Adultery Ananya - My beautiful wife

[Tamilmathi]

Your are the only person to know , story plot
I donot know why you are hear some others peoples suggestion...

My humble request, Please donot delte any portion of your story. 

I read your story start to still now, 
My pov its was too good , 

  If any changes your story , you will do , 
Donot intake too much  of dirty suggestions, 
May be its a virus kill your story plot ,,,

Your last update was great , 
Please do not do it again....


Thanks you bro ....

[Rakul1985]

AUTHOR'S NOTE:::::     THE PREVIOUS PART WHERE ANANYA AND KOMALI WENT TO GOONS DEN. TOTAL

PART REMOVES..  GOON BANG BANG ANANYA PART EXCEPT .. REMAINING I AM CONTINUING STORY FROM

KOMALI CAME TO ANANYA HOUSE... AS USUAL (Due to many readers comments no need of Goon part. They

need only Vicky Rohan and Arjun part. So please remove that Fucking part... )

Very good decision

[Fun123]

The goon part seems little distracting. This like over planned. The original flow of viki and rohan is better. The way rajesh felt ananya behind the glass was mindblowing.

[Rakul1985]

Actually I didn't even read further once I understood the context from that part.

[Zebra123]

The story plot was good and going on track. Trust me goon narration was too good, it made everyone feel the scenerio, but now you have removed it. I loved your story from the beginning but now i have no interest to read it further. If you have a plan go on with it, why to remove because of some people's opinion. I think this will be my last visit to your story and my last reply.

[urb0nd]

she already start feeling dizzy..wow

[RANA ROY]

Nice..............

[Arya321]

Super. Please update

[Muralimm]

Nice update man

The idea of backend the gonda version is good it's worth for wait for the plot twists or hot update

But don't take too many suggestions

Go with your narration it's your narration

[kirak9484]

color=#3333ff]Hi Thankyou alll[/color]

[kirak9484]

size=xx-large]Vicky leaned back on the sofa, eyes still lingering on the soft curve of Ananya’s waist where the saree clung after her bath.[/size]
“Rajesh told us you cook food so tasty, Ananya…”
Ananya’s cheeks warmed. She folded her hands, voice modest.
“Ohh… sorry, sir. My husband Rajesh told very high about me. But I am not that much better cook…”
Vicky’s smile was slow and certain.
“Rajesh can’t say false. Sure he will always tell the truth. I think you are the best cook.”
Komali, who had just returned from settling the baby, stepped up behind Ananya and rested both hands lightly on her bhabhi’s shoulders. She leaned in, cheek almost touching Ananya’s, and smiled brightly at the two men.
“Yes sir. My bhabhi is so good in cooking. I also recently came… and I am not eating anything except our bhabhi’s food.”
The casual closeness of the two women—Komali’s full breasts pressing lightly against Ananya’s back, the soft scent of soap and warm skin rising from both of them—made Rohan’s eyes darken. Vicky felt the same pull. He wanted more than tea. He wanted to sit at their table and watch them move.
“Shall we taste, then?” Vicky asked, voice easy but eyes hungry.
Ananya’s face flushed deeper. The memory of the villa flashed for a second—Rohan’s hands, Vicky’s mouth—but she pushed it down and answered politely.
“Ohh… sorry sir. Why not. Please come and sit. I will do now… within twenty minutes.”
The two men exchanged a quick, private smile and settled more comfortably on the sofa. Ananya turned to Komali.
“Komali, please come to the kitchen.”
The women disappeared through the doorway. The soft clatter of vessels and the low murmur of their voices floated out. Vicky and Rohan spoke quietly, voices pitched just for each other.
“Kya, Vicky… Ananya is beautiful, but Komali is more beautiful. Ek tu, ek main…”
Both men laughed under their breath and bumped fists, the shared understanding clear.
Ten minutes later the smell of hot oil, spices and fresh dough began to drift from the kitchen—rich, mouth-watering, intimate. Vicky rose without a word and walked softly toward the open kitchen doorway. He stopped just outside the light, half-hidden by the frame, and looked in.
Both women stood at the low counter with their backs to him. The sarees had been loosely tucked for cooking. Ananya’s had ridden up slightly at the back, revealing the soft, bare upper curves of her hips and the deep fold where her thighs began. Komali’s pallu had slipped completely; the thin blouse clung to her sweat-damp skin, and from the side the full, heavy swell of her breast was clearly visible, the dark edge of her nipple pressing against the fabric every time she reached for something. Tiny beads of sweat traced the line of their spines and the soft undersides of their arms. The warm kitchen light made their skin glow. Every small movement—stretching for a spice box, turning to stir the pan—made the bare flesh shift and the cloth tighten.
Vicky’s cock stirred hard inside his trousers. He stayed perfectly still, drinking in the sight of the two married women working side by side, bare hips and side-boobs on casual display, completely unaware.
Komali suddenly turned to reach for a plate and froze.
Vicky stood in the doorway, eyes locked on the exact place where her saree had left her hip uncovered. Her face flooded with colour. She yanked the cloth down with both hands, trying to cover herself, eyes wide with sudden shame.
Vicky cleared his throat as if he had only just arrived.
“I want some water to drink.”
Ananya looked up, flustered but still polite.
“Komali, give water to sir.”
Komali, still burning with embarrassment, hurried past him into the living room carrying a glass. Rohan watched her approach, the way her heavy breasts moved under the thin blouse, the residual flush on her cheeks. When she offered the glass he deliberately let his fingers brush over hers, lingering a second longer than necessary.
“You are so beautiful, Komali madam,” he said softly. “I think your husband is lucky.”
Komali’s face turned scarlet. She could not find a single word. She simply left the glass in his hand and almost fled back to the kitchen, heart hammering, the heat of his touch still on her fingers.
Behind her, Vicky and Rohan shared another quiet look. The evening had only just begun, and already both traditional women were flushed, half-exposed, and thoroughly noticed. The smell of Ananya’s cooking filled the house, but the real hunger sitting on the sofa had nothing to do with food.

[LustyLeo]

Very nice. Only after vicky and rohan tasting komali she should be fucked by other men.

[kirak9484]

color=#3333ff]Rajesh was halfway home when the unknown number lit up his phone.[/color]
He answered on the second ring, still distracted by the residual images of Ananya and Komali in the kitchen—bare hips, side-boobs, sweat gleaming under the warm light.
“Hello?”
A rough, familiar voice slid into his ear.
“Hello… are you Rajesh?”
His blood went cold.
“Yes… it’s me.”
“You came for me today… before four hours back. You gave your phone number to my man in the den.”
Rajesh’s foot eased off the accelerator. The road ahead blurred for a second. He remembered the empty hall, the tripod, the scattered photographs of Ananya locked against a strong chest with her thighs forced open, cunt taking thick cock after thick cock. He remembered adjusting the hard bulge in his trousers before he fled.
“Yes… I came,” he admitted, voice suddenly dry.
The lungi goon’s laugh was low and knowing.
“Why did you come to meet me, exactly? Tell me, my little boy.”
The teasing endearment hit like a slap. Rajesh’s heart skipped, then began to hammer. Panic and something darker tangled in his chest. His mind raced—what could he say? That he had stood in that room staring at pictures of his traditional wife being held open and fucked wild? That his cock had jumped so hard he had to hide the wet spot? That he still could not stop replaying those images every time he closed his eyes?
He swallowed.
“Sir… sir… nothing, sir.”
The goon’s voice dropped, colder, slower.
“Why, little boy? You came to meet me. No problem. Tell me.”
Rajesh’s mouth opened, but no words came. How could he speak the truth? How could he say I came to know what happened those two days… how you fucked my wife… how many times she came while you held her open… how loud she moaned when you stretched her cunt and ass…? The sentences sat on his tongue like hot stones. His cock, traitorously, began to thicken again inside his trousers at the mere thought of asking.
Silence stretched on the line.
Finally he forced the only safe answer he could find.
“Nothing, sir. I will come and meet you.”
He cut the call before the goon could answer.
On the other end the lungi goon lowered the phone, a slow, ugly grin spreading across his face. He looked at the man who had been watching the bungalow.
“Seems he wants to know about his wife…”
The rough laughter that followed was rich with certainty.
Rajesh drove the rest of the way home with both hands tight on the wheel, cock half-hard, mind spinning. The goon’s voice still echoed—my little boy—and behind it the photographs kept flashing: Ananya’s soft body locked against a stranger’s chest, thighs spread wide, the wet length of a thick cock disappearing into her again and again while the camera recorded every helpless thrust and every broken cry.
He had cut the call.
But the invitation had already been accepted.

[kirak9484]

Rajesh pushed open the front door still carrying the residual heat of the goon’s call and the photographs that refused to leave his mind. The moment he stepped inside he stopped short.
Vicky and Rohan were already seated comfortably on the living-room sofa as if they owned the place. Ananya stood near the kitchen doorway in her simple cotton saree, face still faintly flushed from cooking.
“Sir… when did you come?” Rajesh managed.
Vicky smiled, completely at ease.
“I told you we would come in the evening… so we came. But you only got late, Rajesh.”
Ananya hurried forward, voice soft and slightly nervous.
“Ji, aap aa gaye… Vicky sir waiting for you…”
Vicky and Rohan both rose.
“Come, Rajesh. All of you should come to the party. OK?”
Rajesh forced a smile.
“OK sir, we will come.”
Vicky straightened his shirt as if preparing to leave.
“OK, I will take leave then.”
Ananya’s politeness overrode her discomfort.
“No sir, please… almost food is ready. Please take food and go.”
Vicky shook his head, still smiling.
“No… to be real, we waited for Rajesh.”
Rajesh, caught between hospitality and the strange tension in the room, added quickly,
“Sir… my wife’s hand dish… taste please…”
Vicky’s eyes glinted with open mischief.
“Yes, Rajesh… sure. I will taste your wife…”
The double meaning hung in the air like smoke. Ananya’s face flooded with colour. Rajesh’s own face went pale for a second. Rohan leaned forward, voice equally smooth and wicked.
“Yes, Rajesh… sure we will taste your wife…”
All three faces—Ananya’s, Rajesh’s, even Komali’s from the kitchen doorway—turned red. Ananya looked down, ashamed, fingers tightening on the edge of her pallu. Vicky laughed lightly, covering the moment.
“Yes… Ananya’s food we will taste.”
Ananya recovered enough to speak, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Rajesh… Rajesh, show them the house in between… we finish cooking.”
Grateful for any escape, Rajesh gestured toward the corridor.
“Please, sir… come.”
He led them first to the small balcony. The evening view of the colony lights was ordinary, but Vicky nodded as if impressed. Then the guest bedroom—neat, unused, the mattress still covered with a protective sheet. Rohan ran a hand over the bed frame and made a small appreciative sound.
Finally Rajesh stopped at the last door and pushed it open.
“This is… our bedroom.”



Rajesh pushed the bedroom door open and stepped aside.
The room was modest but unmistakably intimate. A large double bed dominated the space, its thick, soft mattress covered by a clean white sheet that still held the faint creases of two bodies. Two pillows sat slightly indented. The headboard was simple dark wood. A single window with half-drawn curtains let in the last of the evening light, and the air carried the quiet scent of Ananya’s soap mixed with the warmer, lived-in smell of a married couple’s private space. The wardrobe stood closed. A small bedside table held a half-empty glass of water and Ananya’s hair clip.
Vicky walked in first. His eyes moved slowly over the bed, the pillows, the exact place where Rajesh and Ananya slept every night. He turned and gave Rajesh a deliberate, knowing blink.
“Ohhh… that means you and Ananya both… privacy room.” His voice dropped a fraction. “Everyday you romancing Ananya on this bed…?”
Rajesh felt heat climb his neck.
“Haan… yes sir.”
Rohan brushed past him and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight. He bounced once, testing the give of the cushioned surface, then ran both palms flat across the sheet as if measuring it.
“Shall we sit on this bed where you daily romancing…?”
Rajesh’s throat worked.
“Haan… why not. Please sit.”
Rohan stretched out a little further, leaning back on his elbows. The soft mattress moulded around him.
“Wow… so soft and nice. Seriously so nice.” He looked up at Rajesh with a lazy, filthy smile. “Everyday she will moan on this bed?”
Rajesh swallowed. No answer came.
Vicky closed the door until it was only a few inches open, then walked to the other side of the bed and sat down as well. The mattress shifted again. Now both men were on the exact place Ananya laid her head every night. Vicky leaned back on one hand, the other resting casually on his thigh, and spoke as if discussing the weather.
“Yes, Rohan… I think Rajesh will fuck daily Ananya on this bed… naked.”
The two men shared a slow, private smile. Rajesh stood frozen at the foot of the bed. His cock, already sensitive from the afternoon’s photographs and the earlier teasing, began to swell inside his trousers. The outline became visible almost at once.
Rohan continued, voice low and conversational, eyes half-lidded.
“Yes, Rajesh… your wife is so beautiful. Her top to bottom is mesmerise… you damn lucky fellow.” He patted the mattress beside him. “This height is perfect. She would look so good on her back here… legs open… or on all fours with her face in these pillows.”
Vicky laughed softly, the sound dark with shared memory.
“Hey Rohan, don’t tell… and don’t keep your eyes on Rajesh’s wife. Yours stamina so good… I know how you fucked on that day in our villa when Rajesh came…”


The villa memory slammed into Rajesh with brutal clarity—a his collegue wife on her back, Rohan’s thick cock stretching her open while Vicky held her wrists, the wet sounds of her cunt taking every inch, the way she had moaned despite herself, the way her traditional body had trembled when she came. Rajesh’s cock jumped to full, painful hardness so fast the front of his trousers tented sharply. Now they referring my own innocent traditional wife, he thinks A dark spot of precum already spread against the fabric.
Vicky’s eyes dropped deliberately to the growing bulge, lingered, then rose again with open amusement.
“You thinking you can fuck Rajesh’s wife Ananya on his own marital bed… in his home?” He bounced once on the mattress, making it creak softly. “Whole room… not only room, whole house will echo with the sounds and moans of Ananya… and this bed total will damp with juices…”
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping further, almost intimate, eyes still fixed on the hard ridge in Rajesh’s trousers.
“Hey Rajesh… you don’t know about him. He will fuck especially wives who are traditional… innocents… He is the monster we call him in our batch.. Vicky told.. ""
The last word was pure mockery. Rajesh’s cock throbbed so hard he was certain both men could see the exact shape of it. The wet spot grew. He could not move. He could not speak. The image Vicky painted—Ananya naked on this very mattress, saree pushed up to her waist, soft thighs forced open, moaning loud enough for the kitchen and the living room to hear while Rohan fucked her deep and slow—mixed with the photographs of her held open against a stranger’s chest until his mind felt ready to split.
Rohan stretched out fully now, hands behind his head, completely at ease on the marital bed.
“Soft mattress… perfect height… she would look so good right here. Traditional wives always make the wettest sounds once you open them properly.

Then Rajesh imagine  Imagine the bed creaking under her. Imagine her fingers gripping these sheets while we take turns. Imagine the wet spot she would leave exactly where I am sitting right now.”
Vicky moved a little closer to the centre of the bed, still watching Rajesh’s obvious erection with open satisfaction.
“Imagine, Rajesh… your wife’s soft body right here where we are sitting. Her saree pulled up. Her legs open. That pretty traditional face looking up while we take turns. The bed will creak. The walls will hear everything. And you… you will be outside listening. Or maybe inside watching. Either way…”
He left the sentence unfinished, but the smile finished it for him.
Rajesh stood at the foot of his own marital bed, fully hard, face burning, while the two men who had already taken his wife once lounged on the exact place she slept every night and described in slow, filthy detail how they would take her again—right here, until the mattress was soaked and the whole house echoed with her moans.
From the kitchen Ananya’s voice floated down the corridor, soft and ordinary.
“Food is almost ready…”
Neither Vicky nor Rohan moved immediately. They simply looked at the hard, obvious bulge in Rajesh’s trousers, then at each other, and smiled the same slow, shared smile that promised the evening—and the Saturday party—had only just begun.

[poorangyan]

Good.

[kirak9484]

(Continuation from above)




Vicky leaned back further on the marital mattress, completely at ease, and continued in the same low, conversational tone.
“You know, Rajesh… when you came to meet with some files to the villa that day… also a housewife of his colleague came. She is so traditional… but our Rohan makes her loud moans and cries. You saw on that day?”
Rajesh’s jaw tightened. The memory was still sharp. He had been downstairs with the files, waiting, when the unmistakable sounds had drifted down from the upper room—high, broken, helpless. He had sat there listening, cock hardening against his will, while Rohan took that soft, traditional woman until her cries filled the entire villa.
He whispered, almost against his own will.
“Haan… yes… I saw.”
Vicky’s smile widened.
“You heard that traditional wife’s moans… when you sat down and we were fucking her upstairs…”
Rajesh’s cock throbbed harder inside his already tight trousers. The pictures Vicky painted mixed with the real memory— the soft traditional body on the big bed, Rohan’s thick cock stretching her open, the wet slap of skin, the way she had tried to stay quiet at first and then failed completely. Her moans had risen higher and higher until they cracked into open cries. He remembered how his own cock had stayed rock-hard the entire time he sat downstairs pretending to check papers.
Vicky watched the effect on him with open satisfaction and continued, voice almost gentle.
“So I am warning you, Rajesh, about Rohan… But to be honest, not only Ananya… but your sister also so beautiful…”
Rajesh’s head snapped toward him. Vicky raised both hands slightly, still smiling.
“Not like that… just casually telling. But your wife Ananya… top. How the college students and staff are watching her daily… and how they are controlling themselves…”
Rajesh barely heard the last part. His mind was still upstairs in the villa— the traditional colleague’s wife on her back, legs forced open, Rohan’s cock disappearing into her again and again while she moaned and cried exactly the way Ananya had moaned that same night. The thought of those same men now sitting on his own marital bed, describing how they would make Ananya sound the same way right here, made his cock pulse so hard a fresh bead of precum pushed through the cloth.
He could feel the wet spot spreading. He could not adjust himself without drawing more attention. He simply stood there, jaw tight, fully hard, while Vicky and Rohan lounged on the exact mattress where his wife slept every night and kept feeding him the filthy memories.
From the kitchen Ananya’s soft voice floated down the corridor, ordinary and unaware.
“Rajesh… food is ready… please come…”
Neither Vicky nor Rohan moved immediately. They simply looked at the obvious, straining bulge in Rajesh’s trousers, then at each other, and smiled the same slow, shared smile that promised the evening was far from over.

[kirak9484]

At Dianing table

The three men settled around the small dining table while Ananya and Komali moved quietly between kitchen and table, serving hot chapathis, fragrant dal, and a simple vegetable curry. The soft clink of steel plates and the warm smell of fresh food filled the modest room.
Vicky took his first bite of chapathi, chewed slowly, then looked up with genuine appreciation.
“Superb… excellent taste. Ananya, super, Ananya… you made good food.”
Ananya’s cheeks warmed. She stood with the serving spoon still in her hand, eyes lowered.
“Thank you, sir…”
Rohan tasted the curry next and nodded.
“Ohh, super… nice curry.”
“Thank you,” Ananya replied softly, then quickly added, “But not only me… Komali also cooked well.”
Rohan’s gaze moved from Ananya to the younger woman who was placing another chapathi on Rajesh’s plate. His smile widened.
“You both good cooks. Not only cook… but both beautiful looking… hot.”
The word landed like a touch. Both women’s cheeks turned deep red at the same moment. Komali’s fingers tightened on the edge of her saree. Ananya’s eyes flicked once toward Rajesh and then down again.
Vicky leaned back slightly, still watching them.
“Look… both so elegant.” He turned to Rajesh with an easy smile. “Rajesh, you are the lucky person to have a beautiful wife Ananya… and beautiful sister Komali.”
Komali’s face burned hotter. She busied herself with the water glasses, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. Rajesh managed a quiet “Thanks, sir,” while his own gaze stayed fixed on the half-eaten chapathi on his plate.
Vicky’s eyes, however, were not on the food. They rested openly on the soft bare curve of Ananya’s hip where her saree had shifted while she served. The thin cotton had ridden just enough to show the smooth line of skin above her petticoat. He made no attempt to hide the look. Rajesh noticed but said nothing; he kept his attention on the plate as if the chapathi required all his concentration.
Rohan’s attention stayed lower and more deliberate. Every time Komali bent to place something or refill a glass, his eyes settled on the heavy, full shape of her breasts under the thin blouse. The fabric stretched with every small movement; the soft weight of them was impossible to ignore. He watched the way they shifted when she turned, the faint outline of her nipples when she stretched to reach the water jug. Komali felt the heat of that stare and kept her arms close to her body, but there was nowhere to hide in the small dining space.
The meal continued under that quiet, hungry observation. Ananya served one more round of chapathis, cheeks still pink. Komali refilled the dal, eyes lowered. The two men ate slowly, praising every dish, every glance lingering longer than politeness required.
When the plates were finally empty, Vicky wiped his fingers and stood.
“All of three members come on Saturday. You both come in sarees.” His eyes moved once more over Ananya’s still-exposed hip and then to Komali’s full figure. “We will wait. After you come… only then the celebration will start.”
Rohan rose as well, giving Komali one last, open look that made her blush all over again.
They left with polite goodbyes. The front door closed softly behind them.
For a long moment the house stayed quiet. Ananya stood with the serving spoon still in her hand, the earlier flush slowly fading from her cheeks. Komali remained near the table, fingers worrying the edge of her saree. Rajesh finally rose, the heavy tension in his body easing as the men’s presence left the room.
He walked over to Ananya first. Without a word he took the spoon from her fingers and set it down, then gently brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. His voice was low, almost careful.
“You cooked well today… both of you.”
Ananya looked up at him. The shyness was still there, but something softer moved behind her eyes. She gave a small nod. Rajesh’s hand lingered for a second longer on her cheek before he turned to Komali.
“You too,” he said quietly. “Thank you for helping.”
Komali’s blush returned, but this time it was warmer, less sharp. She smiled shyly and murmured, “It’s nothing, bhaiya…”
Ananya reached out and lightly squeezed Komali’s hand. The three of them stood together in the small dining space, the leftover warmth of the meal and the quiet of the evening settling around them. Outside, the colony lights glowed softly. Inside, the earlier tension slowly gave way to something quieter—familiar, domestic, and, for the first time that evening, almost tender.

[kirak9484]

Please give feed back

[Gandhi krishna]

Why Ananya not pregnant with bastard child even after fucked two days by multiple times non stop

[Fun123]

nice update. gradually drawing rajesh mind to cuckold. But I expected something will happen in the dining table, komali will notice. But no worries. great going.