Adultery Cuckold looses loving wife to boss

[vaali10946]

Arjun’s obsession grew fiercer, his craving for cuckoldry like a fire that wouldn’t die. He trawled online forums, booking more bulls and gigolos, each encounter grander than the last. Priya, though sickened by Arjun’s scripts—her as the cruel wife, him as the pathetic cuckold—found her body yearning for the raw power of these men, a satisfaction Arjun’s impotent efforts never gave. She screamed with pleasure at each meeting, her reluctance fading into primal need, though her heart still hoped to rekindle Arjun’s love. But Arjun pushed harder, weaving humiliation into every scene, his role shifting from mere watcher to active director. He physically guided the bulls’ penises into Priya, his hands shaking with twisted pride, and recorded close-up videos of these acts, capturing every detail to feed his fixation.

The second bull was Vikram, a giant of a man with a voice like a thunderstorm. One muggy night, their bedroom lit by a dim bulb, Vikram pinned Priya to the bed, her sari tangled around her waist. “She needs a real man,” he growled, his hands gripping her thighs. Arjun, kneeling beside them, his breath quick, took Vikram’s erect shaft in his hand, his fingers slick with nervous sweat. “Like this,” he muttered, guiding Vikram’s tip to Priya’s entrance, his touch careful as he aligned it, feeling the warmth of her body. Priya stiffened, her gasp sharp as Vikram pushed inside, Arjun’s hand lingering a moment before pulling back. Her screams filled the room, her body arching as waves of pleasure hit her. “Tell her I’m useless,” Arjun urged, his voice rough. Vikram smirked, guiding Priya’s hand to slap Arjun’s face. “Spit on him,” he ordered, and she did, her saliva hitting Arjun’s cheek as he trembled with thrill.

Arjun, bolder now, grabbed his phone, a sleek iPhone with a sharp camera, and crouched inches from Priya’s hips. He zoomed in, the lens catching Vikram’s shaft sliding into her, the slick rhythm, the flush of her skin. The video framed her curves, her parted thighs, and Vikram’s relentless thrusts, the sound capturing her moans and Vikram’s grunts. Arjun’s hands shook, the close-up raw and vivid, every detail—her tensed muscles, the glint of sweat—locked in for his secret collection. “Perfect,” he whispered, tilting the phone to catch Priya’s face, her eyes half-shut in ecstasy. Afterwards, Arjun climbed onto her, desperate to reclaim her, but Priya felt nothing—his presence like a shadow inside her, her body still alive from Vikram’s force. Later, alone, Arjun replayed the video, the close-up images sparking his arousal, the shame and thrill twisting together.