02-05-2025, 10:58 AM
The next morning, I woke to an empty bed, the sheets cool where my wife should’ve been. A clatter from the kitchen pulled me up, and there she was—Aradhya, my Aradhya—already hard at work, chopping vegetables, her hair tied back, a nervous excitement humming around her like static. She wore a simple kurta, but her movements were quick, almost jittery, a glow in her eyes that matched the knot of anticipation twisting in my gut. I leaned against the doorway, watching her, my own nervous excitement bubbling up — half dread, half thrill.
“You’re up early… ready for tonight?”, I asked, my voice low, trying to sound steady despite the pulse in my throat.
“I guess.” She flashed a teasing grin, then turned it back on me, her knife pausing mid-chop. “Question is, Ari—are YOU ready for this?”, Her tone was playful but sharp, her eyes searching mine, knowing the weight of what we were stepping into.
I swallowed, nodding, the truth too tangled to voice. I was ready, but terrified, imagining Tashan’s hands on her, her surrendering to that fire she’d warned me about. Unable to stay back, I stepped closer, drawn to her like gravity. My arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her against me, her warmth seeping through the kurta. I kissed her neck, soft at first, then deeper, my lips grazing the pulse point that always made her sigh. She tilted her head, a low hum escaping her, her body softening into mine, arousal flickering in her tightening grip on the counter.
“Mmm….careful now, honey.”, she purred, her tone teasing, almost emasculating, a knowing edge that cut deep. “You know you’ll blow too quick if you get too worked up. Don’t want you spent before the real show.” She glanced back, her smirk wicked, fully aware how her words stoked both my shame and my cock, the humiliation twisting into that raw, submissive heat I craved.
“Fuck, baby…”, I muttered, my face flushing, shame burning alongside arousal, my hands tightening on her hips as I pressed closer, hating and loving how she saw right through me.
She turned in my arms, her eyes glinting with seductive control, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Save it, Ari. Don’t you dare lose control tonight when I’m with Tashan. You’re gonna see a side of me you’ve never seen. Not even on those hidden cameras when I fucked that low-class plumber or that pathetic old fart Banerjee. Tashan’s different — he loses control, gets rough, sometimes abusive, and… Gosh, I lose it too when he does. Things’ll get messy, words’ll fly that might sting. He might say offensive things, raw and real. You ready for that?”, Her gaze bored into me, unyielding, demanding my truth.
My throat tightened, the weight of her warning—her honesty about Tashan’s edge, her own surrender—hitting like a blade. Shame, fear, and that twisted arousal churned, but I nodded, my voice meek, nervous, “Yeah… I’m ready.”
The day dragged on, her nervous energy infectious as she prepped dinner, the tension coiling tighter. By evening, she slipped into the bedroom, and when she emerged, my breath caught, raw emotions slamming me like a tidal wave. The black one-shoulder mini dress clung to her like sin itself, the fabric molding to her full, heaving tits, each breath pushing them against the tight neckline, begging to spill free. The cut-out bared her taut midriff, glistening with a sheen of nervous sweat, her dusky skin glowing under the dim light like polished bronze. The hem barely skimmed her thick, juicy ass, so plump it jiggled with every step, her thighs flexing, teasing the promise of what lay beneath. Her anklets jingled with each sway, a seductive chime, her short legs shimmering with a faint sheen of lotion, leading to red-painted toes that screamed fuck-me-now. Her red lips, glossy and parted, curled into that college-girl smirk—now feral, predatory—her eyes lined with kohl, dark and smoldering, screaming raw, unapologetic sex. She was a vision of lascivious beauty, every curve weaponized, dressed not for me but for Tashan, and it gutted me to my core.
My chest burned with jealousy, my cock throbbing despite the shame. My beautiful wife looked like a whore, a high-class prostitute, primped and painted to be fucked senseless by another man, her body a banquet laid out for his hunger. The thought sliced me open, but darker still, I saw myself as her pimp, orchestrating this filthy exchange, offering my wife’s curves to another’s hands, my role reduced to a pathetic enabler on the sidelines. It humiliated me, yet the twisted heat of it — her raw honesty, her brazen desire — made me complicit, my shame fueling a sick arousal. I pictured Tashan tearing that dress off, his hands claiming her tits, her ass, her screaming his name in a way I’d never earned, their chemistry a wildfire that’d burn me out. Her truth, that she’d give herself to him fully, stung like hell, but it was the realness, the trust in letting me feel this low, that made it so fucking erotic.
The doorbell rang. It was him – my wife’s college sweetheart who had come back to claim her again, just as he did a few nights before. My heart lurched as she winked, striding to answer, her confidence a blazing promise of the night ahead. When she opened the door, Tashan stepped in, his towering frame nearly a foot taller than her and several inches over me, his presence like a storm rolling through. He was dressed for a date, party formal — crisp black blazer over a fitted white shirt, unbuttoned to hint at his sinewy chest, tailored gray trousers hugging his lean hips, polished loafers gleaming. A silver chain glinted at his neck, his dark hair slicked back, exuding cocky charm. His sharp eyes landed on my wife with a hungry glint as she stood there, her black mini dress clinging to her curves, and I felt small, intimidated, my nervousness surging as that look stripped her bare.
“Tashan! Come in, get comfy!”, she chirped, her voice bright but laced with nervous excitement, gesturing him inside.
“Fuck, Aradhya, you’re looking… unreal.”, he said, his deep voice smooth, eyes raking over her dress, lingering on her thick ass as he grinned. “Arijit, good to see you again, man.” He nodded at me, his gaze flicking over, a tacit congratulation in his eyes. He was impressed with Aradhya, impressed I’d “convinced” her for this. It stung, my cock twitching, the dynamic shifting fast.
“Hey, welcome, Tashan—good to see you too.”, I said, my voice tight, forcing a smile as I stepped forward to shake his hand, his grip crushing, dwarfing mine. I gestured toward the living room, trying to play host despite the nerves clawing my gut, the weight of his presence and Aradhya’s radiance making me feel like a bystander in my own home.
She led him to the couch, her anklets jingling, and Tashan’s eyes glued to her plump ass as she walked away, swaying with each step. When she turned back, his gaze shifted to her front—her full tits straining against the dress, the cut-out baring her midriff — drinking her in as she approached. After quick pleasantries — chatter about the city, his drive — she darted to the kitchen, his eyes again tracking her ass as she left, then locking on her curves when she returned with red wine and a plate of crispy pakodas. As she bent to pour the wine, his lips curled slightly, and I caught it, my nerves jangling, but sat across from them, gripping my glass.
“So, Tashan, remember that time you and Vikram crashed the fest?”, she said, settling beside him, her tone warm, a nostalgic smile softening her nervous edge.
“Oh, yeah, and you were right there, sneaking us extra drinks from the bar.”, he chuckled, leaning back, relaxed. “Remember Priya’s face when we got caught? She was pissed!” His grin was easy, fond, and she laughed, her fingers less fidgety, the wine glass steady now.
“Gosh, Priya! She still messages me about that.”, she said, her laughter genuine, eyes bright with shared memories, though they flicked to me briefly, a shy nerve lingering.
The wine was slowly looseing us up. My shoulders relaxing, the alcohol dulling my trepidation, though arousal simmered beneath, growing with every move as I watched. Their words — something about college, old friends — faded into a hum; I wasn’t hearing them, just seeing. Tashan’s hand grazed Aradhya’s thigh, a slow, deliberate brush, his fingers lingering as her dress rode up slightly, exposing more of her dusky skin. She softened under his touch, her earlier nerves melting into a warm, relaxed glow, her laughter brighter. He stole a fleeting glance at me, his eyes confident, almost challenging — daring me to react as his hand slid higher, resting possessively on her thigh. My heart pounded, trepidation spiking, but my cock hardened, the sight of his bold claim and her response pulling me deeper into that twisted heat. Aradhya smiled, coy, shifting closer to him, her shyness giving way to a playful glint, and Tashan shot me another look, a smirk flickering, as if saying, ‘Watch this’. My nerves jangled, wine-soaked arousal crashing against the fear of what was coming, their chemistry already electric, teetering on that irreversible edge.
Tashan’s seduction unfolded with agonizing slowness, each gesture a calculated tease, crossing lines with a deliberate patience that made my pulse race. He dbangd one arm around Aradhya’s shoulders, his fingers trailing lazily along her bare arm, a possessive yet featherlight touch that anchored her to him. His other hand, bold but restrained, rested on her thigh, fingers splaying gently, tracing idle circles over the fabric of her dress, inching upward so slowly I could feel the seconds stretch. Aradhya’s breath caught, her lips parting in a soft, nervous giggle, her eyes darting to me — excitement warring with a flicker of hesitation. Tashan’s gaze flicked to mine, his smirk sharp, a silent challenge, as he leaned closer, his lips hovering near her ear, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured something low, too soft for me to catch. Her cheeks flushed, her chest rising with a shaky inhale, her tits straining against the dress, and she shifted, her thigh pressing subtly against his.
My chest tightened, the wine no match for the storm of jealousy, trepidation, and humiliating arousal as his fingers crept higher, now brushing the hem of her dress, teasing the bare skin just below her panties without crossing that line yet. His arm around her shoulders tightened slightly, his thumb stroking the curve of her collarbone, a subtle claim that made her shiver. He pulled back, his eyes locking on mine once again, taunting, before his hand slid to her midriff, fingers grazing the cut-out of her dress, lingering on the warm, exposed skin, tracing the edge with a maddening slowness. Aradhya’s body leaned into him, her coy smile fading into a parted-lip haze, her hand grazing his knee, inviting more. His lips brushed hers, a fleeting, deliberate kiss, his gaze darting to me, each touch a slow burn pushing us toward chaos.
His arm around her shoulders slid lower, fingers now tracing the curve of her spine, dipping to the small of her back, pulling her so close her tits pressed against his side. His other hand, no longer restrained, slipped beneath the hem of her dress, fingers grazing the edge of her panties, then retreating, teasing her inner thigh with featherlight strokes.
Aradhya’s eyes fluttered, "Mmmmmm...", a soft moan escaping, her face a storm of conflict—excitement in her quickened breath, guilt in her gaze flicking to me, nervous under my stare. “Tashan… slow down please...”, she whispered, her voice shaky, a feeble protest as her hand hovered over his, hesitating to push it away, her eyes pleading with me, torn.
I met her gaze, my heart pounding, and gave a subtle nod, my silence urging her on, arousal overpowering my shame, tacitly egging her to let go.
Tashan’s eyes flicked to me, smug, as he leaned in, lips grazing her throat, lingering, sucking gently until her head tilted back. “He’s fine with it, Aradhya—aren’t you, Arijit?”, he murmured, his tone taunting, not waiting for my reply as his fingers slid higher, brushing her panties directly.
“Unnghhhh...”, she gasped, her body arching despite her words, guilt flashing in her eyes as she glanced at me again, but my nod, my heated stare, pushed her further. Tashan’s eyes flicked to mine, a smug challenge, before he leaned in, his lips brushing her throat again, this time with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue grazing her pulse point, teasing the sensitive skin until her head tilted back, a soft whimper escaping. “Mmmmmm… Gosh, that’s…”, she trailed off, her voice trembling, her body shivering under his touch, torn by the thrill of his skill and the weight of my presence.
His touch became bolder, fingers now slipping beneath her panties, not rushing but exploring with a gentle, probing touch, brushing her folds lightly, testing her wetness. Her hips twitched, a sharp gasp breaking free. “Fuck… Tashan, slow… please…”, she whispered, her tone desperate, conflicted, her hand gripping his knee as if to steady herself, her eyes locking on mine, pleading for understanding.
My heart pounded, jealousy and arousal crashing together as Tashan, like a seasoned lover, read her cues, his fingers retreating to circle her clit with agonizing slowness, a featherlight pressure that drew a louder moan. “Ohh… shit, that’s too much… unghhhhhh...”, she whined, her voice raw, her thighs trembling, guilt flashing again as she glanced at me. His arm around her tightened, fingers now slipping beneath her dress strap, easing it down her shoulder, exposing more skin as his lips moved to her collarbone, kissing with deliberate care, each move calculated to stoke her desire. I watched, gutted, realizing Tashan knew her body as well as I did — every sensitive spot, every button to push, from her collarbone to her clit, and the jealous sting of his mastery over my wife’s pleasure made my cock throb harder, arousal swallowing my shame.
Tashan’s hand under her dress grew bolder, fingers sliding deeper into her dripping cunt, curling gently inside her, his thumb still teasing her clit in slow, expert circles. “Fuck, Tashan… you’re gonna make me cum…”, she groaned, her voice hoarse, her hips bucking into his hand, lust drowning her guilt, though her eyes still sought mine, raw and pleading under my stare. My shame and desire knotted tighter, her slutty surrender to his dirty touch gutting me.
His arm around her shoulders tightened, holding her steady as her body trembled. His other hand worked her relentlessly—fingers curling deeper inside her soaking pussy, hitting that spot that made her thighs quake, while his thumb pressed harder, circling her clit with a brutal, steady rhythm.
“Ohh… shit, Tashan, pleasssseeeee slow down…”, she whimpered, her voice breaking, her breasts heaving as her breaths came in ragged gasps. Her eyes flicked to me, guilt and nervousness flashing, but the raw pleasure in her flushed face betrayed her, her body betraying her protests as she arched harder into his touch.
His lips grazed her exposed collarbone, now slick with sweat, a slow, taunting lick followed by a sharp bite, his teeth sinking into her sensitive skin, drawing a high-pitched squeal from her, a raw mix of pain and pleasure. “Owwww…. Tashan! That hurts… oh gosh…”, she gasped, her body jerking, her voice trembling with a thrill that deepened her moans.
Tashan’s eyes met mine, his smirk vicious, daring me to watch as he pushed her over. His fingers pumped faster, slick with her juices, while his thumb flicked her clit in a final, merciless assault. Aradhya’s body tensed, her back bowing, her nails clawing at his thigh. “Fuck, I’m cummmmmiiiiinnnngggg!”, she screamed, her voice raw and unhinged, her pussy clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure wrecked her. Her eyes rolled back, her orgasm spilling out in shuddering gasps, her thighs clamping around his hand, juices soaking her dress.
My heart thundered, jealousy and arousal twisting into a searing knot as I watched her cum, her body convulsing under her ex-boyfriend’s expert touch, her screams echoing in my head. The sight of her losing control, her raw surrender to his brutal bite and relentless fingers, gutted me — her pleasure so intense, so beyond what I’d ever drawn from her.
Tashan slowly pulled his fingers from her, slick and glistening, holding them up to me with a taunting grin, showing off her dripping mess before wiping them deliberately on my sofa, his eyes locked on mine, mocking. Aradhya slumped against him, panting, her face flushed with afterglow and guilt.
“Gosh… Ari, I…”, she whispered while looking back at me, her voice shaky, seeking forgiveness. But my heated stare, my throbbing cock, told her I was in too deep, wrecked by her climax, craving the next line they’d cross.
“You’re up early… ready for tonight?”, I asked, my voice low, trying to sound steady despite the pulse in my throat.
“I guess.” She flashed a teasing grin, then turned it back on me, her knife pausing mid-chop. “Question is, Ari—are YOU ready for this?”, Her tone was playful but sharp, her eyes searching mine, knowing the weight of what we were stepping into.
I swallowed, nodding, the truth too tangled to voice. I was ready, but terrified, imagining Tashan’s hands on her, her surrendering to that fire she’d warned me about. Unable to stay back, I stepped closer, drawn to her like gravity. My arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her against me, her warmth seeping through the kurta. I kissed her neck, soft at first, then deeper, my lips grazing the pulse point that always made her sigh. She tilted her head, a low hum escaping her, her body softening into mine, arousal flickering in her tightening grip on the counter.
“Mmm….careful now, honey.”, she purred, her tone teasing, almost emasculating, a knowing edge that cut deep. “You know you’ll blow too quick if you get too worked up. Don’t want you spent before the real show.” She glanced back, her smirk wicked, fully aware how her words stoked both my shame and my cock, the humiliation twisting into that raw, submissive heat I craved.
“Fuck, baby…”, I muttered, my face flushing, shame burning alongside arousal, my hands tightening on her hips as I pressed closer, hating and loving how she saw right through me.
She turned in my arms, her eyes glinting with seductive control, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Save it, Ari. Don’t you dare lose control tonight when I’m with Tashan. You’re gonna see a side of me you’ve never seen. Not even on those hidden cameras when I fucked that low-class plumber or that pathetic old fart Banerjee. Tashan’s different — he loses control, gets rough, sometimes abusive, and… Gosh, I lose it too when he does. Things’ll get messy, words’ll fly that might sting. He might say offensive things, raw and real. You ready for that?”, Her gaze bored into me, unyielding, demanding my truth.
My throat tightened, the weight of her warning—her honesty about Tashan’s edge, her own surrender—hitting like a blade. Shame, fear, and that twisted arousal churned, but I nodded, my voice meek, nervous, “Yeah… I’m ready.”
The day dragged on, her nervous energy infectious as she prepped dinner, the tension coiling tighter. By evening, she slipped into the bedroom, and when she emerged, my breath caught, raw emotions slamming me like a tidal wave. The black one-shoulder mini dress clung to her like sin itself, the fabric molding to her full, heaving tits, each breath pushing them against the tight neckline, begging to spill free. The cut-out bared her taut midriff, glistening with a sheen of nervous sweat, her dusky skin glowing under the dim light like polished bronze. The hem barely skimmed her thick, juicy ass, so plump it jiggled with every step, her thighs flexing, teasing the promise of what lay beneath. Her anklets jingled with each sway, a seductive chime, her short legs shimmering with a faint sheen of lotion, leading to red-painted toes that screamed fuck-me-now. Her red lips, glossy and parted, curled into that college-girl smirk—now feral, predatory—her eyes lined with kohl, dark and smoldering, screaming raw, unapologetic sex. She was a vision of lascivious beauty, every curve weaponized, dressed not for me but for Tashan, and it gutted me to my core.
My chest burned with jealousy, my cock throbbing despite the shame. My beautiful wife looked like a whore, a high-class prostitute, primped and painted to be fucked senseless by another man, her body a banquet laid out for his hunger. The thought sliced me open, but darker still, I saw myself as her pimp, orchestrating this filthy exchange, offering my wife’s curves to another’s hands, my role reduced to a pathetic enabler on the sidelines. It humiliated me, yet the twisted heat of it — her raw honesty, her brazen desire — made me complicit, my shame fueling a sick arousal. I pictured Tashan tearing that dress off, his hands claiming her tits, her ass, her screaming his name in a way I’d never earned, their chemistry a wildfire that’d burn me out. Her truth, that she’d give herself to him fully, stung like hell, but it was the realness, the trust in letting me feel this low, that made it so fucking erotic.
The doorbell rang. It was him – my wife’s college sweetheart who had come back to claim her again, just as he did a few nights before. My heart lurched as she winked, striding to answer, her confidence a blazing promise of the night ahead. When she opened the door, Tashan stepped in, his towering frame nearly a foot taller than her and several inches over me, his presence like a storm rolling through. He was dressed for a date, party formal — crisp black blazer over a fitted white shirt, unbuttoned to hint at his sinewy chest, tailored gray trousers hugging his lean hips, polished loafers gleaming. A silver chain glinted at his neck, his dark hair slicked back, exuding cocky charm. His sharp eyes landed on my wife with a hungry glint as she stood there, her black mini dress clinging to her curves, and I felt small, intimidated, my nervousness surging as that look stripped her bare.
“Tashan! Come in, get comfy!”, she chirped, her voice bright but laced with nervous excitement, gesturing him inside.
“Fuck, Aradhya, you’re looking… unreal.”, he said, his deep voice smooth, eyes raking over her dress, lingering on her thick ass as he grinned. “Arijit, good to see you again, man.” He nodded at me, his gaze flicking over, a tacit congratulation in his eyes. He was impressed with Aradhya, impressed I’d “convinced” her for this. It stung, my cock twitching, the dynamic shifting fast.
“Hey, welcome, Tashan—good to see you too.”, I said, my voice tight, forcing a smile as I stepped forward to shake his hand, his grip crushing, dwarfing mine. I gestured toward the living room, trying to play host despite the nerves clawing my gut, the weight of his presence and Aradhya’s radiance making me feel like a bystander in my own home.
She led him to the couch, her anklets jingling, and Tashan’s eyes glued to her plump ass as she walked away, swaying with each step. When she turned back, his gaze shifted to her front—her full tits straining against the dress, the cut-out baring her midriff — drinking her in as she approached. After quick pleasantries — chatter about the city, his drive — she darted to the kitchen, his eyes again tracking her ass as she left, then locking on her curves when she returned with red wine and a plate of crispy pakodas. As she bent to pour the wine, his lips curled slightly, and I caught it, my nerves jangling, but sat across from them, gripping my glass.
“So, Tashan, remember that time you and Vikram crashed the fest?”, she said, settling beside him, her tone warm, a nostalgic smile softening her nervous edge.
“Oh, yeah, and you were right there, sneaking us extra drinks from the bar.”, he chuckled, leaning back, relaxed. “Remember Priya’s face when we got caught? She was pissed!” His grin was easy, fond, and she laughed, her fingers less fidgety, the wine glass steady now.
“Gosh, Priya! She still messages me about that.”, she said, her laughter genuine, eyes bright with shared memories, though they flicked to me briefly, a shy nerve lingering.
The wine was slowly looseing us up. My shoulders relaxing, the alcohol dulling my trepidation, though arousal simmered beneath, growing with every move as I watched. Their words — something about college, old friends — faded into a hum; I wasn’t hearing them, just seeing. Tashan’s hand grazed Aradhya’s thigh, a slow, deliberate brush, his fingers lingering as her dress rode up slightly, exposing more of her dusky skin. She softened under his touch, her earlier nerves melting into a warm, relaxed glow, her laughter brighter. He stole a fleeting glance at me, his eyes confident, almost challenging — daring me to react as his hand slid higher, resting possessively on her thigh. My heart pounded, trepidation spiking, but my cock hardened, the sight of his bold claim and her response pulling me deeper into that twisted heat. Aradhya smiled, coy, shifting closer to him, her shyness giving way to a playful glint, and Tashan shot me another look, a smirk flickering, as if saying, ‘Watch this’. My nerves jangled, wine-soaked arousal crashing against the fear of what was coming, their chemistry already electric, teetering on that irreversible edge.
Tashan’s seduction unfolded with agonizing slowness, each gesture a calculated tease, crossing lines with a deliberate patience that made my pulse race. He dbangd one arm around Aradhya’s shoulders, his fingers trailing lazily along her bare arm, a possessive yet featherlight touch that anchored her to him. His other hand, bold but restrained, rested on her thigh, fingers splaying gently, tracing idle circles over the fabric of her dress, inching upward so slowly I could feel the seconds stretch. Aradhya’s breath caught, her lips parting in a soft, nervous giggle, her eyes darting to me — excitement warring with a flicker of hesitation. Tashan’s gaze flicked to mine, his smirk sharp, a silent challenge, as he leaned closer, his lips hovering near her ear, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured something low, too soft for me to catch. Her cheeks flushed, her chest rising with a shaky inhale, her tits straining against the dress, and she shifted, her thigh pressing subtly against his.
My chest tightened, the wine no match for the storm of jealousy, trepidation, and humiliating arousal as his fingers crept higher, now brushing the hem of her dress, teasing the bare skin just below her panties without crossing that line yet. His arm around her shoulders tightened slightly, his thumb stroking the curve of her collarbone, a subtle claim that made her shiver. He pulled back, his eyes locking on mine once again, taunting, before his hand slid to her midriff, fingers grazing the cut-out of her dress, lingering on the warm, exposed skin, tracing the edge with a maddening slowness. Aradhya’s body leaned into him, her coy smile fading into a parted-lip haze, her hand grazing his knee, inviting more. His lips brushed hers, a fleeting, deliberate kiss, his gaze darting to me, each touch a slow burn pushing us toward chaos.
His arm around her shoulders slid lower, fingers now tracing the curve of her spine, dipping to the small of her back, pulling her so close her tits pressed against his side. His other hand, no longer restrained, slipped beneath the hem of her dress, fingers grazing the edge of her panties, then retreating, teasing her inner thigh with featherlight strokes.
Aradhya’s eyes fluttered, "Mmmmmm...", a soft moan escaping, her face a storm of conflict—excitement in her quickened breath, guilt in her gaze flicking to me, nervous under my stare. “Tashan… slow down please...”, she whispered, her voice shaky, a feeble protest as her hand hovered over his, hesitating to push it away, her eyes pleading with me, torn.
I met her gaze, my heart pounding, and gave a subtle nod, my silence urging her on, arousal overpowering my shame, tacitly egging her to let go.
Tashan’s eyes flicked to me, smug, as he leaned in, lips grazing her throat, lingering, sucking gently until her head tilted back. “He’s fine with it, Aradhya—aren’t you, Arijit?”, he murmured, his tone taunting, not waiting for my reply as his fingers slid higher, brushing her panties directly.
“Unnghhhh...”, she gasped, her body arching despite her words, guilt flashing in her eyes as she glanced at me again, but my nod, my heated stare, pushed her further. Tashan’s eyes flicked to mine, a smug challenge, before he leaned in, his lips brushing her throat again, this time with a slow, open-mouthed kiss, his tongue grazing her pulse point, teasing the sensitive skin until her head tilted back, a soft whimper escaping. “Mmmmmm… Gosh, that’s…”, she trailed off, her voice trembling, her body shivering under his touch, torn by the thrill of his skill and the weight of my presence.
His touch became bolder, fingers now slipping beneath her panties, not rushing but exploring with a gentle, probing touch, brushing her folds lightly, testing her wetness. Her hips twitched, a sharp gasp breaking free. “Fuck… Tashan, slow… please…”, she whispered, her tone desperate, conflicted, her hand gripping his knee as if to steady herself, her eyes locking on mine, pleading for understanding.
My heart pounded, jealousy and arousal crashing together as Tashan, like a seasoned lover, read her cues, his fingers retreating to circle her clit with agonizing slowness, a featherlight pressure that drew a louder moan. “Ohh… shit, that’s too much… unghhhhhh...”, she whined, her voice raw, her thighs trembling, guilt flashing again as she glanced at me. His arm around her tightened, fingers now slipping beneath her dress strap, easing it down her shoulder, exposing more skin as his lips moved to her collarbone, kissing with deliberate care, each move calculated to stoke her desire. I watched, gutted, realizing Tashan knew her body as well as I did — every sensitive spot, every button to push, from her collarbone to her clit, and the jealous sting of his mastery over my wife’s pleasure made my cock throb harder, arousal swallowing my shame.
Tashan’s hand under her dress grew bolder, fingers sliding deeper into her dripping cunt, curling gently inside her, his thumb still teasing her clit in slow, expert circles. “Fuck, Tashan… you’re gonna make me cum…”, she groaned, her voice hoarse, her hips bucking into his hand, lust drowning her guilt, though her eyes still sought mine, raw and pleading under my stare. My shame and desire knotted tighter, her slutty surrender to his dirty touch gutting me.
His arm around her shoulders tightened, holding her steady as her body trembled. His other hand worked her relentlessly—fingers curling deeper inside her soaking pussy, hitting that spot that made her thighs quake, while his thumb pressed harder, circling her clit with a brutal, steady rhythm.
“Ohh… shit, Tashan, pleasssseeeee slow down…”, she whimpered, her voice breaking, her breasts heaving as her breaths came in ragged gasps. Her eyes flicked to me, guilt and nervousness flashing, but the raw pleasure in her flushed face betrayed her, her body betraying her protests as she arched harder into his touch.
His lips grazed her exposed collarbone, now slick with sweat, a slow, taunting lick followed by a sharp bite, his teeth sinking into her sensitive skin, drawing a high-pitched squeal from her, a raw mix of pain and pleasure. “Owwww…. Tashan! That hurts… oh gosh…”, she gasped, her body jerking, her voice trembling with a thrill that deepened her moans.
Tashan’s eyes met mine, his smirk vicious, daring me to watch as he pushed her over. His fingers pumped faster, slick with her juices, while his thumb flicked her clit in a final, merciless assault. Aradhya’s body tensed, her back bowing, her nails clawing at his thigh. “Fuck, I’m cummmmmiiiiinnnngggg!”, she screamed, her voice raw and unhinged, her pussy clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure wrecked her. Her eyes rolled back, her orgasm spilling out in shuddering gasps, her thighs clamping around his hand, juices soaking her dress.
My heart thundered, jealousy and arousal twisting into a searing knot as I watched her cum, her body convulsing under her ex-boyfriend’s expert touch, her screams echoing in my head. The sight of her losing control, her raw surrender to his brutal bite and relentless fingers, gutted me — her pleasure so intense, so beyond what I’d ever drawn from her.
Tashan slowly pulled his fingers from her, slick and glistening, holding them up to me with a taunting grin, showing off her dripping mess before wiping them deliberately on my sofa, his eyes locked on mine, mocking. Aradhya slumped against him, panting, her face flushed with afterglow and guilt.
“Gosh… Ari, I…”, she whispered while looking back at me, her voice shaky, seeking forgiveness. But my heated stare, my throbbing cock, told her I was in too deep, wrecked by her climax, craving the next line they’d cross.
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