How my wife got gangbanged by multiple men in mela

[Givemeextra]

CHAPTER 30
The man using her mouth began to move her head, but unlike the others he didn’t try to enter her throat. He pumped just the first few inches of his cock in and out of her mouth, tangling his hands in her silken hair and drawing it back from her face to give him a better view. And it was a beautiful sight. Her gorgeous face was set in an expression of lustful concentration, her soft lips around his hard shaft. She had her eyes closed, and with her long lashes and her cheekbones accentuated by her hollowed cheeks, she looked exquisitely feminine, in the midst of all those hulking men, like a fallen angel.

The man behind her drew his cock almost all the way out of her…and then, with one long, slow thrust, he pushed all the way in, right to the root. I saw Nandini jerk as he reached her very limits, and the man groaned, probably luxuriating in the sensation of her tensing around him.

And then he began to thrust. Nandini let out a high little “MMF!” on each stroke, and the cries quickly become an obscene accompaniment to the scene. There was a shift in mood in the tamboo…something about the sight of her being taken in that intimate place, in such a submissive pose. The sipahi closed in around her, many of them stroking their cocks. Hands reached for her breasts, squeezing and kneading, her nipples pinched until they stood achingly hard and she moaned in pleasure.

Nandini had been close to an orgasm before—I’d seen her start to tremble. But it had been defused when the last two men finished. Now, though, it was building quickly. I could see it in the way she flexed her pelvis, the way she panted around the cock in her mouth. The idea of what was being done to her, I suspected, as much as the sensations themselves, was sending her speeding towards the edge.

The man behind her sped up, his hands hard on her hips as he held her in place and hammered his cock into her. The man at her head began to jerk his hips, getting ready to shoot, bobbing her head up and down on his length. Both of them reached a fever pitch and then, just as they were about to release, my wife suddenly let out a sharp cry and went rigid between them. Her back arched, her ass pressing back against her lover, and I actually saw her ass clench around him as she came.

That was too much for the man inside her. He pushed deep and yelled as he shot his load, and I saw her jerk and gasp as she felt his hot seed in that forbidden place. Almost at the same time, the man in her mouth went very still, his eyes tight shut. He had his hands buried in Nandini’s hair, the head of his cock in her mouth, and the only sign I had that anything was happening was my wife’s sudden yelp of surprise, and then her cheeks ballooning as his seed filled her mouth.

“Swallow,” the sipahi told her, his cock still between her lips. He pulled out a copper coin and tossed it to the ground beside her. “I’ve paid my coin, now swallow.”

I saw Nandini’s throat work once, then again. He lifted her head off his cock and her mouth opened. Empty. The sipahi cheered.

The man behind her slowly withdrew, and they let her slump to her side on the ground, her hands still bound behind her back. I shook my head in dismay. It was obscene! They were using her like, like—

Like a Randi. Exactly what she’d wanted. But this was my wife, the one who’d sworn herself to me until death do us part, forsaking all others.

And I’d been the one to toss those rules aside. To coax her into tempting other men. I’d pushed the limits for my own selfish needs…and now our marriage was a mockery. And the thing that ate at me most, as I sat there bound and gagged, was that it was still getting me hard. Even completely out of control and unsanctioned, seeing her with another man—with all these men—still made a deep, dark charge of lust explode in my core.

I realized that Nandini hadn’t checked with the madari for some time. And as she lay there with her eyes closed, smiling blissfully, enjoying the afterglow of her orgasm, she showed no signs of doing so. We’d passed the point of no return. She assumed that, since “I” had been happy with her doing everything she had so far, there simply were no limits anymore.

As if reading my thoughts, I saw the madari quietly slip out of the tamboo, along with one of the sipahi who’d already had his turn. Of course—the madari would want his chance at my wife, too. How many more? How many had taken her? Six?

They lifted her, still in a stupor, by her shoulders and ankles, her wrists still bound behind her. One sipahi lay down on his back on the floor, and they stood her up astride him, facing his feet. Then they pushed gently down on her shoulders, so that she was forced to squat.

She opened her eyes and blinked. “Wh—What are you doing?” she asked. But they merely grinned at her and kept pushing. She squatted lower, lower, her thighs parallel to the floor, now.

Then she felt the kiss of the hard cock against her oiled nether hole, and her eyes went wide. “N—No!” she panted, “I will not!”

They laughed, and pushed her thighs apart. She sank lower and lower, the head of him between her cheeks and pushing for entry, her own body weight forcing her down on him. “No!” Her face was flushed, her arousal obvious, but she protested still. “No! Please!”

Nandini was a regular at the gym, and her toned thighs were the envy of many of her friends. But she was already tired, and with her wrists bound behind her, she was off balance. Though she strained upward, she could not help but sink lower and lower into the squat and, as she descended, the cock beneath her began to penetrate. And as it spread her, pushing up inside her, the flutters of pleasure made it even harder for her to stay upright. “Ah!” she gasped. “Ahhh!”

She twisted and writhed, making a good show of reluctance, but as she finally sank down onto the hard length we all saw the ripple of pleasure shudder down her body. Her daaku jooti scbangd along the canvas floor as she adjusted her position, she sank lower…lower and, at last, she was sitting astride him, impaled on his cock. She was wide-eyed and gasping at the feeling of having him buried so deep inside her.

But that was only the start of what they had planned for her. The man underneath her tossed a copper coin on the floor, but it was immediately joined by a second, this one from a sipahi stepping between her thighs. I recognized him as the one who’d been wearing the madari outfit until now. Nandini looked at him in disbelief. “I—God, I can’t! Not both of you together!”

But the man merely smiled and probed her wet folds with the tip of his cock, rubbing up and down against them until she moaned. Then he pushed slowly inside her, sliding all the way in on his first thrust. I could tell by the noise my wife made that it was different—tighter, I guessed, because of the cock that was already in her.

A third man threw down a coin. He had the glass bottle of oil and he emptied the remains of it over Nandini’s breasts. She was almost lying on her back, now, legs spread, her upper body resting on the chest of the sipahi beneath her. She stared up at the newcomer, not understanding. Until he swung his leg over her, squatting astride her, and squeezed her oiled breasts together.

She drew in her breath, eying his angry, swollen cock. “God, no,” she said, her voice aflame with lust. “Not that.”

“I’ve been waiting to get between these tits ever since I saw you,” he told her. “I didn’t know, then, that I’d only have to pay a coin to have the chance.” And he plunged his cock between the warm softness of her breasts, sliding up the oiled valley. She writhed in pretend disgust at being used that way, but I saw her grind her thighs together in lust, making the man between them gasp.

They started to fuck her. The man beneath her had his hands on her waist, lifting and almost dropping her onto his cock, her bound wrists trapped between them. The man between her legs was kneeling, fucking her pussy with quick, hard strokes while his thumb circled her clit. The third one was holding her breasts to form a tight tunnel he could stroke his cock between, the head emerging on each pass to point at her gasping face. His thumbs were rubbing back and forth on her nipples, slow and insistamboo.

My wife groaned and shook between them, her mouth open and panting. “I—Stop this,” she begged. “I—I’m a noble woman—”

“Randi,” said one man.

“Chinal,” said another.

Nandini tossed her head, eyes tight shut and long hair flying. “No…no….”

“Hope we knock her up.”

“Give her a little bastard to remember us by.”

My wife groaned and trembled. “No…Yes….”

The men started to speed up. And then, just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a fourth stepped up to her head. He mockingly tossed a copper coin on the floor, then pushed his cock between her lips. Another man, too impatient to wait, flung a coin down and pushed his friend out of the way, drawing her head to him, instead. They began to fight over her, pulling her mouth from one shining cock to the other, sometimes cramming both of them between her lips at the same time. Her pretend protests died out completely, the only sounds she made now muffled groans of pleasure.

I sat there with a cold chill creeping higher and higher in my chest. It was obscene—they were using her as a sex doll, a series of holes for their enjoyment and nothing more. Yet ironically, by treating her so roughly, they were giving her exactly what she wanted. My wife was having the time of her life, close to yet another orgasm and—

Something shifted and changed inside me. And it had only happened because of what the raja had done. If I’d had my way, she’d never have done the spanking scene, or the procession, and we’d never have gone to the party. Maybe we’d have experimented a little more, bit by bit, but we’d never have done something like this. By deceiving her, the raja had also freed her. He’d given her a better experience than I ever could.

And right then, I understood what he meant when he’d called me a cuckold. It wasn’t just that another man was taking my wife. It was that another man understood her needs better than I did. He’d understood that she needed…this.

I watched the man underneath her clutch the firm globes of her ass as his cock pumped into her. I watched the man between her thighs tell her what a good Randi she was as his groin slapped hers. I watched the man using her breasts pinch her nipples and pump his cock faster and faster between the firm flesh I’d always been so gentle and revenait with. And I watched the two men fighting over her mouth run their spit-slick cocks over her lips and cheeks and then plunge them between her soft lips as she gasped and panted. I watched her body thrash and buck between them, a rag doll almost hidden by the press of muscled male bodies, some of them still half-dressed in their armor.

“I—I—” She managed to get out as her mouth was freed for a second.

The sipahi all smiled, expecting her to launch into another I am a noble woman!

“I—I—I’m going to come!” yelled my wife.

My heart seemed to break and swell at the same time. I didn’t know what the hell I thought, anymore. I wanted to kill them all, and I wanted to see her happy. It was awful and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

The men didn’t slow down. The one beneath her tugged her ass up and down on him. The one between her thighs grunted as he rammed himself hard into her. The one fucking her breasts squeezed them tighter around his cock and stared at the base of her throat, as if already imagining what was going to happen. The ones using her mouth both pushed their cocks in at the same time, stretching her lips obscenely.

My wife came with a long moan of release. The ones in her mouth pulled back so that the whole room could hear her shout echo around the tamboo. I could see her elegant neck strain, her heels kick at the floor and, beneath her, her bound wrists pull at the leather thong as she thrashed. Even before she’d finished, the man beneath her gave a groan and shot his seed into her depths. The one kneeling between her thighs lasted a few more thrusts before he buried himself to the balls and shot. “There,” he hissed, his eyes closed. “I hope you get pregnant.” Oh God, he’s coming. He’s coming inside my wife. My cock ached and strained.

The one stroking himself between her breasts pushed forward one last time and then he, too, exploded, sending long ropes of sticky cum across her chin and chest. The two in her mouth stroked themselves frantically, brushing their cocks against her hot, panting mouth, and then they too were shooting across her face and into her open mouth. She gasped and spluttered, swallowing some of their seed, while the rest sprayed across her cheeks and lips, lying there in hot, gleaming strings. God! My wife! How dare they, how dare they—

I groaned as I felt it start, a hot rush in my groin. My eyes widened in disbelief—I can’t, I haven’t even been stroking myself—and then I was shooting, the hot cum spraying over the front of my monk’s robe, somehow both the best and worst orgasm of my life.

I saw Nandini’s eyes close as she rode the waves of bliss. And then hands were untying the ropes that held me to the bench and I was being dragged backwards through a tamboo flap—

Outside, in the chill night air, they stripped me of my robe, cut the ropes and shoved the madari outfit back onto me. I didn’t protest. I was too shocked, both at what had happened and at my own reaction. They pushed me back through the flap and into the rear of the tamboo. Nandini was still lying there, eyes closed.

I watched as each man withdrew from her in turn, more and more of her pale body revealed to me with each one. They’d all had their way with her, I realized and, now that they were no longer playing their roles, their hands were gentle, their voices quiet.

My wife was laid gently on the floor, eyes still closed. Her dress was in a tight band around her waist, her only clothing aside from her jooti. She looked…ravaged, just as her fantasy had demanded. Their seed gleamed on her thighs, breasts and neck, glistening ropes of it criss-crossed her face. and jewels of it shone in her hair. Worse, I knew it was inside her, inside that hot, tight, forbidden hole…and worse of all, I could see it oozing slowly from between the lips of her sex, a creamy white trickle with massive implications. How many men had taken her there? Six? God, six men, all while she was at her most fertile time!

I stepped forward and she opened her eyes and looked up at me. And smiled. “Thank you,” she told me.

And that’s when I knew I could never tell her about what had really happened. She thought that everything was alright between us, that I’d given my permission at every stage. If I told her I hadn’t, all the guilt that had been lifted from her would come slamming back down. And that might cause a rift between us that could never be repaired.

There was another side to it, too. I hadn’t given my permission…but I knew it would have been much, much better if I had. I’d discovered something about my wife, something I could never have guessed. If this hadn’t happened, if we’d gone home from the nauchandi in our old routine…how much longer would it have taken before my wife had strayed, seeking what I couldn’t give her?

I had to lie to her. And I had to tell her the truth about my own needs—needs I was only just coming to understand myself.

I raised my mask, leaned down and kissed her. “It’s okay,” I told her. “It’s all going to be okay.”