Adultery Wife helps me become a cuckold

[incest_cuck]

I raced home after work, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. The elevator ride to our floor seemed longer than usual. As I approached our door, I paused, taking a deep breath. I turned the key, half-expecting... well, I wasn't sure what. But as I stepped in, everything looked normal. My wife’s voice drifted from the kitchen, humming her favorite Hindi song, accompanied by the sizzle of something on the stove.

"Hey honey, I'm home," I called out, trying to keep my voice steady.

"In here!" Aradhya replied.

I walked into the kitchen. She stood at the stove, stirring a pot, looking... completely ordinary. No disheveled clothes, no guilty expression. Just my wife, making dinner.

"How was your day?" I asked, casually leaning against the counter.

She shrugged. "Oh, you know. The usual. Lots of calls, too many emails. You?" We chatted about work for a few minutes, the mundane conversation at odds with the tension I felt coiling inside me. Finally, Aradhya paused, biting her lip.

"Oh, um, that plumber stopped by today." she said, her eyes flicking to mine before returning to the stove. "To drop off the bill."

My pulse quickened. "Oh?" I said, aiming for nonchalance. "What time was that?"

Aradhya stirred the pot slowly. "Around... noon, I think?"

"I see…", I nodded, watching her closely. "Did he leave right away?"

She hesitated, just for a moment. "Not... not right away. I, uh, I made him some tea."

"Tea?" I echoed, my mouth suddenly dry.

Aradhya nodded, still not meeting my eyes. "It seemed rude not to offer. He'd come all this way."

"Right, of course.", I said. "So he stayed for tea. How long was he here?"

She shrugged, a bit too casually. "Oh, not long. Maybe 15-20 minutes?"

I noticed a slight tremor in her hand as she reached for the salt. "I see. And you just... talked?"

Aradhya finally looked at me, her expression unreadable. "Yes, Ari. We just talked. What else would we do?" There was a challenge in her voice, mixed with something else. Guilt? Defiance? I couldn't be sure.

"Nothing, of course.", I said quickly. "I was just curious."

Silence fell between us, heavy with unspoken words. I could see the tension in Aradhya's shoulders, the way she was avoiding my gaze. Something had happened during those minutes that Harpreet was here, I was sure of it. But what?

After dinner, we settled on the couch, the TV's soft glow washing over us. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, every casual touch electric. As we prepared for bed, I watched Aradhya move about our room, her silk nightgown clinging to her curves. My mind raced with possibilities, imagining Harpreet's rough hands where mine longed to be.

Once in bed, I turned to her, my heart pounding. "You look beautiful tonight.", I murmured, trailing my fingers along her arm.

Aradhya shivered at my touch. "Ari...", she breathed, her eyes darkening with desire.

I kissed her deeply, my hands roaming her body. Slowly, I kissed my way down her neck, her chest, her stomach. As I settled between her thighs, I took a moment to savor the sight before me. Her flushed skin, the subtle scent of her arousal, the way her breasts heaved with anticipation. I started slowly, teasing her with gentle kisses along her inner thighs. My tongue darted out, tracing lazy circles around her clit, never quite touching where she needed it most. Aradhya's hips bucked, seeking more contact, but I held her steady with my hands on her thighs.

"Ari... please...", she whimpered, her fingers tangling in my hair. I obliged, flattening my tongue against her slick folds and licking a long, slow stripe from her entrance to her clit. Aradhya gasped, her back arching off the bed. I repeated the motion, again and again, gradually increasing the pressure. My lips wrapped around her clit, sucking gently as my tongue flicked back and forth. Aradhya's moans grew louder, more desperate. I could feel her thighs trembling against my cheeks. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them to hit that spot that drove her wild. My tongue never stopped its relentless assault on her clit, alternating between quick flicks and slow, broad strokes.

"Oh gosh... yes... right there...", Aradhya panted, her hips grinding against my face.

I could tell she was close. Her walls clenched around my fingers, her breathing ragged. I doubled my efforts, sucking harder on her clit as my fingers pumped faster.

"Oh Gosh... yes... ahh...", she panted. And then, "Yessss H-Harpreet!"

We both froze. Aradhya's eyes flew open, panic clear on her face. A shiver ran down my spine, equal parts jealousy and arousal. Without a word, I resumed my ministrations, lapping at her with renewed vigor. Her moans grew louder, more desperate. Her thighs trembled, her back arching off the bed. Just as she teetered on the edge of release, I pulled away.

"Ariiiiii!!!", she cried out, frustration clear in her voice. "Why did you stop?"

I crawled up her body, grinning wickedly. "I think you owe me an explanation first." I said, my voice low.

Aradhya's cheeks flushed. "W-what do you mean?"

"I think you know," I replied, trailing my fingers along her inner thigh. "What really happened with that plumber today? The guy who’s named you moaned just a second ago."

She bit her lip, conflict clear in her eyes. "Ari, I..."

"Tell me!", I urged, my fingers ghosting over her wet folds. "And I'll make it worth your while."

Aradhya whimpered, her hips bucking against my hand. "You... you promise?"

I nodded, slowly pushing one finger inside her. "Every detail. And I promise.", I whispered.

She moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. "O-okay," she gasped. "But don't stop..."

I began to pump my finger in and out, my thumb circling her clit. "I'm listening.", I said, my own arousal growing as I prepared to hear the truth about my wife and the dirty, low-class plumber.

Aradhya's voice trembled as she began her story, my fingers still teasing her wet folds:

(Aradhya’s narration begins)

I was working from home, focused on a project. I’d barely gotten dressed, still wearing my thin nightgown from the night before. The spaghetti strap one. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I just went to answer it without thinking. When I opened the door, it was Harpreet. Standing there, all big and burly, his beard scruffy and unkempt. His eyes... the way he looked at me. Like he wanted to fuckin’ eat me alive.

I was shocked to see him. Totally unprepared. I could feel my nipples hardening under his gaze, and I crossed my arms, trying to hide them. I tried to keep it casual, but his deep, gravelly voice made my knees weak.

“Hello madam-ji, I come drop bill.”, he rumbled, his eyes roaming over my body. “For the toilet work I did few days ago.”

I clutched my thin nightgown closer, feeling exposed. “Oh, right. Of course. I... I wasn't expecting you.”

He grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Aye, I see that. Hope I no interrupt... private thing.”

The way he said 'private' made me shiver. “No, not at all. I was just working.”

“From home, eh?” he chuckled, his gaze lingering on my shapely, medium-sized globes. “Very nice to stay in nightie all day?”

I blushed furiously. “I... I usually get dressed. I just...”

“No need explain, madam.”, he smirked, “Myself enjoy the view.”

My heart raced. I knew I should be offended, but instead, I felt a thrill run through me. I need to change the topic fast. “Would you... would you like to come in for a cup of tea? Since you came all this way...”, I heard myself say.

He seemed to consider for a moment, then shrugged those massive shoulders. “Ah, why not? Could use break.” As he stepped inside, his musky scent washed over me.

“Kitchen's this way.”, I said, turning to lead him.

“Lead on, madam.”, he growled, and I swear I could feel his eyes boring into my ass as I walked.

As I was walking to the kitchen, I heard him mutter under his breath, "Oye, ki gajab di gand aa." ("Fuck me, what an arse.")

My cheeks burned, but I felt a thrill run through me. Harpreet's broken English added a layer of rugged authenticity to his character, hinting at a man more comfortable with physical labor than smooth talk. The simplicity of his words carried an undercurrent of primal desire, each syllable thick with unspoken intent.