Adultery Wife helps me become a cuckold

[incest_cuck]

As I sat at my desk, my mind drifted back to the events of the past few weeks. The changes in Aradhya had been subtle at first, but now they were unmistakable. It had all started with that first encounter with Harpreet, our brutish plumber, but things had escalated rapidly since then. Each day, I'd leave for work with a cocktail of emotions churning in my gut. Anticipation, anxiety, jealousy, and an overwhelming sense of arousal that I couldn't shake. I knew that as soon as I walked out the door, Aradhya would be inviting Harpreet over. The thought of my wife and that burly, low-class Punjabi man together in our home... it should have infuriated me. Instead, it lit a fire in my belly that burned hotter with each passing day. I found myself constantly checking my watch, counting down the hours until I could return home. The anticipation was exquisite torture, knowing that my wife would be waiting for me with new tales of her encounters with Harpreet.

As the days passed, the changes in Aradhya became more pronounced. There was a new confidence in her stride, a mischievous glint in her eye that hadn't been there before. She seemed more alive, more vibrant than I'd seen her in months. It was intoxicating to witness, even as it stoked the flames of my jealousy. Each evening, as soon as I walked through the door, my wife would pounce on me. She'd drag me to the bedroom, her eyes dark with desire, and recount her day's activities with Harpreet in vivid, tantalizing detail. I learned that their encounters had become increasingly bold. My wife no longer bothered with the pretense of modesty. She described how she'd greet Harpreet at the door wearing nothing but a flimsy robe, which she'd let fall to the floor as soon as he stepped inside. She painted a picture of their encounters that left me breathless with a mix of jealousy and arousal. She told me how she'd straddle Harpreet on our couch, wearing nothing but her panties. How she'd grind against his massive erection, the thin fabric of her underwear the only barrier between them. She described the feeling of Harpreet's rough, calloused hands roaming her naked body, cupping her bare breasts, pinching her nipples until she gasped with pleasure. The way his beard would scratch against her skin as he kissed and nipped at her neck, leaving marks that she'd have to cover up later.

Aradhya didn't shy away from the dirty details. She told me how wet she'd get during these encounters, how her panties would be soaked through by the time Harpreet left. But what struck me most was how Aradhya emphasized that they never crossed that final line. Despite being nearly naked, despite the grinding and the touching, she assured me that she never let Harpreet actually fuck her. It was a boundary she maintained, even as all others fell away. She told me about the times Harpreet would try to slip her panties aside, how she'd gently but firmly guide his hand away. She mentioned his pleas to let him inside her, how she'd silence him with a deep, passionate kiss instead. One story, in particular, stood out. Aradhya described how Harpreet had begged to cum on her tits. To my shock and arousal, she admitted that she'd allowed it. She painted a vivid picture of how she'd pushed her breasts together, offering them to him. How Harpreet had stroked himself to completion, his thick cum splattering across her chest and neck. The way she described the warmth of his seed on her skin, the musky scent filling the air... it was almost too much to bear. She described how her moans of pleasure grew louder with each encounter, how she'd have to bite her lip to keep from screaming out in ecstasy. She joked about being afraid the neighbors would hear, but I could tell part of her relished the risk.

Our sex life had never been more intense. Each night, after Aradhya finished recounting her day's activities, we'd fuck like animals. For as long as I could last, I'd pound into her with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed, driven by a mix of jealousy, arousal, and the need to reclaim my wife. Aradhya would cum harder than ever before, her cries of pleasure echoing through our bedroom. As I sat at my desk, lost in these thoughts, I realized how profoundly this situation had changed me. I was no longer the same man who'd left for work that first morning after my wife’s initial encounter with Harpreet. I was someone new, someone who found an unexpected thrill in his wife's illicit encounters. I checked my watch again, noting that it was almost time to head home. My heart raced with anticipation, wondering what new tale she would have for me today. Would she have allowed that lowly plumber to go further? Would she have maintained her last remaining boundary?

As I packed up my things and prepared to leave the office, I found myself hoping that Aradhya had indeed pushed the envelope a little further today. The thought both terrified and excited me. I realized, with a mix of shame and arousal, that part of me wanted her to cross that final line. To let Harpreet fuck her. To come home to me freshly fucked, Harpreet's cum still leaking from her pussy. The intensity of my own desires shocked me. When had I become this person? This man who eagerly awaited stories of his wife's infidelity? Who got off on the thought of another man pleasuring her? As I drove home, my mind raced with possibilities. What would Aradhya tell me tonight? How far had she gone? How far did I want her to go? The questions swirled in my mind, stoking the fire of my arousal. I pulled into our driveway, my hands shaking slightly as I turned off the engine. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the car and walked to our front door. As I inserted my key into the lock, I paused for a moment, steeling myself for whatever awaited me inside.

With a turn of the key and a push of the door, I stepped into our home, calling out, "Aradhya? I'm home."

The sound of hurried footsteps came from the bedroom and my beloved wife appeared. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright with a strange mix of tension and excitement. She wore only a thin robe, hastily tied at the waist.

"Ari…", she breathed, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You're not going to believe what happened today."

I felt my heart rate quicken. Whatever she was about to tell me, I knew it would push me further into this whirlwind of lust and jealousy that had become our new normal. I closed the front door behind me, locking it with a soft click. As I turned to face Aradhya, now standing a few steps in front of me, I realized that our life would never be the same again. And despite the conflicting emotions warring within me, I found that I didn't want it to be.

"Tell me everything!", I said, my voice husky with anticipation.

Aradhya's smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eye. She took my hand, leading me towards the bedroom. "Oh, Ari," she purred, "you're in for quite a story tonight."

As I followed Aradhya to the bedroom, my mind raced with possibilities. What lines had been crossed today? What new boundaries had been pushed? The anticipation was almost unbearable. I was certain she was going to regale me with another tale of her encounters with Harpreet the plumber. But as we sat down on the edge of the bed, Aradhya's expression shifted from mischievous to concerned.

"Ari", she began, her voice tinged with anxiety, "something happened today, but it wasn't with Harpreet."

My heart rate spiked. "What do you mean? What happened?"

Aradhya took a deep breath. "Mr. Banerjee came by today. The landlord. He said...", she paused, biting her lip. "He said he'd received complaints from the neighbors about odd sounds coming from our apartment, particularly when you're at work."

A cold dread washed over me. The one thing we'd both been fearing had finally come to pass. "Fuck!", I whispered. "What... what did you tell him?"

Aradhya's cheeks flushed as she recounted the encounter.

(Aradhya’s narration begins)

Let’s me start from the beginning. I was in the kitchen, finishing up some cooking when I heard the doorbell. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was about 2 PM - not expecting anyone, I quickly wrapped myself in the pale blue saree I'd laid out for later. It clung to my curves, the sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination. I barely had time to adjust the low-cut, backless blouse before answering. To my shock, there stood Mr. Banerjee, our portly 52-year-old landlord. His beady eyes immediately roved over my body as he pushed his way inside. I felt so exposed in the thin saree, especially when his gaze lingered on my cleavage.

"Mrs. Guho…", he began in a stern yet lustful tone, "I've received some... concerning reports from your neighbors."

I shifted uncomfortably as he stared at my legs. The saree had ridden up when I sat, exposing my calves. "What kind of reports?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He leaned forward, his massive belly straining his kurta. "Well, it seems there have been some... unusual noises. Particularly when your husband is at work."

My face burned with embarrassment. "I... I don't know what you mean.", I stammered.

"Oh, I think you do.", he replied, his tone dripping with insinuation. "The neighbors have reported hearing sounds of a rather intimate nature."

I felt trapped under his knowing gaze, mortified and so exposed in my flimsy saree. He described hearing moans and a man's voice that wasn't Arijit's. I struggled to find an explanation, fidgeting with the edge of my saree.

"Now, Mrs. Guho…", he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "What you do in private is your business. But when it disturbs others, it becomes my business." He stood, looming over me. "Of course, we can come to some sort of... arrangement."

"What do you mean?", I asked, my voice small.

He smiled, yellowed teeth gleaming. "Well, I'd hate to inform your husband or terminate your lease."

Panic rose in my chest. "Please, that won't be necessary. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I'm sure you will.", he replied, eyes roving over my body once more. "But you see, I don't quite trust you."

My heart raced. "Wha... what do you mean?"

He smirked. "Well, how do I know you won't just continue your activities more discreetly?"

I swallowed hard. I knew I should be outraged, but the threat of homelessness loomed large. "What can I do? To make you trust me more?"

A predatory glint flashed in his eyes. He patted the couch beside him. "Why don't you come sit here? We can discuss this more... comfortably." I hesitated, but found myself rising on trembling legs. I sat down gingerly, acutely aware of how the thin fabric rode up my calves. The landlord’s eyes followed hungrily.

"There now…", he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Isn't this nicer?"

I nodded mutely, my mouth dry. I felt his body heat, smelled his sweat and cheap cologne. It was repulsive, yet... to my horror, I felt a familiar warmth building between my legs. The situation was so wrong, so dangerous, yet it was arousing me in a way I'd never experienced.

His hand came to rest on my knee, burning through the thin fabric. "You know, Mrs. Guho…", he began, fingers tracing circles on my skin, "I've always found you very attractive."

My breath caught. I knew I should push him away, but the threat of exposure kept me rooted to the spot.

"T-thank you," I stammered, hating how breathy I sounded.

"I think we could come to a very... mutually beneficial arrangement, don't you?", he said, gently grabbing my thigh above the saree.

My mind whirled with conflicting emotions. Disgust warred with unexpected arousal. Fear battled the thrill of this dangerous situation. "I... I don't know what you mean.", I lied, even as my body betrayed me, my thighs parting slightly.

Mr. Banerjee chuckled darkly, his hot breath on my neck as he moved closer. "Let me show you exactly what I mean, Mrs. Guho.", he said softly, his meaty hands cupping my breasts through the thin blouse. I gasped, tensing at the contact. His fingers kneaded roughly, thumbs flicking over my hardening nipples.

"This... this is what you want?", I stammered, my voice betraying a mix of relief and unexpected arousal.

"Oh yes.", he purred, lips brushing my ear. "I've wanted to get my hands on these gorgeous titties since the day you moved in."

A shiver ran down my spine. I remembered that day clearly - how nervous and excited Arijit and I had been. I never imagined our landlord harboring such thoughts.

"You were wearing that little yellow sundress.", he continued, hands slipping inside my blouse to fondle my bra-covered breasts. "Bouncing up the stairs of this building, your tits jiggling with every step. I knew then I had to have you."

I whimpered, shame and arousal warring within me as he pinched my nipples over my bra. I knew I should stop him, but the threat of exposure kept me frozen - even as my body responded to his rough touch.

"I've dreamed of this.", he grunted, his breath hot on my skin. "Imagined how these perfect tits would feel in my hands. And now..." He squeezed harder, making me gasp. "Now I finally get to find out."

His lips descended on my neck, kissing and biting as his hands continued their assault. I tilted my head back involuntarily, mind spinning with the surreal situation. I thought of you, Ari, how you'd react if you could see me now - our landlord's hands down my blouse, his mouth on my neck. Would you be disgusted? Or excited, as you’d been by my encounters with Harpreet? As Mr. Banerjee's hands grew bolder, I closed my eyes, torn between shame and a burning, forbidden desire.