Adultery Ananya - My beautiful wife

[Umavictor32]

He said MAY BE... TONITE....
So he can be pardoned

[val.coutinho]

He said MAY BE... TONITE....
So he can be pardoned

I can understand once or twice Uma..... Everytime its the same dialogue..... Anyways I have not commented for anyone to get offended.... I have just stated the fact

[kirak9484]

He said MAY BE... TONITE....
So he can be pardoned

Yes Thankyou..

[kirak9484]

Thankyou alll



The lungi goon stood over Ananya with that same sadistic half-smile, watching the tears track down her cheeks as she looked from him to the two people she was trying to save.
“You… please both go,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Komali, be careful… and said bye…”
Komali’s face crumpled. She stepped forward, crying openly.
“No, bhabhi… you don’t stay. I will stay here and you go…”
Both women tried to push the other toward the door, each ready to sacrifice herself. The goon’s patience snapped.
“Shut up, both of you.”
His voice cut through the room like a blade. He pointed at Rajesh.
“Rajesh. Take her and go. Otherwise both will stay here two days.”
Fear flashed across their faces. Rajesh stepped forward, hands raised, voice desperate.
“No, no, sir… please leave the three of us. I will give so much amount of money… anything you want…”
The goon only shook his head.
“No way.”
He moved fast. One rough hand tangled in Ananya’s hair and yanked her head back so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“Tell them to go. Urgent. Otherwise I will start again right now.”
Ananya’s lips trembled. Tears spilled faster. She forced the words out.
“Go… both of you… please… just go…”
The goon kept his grip on her hair and began dragging her toward the open bedroom door at the back of the room. Ananya stumbled after him on bare feet, still naked, still glistening between her thighs from everything that had already been done to her. She looked back one last time at Rajesh and Komali, eyes full of silent apology.
Rajesh and Komali stood frozen for a second longer, then the reality hit. With broken, helpless sobs they turned and left. The outer door closed behind them. The sound of their footsteps faded down the stairs.
Two hours later they reached home.
The moment the door shut behind them Komali threw herself into Rajesh’s arms, clinging to him, shaking.
“Bhaiya…” she sobbed against his chest. “Bhabhi is still there… how will she survive these two days… there are four members… shall we give information to the security officer…?”
Rajesh’s jaw was tight, eyes red. He nodded once.
“OK.”
They turned toward the door again, ready to go straight to the security office. Then Rajesh’s phone buzzed with a notification. He pulled it out, unlocked the screen—and froze.
The video had already started playing.
Clear, high-quality footage of the sofa. Ananya spread wide, legs held open. Komali on her knees between those thighs, mouth locked on her sister-in-law’s smooth, dripping cunt, sucking and licking with focused hunger. Ananya’s head thrown back, both hands gripping the sofa cushions, full breasts heaving. The audio was perfect—every wet sound of tongue and lips, every broken moan.
“Hmmm… ahhhhhh… hmmmmm… mm… nooooooo…”
Ananya’s voice, raw and helpless, filled the quiet living room of their own house. Two full minutes of it. Komali’s face buried between her thighs. Ananya’s hips rolling, cunt visibly fluttering and leaking onto her sister-in-law’s tongue. The camera angle left nothing hidden.
Rajesh cursed under his breath, a low, broken sound of self-hatred. Before he could even lock the phone, an incoming call lit the screen. He put it on speaker with shaking fingers.
The lungi goon’s voice came through, calm and amused.
“Hey Rajesh. If you complain or reveal to anyone, I will viral this video. You and your family will collapse.”
The line went dead.
Komali had already snatched the phone from his hand. She stared at the screen. The video was still looping. She watched herself on her knees, mouth working between Ananya’s spread thighs, tongue sliding through the glistening folds, sucking the swollen clit while Ananya moaned and trembled. She watched Ananya’s hands tighten on the sofa, watched the way her sister-in-law’s cunt clenched and released, watched the clear juices shine on her own chin in the recording.
“Hmmm… ahhhhhh… hmmmmm… mm… nooooooo…”
The moans played again, clear and intimate, filling their home.
Komali’s eyes enlarged. Her face turned deep red. She stood completely still, phone trembling in her hands, unable to look away from the explicit, high-definition proof of what her mouth had done to her bhabhi—and what her bhabhi’s body had given in return. The living room stayed silent except for the wet sounds and the helpless cries coming from the small speaker.
Outside, the evening light was fading. Inside, the video kept playing, and the two days Ananya had bought them with her body stretched out ahead like an open wound...












Two days later the call came.
Rajesh’s phone rang in the middle of the afternoon. He snatched it up on the first vibration, voice tight with hope and dread.
“Hello… sir…?”
The lungi goon’s voice slid through the speaker, lazy and amused.
“Hey sissy. Come to that place and take your wife and go.”
The line went dead before Rajesh could answer.
Komali was already at his side, eyes wide.
“Who, bhaiya…?”
“Wait here. I will come.”
He left without another word. The two-hour journey felt longer than the original night. When he finally climbed the familiar stairs and pushed open the door, the yellow bulb was still humming, but the air felt different—heavier, quieter.
Ananya sat in a wooden chair near the centre of the room. She wore a simple cotton saree, the pallu dbangd modestly across her chest, hair loosely tied. Her face was calm, almost expressionless. She did not look up when the door opened. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers still. Only the faint dark marks visible at the edge of her blouse collar and the slight stiffness in the way she held her shoulders hinted at what the last forty-eight hours had contained.
The lungi goon sat in the chair beside her, lungi neat, shirt open at the throat. He smiled when Rajesh stepped inside.
“Hey sissy. Come here. Here is your traditional wife. Take her and go, sissy.”
Rajesh’s jaw clenched. Anger flared hot in his chest.
“Don’t call me sissy.”
The goon laughed, low and easy.
“I will call you sissy. You are not up to a man. You don’t know how to treat a beautiful wife like your wife Ananya.” He gestured toward her with an open hand. “OK… take her. Whatever. She is standing silent.”
Ananya finally rose. The saree shifted around her body as she stood. She walked the few steps to Rajesh and, without a word, stepped into his arms. Her forehead rested against his shoulder. Her hands came up slowly and held the back of his shirt. The embrace was tight, almost desperate, yet she still made no sound.
Rajesh’s arms locked around her. He could feel the slight tremor running through her frame. He lifted his head and stared at the goon over her hair, voice raw.
“Tell me, you bloody rascals… what did you do to her?”
The goon’s smile only widened. He leaned back in the chair, completely at ease.
“Hey… it’s a matter of men. You don’t know.”
He let the silence stretch for a moment, then added, almost conversationally,
“Two full days. She submitted like she promised. Every hole. Every position. She moaned, she came, she begged, she took all of us. More than once. The video is still safe… for now. Take your traditional wife home, sissy. She is quiet now. Maybe she will stay quiet.”
Ananya’s fingers tightened in Rajesh’s shirt. She still did not speak. Her face remained hidden against his chest. The soft cotton of the saree could not completely hide the faint bruises along her upper arms or the way her thighs pressed together as if the memory of being stretched still lived in her muscles.
Rajesh held her closer, eyes burning. The goon and the other men watched in silence, satisfied. The yellow bulb hummed overhead. The mattresses in the corner were neatly folded, as if nothing had ever happened on them.
Ananya finally lifted her head just enough to look at her husband. Her eyes were dry, but something deeper had changed behind them. She whispered only one word, so soft only he could hear it.
“Home…”
Rajesh nodded once, jaw still tight. He kept one arm firmly around her waist and guided her toward the door. The goon’s laughter followed them out into the stairwell, fading only when the outer door finally closed behind the silent couple....

[kirak9484]

“Hey sissy, stop.”
The lungi goon’s voice cracked down the stairwell like a whip. Rajesh froze mid-step. Ananya’s fingers dug hard into the front of his shirt, a silent, desperate plea.
The goon leaned against the upper doorframe, lungi hanging low, eyes gleaming with pure sadistic pleasure. The other three men crowded behind him, grinning.
“You want to know exactly what we did to your traditional wife these two days, sissy? Come back. I’ll tell you every filthy detail.”
Rajesh’s body turned halfway before he could stop himself. The raw need to hear it burned hotter than shame. One of the assistants laughed and called down.
“Bhai, tell him how many times we stretched that tight married cunt. Tell him how she screamed when fuck.

Tell him how her mouth..
Ananya’s face flooded with scarlet humiliation. She yanked Rajesh’s hand with both of hers, voice low and urgent against his ear.
“Please… move. Don’t listen. Just take me home. Please.”
The goon raised his voice louder, deliberate, so every word carried.
“She took all four of us, sissy. One after another. Sometimes two at once. That soft traditional body was bouncing on our cocks for hours. Her big breasts were covered in bite marks and spit. Her cunt was so loose and wet by the second night she couldn’t even close her legs properly. And she came. Again and again. Loud. Like a whore who finally got what she needed.”
Another goon added, laughing,






Ananya’s shoulders shook. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she kept pulling. Rajesh finally let her drag him the rest of the way down the stairs. The goons’ rough laughter followed them out into the street—crude, satisfied, echoing.
The journey home was silent except for Ananya’s uneven breathing. She sat pressed against the side of the auto, pallu drawn low, thighs pressed tightly together as if she could still feel every thick cock that had stretched her. Rajesh stared straight ahead, jaw locked, the filthy words still ringing in his ears.
When they reached the house Komali was already at the door. The moment she saw Ananya she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her bhabhi, sobbing.
“Bhabhi… sorry, bhabhi… this is due to me only. I should not have forced you to go to the movie. If we didn’t go… it would not have happened. It’s my fault… sorry… sorry…”
Ananya stood stiff for a long moment, then her arms slowly returned the hug. She still said nothing. The soft cotton of her saree brushed against Komali’s body, and for a second the younger woman felt the faint tremor that still lived under her bhabhi’s skin.
Ananya eased away and went straight to the bathroom without looking at either of them. The lock turned softly. Water began to run.
Inside the small bathroom she let the saree fall in a soft heap. The blouse followed. Under the harsh tube light the evidence of the two days stood out in brutal detail against her soft traditional skin. Dark love bites covered the upper curves of her full breasts, the side of her neck, the inner slopes of her thighs, the soft flesh just above her hips and along the underside of her ass. Some were deep purple, others still reddish and tender. Faint finger bruises marked her waist and the insides of her knees where she had been held open for hours. Between her legs the smooth, hairless cunt still looked slightly swollen, the soft lips a deeper pink than usual, as if the memory of being stretched and used lived in the flesh itself.
She stepped under the stream of water and finally let the tears come. They mixed with the water as she washed every place their mouths, hands and cocks had claimed—scrubbing the bite marks, the sticky remnants, the places that still ached when the water hit them. Her fingers brushed over her own nipples and a helpless shiver ran through her. Even now, even in shame, her body remembered the rough suction, the thick thrusting, the forced orgasms that had left her shaking and empty.
She stayed under the water a long time, crying quietly until the water ran cold.
When she finally emerged she wore a high-necked, long-sleeved nightgown that covered her from throat to ankles. Her hair was still damp. She did not look at Rajesh. She walked past him to the bedroom, climbed onto her side of the bed, and turned her face to the wall, curling in on herself.






Rajesh stood in the doorway for several minutes. He could still hear the goons’ crude words in his head—how her cunt had been stretched, how she had come on their cocks, how she had begged. He did not speak. He did not try to turn her toward him or demand the details she was clearly too shattered to give. He simply watched the quiet line of her back, the way her shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths that sometimes caught on a suppressed sob, and then he quietly closed the door, leaving her the darkness and the privacy she needed.
In the living room Komali sat with her face in her hands, still whispering broken apologies to the empty air. The house stayed silent except for the distant ceiling fan and the faint, occasional sound of Ananya’s quiet crying on the other side of the bedroom wall. The two days were over, but the marks—on her skin, in her body, in the silence between husband and wife—remained.




But Rajesh mind always racing what happens the 2 days there... She is in calm.. I can't ask her.. Then how I want to know.... He is thinking in exited...
Rajesh can't hold long much.. So he decided to go to that Goon to know each in detailed.....

[Hotgiri]

Please add more gif to story

[Alexzender]

First you messed up so much after adding goons story before goons update your story is so hot and pleasurable But if you add goons should fuck Ananya front of Rajesh so he watch how goond forcefully fuck her innocent wife like a who’re and kept her 2 days like her who’re
Rajesh forced to watch how the goons taken her wife Ananya’s Virginian asshole and Rajesh should watch how much annaya enjoying to takes so many big monster fick in her pussy in front of cucky hubby

[kirak9484]

First you messed up so much after adding goons story before goons update your story is so hot and pleasurable But if you add goons should fuck Ananya front of Rajesh so he watch how goond  forcefully fuck her innocent wife like a who’re and kept her 2 days like her who’re
Rajesh forced to watch how the goons taken her wife Ananya’s Virginian asshole and Rajesh should watch how much annaya enjoying to takes so many big monster fick in her pussy in front of cucky hubby

Yes you right. Thankyou.. The Rajesh will go to goon. And he has a suprise there.. Let's wait..

[Zebra123]

Yes you right. Thankyou.. The Rajesh will go to goon. And he has a suprise there.. Let's wait..

Hey there bro, whatever you are going with is very nice, making him cuck and making him watch his wife getting fucked soon will not have any story left to continue. You can make the story even more exciting. When can we expect the fucking episodes? Today would be very nice.

[bananna123]

Nice
Waiting

[Muralimm]

Super hot ?? update

I am eagerly waiting what het husband knows about the two days and after that how will he reacts

And most annanya what she do for next

[Rakul1985]

Waiting for the story to get to right flow with Vicky

[Pushpa Purusan]

After enjoying for two days why she is crying as if she is banged. This cuck need details. Shameless bastard

[Vishal Ramana]

Super update

[bananna123]

Next update pls

[kirak9484]

Hi thanks to all


Today I will update..

[Rangabaashyam]

Very good.did they filmed everything for two days

[kirak9484]

Thankyou alll..




That night the house was quiet except for the slow turn of the ceiling fan. Rajesh lay on his side facing Ananya. The soft glow of the streetlight through the curtains showed how dull her face looked, how the usual brightness had been drained from her eyes.
He reached out, his voice low and tight with the frustration that had been eating him since the moment he brought her home.
“Ananya… sorry. You look so dull. But tell me… what happened there those two days?”
Her eyes immediately filled with water. She shook her head once, barely a movement.
“Nothing, Rajesh… just leave that…”
She turned onto her other side, pulling the sheet higher, putting distance between their bodies. The silence that followed was heavier than any argument. Rajesh stared at the back of her head for a long time before he finally closed his eyes, the unanswered question burning in his chest.
The next morning he left for the office without another word.
In the kitchen Komali and Ananya worked side by side preparing the afternoon meal. The ordinary sounds of chopping and the soft hiss of oil in the pan felt almost unreal after everything. Komali kept glancing at her bhabhi. Finally she set the knife down and turned fully toward her.
“Sorry, bhabhi… sirf mere wajah se hua aapko… sorry…”
Ananya’s hands stilled on the vegetables. She looked at the younger woman and managed a small, tired smile.
“Hey Komali, don’t cry and don’t say sorry. It’s happened. Leave it.”
But Komali stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Ananya from the side, pressing her face into her bhabhi’s shoulder.
“Sorry, didi… kya hua do din… aapko pareshan kiye wo aadmi…?”
Ananya’s breath caught. For a moment she stayed rigid in the hug. Then the tears she had held back since the bathroom the previous evening finally spilled. Her voice came out low, broken, almost a whisper against Komali’s hair.
“Yes, Komali… yes… they fucked me hard…”
Komali went completely still. Her arms loosened just enough so she could look at Ananya’s face.
“Matlab… gangbang…?”
Ananya’s eyes closed. A fresh tear slipped down her cheek.
“Yes. They did gangbang on me… in all holes…”
Komali’s lips parted. Her voice dropped even lower, almost afraid of the answer.
“Means… ass also…?”
Ananya only stood silent, the confirmation written in the way her shoulders trembled and the fresh wetness on her lashes. Komali swallowed hard.
“OK, bhabhi… please leave it. Completely erase from your mind. Feel like nothing happened…”
Ananya gave a small, bitter shake of her head.
“I want to forget… but they filmed me while doing each thing. If they… what they will do… that’s my problem. They used HD cameras while fucking…”
The words hung in the warm kitchen air.
Komali’s face changed. A slow, visible heat rose in her cheeks. Her eyes widened, pupils darkening as the image formed in her mind—Ananya spread open under bright lights, thick cocks pushing into every hole, the camera recording every wet thrust, every forced moan, every time her traditional body arched and came for strangers. The thought of those HD videos existing somewhere, crystal-clear proof of her bhabhi being used so thoroughly, sent an unexpected, forbidden thrill straight through Komali’s stomach and lower.
She didn’t step back. She kept her arms loosely around Ananya, heart beating faster, the apology still on her tongue but her mind already replaying the imagined footage in vivid, filthy detail—Ananya’s full breasts bouncing, her smooth cunt stretched wide, her ass being claimed, her mouth full, the wet sounds and broken cries captured in perfect clarity for anyone who might one day watch.
Ananya felt the subtle shift in the younger woman’s body but was too drained to question it. She simply rested her forehead against Komali’s shoulder for a moment longer, tears still falling quietly, while in Komali’s mind the secret thrill of those recorded two days continued to grow hotter with every passing second.



In the middle of the ordinary office afternoon, Rajesh sat at his desk staring at a spreadsheet that no longer made sense. The numbers blurred. His mind had already left the room.
He kept seeing it—Vicky and Rohan, that night in their villa. The woman they had brought home, legs spread wide on the big bed, body bouncing under both of them. The way she moaned, high and broken, the sound echoing off the marble walls. The way she cried out when Rohan pushed into her from behind while Vicky filled her mouth. The wet slap of skin, the filthy praise, the way she came so hard her whole body shook. And then the teasing afterward, both of them grinning at Rajesh over drinks.
“If we fuck your wife also… she will sound the same, saar. Traditional women moan the loudest once you open them properly.”
At the time he had laughed it off, uncomfortable, a little angry. Now the memory returned with a different heat.
Because now it was his wife.
Ananya. Soft. Traditional. The same woman who had turned her face to the wall last night and refused to speak. The same woman who had walked into their kitchen this morning with dull eyes and love bites hidden under a high-necked nightgown. For two full days four men had used every hole. HD cameras had recorded everything. And somewhere in that room her voice had probably risen the same way that woman’s voice had risen in the villa—high, helpless, echoing.
Rajesh shifted in his chair. His cock was already half-hard inside his trousers, thickening fast as the images stacked on top of each other. Ananya on the mattress, legs forced open. Thick cocks pushing into her cunt, her ass, her mouth. Her full breasts bouncing, marked with bites. The wet sounds. The way she must have moaned—loud, continuous, the same broken cries that had filled the villa that night. The way she must have come, body shaking, juices flooding, while the camera captured every second.
His cock jumped hard, fully erect now, pressing painfully against the fabric. He could feel the precum already dampening the inside of his underwear. The frustration that had sat in his chest since bringing her home twisted into something darker, hotter, more urgent. He needed to know. Exactly what they had done. How many times she had come. How loud she had been. Whether her voice had cracked the same way that woman’s voice had cracked when Rohan and Vicky took her together.
He closed the laptop without saving anything.
By the time he stood up his erection was obvious, but he no longer cared. The decision had already settled in his blood. He was going back to that place. Back to the lungi goon. He would make the man talk. He would hear every filthy detail of those two days—every thrust, every orgasm, every time his traditional wife had moaned and cried and come on strangers’ cocks—until the pictures in his head matched the reality.
The thrill of it ran straight down his spine and settled heavy between his legs as he walked out of the office, cock still hard, mind already racing toward the yellow-lit room and the answers he could no longer live without...



Rajesh could not stay in the office another minute.
The plant Vicky and Rohan had seeded months earlier in that villa—the casual, laughing suggestion that his traditional wife would moan just as loudly once properly opened—had taken full root. Combined with the two silent days Ananya had spent in that yellow-lit room, it now burned through him like fever. His cock stayed semi-hard under the desk, twitching every time his mind replayed the imagined sounds of her crying out the same way the woman in the villa had cried out.
He shut the laptop, told no one, and walked out.
The drive to the old bungalow felt both endless and far too short. His hands were not entirely steady on the wheel. When he finally parked and stepped out, his legs felt loose. He entered the familiar hall slowly, almost on tiptoe, heart slamming against his ribs.
The place was empty except for one man lounging near the far wall.
“Hey. Who are you? Why did you come?”
Rajesh’s voice came out rougher than he intended.
“To meet your boss.”
The man looked him over, then jerked his chin toward the outer door.
“He’s outside. Wait.”
Rajesh nodded and sat on the same low sofa where everything had begun. His eyes moved restlessly around the room. That was when he saw it—the black tripod standing in the corner, camera still mounted, lens pointed toward the mattresses that had been folded away.
His pulse jumped.

[Rangabaashyam]

Very good. Anyway Ananya is a whore now. So nothing to worry.

[kirak9484]

His eyes moved restlessly around the room. That was when he saw it—the black tripod standing in the corner, camera still mounted, lens pointed toward the mattresses that had been folded away.
His pulse jumped.
He stood and walked toward it before he could stop Himself. He slowly went near and check the camera and recap photos.  Back back back.. buttons clicked.. There his mind gone. He is in full shock to see Ananya pics.

One man lifted Ananya in nude and he held her both legs separated. And Ananya caught his neck with her both hands to balance. And one by one fucking Ananya..


His eyes roll what the fuck... And then The goon shouted him go ou. But he thinking what what they did to Ananya.. And new poses they used her... So she is not talking about this.. But his cock jumps in his trousers...






Ananya’s back was pressed flush to his body, her full breasts pushed forward, nipples tight and marked with dark love bites. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder, mouth open in a clear, helpless cry. The man’s thick cock was buried deep inside her cunt, and the photo had captured him mid-thrust—hips snapped forward hard, the wet length of him disappearing into her stretched pink hole while clear juices shone on his shaft and dripped down onto the floor.
The next photo showed the same position, only the man fucking her had changed. Another thick cock now slammed into her open cunt while the first man still held her spread and helpless against his chest. Ananya’s face was contorted in overwhelming sensation, eyes half-closed, tears of forced pleasure visible on her cheeks. Her soft traditional body looked completely claimed—hair messy, lips parted, the soft folds of her pussy stretched wide around the invading cock as it fucked her wild and deep.
Rajesh’s mind went white for a second.
He flipped through more. Shot after shot of the same brutal, intimate hold: Ananya locked against a strong chest, thighs forced open by powerful arms, one man after another stepping between her spread legs and driving into her cunt with hard, relentless strokes. Some photos showed her breasts bouncing with every thrust. Others captured the exact moment she came—belly fluttering, cunt visibly clenching around the thick cock, clear wetness flooding out around the shaft while her mouth opened in a silent scream.
His cock surged to full, painful hardness inside his trousers. A wet spot of precum spread against the fabric. His breath came short and fast. The images burned themselves behind his eyes: his soft, shy wife held open like an offering, thighs spread wide against a stranger’s chest, cunt being fucked wild one by one by every man in the room while the camera recorded every wet, deep thrust and every broken moan that left her throat.
“Hey! Go outside. Don’t touch anything from here.”
The man’s sharp voice snapped him back. Rajesh dropped the photos as if they had burned him, hurriedly adjusting the obvious bulge in his pants, and stepped back out into the late-afternoon light. His mind raced in frantic circles—how long had they held her like that, how many cocks had stretched her open while she was locked against a man’s chest, how loud had her voice become when she came with her legs forced wide in mid-air?
He waited a full hour. No one else arrived.
Then his phone rang.
Vicky’s voice, casual and curious.
“Hey Rajesh, where are you? You’re not in office. I came here but you’re not in your cabin.”
Rajesh swallowed, still fully hard, still seeing those photographs every time he blinked—Ananya’s soft body locked against a strong chest, thighs spread, cunt taking thick cock after thick cock in wild, deep strokes while she cried out in helpless pleasure.
“Sir… emergency work. I came outside. I’m coming, sir.”
He started the car without another glance at the bungalow and drove back through the thickening traffic, cock still throbbing, mind still full of the image of his traditional wife held open and fucked one by one in that unbreakable, spreading hold.
When he finally stepped into his own cabin, Vicky and Rohan were both already there, seated comfortably, waiting.
Rajesh forced a normal expression onto his face even as his blood still pounded and the wet spot in his trousers remained.
“Sir… what, sir? Anything need?”