How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

Chapter 22
The dancer was already behind her, his hands on her thighs. He pulled her backward so that she was stretched out between them, and she had to take some of her weight on her bound hands to stop her falling over. “You had your chance to be made love to like a lady at the dance,” he told her, flipping her lehenga up to reveal her naked rear. “Now you can be fucked like a cheap Randi.”

He lifted her upturned rump to a more pleasing angle and positioned himself for entry, nestling the end of his cock between her shining folds.

My wife was panting now with the idea of taking two men at the same time. “S—Stop! I—Please! You cannot!” But she didn’t say lion.

The lohar grasped her chin and, without words, pushed on her cheeks to pop her mouth open. Then he plunged his cock between her lips. A second later, she gave a muffled “MMFFF!” as the dancer entered her from behind.

“Stuck from both ends,” the raja said to me happily. “Just as she should be. Do you know, Rishab , I think she’s the most fun we’ve had with a woman at a nai nauchandi. Far better than that silky who keeps hanging around me.”

I stared straight ahead, trying not to listen. But that meant focusing on my wife, watching the cocks of the two men sliding into her. She let out a wail as they both filled her and, as they began to thrust, her eyes closed and she started to shake. She was already building up towards an orgasm, her mind exploding from the idea of having two men take her at once. And the fact wasn’t lost on them.

The dancer was clutching at her ass, squeezing the firm flesh, the tips of his fingers hooking around her thighs. “God, she’s squeezing me,” he told the lohar. “The Randi. I think she’s going to come.”

My wife shook her head in denial. Which of course only made them work harder. They both started to thrust faster into her, making her breasts sway like bells beneath her. Nandini was groaning and arching her back. After a few minutes, she began to circle her hips and push her ass back to meet the dancer’s thrusts. I had a sudden flash of memory—the one time I’d convinced Nandini to try this position. Afterwards, she’d blushed and gone shy when I’d asked her if she’d liked it. I was such an idiot! I thought she’d been ashamed of having done it, so I’d never asked her to do it again. I’d never considered that she might have been ashamed of how much she’d liked it!

“Ah,” said the lohar suddenly. “Ah, God….”

Nandini had closed her eyes, but now she opened them wide as she realized what he was about to do. She went to move her head off him.

“Oh, no,” said the dancer, leaning forward and pressing her head onto his friend’s cock. “You drink him down, you daaku Chinal.”

No! They didn’t know that Nandini always spat it out!

The lohar gave a sudden intake of breath and then he hissed, pushing his cock deep into my wife’s throat. I saw his hips jerk once, twice, three, four times and I knew from my wife’s reaction that he must be shooting his load: not in her mouth, where she could spit it out, but straight into her throat, giving her no choice but to accept him. I saw her throat work again and again as she swallowed him down into her stomach. I watched her hands, but she still didn’t tap out.

The lohar finally finished and stepped back, drawing his cock from her. My wife slumped forward on her bound hands, gasping. The dancer, still fucking her from behind, liked that position. He pulled her ass back towards him, stretching her out further, so that her cheek rested on the ground, her arms out above her head. Her breasts were now stroking the grass and her ass was raised high in the air. “That’s it,” he told her. “Face to the ground like a gutter Randi while I fill you full of my seed.”

My stomach clenched. God, another load inside her, and she was completely unprotected! And as before, my wife’s only concerns were part of the fantasy—she seemed to give no thought to the real-world implications.

“God, no,” she groaned. “Please, my lord, I’m sorry I abandoned you at the dance. Please, don’t come inside me! No man would accept me! I’d be forced out onto the street!”

“Yes,” the dancer said, his voice tight. “Pregnant and forced out onto the street with my bastard. Maybe you’ll have to Randi yourself out to survive.”

I could see the rush of arousal overtake my wife at the thought of that, her approaching orgasm speeding up. “N—No! I couldn’t!”

“I’ll be sure to pay you a visit. Perhaps I’ll be able to knock you up again.” And then I saw his face twist as he shoved himself all the way inside her. I remembered the length of his cock, thought of the head pushed right up against her limits, throbbing and tensing and—

I was watching my wife’s face, this time, as she felt the hot spurts inside her, the ones she’d never experienced with me. She lifted her head from the ground and gasped with each one, her back arching, her head straining towards the heavens.

And even as he came, the dancer was reaching beneath her, finding her swollen bud and circling it with his finger. It was all she needed to take her over the edge. She came, suddenly and powerfully, and I heard him groan as her pussy clenched and milked at him. He was still shooting into her, jerks of his hips as he filled her with his seed. “That’s it,” he told her. “Show me how much you love it.”

My wife shuddered and moaned and clawed at the ground with her bound hands, and eventually lay there gasping on her knees as he withdrew from her.

“Well,” said the raja with great satisfaction. “That appears to be that.” And he patted me on the back like an old friend.