Adultery Cuckold looses loving wife to boss

[vaali10946]

Each failed attempt intensified Arjun’s need for control, the bungalow’s walls a metaphor for the barriers between him and his fantasy’s fulfillment. Sanjay’s promotion of Arjun to senior creative, with a doubled salary and a larger team, validated the gambit—Priya’s allure was paying off professionally. But the lack of visual access drove Arjun back to their Mumbai flat, where he could orchestrate encounters he could see and record, his cuckold fetish demanding satisfaction.
Desperate to reclaim the visual thrill of his cuckold fantasy, Arjun resumed booking gigolos and bulls for home encounters, where he could direct, watch, and record every detail. The flat, with its chipped mirror, creaking ceiling fan, and monsoon-damp walls, became his stage, the dim bulb casting shadows that mirrored his fractured desires. He scoured online forums, selecting men who matched his porn-fueled ideals—muscular, dominant, capable of humiliating him as Priya performed. His role evolved from voyeur to active participant.
Arjun booked Rohan, the gym-sculpted gigolo from their first encounter, for a session on their living room couch, its faded upholstery a stark contrast to the bungalow’s opulence. The air was thick with humidity, the fan’s whir mingling with the distant honk of Mumbai traffic. Priya wore a red saree at Arjun’s insistence, its hem bunched around her waist as Rohan pinned her down, his shirt discarded to reveal rippling muscles. “Tell her I’m useless,” Arjun urged, kneeling beside them, his breath shallow. Rohan smirked, his voice a growl: “He can’t satisfy you, can he?” Priya, her eyes half-closed, gasped as Rohan’s hands gripped her thighs. Arjun, his hands trembling, took Rohan’s erect shaft, its heat pulsing against his fingers. In a fevered act, he leaned forward, his lips closing around the tip, sucking briefly but deliberately, the taste sharp and unfamiliar. Priya’s eyes widened, a flicker of shock crossing her face, but she said nothing, her moans resuming as Arjun guided Rohan’s shaft to her entrance, his fingers slick as he aligned it. Rohan thrust forward, Priya’s screams sharp but mechanical, lacking the fire she’d shown with Sanjay. Arjun grabbed his iPhone, zooming in on the penetration—the slick rhythm, Priya’s flushed skin—capturing every detail in high resolution. The video, stored in a hidden folder, was vivid but hollow, her passion a shadow of Sanjay’s effect. Afterward, Arjun climbed onto her, his attempts futile, her body unresponsive. Priya showered immediately, scrubbing Rohan’s scent away, her silence a rebuke. After Rohan’s session, Priya emerged from the shower, her hair dripping, her eyes hollow. As Arjun replayed the video on his phone, she stood in the doorway, her voice soft but pointed. “This isn’t helping us, Arjun. It’s too much.” He glanced up, his eyes gleaming, misreading her plea as concern. “It’s for us, Priya. To keep us alive.” She sighed, retreating to the bedroom, her hint buried under his obsession.