How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 18
“’Tis a while since I’ve sampled a virgin,” said the raja. I got the impression he was enjoying the fantasy almost as much as my wife. It made no difference that he knew she was in her late twenties and certainly not a virgin. Fantasy is powerful.

“Please!” moaned my wife. “Please, no! Not my precious maidenhood!”

“Tell me where your ship is!” said the raja.

I watched, aghast. My wife was about to be fucked by another man. Tell him! I was screaming, watching the thick cock about to enter her. God, tell him!

My wife made a great show of thrashing her head in the grass, her long hair shining and flying. “I—I cannot! I cannot betray him!”

The raja smiled. “Then prepare yourself for your first…man!” And on the last word he plunged into her, burying half of his length on the first stroke.

There was no hymen to break, of course, and my wife let out a deep groan of pleasure, although she tried to make it sound like a sob of pain.

“Ah!” gasped the raja in satisfaction. “Tight as a virgin and wet as a Randi. And now I’ll show you how a raja takes his women.” And he began to thrust.

I watched in horror as his thick cock spread her wide. She may not have been a virgin, but my wife was tight, having only ever known my modest cock. She was so tight around him that he had to push hard to make progress. My wife began to suck in air in quick little breaths through her nostrils, adjusting to the feeling of being so stretched.

The raja stopped, slid his hand from her cheek to her breast and kneaded her there until she writhed on the ground in helpless ecstasy, twisting around his cock. Only then did he start to thrust again, and I could see that he was entering her deeper and deeper with each thrust. His britches were around his thighs, but he was otherwise completely dressed while my wife lay nearly naked, her dress pulled down and her lehenga pulled up. With her hands bound and held above her head, she really did look like a helpless maiden being ravaged.

The raja gave a hard thrust and my wife moaned as he buried himself inside her. His ass cheeks were tight in between her spread thighs, an obscene sight…and one that had me rock hard beneath my monk’s robe. Another man is inside my wife, I thought. Right up inside her, deeper than I’ve ever been.

“Now,” said the raja. “Now, I’ll fuck it out of you. You may be a nobleman’s daughter, but I’m going to make you moan like a Randi.”

“N—No!” said my wife. “Never!” But she was already panting faster.

The raja began to thrust. He kept one hand on her breast, his thumb working at her nipple, while the other held her bound hands on the ground. I could see her fingers twisting, could see her weakly pressing up against his grasp. She wasn’t trying to escape, I realized. She just wanted to keep testing her bonds, to keep the feeling of being helpless alive in her mind. It’s the guilt, I thought. She can enjoy it if she doesn’t feel guilty. If she’s helpless, it’s not her fault.

The king’s ass was rising and falling rhythmically now, his groin slapping against hers. He was pulling out almost all the way on each outward stroke, and I could clearly see his thick cock, shining with her moisture, plunging in and out of her. My wife began to writhe and buck beneath him, her hips starting to circle.

“Yes,” said the raja. “That’s it. Fuck me like a Randi. Give me a ride.”

“No!” panted my wife. “No! I—”

“You’re loving it,” the raja told her, the speed of his thrusts increasing. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?”

“No!” she told him, her voice going high.

He squeezed her nipple again and she groaned. “Yes you are. You’re going to moan like a Randi and come for me—”

I could see my wife’s thrashing intensifying, her hips swirling around and around, her eyes closing. “N—No!”

God, she is! She’s going to come for him!

“Yes you are. You’re going to come for me, right…now!”

“No! I will neverrrrAAAHHH!” My wife’s back arched like a bow and her arms went stiff above her head, her fingers twisting together. Her heels dug into the soft earth and her whole body shuddered again and again.

“I do believe I’ve just done the impossible,” said the raja. “I think I’ve made a Randi come.” His thrusts slowed as my wife went limp under him. “And now I have another gift for you. The king’s seed, ready to put a bastard son in your belly.”

“W—What?” For a second, I could see my wife flitting between her fantasy and harsh, cold reality. That’s it! I thought. Say “Lion!” Tell him to stop! I didn’t want to see my wife pregnant by another man!

But then I saw Nandini look up at the madari and, with sick horror, I understood. Her brain was too addled by her orgasm, and she was too lost in her fantasy to work through the implications. She was relying on her husband to help her do the right thing.

And her “husband,” of course, simply nodded and rubbed her upper arm.

My wife shook her head, but she was back in fantasy mode, where anything but Lion meant “yes.” “No!” she said. “D—Don’t! Don’t come inside me, sire! Please!”

I could hear the rising excitement in her voice as she said it, and I groaned. It was even worse than I thought! Not only was she too worked up to do the sensible thing and stop him, she was actually getting aroused by the fantasy of him getting her pregnant! Maybe she assumed the madari—who she still believed was me—knew something she didn’t. Maybe she thought the raja had told me he’d had a vasectomy. Or maybe she just trusted her husband implicitly to make the sensible choice for her, to protect her. If her husband rubbed her arm and nodded that it was okay, then it must be okay—that was all the reassurance she needed.

“Oh yes,” said the king, relishing the moment. “Let’s put a big, bouncing baby boy inside you. Here…it…comes.”

And I watched in horror as he pushed his hips hard into her. My wife gave a little squeak as he drove even deeper into her than he had done before and I imagined the thick, rubbery head pressing hard against her cervix. And then I saw his ass clench hard in the moonlight as he fired the first long, hot rope of cum into her.

No!

My mind was spinning. When was her last period? Oh, God, about two weeks ago!

Nandini let out a shriek as she felt the wet spurt of him hit home, but her body tensed with pleasure at the same time.

The raja grunted in satisfaction and shot again, stream after stream of thick, creamy cum, right up inside her, plastering that tiny hole. I imagined it oozing through and into her fertile cavern. With each blast, my wife jerked, writhing in pleasure (and supposed disgust) under him. We’d always used condoms. The feeling of a man coming inside her for the first time probably felt amazing. He’s stolen that from me, too! I should have been the first to do that!

The raja slumped on top of her for a second and then climbed off. She didn’t attempt to close her legs. Her knees lolled apart and I could see her shining pink lips and, between them, the creamy, glistening trickle of escaping sperm.

“There,” said the raja. “If you really were a virgin, you’ve known your first man.”

“You—You’ve ruined me,” my wife groaned. “You callous beast! Mine was to have been a white wedding!”

“No longer,” said the king, his voice cruel. “Your beloved sardar won’t want you now. Perhaps you’d better seek out that room at the tavern, and you can earn your keep on your back instead.” He pulled up his britches. I think he assumed that it was all over. I think we all did. But we were wrong.