11-11-2026, 05:23 PM
Need more of Kusha . Please don't mind but Sharath updates are not that exciting.
CUCKOLD H & S Husband's Unfortunate Bet with an Alpha (Mask of Desire)Running
11-11-2026, 05:36 PM
(11-11-2026, 02:40 PM)RedDranzar Wrote: Instead of subscription money rakesh should give him a offer. Get 1 month free. For getting that he needs to describe his wife and write a wild fantasy about her
Sherry isn't that desperate (yet). But a good suggestion to think on.
(11-11-2026, 05:23 PM)RedDranzar Wrote: Need more of Kusha . Please don't mind but Sharath updates are not that exciting.
Kusha is the key conquest in the story. But do you think an alpha would spare a jock who'd managed to bet against him?
11-11-2026, 06:20 PM
(11-11-2026, 05:36 PM)Steel Wrote: Sherry isn't that desperate (yet). But a good suggestion to think on.
Kusha is the key conquest in the story. But do you think an alpha would spare a jock who'd managed to bet against him?
Definitely not spare him but the best defeat is making his beloved wife a pornstar willingly.
In addition he has already sown seeds of cuck which will surely impact his stamina on bed making kusha more frustrated and drawn to the alpha.
Why I mentioned the fantasy about his wife is Rakesh can with all his strategies make Kusha sleep with him or affair with him. But to make her a star in his site he needs to destroy her marriage and the fantasy sarath wrote can be used there.
11-11-2026, 06:27 PM
Also I am not going to read the original story as English names don't attract me. Hope your writing surpasses the original one blended with instincts and actions that suite the desi characters.
Keep updating regularly
Keep updating regularly
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/images/bootbb/collapse_collapsed.png)
11-11-2026, 07:07 PM
The twisted arousal and disquiet only swelled within him as he read the following entries. Rakesh was meticulous and thorough. He researched Laila's weaknesses and applied strategic pressure. Strangely, his aim wasn't to endear himself to Laila, but just the opposite. Rakesh worked to get under Laila's skin and make her obsessed with him.
The first week Rakesh walked into Laila’s evening yoga class he already knew exactly what needs to be done. The camera caught every shift of fabric, every deep fold of her thick thighs as she instructed the class, the narrow span of her waist twisting under the loose tank top. She held yoga poses longer than necessary, spine arched, hips open, and the recording captured every movement.
By the second week a small circle of married telugu baddies had begun clustering near him during the short water breaks. They laughed a little too loudly at whatever quiet thing he said. Laila noticed. She said nothing. She simply continued the class with the same precise voice, the same measured demonstrations, as if the soft chatter in the back corner did not exist.
He pushed Laila to give in to his desires on petty issues, supposedly as a way of "training her to submit." And, most importantly, he slowly weaved suggestive remarks and lewd jokes into their interactions until Laila began associating him with sex.
All of it was written in the same leering, gloating style, smugly confident that Laila would soon be his. Pictures and such short clips accompanied the updates, and Sharath couldn't help but note that, although her expression remained annoyed, there was a noticeable hungry edge to Laila's expression as the updates went on.
One evening she finally broke.
She turned fully toward him in the middle of the class, cheeks already warm, and asked in a sharp voice what exactly he thought he was doing.
Rakesh straightened, expression mild. “They kept asking about the stretch in the inner thighs during the wider postures. I told them the real opening only happens once you stop resisting.” He said with a sly grin.
The ladies next to him looked down at their mats. Laila’s jaw tightened. She told the entire class that any questions would be taken only at the end of the session, and only directed to her. She then turned back to the front and finished the sequence with a clipped efficiency that still could not hide the flush climbing her neck.
When the final asana for the day ended and the other students began rolling up their mats, Rakesh waited until the last of them had left. He approached her near the front of the room.
He had a doubt about chakrasana, he said. The wheel pose. Something about the way the hips lifted never felt quite right.
Laila’s expression stayed flat. She demonstrated once, dropping back into the pose with practiced ease, thighs thick and strong as she pressed upward, the thin fabric of her leggings stretched tight across the curve of her hips and the soft swell between them. The camera recorded every second of it.
He asked her to show him hands-on.
She told him to lie down. He did. She stood over him and watched him press up. His form was deliberately off, the lift incomplete. She knelt beside him, slipped her hands under the small of his back, and guided his hips higher. The movement brought her face close to the front of his track pants. The thick outline of his cock shifted against the fabric as his body rose, the ridge clear and heavy. She saw it. Thick and large even when flaccid. For a second her eyes stayed there, fixed on its shape. Then she realized he was watching her face. She looked away at once, with cheeks visibly red, and finished the adjustment with a colder voice than before.
The session was over. She still sounded angry, but Sharath could sense that the anger sat on top of something else that the recording captured just as clearly as the earlier flush.
He didn't understand why his fucking erection wasn't going down while his gut twisted with anxiety like this.
The parallels to Kusha's situation were obvious and disturbing. Sharath's wife was becoming more distracted with time, more obsessed with Rakesh. Was she thinking about him sexually at this point? Was she at that stage? Sharath shook his head. Of course not. She would never reach that stage. She was Kusha, not some easily manipulated slut.
The first week Rakesh walked into Laila’s evening yoga class he already knew exactly what needs to be done. The camera caught every shift of fabric, every deep fold of her thick thighs as she instructed the class, the narrow span of her waist twisting under the loose tank top. She held yoga poses longer than necessary, spine arched, hips open, and the recording captured every movement.
By the second week a small circle of married telugu baddies had begun clustering near him during the short water breaks. They laughed a little too loudly at whatever quiet thing he said. Laila noticed. She said nothing. She simply continued the class with the same precise voice, the same measured demonstrations, as if the soft chatter in the back corner did not exist.
He pushed Laila to give in to his desires on petty issues, supposedly as a way of "training her to submit." And, most importantly, he slowly weaved suggestive remarks and lewd jokes into their interactions until Laila began associating him with sex.
All of it was written in the same leering, gloating style, smugly confident that Laila would soon be his. Pictures and such short clips accompanied the updates, and Sharath couldn't help but note that, although her expression remained annoyed, there was a noticeable hungry edge to Laila's expression as the updates went on.
One evening she finally broke.
She turned fully toward him in the middle of the class, cheeks already warm, and asked in a sharp voice what exactly he thought he was doing.
Rakesh straightened, expression mild. “They kept asking about the stretch in the inner thighs during the wider postures. I told them the real opening only happens once you stop resisting.” He said with a sly grin.
The ladies next to him looked down at their mats. Laila’s jaw tightened. She told the entire class that any questions would be taken only at the end of the session, and only directed to her. She then turned back to the front and finished the sequence with a clipped efficiency that still could not hide the flush climbing her neck.
When the final asana for the day ended and the other students began rolling up their mats, Rakesh waited until the last of them had left. He approached her near the front of the room.
He had a doubt about chakrasana, he said. The wheel pose. Something about the way the hips lifted never felt quite right.
Laila’s expression stayed flat. She demonstrated once, dropping back into the pose with practiced ease, thighs thick and strong as she pressed upward, the thin fabric of her leggings stretched tight across the curve of her hips and the soft swell between them. The camera recorded every second of it.
He asked her to show him hands-on.
She told him to lie down. He did. She stood over him and watched him press up. His form was deliberately off, the lift incomplete. She knelt beside him, slipped her hands under the small of his back, and guided his hips higher. The movement brought her face close to the front of his track pants. The thick outline of his cock shifted against the fabric as his body rose, the ridge clear and heavy. She saw it. Thick and large even when flaccid. For a second her eyes stayed there, fixed on its shape. Then she realized he was watching her face. She looked away at once, with cheeks visibly red, and finished the adjustment with a colder voice than before.
The session was over. She still sounded angry, but Sharath could sense that the anger sat on top of something else that the recording captured just as clearly as the earlier flush.
He didn't understand why his fucking erection wasn't going down while his gut twisted with anxiety like this.
The parallels to Kusha's situation were obvious and disturbing. Sharath's wife was becoming more distracted with time, more obsessed with Rakesh. Was she thinking about him sexually at this point? Was she at that stage? Sharath shook his head. Of course not. She would never reach that stage. She was Kusha, not some easily manipulated slut.
11-11-2026, 07:26 PM
Sharath's mouth was dry as he read the next update.
As all of my regular strokers know, the pieces were all in place at this point. All poor Laila needed was one final push. She needed to see my cock. She needed a chance to really think about what it might feel like to submit to a dominant man like me, not just in everyday life, but in bed. So I sent her a dick pic. "By Mistake" obviously. I told her I was sending a picture of a pose I made at home asking for tips, or some shit like that, but she got a glamor shot of my throbbing cock instead. One of those timed pics that only opens once. You should have seen how she cussed me out! But she didn't block me. Not even after I sent the second picture the next day. Not even after I sent her one every evening, at a time I knew was after her hubby had gone to sleep. And, then, dear strokers, when I knew she was getting used to seeing my cock regularly... I stopped. And that was all it took to get this sneering, superior, married mom to crumble.
A screenshot of a messaging app was posted below. Sharath felt second-hand indignation as he realized that Laila’s contact was saved simply as "University Slut" in Rakesh's phone, but then he remembered that, for reasons he still couldn't quite wrap his brain around, Laila had approved Rakesh posting this.
University Slut: I just want to know why.
Rakesh: There's nothing to explain. You wanted me to stop sending you dick pics. You said they were disgusting and pathetic. So I stopped. Isn't this what you wanted?
University Slut: You're insane! I told you to stop every time, and you kept sending them again and again. And now all of a sudden you stop out of the blue? It makes no fucking sense!
Rakesh: I know what this is. You want more, don't you?
University Slut: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Are you even reading my messages? How could you draw that conclusion?
Rakesh: I get it. Asking me straight out would be too humiliating. So I'll make you a deal. You don't need to ask me and admit you want to see my cock. All you need to do is send me a picture of your tits. I won't even gloat or say I told you so or anything. The second you send me the picture of your naked motherly tits, you get a picture of my cock back, no hassle.
University Slut: You're delusional. Don't contact me again.
As all of my regular strokers know, the pieces were all in place at this point. All poor Laila needed was one final push. She needed to see my cock. She needed a chance to really think about what it might feel like to submit to a dominant man like me, not just in everyday life, but in bed. So I sent her a dick pic. "By Mistake" obviously. I told her I was sending a picture of a pose I made at home asking for tips, or some shit like that, but she got a glamor shot of my throbbing cock instead. One of those timed pics that only opens once. You should have seen how she cussed me out! But she didn't block me. Not even after I sent the second picture the next day. Not even after I sent her one every evening, at a time I knew was after her hubby had gone to sleep. And, then, dear strokers, when I knew she was getting used to seeing my cock regularly... I stopped. And that was all it took to get this sneering, superior, married mom to crumble.
A screenshot of a messaging app was posted below. Sharath felt second-hand indignation as he realized that Laila’s contact was saved simply as "University Slut" in Rakesh's phone, but then he remembered that, for reasons he still couldn't quite wrap his brain around, Laila had approved Rakesh posting this.
University Slut: I just want to know why.
Rakesh: There's nothing to explain. You wanted me to stop sending you dick pics. You said they were disgusting and pathetic. So I stopped. Isn't this what you wanted?
University Slut: You're insane! I told you to stop every time, and you kept sending them again and again. And now all of a sudden you stop out of the blue? It makes no fucking sense!
Rakesh: I know what this is. You want more, don't you?
University Slut: WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? Are you even reading my messages? How could you draw that conclusion?
Rakesh: I get it. Asking me straight out would be too humiliating. So I'll make you a deal. You don't need to ask me and admit you want to see my cock. All you need to do is send me a picture of your tits. I won't even gloat or say I told you so or anything. The second you send me the picture of your naked motherly tits, you get a picture of my cock back, no hassle.
University Slut: You're delusional. Don't contact me again.
11-11-2026, 07:35 PM
Sharath was on the edge of his seat as he scrolled down.
Well, strokers, I let her be for a little while. Didn't text. Didn't show up to class. I let her have what she thought she wanted: peace and quiet with her peanut husband. And you'll never fucking guess what popped into my inbox a week later.
The tone prepared Sharath for what was coming next, but it still hit him like a punch to the gut. The picture was clearly taken in the bathroom, and although her face wasn't in the picture, Sharath was sure it was Laila. She lifted her shirt up over her breasts, with a clear blush all the way down her neck... to her bare naked tits, on display for Rakesh.
On display for Rakesh, but not fully for Sharath. Frustratingly, the nipples were once again covered in a black bar, leaving the picture unsatisfying. Yet Sharath couldn't tear his eyes away. He had obviously seen naked tits hundreds of times, but this felt intensely personal. These were the breasts he had lusted after. The tits he had only ever seen once during one stressful, confusing skinny-dipping session, that too under the water. And Rakesh had somehow earned that sight just through being an arrogant prick with a big cock. And Rakesh not only got to see Laila's boobs, but put them onto the internet for any guy to see.
Well, almost any guy. Not guys who had the Beta Edition.
Before he realized what he was doing, Sharath felt his hand squeezing his cock, shoved down his pants. His eyes bored into the photo as his hand gripped and squeezed, as if by staring hard, he could penetrate the black bars. Somehow, despite how humiliating and frustrating it was, the denial was part of the pleasure for him. The humiliating denial pressed a button inside Sharath that he didn't know he had. With a tortured groan, he scrolled further down the page.
More pictures followed. Rakesh insisted that Laila send a brand new photo whenever she wanted a dick pic, and it soon became a nightly ritual. Sharath gave up on the pretense as he scrolled, tugging his pants down his thighs and openly stroking as he watched Laila's photos grow sexier... flirtier. She held the shirt in her teeth as she lifted it over her breasts in one photo. In another, she arched her back to thrust them forward. In a third, she leaned forward, letting them hang down softly from her chest. And in each photo, Sharath was blocked. Denied. Not allowed to see her nipples, just the full, rounded curves of her tits.
And then Rakesh switched it up. He told Laila he was bored of her tits. He needed something different. He wanted to see the mom’s fat ass. Rakesh arrogantly demanded that he needed to see Laila bending over and holding her cheeks open if she wanted to see another cock pic. Predictably, she refused, saying that Rakesh had gone too far this time.
And, after a few more days of Rakesh's cold shoulder, predictably, she sent him a new picture anyway.
Sharath unconsciously increased the speed of his stroking, his heart pumping wildly and sweat beading on his forehead as he saw Laila in a way he never would have predicted.
Leaning over, bent at the waist, one hand gripping each luscious cheek, pulling them apart to reveal... a perfect round black hole censoring Sharath's view, as well as a black bar obscuring even the tiniest glimpse of her pussy. It drove Sharath crazy. As badly as he had fumbled his chance that day in the waterfalls, Sharath treasured the memory of swimming naked with Laila, and that was a victory in itself.
But Rakesh had seen more. Now, every random subscriber to this website had seen more. It made Sharath want to log out and buy a subscription for himself, even if it would make Kusha question the charge on the credit card statement. But he was too deep now. He read the next update in a cold sweat, his hand pumping rapidly on his cock.
Well, strokers, I let her be for a little while. Didn't text. Didn't show up to class. I let her have what she thought she wanted: peace and quiet with her peanut husband. And you'll never fucking guess what popped into my inbox a week later.
The tone prepared Sharath for what was coming next, but it still hit him like a punch to the gut. The picture was clearly taken in the bathroom, and although her face wasn't in the picture, Sharath was sure it was Laila. She lifted her shirt up over her breasts, with a clear blush all the way down her neck... to her bare naked tits, on display for Rakesh.
On display for Rakesh, but not fully for Sharath. Frustratingly, the nipples were once again covered in a black bar, leaving the picture unsatisfying. Yet Sharath couldn't tear his eyes away. He had obviously seen naked tits hundreds of times, but this felt intensely personal. These were the breasts he had lusted after. The tits he had only ever seen once during one stressful, confusing skinny-dipping session, that too under the water. And Rakesh had somehow earned that sight just through being an arrogant prick with a big cock. And Rakesh not only got to see Laila's boobs, but put them onto the internet for any guy to see.
Well, almost any guy. Not guys who had the Beta Edition.
Before he realized what he was doing, Sharath felt his hand squeezing his cock, shoved down his pants. His eyes bored into the photo as his hand gripped and squeezed, as if by staring hard, he could penetrate the black bars. Somehow, despite how humiliating and frustrating it was, the denial was part of the pleasure for him. The humiliating denial pressed a button inside Sharath that he didn't know he had. With a tortured groan, he scrolled further down the page.
More pictures followed. Rakesh insisted that Laila send a brand new photo whenever she wanted a dick pic, and it soon became a nightly ritual. Sharath gave up on the pretense as he scrolled, tugging his pants down his thighs and openly stroking as he watched Laila's photos grow sexier... flirtier. She held the shirt in her teeth as she lifted it over her breasts in one photo. In another, she arched her back to thrust them forward. In a third, she leaned forward, letting them hang down softly from her chest. And in each photo, Sharath was blocked. Denied. Not allowed to see her nipples, just the full, rounded curves of her tits.
And then Rakesh switched it up. He told Laila he was bored of her tits. He needed something different. He wanted to see the mom’s fat ass. Rakesh arrogantly demanded that he needed to see Laila bending over and holding her cheeks open if she wanted to see another cock pic. Predictably, she refused, saying that Rakesh had gone too far this time.
And, after a few more days of Rakesh's cold shoulder, predictably, she sent him a new picture anyway.
Sharath unconsciously increased the speed of his stroking, his heart pumping wildly and sweat beading on his forehead as he saw Laila in a way he never would have predicted.
Leaning over, bent at the waist, one hand gripping each luscious cheek, pulling them apart to reveal... a perfect round black hole censoring Sharath's view, as well as a black bar obscuring even the tiniest glimpse of her pussy. It drove Sharath crazy. As badly as he had fumbled his chance that day in the waterfalls, Sharath treasured the memory of swimming naked with Laila, and that was a victory in itself.
But Rakesh had seen more. Now, every random subscriber to this website had seen more. It made Sharath want to log out and buy a subscription for himself, even if it would make Kusha question the charge on the credit card statement. But he was too deep now. He read the next update in a cold sweat, his hand pumping rapidly on his cock.
11-11-2026, 08:12 PM
Bro stories going absolute stunning and best of luck for upcoming updates and I have one request if possible please add pictures also
Yesterday, 02:28 PM
Awaiting for bigger update, please give update regularly
10 hours ago
We want to see kusha's lots of moaning, her dirty talk with Rakesh in story
10 hours ago
the story is going in the right direction. good going. I should say your story narration is very good.
10 hours ago
Oh, course, at this point I had her, strokers. She was mine, even if she didn't realize it yet. All that I needed to do was reach out and take her. I know that this has been a photo-heavy training log this time around, strokers, but it all leads up to this. I told Laila that if she wanted to see my cock again, it would have to be in person. And, after some token resistance, she agreed. The scene was set, after class at the community center, a couple of minutes after the last person left...
The camera approached Laila. who stood at a table at the front of some sort of wellness centre. Even with the black bars covering her eyes, Sharath could tell she was embarrassed and annoyed. She gestured nervously toward the perspective of the camera. "What's with the camera. You didn't say you were going to film this."
Rakesh chuckled. "I already have a picture of your asshole, sweetcheeks. What does one little video matter? If it's a dealbreaker, we can just go our separate ways, of course..."
"Fine," snapped Laila, blushing heavily, clearly embarrassed to be on camera, but unwilling to walk away from this taboo encounter. "Let's just... Let's get this over with. You'll send more pictures if I do this, right?" She was already gripping the waistband of her yoga pants as she spoke, turning around to face away from Rakesh.
"You have my word," said Rakesh, his voice dripping with smug amusement. "Enough stalling. Let me see what I came for."
Laila pulled her spandex and panties down over the swell of her impressive ass, revealing their pale, chubby roundness.
"That's not enough," said Rakesh in a hungry voice. "Show me everything."
"I know. I'm doing it," snapped Laila, irritated, but with a slight rasp of arousal tainting her voice. She reached back and gripped her cheeks with her pants down around her knees, pulling them apart slowly. It had been erotic in the photos, but it was twice as fascinating here... and twice as frustrating as the blank black disc and bar of censorship appeared. For an instant, maybe a single frame, Sharath swore he could almost see a glimpse of her tight hole, but then it was blocked. The twisted pleasure roared inside him as he stroked his cock faster and faster.
Rakesh stood for a long minute, zooming in on what, for Sharath, were just featureless black zones, then he spoke again. "Well. After that little treat, I think I'm ready to give you your reward too."
Laila turned gratefully, beginning to pull her pants back up. Rakesh stopped her. "No, leave those down... who knows, the mood might strike you and you'll appreciate the easy access."
"Of course not. Pig," muttered Laila, huffily crossing her arms, but leaving her pants pulled down. Sharath's vision was still completely denied by the back bar, but she was clearly naked from the waist to the knees.
"Whatever," she grumbled, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Like you said, it's your turn. Show me." Her voice was prickly and harsh, but it was obvious to Sharath that she was eager for the sight of Rakesh's cock. She bit her lips lightly in anticipation, fidgeting and rubbing her thighs together lightly as she waited.
The camera approached Laila. who stood at a table at the front of some sort of wellness centre. Even with the black bars covering her eyes, Sharath could tell she was embarrassed and annoyed. She gestured nervously toward the perspective of the camera. "What's with the camera. You didn't say you were going to film this."
Rakesh chuckled. "I already have a picture of your asshole, sweetcheeks. What does one little video matter? If it's a dealbreaker, we can just go our separate ways, of course..."
"Fine," snapped Laila, blushing heavily, clearly embarrassed to be on camera, but unwilling to walk away from this taboo encounter. "Let's just... Let's get this over with. You'll send more pictures if I do this, right?" She was already gripping the waistband of her yoga pants as she spoke, turning around to face away from Rakesh.
"You have my word," said Rakesh, his voice dripping with smug amusement. "Enough stalling. Let me see what I came for."
Laila pulled her spandex and panties down over the swell of her impressive ass, revealing their pale, chubby roundness.
"That's not enough," said Rakesh in a hungry voice. "Show me everything."
"I know. I'm doing it," snapped Laila, irritated, but with a slight rasp of arousal tainting her voice. She reached back and gripped her cheeks with her pants down around her knees, pulling them apart slowly. It had been erotic in the photos, but it was twice as fascinating here... and twice as frustrating as the blank black disc and bar of censorship appeared. For an instant, maybe a single frame, Sharath swore he could almost see a glimpse of her tight hole, but then it was blocked. The twisted pleasure roared inside him as he stroked his cock faster and faster.
Rakesh stood for a long minute, zooming in on what, for Sharath, were just featureless black zones, then he spoke again. "Well. After that little treat, I think I'm ready to give you your reward too."
Laila turned gratefully, beginning to pull her pants back up. Rakesh stopped her. "No, leave those down... who knows, the mood might strike you and you'll appreciate the easy access."
"Of course not. Pig," muttered Laila, huffily crossing her arms, but leaving her pants pulled down. Sharath's vision was still completely denied by the back bar, but she was clearly naked from the waist to the knees.
"Whatever," she grumbled, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Like you said, it's your turn. Show me." Her voice was prickly and harsh, but it was obvious to Sharath that she was eager for the sight of Rakesh's cock. She bit her lips lightly in anticipation, fidgeting and rubbing her thighs together lightly as she waited.
9 hours ago
"One last thing..." began Rakesh.
"Oh, come on!" said Laila with a frustrated sigh. "You said all I had to do was show you my... what I normally show you! You're going back on the deal!"
"Not at all," said Rakesh smoothly, clearly unfazed by Laila's outburst. "I'm about to show you my cock right now. It's just about how I want to show you. I want you to get down on your knees."
Laila blushed heavily. "Don't fucking joke about that, Rakesh," she said in a wavering voice, her thigh rubbing and fidgeting becoming even more noticeable.
"Who's joking? I mean, you can make all the excuses you want, but it's clear by this point that you enjoy the sight of my cock. Don't you want the chance to see it... close up? We both know that you'd enjoy it."
Sharath pumped his fist rapidly up and down his cock. Part of him screamed at Laila to reject the ridiculous, demeaning request. But another part of him wanted to see her do it. To kneel in front of the man she hated. To get up close and personal with the cock that had broken her pride. That was the part of him that was feeding the poisonous, jealous, insecure lust that was pumping through his veins and radiating outward from his stiff, slippery cock.
But he somehow knew that Rakesh wasn't going to be the one who lost here. He wasn't surprised when Laila, eyes downcast with shame, slowly dropped to her knees, still bottomless, silently giving in and placing herself beneath the man she used to look down on.
There was the loud sound of a zipper, and Rakesh stepped forward into Laila's personal space, making her look up with an expression of mixed intimidation and arousal.
Rakesh's cock bobbed into the frame, stiff, veiny, and fucking massive. Obscenely, it wasn't censored at all, visible in all of its masculine glory. Sharath, shamefully, couldn't help but compare it and the cock he was currently fucking his fist with. First and foremost, Rakesh's was bigger. Not just longer, but thicker too. Sharath wasn't naive enough to think that big dicks were essential, or even necessarily superior to more reasonably-sized penises. But Rakesh's manhood had a certain aura of power to it, and it was obvious that it was affecting Laila. She stared up at Rakesh's cock in awe, her mouth falling open lightly in an expression of naked need. Sharath couldn't see her eyes behind the black bar, but it didn't take a genius to tell that Laila's gaze was laser-focused on the throbbing dick in front of her eyes. She licked her lips as Rakesh's cock towered over her, and in that moment, Sharath knew that it would never be possible for him to inspire that kind of worshipful gaze from a woman.
"Don't be shy, Laila," said Rakesh smugly. "This is your chance to really get to know your new obsession." Then, without warning, he leaned forward and laid his hot, pulsing cock across Laila's blushing face, drawing a shocked gasp from her glossy lips. "R-Rakesh, what the fuck!" she whimpered. But she didn't shy back from the thick, veiny cock pressed against her face. "You can't just... You can't fucking touch me with that!"
"So fucking push me back," said Rakesh flatly. His hand reached into frame and gripped his cock, insultingly using it to gently slap Laila's cheeks. "Or move away. Or do fucking anything to stop me from rubbing my cock all over your pretty face." But she didn't. Laila just groaned in tortured arousal and slipped her hand down between her thighs to touch herself as Rakesh arrogantly rubbed his cock all over her face.
"Oh, come on!" said Laila with a frustrated sigh. "You said all I had to do was show you my... what I normally show you! You're going back on the deal!"
"Not at all," said Rakesh smoothly, clearly unfazed by Laila's outburst. "I'm about to show you my cock right now. It's just about how I want to show you. I want you to get down on your knees."
Laila blushed heavily. "Don't fucking joke about that, Rakesh," she said in a wavering voice, her thigh rubbing and fidgeting becoming even more noticeable.
"Who's joking? I mean, you can make all the excuses you want, but it's clear by this point that you enjoy the sight of my cock. Don't you want the chance to see it... close up? We both know that you'd enjoy it."
Sharath pumped his fist rapidly up and down his cock. Part of him screamed at Laila to reject the ridiculous, demeaning request. But another part of him wanted to see her do it. To kneel in front of the man she hated. To get up close and personal with the cock that had broken her pride. That was the part of him that was feeding the poisonous, jealous, insecure lust that was pumping through his veins and radiating outward from his stiff, slippery cock.
But he somehow knew that Rakesh wasn't going to be the one who lost here. He wasn't surprised when Laila, eyes downcast with shame, slowly dropped to her knees, still bottomless, silently giving in and placing herself beneath the man she used to look down on.
There was the loud sound of a zipper, and Rakesh stepped forward into Laila's personal space, making her look up with an expression of mixed intimidation and arousal.
Rakesh's cock bobbed into the frame, stiff, veiny, and fucking massive. Obscenely, it wasn't censored at all, visible in all of its masculine glory. Sharath, shamefully, couldn't help but compare it and the cock he was currently fucking his fist with. First and foremost, Rakesh's was bigger. Not just longer, but thicker too. Sharath wasn't naive enough to think that big dicks were essential, or even necessarily superior to more reasonably-sized penises. But Rakesh's manhood had a certain aura of power to it, and it was obvious that it was affecting Laila. She stared up at Rakesh's cock in awe, her mouth falling open lightly in an expression of naked need. Sharath couldn't see her eyes behind the black bar, but it didn't take a genius to tell that Laila's gaze was laser-focused on the throbbing dick in front of her eyes. She licked her lips as Rakesh's cock towered over her, and in that moment, Sharath knew that it would never be possible for him to inspire that kind of worshipful gaze from a woman.
"Don't be shy, Laila," said Rakesh smugly. "This is your chance to really get to know your new obsession." Then, without warning, he leaned forward and laid his hot, pulsing cock across Laila's blushing face, drawing a shocked gasp from her glossy lips. "R-Rakesh, what the fuck!" she whimpered. But she didn't shy back from the thick, veiny cock pressed against her face. "You can't just... You can't fucking touch me with that!"
"So fucking push me back," said Rakesh flatly. His hand reached into frame and gripped his cock, insultingly using it to gently slap Laila's cheeks. "Or move away. Or do fucking anything to stop me from rubbing my cock all over your pretty face." But she didn't. Laila just groaned in tortured arousal and slipped her hand down between her thighs to touch herself as Rakesh arrogantly rubbed his cock all over her face.
9 hours ago
Sharath couldn't believe the sight. Rakesh was wildly crossing the line here, just boldly violating her face with his hard cock. And Laila was just... submitting! Rakesh was completely correct that there was nothing forcing Laila to stay where she was and accept the demeaning treatment, nothing physical, at least. Although Laila looked furious and humiliated, her hand was clearly moving and rubbing between her thighs... behind the black box, obscuring Sharath's vision. She was held in place by her reluctant lust, stronger than the hatred she had for the arrogant man disrespecting her.
Finally, when he had smeared the scent of his dick all over the submissive wife's face, Rakesh rubbed the bulbous head of his cock over her delicate lips, smearing them with precum, which Laila unconsciously licked away.
"Suck my cock, Laila," Rakesh insisted.
"Rakesh, I can't!" protested Laila, breathing heavily, her voice sounding like a desperate whine rather than the decisive statement of a confident woman. "I'm married! I can't just..."
"Shut the fuck up, Laila," said Rakesh, his voice steady and even, but firm. "We both know you want to. And we both know you're going to do it in the end. You've done everything I wanted so far, after all. Let's save the hassle. Just open up those lips and suck."
"You're a monster," growled Laila, looking up at Rakesh with an expression of helpless lust and hate.
"Yeah, yeah," chuckled Rakesh. "Suck this monster's cock, sweetcheeks."
And she did. Sharath watched with his heart in his throat and his hand pumping wildly up and down his cock as Laila growled in frustration... then visibly surrendered, opening her mouth to give Rakesh's cock a long slow lick with the flat of her tongue from root to tip, then sealed her pouty lips over his dick's drooling head.
Sharath knew that this was what was coming. Laila had basically admitted as much to his face. But even though he understood Laila had a sexual relationship with the man she once despised, seeing her submission on video was still a punch to the gut. As he watched Laila's lips gripping tightly, clinging as they slipped up and down the shaft of the arrogant, obnoxious man looming above her, Sharath's hand gripped tighter and moved faster on his own cock. This was a man who she hated. Someone who had done nothing but get under her skin, insult her, and push her around from the beginning. Yet she still slurped and sucked, admitting her defeat in the most humiliating way possible.
Rakesh had managed to do something that Sharath had failed to do. He had made Laila his. That stung... but at the same time, it made Sharath's twisted, jealous pleasure rise higher. He watched with fascinated envy as Laila reached up to cup and rub Rakesh's testicles with one delicate hand. Her mouth slowly slid up and down his thick shaft, leaving it shiny with her slick saliva, going deeper and deeper with every stroke.
Finally, when he had smeared the scent of his dick all over the submissive wife's face, Rakesh rubbed the bulbous head of his cock over her delicate lips, smearing them with precum, which Laila unconsciously licked away.
"Suck my cock, Laila," Rakesh insisted.
"Rakesh, I can't!" protested Laila, breathing heavily, her voice sounding like a desperate whine rather than the decisive statement of a confident woman. "I'm married! I can't just..."
"Shut the fuck up, Laila," said Rakesh, his voice steady and even, but firm. "We both know you want to. And we both know you're going to do it in the end. You've done everything I wanted so far, after all. Let's save the hassle. Just open up those lips and suck."
"You're a monster," growled Laila, looking up at Rakesh with an expression of helpless lust and hate.
"Yeah, yeah," chuckled Rakesh. "Suck this monster's cock, sweetcheeks."
And she did. Sharath watched with his heart in his throat and his hand pumping wildly up and down his cock as Laila growled in frustration... then visibly surrendered, opening her mouth to give Rakesh's cock a long slow lick with the flat of her tongue from root to tip, then sealed her pouty lips over his dick's drooling head.
Sharath knew that this was what was coming. Laila had basically admitted as much to his face. But even though he understood Laila had a sexual relationship with the man she once despised, seeing her submission on video was still a punch to the gut. As he watched Laila's lips gripping tightly, clinging as they slipped up and down the shaft of the arrogant, obnoxious man looming above her, Sharath's hand gripped tighter and moved faster on his own cock. This was a man who she hated. Someone who had done nothing but get under her skin, insult her, and push her around from the beginning. Yet she still slurped and sucked, admitting her defeat in the most humiliating way possible.
Rakesh had managed to do something that Sharath had failed to do. He had made Laila his. That stung... but at the same time, it made Sharath's twisted, jealous pleasure rise higher. He watched with fascinated envy as Laila reached up to cup and rub Rakesh's testicles with one delicate hand. Her mouth slowly slid up and down his thick shaft, leaving it shiny with her slick saliva, going deeper and deeper with every stroke.
9 hours ago
Is this what Rakesh planned to do to Kusha? The thought was chilling. Kusha hated Rakesh, and so Sharath had felt safe up until now. But that was all part of Rakesh's plan, wasn't it? To fill a woman's mind with hate and obsession, crowding her thoughts with only him, then igniting that obsession into lust with well-timed exposure to his sexual prowess. And if that was the case, wasn't Rakesh right on track? How soon did he plan to have Kusha in the exact same position as Laila? Sharath watched as Laila came up for air, panting heavily with exertion and lust, saliva dripping from her mouth. Then she dived back down, bobbing her head with frantic sexual hunger, like a woman possessed, no longer able to control herself.
What could Sharath even do? He suddenly realized why Rakesh didn't mind showing him this information. Rakesh didn't believe that Sharath would be able to stop him even if he knew the plan.
Rakesh was one hundred percent confident that he had already won. That Kusha would go from hatred to submission the same way Laila had. And even though he knew the thought should be chilling and terrifying, Sharath still couldn't stop stroking his cock, staring at the hot yoga instructor's sloppy, enthusiastic blowjob on the screen. Wet sounds filled the room as Rakesh plundered her married throat. Her hand moved rapidly between her kneeling thighs, pleasuring herself in a way that the Beta edition wouldn't allow Sharath to see.
Then, finally, Rakesh pulled Laila off of his cock, degradingly slapping it down against her tongue a few times, then stroking it rapidly, using her saliva as lube. "Ready to take my cum, you fucking slut?" he growled. Sharath was shocked at how far the dynamic had come over the course of the video. Instead of persuading or manipulating, Rakesh was openly and unapologetically dominant now.
But he was even more shocked at Laila's reaction. There was no more resistance or reluctance at this point; she simply nodded eagerly and moaned, "Fucking give it to me!"
And, in one electrifying, confusing moment, Sharath didn't see Laila kneeling there in front of Rakesh's cock. He saw Kusha, her face frozen in the same expression of weak, humiliated lust. That sudden, unexpected fantasy pushed him over the edge, just as Rakesh on the screen grunted in orgasm, spurting thick, hot ropes of pearly cum all over Laila's upturned, panting face.
"Shit!" said Sharath, unprepared as his dick shot cum out as well, splattering onto the screen of his laptop to join Rakesh's load in a pathetic accompaniment to the dominant man's act of sexual triumph. Cursing and embarrassed, Sharath reached out to pause the video, his cock still spurting and dribbling all over himself. The image froze on the screen: Laila's moaning face, covered by Rakesh's digital cum mingled with Sharath's real load. Sharath panted and covered his eyes with his hand that wasn't dripping with sperm. His lust began draining away, leaving him confused, disturbed, and a little scared.
He hurried to go find a cloth and clean off his computer while his mind began spinning. So now Rakesh's methods were clear, at least in the outline. He intended to get under Kusha's skin, then convert that obsession into lust. Sharath would never have believed such a thing could work if he hadn't just seen Laila fall for the same trick.
The problem was... what exactly could Sharath do to counteract this strategy? He couldn't exactly tell Kusha to stop obsessing over Rakesh. If it were that easy, she would have done it herself. It might stop Rakesh if he could convince Kusha to drop him as a client and cut off contact, but she would never do that just to make herself feel better: she would consider that a surrender. He could try to sabotage Rakesh's move to make Kusha see him in a sexual light... But Sharath wasn't sure what Rakesh would do to accomplish that: it didn't sound like he used the dick pic method every time.
And, maybe most importantly, Sharath couldn't stop questioning why the fuck he had climaxed to the idea of Rakesh cumming on his wife's face. It was an idea that terrified him, so why was it also strangely erotic? Sharath rubbed his eyes, frustrated by the questions pounding in his brain, compounded by the emotions of shame and fear pulsing through him. No wonder Rakesh had sent him this account. Sharath felt more confused and demoralized than ever.
But after he cleaned the soiled screen and carefully washed the rag, Sharath found himself growing more determined. Rakesh hadn't won yet. And it had been a month; his time was already half up. If Rakesh was so certain that he couldn't possibly lose, that would only make it more difficult for him to see Sharath's counterattack coming. After checking once again to see if his wife had pulled into the driveway (This was turning into a really late night at the office... Sharath pushed down the squirming thread of doubt inside him once again), Sharath sat back in front of his computer, feeling more focused. He exited Laila's page after one last lingering glance at the paused video, her face dripping with Rakesh's cum, and picked another woman at random from the list, diving into her training log.
He needed to find a pattern. To see what Rakesh's plans had in common.
Then maybe he could find a weak point and stop him.
What could Sharath even do? He suddenly realized why Rakesh didn't mind showing him this information. Rakesh didn't believe that Sharath would be able to stop him even if he knew the plan.
Rakesh was one hundred percent confident that he had already won. That Kusha would go from hatred to submission the same way Laila had. And even though he knew the thought should be chilling and terrifying, Sharath still couldn't stop stroking his cock, staring at the hot yoga instructor's sloppy, enthusiastic blowjob on the screen. Wet sounds filled the room as Rakesh plundered her married throat. Her hand moved rapidly between her kneeling thighs, pleasuring herself in a way that the Beta edition wouldn't allow Sharath to see.
Then, finally, Rakesh pulled Laila off of his cock, degradingly slapping it down against her tongue a few times, then stroking it rapidly, using her saliva as lube. "Ready to take my cum, you fucking slut?" he growled. Sharath was shocked at how far the dynamic had come over the course of the video. Instead of persuading or manipulating, Rakesh was openly and unapologetically dominant now.
But he was even more shocked at Laila's reaction. There was no more resistance or reluctance at this point; she simply nodded eagerly and moaned, "Fucking give it to me!"
And, in one electrifying, confusing moment, Sharath didn't see Laila kneeling there in front of Rakesh's cock. He saw Kusha, her face frozen in the same expression of weak, humiliated lust. That sudden, unexpected fantasy pushed him over the edge, just as Rakesh on the screen grunted in orgasm, spurting thick, hot ropes of pearly cum all over Laila's upturned, panting face.
"Shit!" said Sharath, unprepared as his dick shot cum out as well, splattering onto the screen of his laptop to join Rakesh's load in a pathetic accompaniment to the dominant man's act of sexual triumph. Cursing and embarrassed, Sharath reached out to pause the video, his cock still spurting and dribbling all over himself. The image froze on the screen: Laila's moaning face, covered by Rakesh's digital cum mingled with Sharath's real load. Sharath panted and covered his eyes with his hand that wasn't dripping with sperm. His lust began draining away, leaving him confused, disturbed, and a little scared.
He hurried to go find a cloth and clean off his computer while his mind began spinning. So now Rakesh's methods were clear, at least in the outline. He intended to get under Kusha's skin, then convert that obsession into lust. Sharath would never have believed such a thing could work if he hadn't just seen Laila fall for the same trick.
The problem was... what exactly could Sharath do to counteract this strategy? He couldn't exactly tell Kusha to stop obsessing over Rakesh. If it were that easy, she would have done it herself. It might stop Rakesh if he could convince Kusha to drop him as a client and cut off contact, but she would never do that just to make herself feel better: she would consider that a surrender. He could try to sabotage Rakesh's move to make Kusha see him in a sexual light... But Sharath wasn't sure what Rakesh would do to accomplish that: it didn't sound like he used the dick pic method every time.
And, maybe most importantly, Sharath couldn't stop questioning why the fuck he had climaxed to the idea of Rakesh cumming on his wife's face. It was an idea that terrified him, so why was it also strangely erotic? Sharath rubbed his eyes, frustrated by the questions pounding in his brain, compounded by the emotions of shame and fear pulsing through him. No wonder Rakesh had sent him this account. Sharath felt more confused and demoralized than ever.
But after he cleaned the soiled screen and carefully washed the rag, Sharath found himself growing more determined. Rakesh hadn't won yet. And it had been a month; his time was already half up. If Rakesh was so certain that he couldn't possibly lose, that would only make it more difficult for him to see Sharath's counterattack coming. After checking once again to see if his wife had pulled into the driveway (This was turning into a really late night at the office... Sharath pushed down the squirming thread of doubt inside him once again), Sharath sat back in front of his computer, feeling more focused. He exited Laila's page after one last lingering glance at the paused video, her face dripping with Rakesh's cum, and picked another woman at random from the list, diving into her training log.
He needed to find a pattern. To see what Rakesh's plans had in common.
Then maybe he could find a weak point and stop him.
6 hours ago
He will not be able to stop hum. What will happen to Sarath is he will find one day Kusha is pregnant and then videos start appearing on site first with Rakesh then someone else then multiple men all done without any condom.
Imagine the look on him.
Author please update something on Kusha soon.
Imagine the look on him.
Author please update something on Kusha soon.
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