"You're joking," I said.

"Does it sound like a joke?" She said with a sharp look in her eyes. "Eight months of pretending I'm fine. Eight months of missing your stupid face every morning."

"Look at me," I said softly.

She didn't look up - "Remember when Pishima called you?" I asked. "That night you cried because she said—"

"—that I was enjoying my freedom too much," Bidisha finished bitterly. "As if being without you was a vacation." She looked at me with the same sharp look - "Pishima was right. I ignored everything—family, responsibilities, even you. I thought I could have the career and independence, but I was just running away."

"You're acting weird," I said, holding her wrist. Her pulse was racing. "All of a sudden."

"I was going to tell you," she hissed. "The last few weeks have been—" She stopped and shook her head. "You remember how many times I hung up on your calls because of work?"

“I don’t understand…you are busy with your work…I never said anything about this to you”- I responded.

"You're still not understanding," she said. "I can't stay here without you, and it won't be easy for you to move here."

I smiled. "Actually, I have good news. My manager said I might get a project in the UK."

Bidisha froze. She didn't look happy. "That's wonderful news," she said, but her voice sounded fake.

The silence returned. I tried to hold her hand, but she pulled away to fix her hair. "How is the work pressure?" I asked.

"Fine now," she said quickly. "Let me help you unpack."

As she walked past, I pulled her close. "When do I get to see my beautiful wife naked?"

Bidisha's smile faded. There was a flicker of panic in her eyes. "You must be tired now after a long journey," she said lightly, but she was swallowing hard. "I want you at your best when I finally have you."

I figured I’d get some rest first before trying to initiate anything with her. I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up to the smell of *kosha mangsho* (mutton curry). The evening light was turning into twilight. Bidisha was at the stove with her hair in a bun. I went near her.

"Smells like home," I said, kissing her neck. She stiffened for a second before relaxing.

She swatted me with a wooden spoon. "Go sit! Otherwise, the *luchis* will be burnt."

We ate together. We were quiet, our knees touching under the table. But I noticed dark shadows under her eyes.

After dinner, she said, "I bought something special. You always wanted to taste Champagne, right?" She brought a gold bottle. When the cork popped, foam sprayed her wrist, and she licked it off slowly.

The champagne tasted sharp and bright. Bidisha watched me with unreadable eyes.

By the third glass, the room felt blurry. She leaned closer, and I saw a jagged, pinkish mark on her collarbone. I tried to touch it, but she stopped me with a laugh. "Not yet," she whispered, putting my hand on her thigh.

She led me to the bedroom. The lamp cast long shadows. She pushed me onto the bed and sat on my hips.

Her kisses were warm, but her movements felt rehearsed, like she had practiced them. When I tried to unhook her bra, she twisted away, guiding my hands to her hips. "Not yet," she whispered, but her voice sounded strained.

The moment we became intimate, her body went rigid. I slowed down, but she turned her face away, clamping her legs tight around me.

She was trembling—not with pleasure, but with something else. It was devoid of passion—just a mechanical motion driven by pure desperation.

The next morning, the sunlight woke me up. My mouth tasted of old champagne. The other side of the bed was cold. I found Bidisha in the kitchen, making eggs with perfect precision, already dressed in her crisp shirt and trousers. I couldn’t recollect much about our previous night.

[Hotgiri]

Nice update, pls add hot gif to sex scene

[willsee]

Big fan! Great work man. As usual awesome start. 

I feel you are GOAT for cuckold stories where it not touches physical aspects but emotionally what couple go though like in real life. Some time i felt its happening next door that natural the flow is.