Adultery Wife helps me become a cuckold

[incest_cuck]

It was on a particularly warm Friday evening when everything changed. I arrived home, loosening my tie as I stepped through the front door. The familiar scent of Aradhya's cooking wafted from the kitchen, and I could hear her humming softly to herself.

"I'm home.", I called out, setting my briefcase down by the door.

"Welcome back.", Aradhya responded, her voice carrying from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes."

I nodded, though she couldn't see me, and made my way to the living room. As I approached the sofa, intent on sinking into its comfortable embrace after a long day at work, something caught my eye. There, on the hardwood floor just beside the coffee table, was a small, dried white stain. My heart began to race as I crouched down to examine it more closely. The stain was unmistakable – a small patch of dried cum, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. I swallowed hard, my mind immediately racing with possibilities. Had Harpreet returned without my knowledge? Had Aradhya been with someone else? Or was there a more innocent explanation that I was overlooking in my sudden state of arousal and confusion?

I straightened up quickly as I heard Aradhya's footsteps approaching. She entered the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"How was your day?", she asked, smiling warmly.

I forced myself to appear casual, even as my heart hammered in my chest. "Oh, you know, the usual. Nothing too exciting.", I paused, then added as nonchalantly as I could, "Say, has Harpreet returned yet? Any word from him?"

Aradhya shook her head, her expression unchanged. "No, not yet. Last I heard, his father was still unwell. Why do you ask?"

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice level. "Just curious. It's been a while since he left, hasn't it?"

"Mmm, yes, it has.", Aradhya agreed. She glanced at her watch. "Oh, I should get back to the kitchen. Dinner will be ready soon."

As she retreated to the kitchen, I found myself staring at the dried stain on the floor. Who could it be from, if not Harpreet? The question nagged at me throughout dinner, even as Aradhya and I engaged in our usual evening conversation.

That night, as I lay in bed next to my sleeping wife, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was happening right under my nose. The excitement I'd felt at the prospect of Aradhya's adventures with that low-class, manly plumber was now tinged with a new emotion – a burning curiosity to know exactly what was going on when I wasn't around.

The next morning, I made a decision. After breakfast, I kissed my sweet, beautiful goodbye and headed out, ostensibly for work. Instead, I drove to a local electronics store.

"Can I help you find anything?", a young sales associate asked as I browsed the aisles.

I nodded, lowering my voice slightly. "Yes, I'm looking for some small, discreet cameras. Something that can be easily hidden and accessed remotely."

The associate raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. He led me to a display of various surveillance cameras, explaining the features of each. After some deliberation, I selected two small, wireless cameras that could be easily concealed and accessed via a smartphone app. As the associate rang up my purchase, I felt a mix of guilt and excitement. Was I really going to spy on my own wife? But then the image of that dried stain on the floor flashed through my mind, and I knew I had to know the truth.

I spent the rest of the day at a nearby café, remotely logging into my work computer to keep up appearances. When I received a text from Aradhya saying she was heading out for a grocery run, I knew my opportunity had arrived. Hurrying home, I quickly set about installing the cameras. The first went in the living room, carefully positioned to capture most of the space while remaining hidden behind some books on a shelf. The second I placed in our bedroom, tucked away in the corner where it would be virtually invisible.

My hands shook slightly as I synced the cameras to my phone, my heart racing at the thought of what I might discover. Just as I finished, I heard the sound of Aradhya's key in the lock. I quickly pocketed my phone and moved to help her with the groceries, trying to act as normal as possible. That night, as my wife slept peacefully beside me, I lay awake, my mind racing. The cameras were in place, silently watching, ready to reveal whatever secrets our home might hold when I was away. Part of me felt guilty for this invasion of privacy, but another part – a part that grew stronger with each passing moment – thrilled at the prospect of finally knowing the truth. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder: what would the following day bring? What would I see when I checked those camera feeds? The anticipation was almost unbearable, a delicious torture that filled me with equal parts dread and excitement.

The next morning arrived, and I left for work as usual, my phone feeling heavier in my pocket with the knowledge of what it could now show me. As I sat at my desk, I found myself unable to focus on my work, my hand constantly straying to my phone, tempted to check the feeds. Finally, during my lunch break, I couldn't resist any longer. With trembling fingers, I opened the app and connected to the living room camera. At first, everything seemed normal. Aradhya moved about the house, working on her laptop, making phone calls. But then, around 2 PM, there was a knock at the door.

My heart leapt into my throat as I watched Aradhya answer it. To my shock, it wasn't Harpreet standing there, but Mr. Banerjee – our portly, balding landlord. I watched, mesmerized, as my wife invited him in, a smile playing on her lips that I'd never seen before. My fingers trembled as I watched the scene unfold on my phone screen. They both sat on the sofa, their lips moving in conversation I couldn't hear. I strained my eyes, trying to read their expressions, to glean any hint of what they might be discussing.

Suddenly, Aradhya stood up, a coy smile playing on her lips. My breath caught in my throat as she slowly untied the belt of her full-sleeved housecoat. With a graceful shrug of her shoulders, the robe slipped off, pooling at her feet.

I gasped, my eyes widening at the sight of my wife standing completely naked before our landlord. Her dusky skin glowed in the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains, every curve and valley of her body on full display. Her breasts, full and perky, bobbed slightly with her movement. Her nipples, a deep brown against her caramel skin, were already erect, pointing outward invitingly. My gaze traveled down her flat stomach to the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair between her legs.

Mr. Banerjee's reaction was immediate and visceral. His beady eyes bulged in their sockets, his mouth hanging open as he ogled my wife's naked form. His meaty hands gripped the edge of the sofa, his knuckles turning white with the effort of restraining himself.

Aradhya didn't move, allowing our landlord's gaze to roam over her body. She seemed to be reveling in his attention, her heaving breasts rising and falling with deep, excited breaths. Slowly, teasingly, she raised her arms above her head, stretching languidly. The movement caused her boobies to lift, presenting them even more prominently, the contrast between her dusky skin and the lighter undersides of her breasts clearly visible.

That perverted landlord’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he stared hungrily at my sweet, curvy wife. His portly frame practically vibrated with excitement, the buttons of his thin, sweat-stained shirt straining against his protruding belly. A dark patch of perspiration was already forming under his arms and across his chest. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he lurched forward. His flabby arms outstretched towards my wife, fingers wiggling in anticipation. He didn't even bother removing his shirt, too eager to get his hands on her flesh.

I watched, mesmerized and conflicted, as our landlord’s hands made contact with Aradhya's bare skin. His thick, sausage-like fingers gripped her hips, pulling her closer. The paleness of his hands stood out starkly against her dusky complexion. Aradhya's head tilted back, her mouth open in what I imagined was a gasp or moan. The fat bastard’s balding head dipped down, his mouth latching onto Aradhya's breast. Even without sound, I could almost hear the wet, sloppy noises as he devoured her flesh. His lips and tongue worked frantically, leaving glistening trails of saliva across her caramel skin. He suckled her dark nipple like a starving infant, his cheeks hollowing with the effort.

My wife’s hands rested on Mr. Banerjee's shoulders, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. Her eyes were closed, her expression a mix of pleasure and something I couldn't quite decipher - perhaps resignation or secret enjoyment? Her fingers kneaded the damp fabric of his shirt, bunching it up between her knuckles.

Meanwhile, the starving landlord’s enthusiasm was palpable. He was like a man possessed, his mouth and hands moving frantically over Aradhya's body. He alternated between her breasts, lavishing each with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and rough sucks. Saliva dripped from his chin, leaving wet trails down his neck and staining his already sweat-soaked shirt. His hands roamed greedily over her body, squeezing and kneading every inch he could reach. His stubby fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass, leaving red marks that quickly faded on her dusky skin. He groped her breasts roughly, mashing them together and burying his face between them.

I felt a confusing mix of emotions as I watched our overweight, middle-aged landlord ravish my wife. Part of me was repulsed by his sweaty, aggressive display. Another part was undeniably aroused by Aradhya's naked form and the taboo nature of the encounter. My own breath came in short, quick gasps, my pants growing uncomfortably tight.

Mr. Banerjee's hands slid down to Aradhya's ass, gripping the flesh tightly. He pulled her even closer, grinding his clothed crotch against her bare mound. Her head fell back, her long black hair cascading down her back as her body arched into his touch. Her hips moved in small, circular motions, rubbing against the obvious bulge in Mr. Banerjee's trousers. The landlord's face though was flushed a deep red, sweat pouring down his temples and neck. His breathing was heavy and labored, each exhale accompanied by a grunt of effort and pleasure. He buried his face in Aradhya's neck, his tongue lapping at her dusky skin like a thirsty dog.

Aradhya's hands moved to Mr. Banerjee's head, her fingers running through what little hair he had left. She guided his mouth back to her breasts, offering them up to his eager lips. Our landlord accepted greedily, his jowls quivering as he sucked and slurped at her dark nipples.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen, my breath coming in short, quick gasps. The scene before me was raw, primal, and utterly unexpected. Mr. Banerjee, a man I'd always seen as repulsive, was devouring my wife with an intensity that both shocked and fascinated me.

His hands moved to Aradhya's thighs, spreading them apart. Without warning, he plunged two thick fingers into her pussy. Her body jerked at the sudden intrusion, her mouth opening in what I imagined was a cry of surprise and pleasure. Mr. Banerjee's arm moved vigorously, his fingers no doubt pumping in and out of my wife's wet heat. Her hips bucked against his hand, her body undulating with each thrust of his fingers. Her hands gripped Mr. Banerjee's shoulders tightly, her nails digging into the damp fabric of his shirt. Her head thrashed from side to side, her hair whipping around her flushed face.

Mr. Banerjee's free hand continued to grope and squeeze Aradhya's breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. His mouth moved from her chest to her neck, leaving a trail of hickeys that stood out vividly against her dusky skin. He bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, causing Aradhya's body to arch sharply. I watched in a daze as our landlord pleasured my wife, his pudgy body pressed tightly against her lithe form. The contrast between them was stark - Aradhya's smooth, caramel skin against Mr. Banerjee's pale, hairy flesh peeking out from his straining shirt.

Suddenly, Mr. Banerjee withdrew his fingers from Aradhya's pussy. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with obvious relish. His eyes rolled back in his head as he tasted my wife's juices, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. Our landlord savored the flavor, his tongue darting out to catch every last drop from his fingers. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, sweat glistening on his brow.

Suddenly, he released her, allowing my wife to stand upright. She took a small step back, her dusky skin flushed and glistening. Mr. Banerjee's gaze raked over her body, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing it to memory. With trembling hands, he reached for his belt. The metal buckle clinked softly as he fumbled with it, his fingers clumsy with desire. Finally, he managed to undo it, the leather sliding through the loops with a soft hiss.

He tossed the belt aside, the heavy buckle thudding against the mosaic floor. His hands moved to the button of his trousers, popping it open with a quick flick of his wrist. The zipper came next, its teeth parting slowly, teasingly.  My wife watched, her eyes fixed on Mr. Banerjee's hands as they worked. Her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath, her nipples still hard and pointing outward. Mr. Banerjee lifted his hips, pushing his trousers down over his thick thighs. The fabric bunched around his knees before he kicked them off entirely, sending them flying across the room. His pale, hairy legs were now fully exposed, a stark contrast to Aradhya's smooth, caramel skin. Next came his underwear. Mr. Banerjee hooked his thumbs under the waistband, pausing for a moment as if to build suspense. Then, with a grunt of effort, he lifted his substantial bulk and slid the garment down.

As his underwear joined his trousers on the floor, I felt my jaw drop in shock! Our perverted landlord’s cock sprang free, and it was... impressive. Far more impressive than I could have ever imagined.

Despite his portly frame and otherwise unimpressive physique, Mr. Banerjee was incredibly well-endowed. His member stood proud and erect, jutting out from a nest of dark, curly hair. It was long - easily seven or eight inches - and thick, with prominent veins running along its length. The head was swollen and purple, glistening with pre-cum. I couldn't believe my eyes. Our middle-aged, overweight landlord was packing heat that would put most porn stars to shame. The contrast between his flabby body and his magnificent cock was almost comical.

My sweet and naked wife’s eyes widened as she took in the sight. Her lips parted slightly, a small gasp escaping her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her thighs pressing together as if to quell the ache between them.

Mr. Banerjee sat down and leaned back on the sofa, spreading his legs wide. His massive cock stood at attention, throbbing visibly with each beat of his heart. He locked eyes with Aradhya, a smug grin spreading across his face. Slowly, deliberately, he crooked his finger at her, beckoning her closer.