Adultery Cuckold looses loving wife to boss

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Next was Sameer, a lean dancer with a mean streak Arjun loved. In their bedroom, the bulb flickering with shadows, Sameer tore Priya’s blouse, his lips on her neck as he positioned himself. Arjun, ever the director, knelt close, his fingers curling around Sameer’s erection, guiding it with precision to Priya’s core. “Slow,” he instructed, his voice thick, feeling the resistance as he pressed Sameer’s tip against her, then letting go as Sameer thrust forward. Priya’s screams echoed, her nails clawing the rug. “He’s nothing,” Sameer taunted, as Arjun, phone in hand, recorded the act. He angled the camera low, capturing the penetration in stark detail—the motion, the stretch, Priya’s shuddering response. The video was clinical yet intimate, Arjun zooming in on the point of entry, then panning to Priya’s face, her laughter mixing with moans as Sameer forced her to mock Arjun’s impotence. Arjun’s pulse raced, the footage a prize of his planned humiliation. When he tried to follow, his thrusts were empty, Priya’s body unresponsive, her mind lost in Sameer’s fire. Arjun saved the video to a hidden folder, its clarity haunting him in sleepless nights.

A third encounter brought Kabir, a bearded bodybuilder with a gentle front. On their balcony, the Mumbai skyline sparkling below, Kabir lifted Priya against the railing, her lehenga hitched up. Arjun, sweat on his brow, took Kabir’s shaft, his fingers steady as he guided it into Priya, his touch almost reverent. “Right there,” he murmured, ensuring perfect alignment, Priya’s moan confirming success as Kabir entered her. Her screams carried into the night, her body giving in to the rhythm. “Tell her she’s too good for me,” Arjun whispered, his voice breaking. Kabir’s taunts were softer but sharp: “He’ll never satisfy you.” Arjun, phone raised, recorded with fierce focus, the camera inches from their joined bodies. The video captured Kabir’s steady thrusts, Priya’s trembling thighs, the city lights blurring behind. He adjusted for light, the phone’s night mode sharpening every detail—her arched back, the tension in Kabir’s muscles. Arjun’s heart pounded, the footage a mirror to his porn-fueled dreams. Priya’s pleasure was clear, her body craving the intensity, but her heart ached for Arjun. She didn’t snap at him, didn’t rage; instead, she hoped these nights might fix him, bring back the man who’d charmed her at Juhu Beach. But Arjun’s attempts to make love after were futile—she felt nothing, her body still claimed by Kabir’s fire. Arjun stored the video with the others, each file a proof of his growing addiction, replayed in secret to fuel his torment.

Priya’s inner struggle deepened. She hated the scripted shame, the loss of her dignity, but her body’s betrayal was undeniable. Each encounter, heightened by Arjun’s guiding hands and prying lens, left her fulfilled in ways Arjun never could, yet she clung to love, believing she could save their marriage. Arjun, blind to her pain, saw her screams as proof of success, his videos a private vault of his twisted vision, unaware of the growing gap between them.