Adultery How I made my wife fuck my friend
#78
The days after my confession to Priti had melted into a whirlwind of simmering tension and unspoken promises. I'd laid it all bare—my twisted, long-buried desire for Nidhi, my own sister, a craving that had haunted me since our teenage years. Priti, my wife of five years, hadn't recoiled or judged; instead, her eyes had darkened with intrigue, and she'd pulled me into bed that night, her body grinding against mine as she murmured explicit scenarios involving Nidhi's curves, her innocence shattered under my touch. Our sex had never been more intense, fueled by those forbidden whispers, but it wasn't enough. I needed the real thing—the heat of Nidhi's skin, the gasp of her surrender, the ultimate taboo made flesh.

Siddu was the perfect, oblivious pawn in our scheme. He'd been chasing Nidhi for weeks, ever since her divorce left her isolated and aching for connection. From the snippets Priti had shared—overheard phone calls, vague texts—Siddu had already seduced her multiple times, drawing her out of her orthodox shell with stolen afternoons in motels and whispered promises. Nidhi, the devoted single mom raised in our conservative family, had resisted at first, but Siddu's persistence had worn her down. His messages to Priti were casual boasts: pictures of Nidhi's shy smiles, hints at her growing boldness in bed. But Priti played dumb, acting like she knew nothing of their affair, even as she fed me the details in private. Siddu had no idea I was in on anything; to him, this was just a thrilling conquest, perhaps with the added spice of Priti as a potential bonus.

That evening, Priti had orchestrated the setup flawlessly. She'd invited Siddu and Nidhi over for a "casual family dinner," claiming I was away on a last-minute work trip. I'd hidden in the guest room upstairs, my laptop open to the hidden cameras I'd installed discreetly around the house—living room, kitchen, bedroom—capturing every angle in crystal-clear feed. Priti had dressed modestly to match the innocent vibe, opting for a simple salwar kameez much like Nidhi's: a soft blue ensemble that hugged her figure subtly, the dupatta dbangd over her shoulders, concealing her curves without flaunting them. It was a far cry from her usual seductive attire, but it fit the role— the dutiful wife hosting friends while her husband was away.

"You ready for this?" Priti had whispered to me earlier, adjusting her dupatta in the mirror. Her eyes met mine in the reflection, a spark of mischief hidden beneath her composed exterior.

I nodded, my pulse already racing. "Act surprised if things heat up. Let Siddu lead, strip you both if he goes there. I'll watch and join when it's right. And remember—Siddu thinks I'm clueless."

She smirked, leaning in for a quick kiss. "Oh, I'll play the shocked wife. But once he starts... I might not hold back." Her hand brushed my crotch teasingly before she headed downstairs.

The doorbell rang at 7:30 PM, right on time. On the camera feed, Priti opened the door with a warm, welcoming smile. "Siddu, Nidhi! Come on in. Dinner's almost ready—nothing fancy, just some home-cooked curry and rice."

Siddu entered first, his casual polo shirt and jeans giving him that effortless charm. He hugged Priti a bit too lingeringly, his hand brushing her back. "Priti, you look great. Rudra's missing out, huh? Work trip again?"

"Yeah, last-minute thing," Priti replied breezily, stepping aside. Nidhi followed, dressed in a modest green salwar kameez that accentuated her full breasts and hips without being overt. Her dupatta was pinned neatly, and she carried a small box of sweets as a gesture. She hugged Priti tightly, her voice soft. "Thanks for inviting us. It's been a while since we've just... hung out."

They moved to the living room, settling on the L-shaped sofa. Priti served appetizers—crispy pakoras and chutney—before pouring glasses of vodka mixed with soda, keeping it light at first. "To relaxing evenings," she toasted, clinking glasses. Nidhi sipped hesitantly, her orthodox background making her wary of alcohol, but Siddu encouraged her with a grin, downing his own.

The conversation flowed easily at the start: Nidhi talking about her son's college achievements, Siddu sharing funny work stories, Priti laughing along as the perfect hostess. But as the vodka refills came—second round, then third—the mood shifted. Nidhi's cheeks flushed pink, her laughter freer, her posture loosening against the cushions. Siddu, sensing the opportunity, let his knee brush hers, then his hand rest casually on her thigh under the pretense of emphasizing a point.

Priti pretended not to notice at first, refilling glasses with a smile. "You two are always so animated together. It's cute." Her tone was innocent, but it egged Siddu on.

Nidhi giggled, the alcohol warming her from within, but she shot a shy glance at Priti. "Oh, it's nothing. Siddu's just... fun." Her words slurred slightly, and when Siddu's hand inched higher, tracing circles on her inner thigh through the salwar fabric, she tensed but didn't pull away. Shame flickered in her eyes—doing this in front of her brother's wife? It was mortifying. But the vodka dulled the edges, making her body respond with a subtle heat.

Siddu leaned closer, his voice dropping. "You know, Nidhi, you've been on my mind all day." He kissed her neck lightly, his hand slipping under her dupatta. Nidhi gasped, her eyes darting to Priti in embarrassment. "Siddu... not here. Priti's watching."

Priti raised an eyebrow, feigning mild surprise. "Oh, wow. You two are closer than I thought. But hey, don't stop on my account. Vodka's making everything more... interesting. Go on, it's kind of fun to watch."

Nidhi's face burned with shame, her orthodox instincts screaming at her to stop. She tried to push Siddu's hand away weakly. "No, this is awkward. Priti, I'm so sorry..." But the alcohol buzzed in her veins, turning resistance into a thrilling hesitation. Siddu didn't back off; instead, he captured her lips in a deep kiss, his tongue exploring as his free hand untied her dupatta, letting it fall away.

Priti cheered lightly, her voice encouraging without pushing. "Aw, you guys look good together. Relax, Nidhi—life's too short not to enjoy. Keep going!"

The kiss deepened, Nidhi's protests melting into soft moans as the vodka took full effect. She clutched Siddu's shirt, her body surrendering despite the shame. Siddu's hands roamed boldly now, loosening the drawstring of her salwar and tugging it down her hips, exposing her smooth legs and simple cotton panties. Nidhi whimpered, covering her face briefly. "Siddu... please, not in front of her." But her hips lifted to help him, the alcohol overriding her modesty.

Emboldened by Priti's cheers, Siddu peeled off Nidhi's kameez next, revealing a plain white bra that cupped her ample breasts. Nidhi sat there in her underwear, trembling with embarrassment, tears pricking her eyes. "This is so wrong... Priti, don't look." But Priti just smiled supportively. "You're beautiful, Nidhi. Own it. Siddu, she's all yours—treat her right."

Siddu grinned, his arousal evident as he stood, pulling Nidhi to her feet. He unhooked her bra with practiced fingers, letting her heavy breasts spill free—full, with dark nipples hardening in the cool air. Nidhi gasped, arms crossing over her chest in a last-ditch effort at modesty, but Siddu gently pried them away, his lips latching onto one nipple, sucking gently. She moaned, her head falling back, shame giving way to pleasure.

Not stopping there, Siddu turned his attention to Priti, who sat watching with apparent fascination. "You know, Priti, you're looking pretty tense yourself. Why don't you join the fun? Rudra's not here—no harm, right?" He pulled her up by the hand, his other arm wrapping around her waist.

Priti hesitated for show, her eyes widening. "Siddu, what? I... I couldn't. Rudra..." But her protest was half-hearted, the plan unfolding as we'd discussed. Siddu kissed her then, bold and insistent, his tongue claiming her mouth. Priti melted into it after a moment, her hands on his chest.

Nidhi watched in stunned silence, her naked body forgotten for a second. Priti—her brother's loyal wife—was kissing Siddu? Cheating right here, in their home? The shock hit her harder than her own exposure; how could Priti surrender like that, betray Rudra so easily? Nidhi's mind reeled, but hypocrisy silenced her—she was standing there nude, her own affair on full display. The vodka blurred the lines, turning shock into a strange arousal as she watched them.

Siddu broke the kiss, his hands now on Priti's salwar ties. "Come on, Priti. Let's even the playing field." He tugged her salwar down, revealing her toned legs and matching cotton panties. Priti stepped out of them, her cheeks flushing as if embarrassed. "Siddu... this is crazy." But she didn't stop him as he lifted her kameez over her head, unhooking her bra to free her pert breasts.

Now both women stood nude except for their panties, Nidhi's shock deepening at Priti's easy surrender. "Priti... how can you? Rudra..." she whispered, but Priti just shrugged with a tipsy smile. "Shh, Nidhi. It's just tonight. No one has to know." Siddu hooked his fingers into both women's panties, sliding them down simultaneously—Nidhi's simple white pair and Priti's matching set—exposing their shaved pussies, already glistening.

Siddu stripped himself quickly, his thick cock springing free, hard and ready. He guided both women back to the sofa, positioning Nidhi on her back and Priti beside her. "Ladies, let's make this memorable." He started with Nidhi, spreading her legs wide and diving between them, his tongue lapping at her folds with slow, deliberate strokes. Nidhi moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, shame forgotten as pleasure surged. "Oh god, Siddu... yes..."

Priti watched, her fingers idly circling her own clit, cheering softly. "That's it, Nidhi. Let him make you feel good." Siddu's fingers joined his tongue, sliding two inside Nidhi's wetness, curling to hit her G-spot while he sucked her clit. Nidhi's body arched, breasts heaving, her first orgasm building fast. She cried out as it hit, her pussy clenching around his fingers, juices flooding his mouth.

Without missing a beat, Siddu moved to Priti, repeating the treatment—his tongue tracing her slit, fingers pumping inside her. Priti moaned loudly, her hands cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples. "Fuck, Siddu... right there." Nidhi, still panting, watched in awe and lingering shock at Priti's abandon, her body responding by touching herself.

Siddu rose, his cock throbbing. He positioned himself between Nidhi's legs first, rubbing the tip against her entrance. "Ready, Nidhi?" She nodded, biting her lip, and he thrust in slowly, filling her inch by inch. Nidhi gasped, her walls stretching around him. He built a steady rhythm, thrusting deep and nice, his hands roaming her body—squeezing her breasts, thumbing her nipples. "You feel amazing," he groaned, leaning down to kiss her as he fucked her.

Nidhi wrapped her legs around him, meeting his thrusts, her moans filling the room. "Harder, Siddu... please." He obliged, pounding her with controlled power, his balls slapping against her ass. Priti cheered from the side, "Yes, fuck her good!" Nidhi's second orgasm crashed over her, her body shaking as she screamed his name.

Siddu pulled out, slick with her juices, and turned to Priti. "Your turn." He flipped her onto all fours on the sofa, entering her from behind in one smooth thrust. Priti cried out, pushing back against him. He fucked her nicely—long, deep strokes that made her breasts swing, his hands gripping her hips. "God, Priti, so tight." He reached around to rub her clit, accelerating her pleasure. Priti moaned, her head dropping as she came hard, her pussy milking him.

But he wasn't done. Siddu switched back to Nidhi, laying her beside Priti and fucking her missionary while fingering Priti. Then he pulled Priti onto his lap, bouncing her on his cock while Nidhi watched, touching herself. The room echoed with their moans, bodies slick with sweat. Siddu alternated between them, stripping away any remaining inhibitions, fucking them thoroughly—missionary, doggy, cowgirl—each thrust nice and deliberate, drawing out orgasms until both women were quivering messes.

From my vantage point, the feed showed it all: Siddu claiming both my wife and sister, their nude bodies entwined, Priti's surrender shocking Nidhi even as she participated. It was time. I slipped downstairs quietly, heart pounding, and stepped into the living room mid-thrust—Siddu buried in Priti from behind, Nidhi spread-eagled beside them, fingering herself.

"Room for one more?" I announced, my voice steady.

Chaos erupted. Nidhi's eyes flew open, horror etching her face. The room froze in a tableau of shock and exposed desire as my words hung in the air: "Room for one more?" Siddu, still buried balls-deep in Priti from behind, yanked out abruptly, his cock glistening with her juices, his face a mask of pure panic. "Rudra? Shit, man, I thought you were gone! This... this isn't what it looks like!" He stumbled back, his erection wilting slightly under the weight of getting caught fucking my wife and my sister in our living room. Priti, on all fours with her ass still raised, turned her head, her eyes wide in feigned horror. "Rudra! Oh god, how... when did you get back?" But there was a flicker in her gaze—a knowing spark that Siddu missed, buried under his own guilt.

Nidhi, my beautiful sister, was the epicenter of the chaos. She lay spread-eagled on the sofa, her nude body slick with sweat and Siddu's earlier attentions, her heavy breasts heaving with ragged breaths. Her pussy, still puffy and wet from the thorough fucking Siddu had given her, clenched involuntarily at the sight of me. But her face—oh, that face—was a storm of mortification. "Rudra! No, no, no—this can't be happening!" She scrambled to sit up, her legs snapping shut as she grabbed a discarded dupatta to shield her breasts and crotch, tears welling in her wide eyes. "You're my brother! Get out! Please, just leave!" Her voice cracked, the orthodox upbringing we'd both been raised under crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Nidhi had always been the "good" one—the divorced mom who clung to family values, even as Siddu had slowly corrupted her over the past weeks. Now, exposed in front of me, her own flesh and blood, the shame was visceral.

I stood there, fully clothed in my shirt and pants, my cock already straining against the fabric from watching the feed upstairs. The cameras had captured every moment: Siddu stripping both women methodically, starting with Nidhi's salwar kameez, peeling away her modesty layer by layer until she was in her simple white bra and panties, then baring her completely. He'd done the same to Priti, his hands bold and unapologetic, turning my modest wife into a nude, willing participant. Then the fucking—nice and deliberate, alternating between them like they were his personal harem. Nidhi's moans as he licked her to orgasm, Priti's cries as he pounded her from behind. It had been torture to watch, but now it was my turn.

Ignoring Siddu's stammering apologies and Priti's half-hearted protests, I focused on Nidhi. She was the prize—the forbidden fruit I'd craved since we were teens, sneaking glances at her changing, fantasizing about her curves. I stepped closer, my voice calm but commanding, laced with the authority of years of pent-up lust. "Nidhi, look at me. Really look." She shook her head frantically, tears spilling down her cheeks, her body curled into a defensive ball on the sofa. But I knelt beside her, my hand reaching out slowly, gently prying the dupatta from her grip. She resisted at first, her fingers clutching it like a lifeline, but I persisted, my touch firm yet not forceful. "You've already crossed lines tonight, sis. With Siddu, with Priti. Why stop now?"

Her breath hitched, her eyes flicking to mine for a split second before darting away. "Because... because you're my brother, Rudra. This is incest—it's wrong, so wrong!" Her voice trembled, but I noticed how her thighs pressed together, not just in defense, but with a subtle friction, her body betraying the arousal still simmering from Siddu's attentions. I placed my hand on her knee, my palm warm against her skin, and she flinched—but didn't pull away. Step one: contact established.

"Good girls like you always say that," I murmured, my fingers tracing a slow circle on her knee, inching upward ever so slightly. Siddu hovered awkwardly nearby, his cock half-hard again despite the shock, glancing between us. Priti sat up, her nude body on display, watching with that hidden gleam—she knew the plan, but Nidhi's shock at her "surrender" earlier still lingered. Nidhi had whispered it during Siddu's fucking: "Priti... how can you just give in like that?" Seeing my wife, the loyal Priti, stripped and fucked without resistance had rocked Nidhi more than her own nudity.

My hand slid higher, to her thigh, squeezing gently. Nidhi gasped, her legs parting just a fraction before she clamped them shut again. "Rudra, stop... please." But her plea was weaker, her eyes now locked on my hand, watching it move. I leaned in, my breath hot against her ear. "You didn't stop Siddu when he stripped you, did you? When he licked your pussy until you came screaming. Why fight me, Nidhi? I'm family. I know what you need." My fingers brushed the inner seam of her thigh, teasing the heat radiating from her core. She whimpered, a soft, involuntary sound that sent blood rushing to my cock. Step two: arousal acknowledged.

Siddu finally found his voice, edging toward the door. "Look, Rudra, I'm sorry, man. I didn't know... I'll just go." But Priti grabbed his arm, pulling him back with a sultry smile. "Stay, Siddu. Rudra doesn't mind—do you, honey?" She winked at me subtly, playing her role. Siddu looked confused, but his cock twitched at the prospect, and he stayed, watching as I worked on Nidhi.

Nidhi's body trembled under my touch, her resistance cracking like thin ice. "I... I can't, Rudra. What about our family? Mom, Dad—they'd disown us." But as she spoke, my hand cupped her outer thigh, massaging the flesh, and her legs relaxed minutely, allowing me closer. I traced upward, my fingertips grazing the edge of her pussy lips, slick from earlier. She moaned—a quiet, defeated sound—and her hips shifted toward me. "See? Your body's already surrendering, sis. Wet for your brother." I dipped a finger along her slit, collecting her moisture, and she arched slightly, biting her lip to stifle a cry. Step three: physical submission.

Tears streamed down her face, but her eyes held a new spark—conflict melting into desire. "Rudra... it's so wrong, but... oh god." I withdrew my finger, bringing it to her lips. "Taste yourself, Nidhi. Taste how much you want this." She hesitated, her orthodox facade crumbling, then parted her lips, sucking my finger clean. The act was her first active surrender, her tongue swirling tentatively. Siddu groaned at the sight, stroking himself back to full hardness. Priti licked her lips, her hand sliding between her own legs.

"Good girl," I praised, my voice low and degrading. "Look at you, Nidhi—my prim and proper sister, sucking her own juices off her brother's finger like a slut. And Priti, my faithful wife, watching her husband corrupt his sister while she fingers her cheating cunt." Priti moaned at the words, but Nidhi flushed deeper, shame fueling her arousal. I stood, pulling Nidhi to her knees in front of me. She knelt shakily, her nude body on display—breasts hanging heavy, nipples erect, pussy glistening. "Now, strip me, sis. Show me how much you want your brother's cock."

Her hands trembled as she reached for my shirt buttons, undoing them one by one. "Rudra... I shouldn't..." But she continued, peeling the shirt off my shoulders, revealing my toned chest. Her fingers trailed down my abs, hesitant but curious, and I grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand to my belt. "Faster, Nidhi. Don't pretend you haven't thought about this. I know you've peeked at me before, wondering what it would feel like." She unbuckled my belt, unzipping my pants, pulling them down along with my boxers. My cock sprang free—thick, veined, harder than ever—bobbing in front of her face.

Nidhi stared, her breath quickening. "It's... so big." I tangled my fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. "Suck it, sis. Worship your brother's cock like the family whore you are." She resisted for a moment, turning her head away, but I held firm. "Do it, Nidhi. Or I'll make you beg." Her lips parted, and she took the tip into her mouth, sucking tentatively at first. The warmth of her tongue sent jolts through me, and I groaned, thrusting gently. "That's it, you filthy slut. Suck your brother's dick while your lover watches. And Priti—my backstabbing wife—get over here and lick my balls."

Priti crawled over eagerly, her tongue lapping at my sack as Nidhi bobbed deeper, her surrender complete. Nidhi's technique improved with each pass—swirling her tongue, hollowing her cheeks—tears mixing with saliva as she gagged slightly. "Look at you two," I degraded, my voice rough. "Nidhi, my innocent sister, turned into a cocksucking whore. Priti, the devoted wife, tonguing her husband's balls after getting fucked by another man. You're both pathetic sluts, aren't you?" They moaned in unison, the words degrading them further, heightening the taboo.

I pulled Nidhi off my cock after a few minutes, her lips swollen and shiny. "Enough foreplay. Time to fuck you, sis." I pushed her back onto the sofa, spreading her legs wide. She whimpered, her pussy dripping in anticipation. "Rudra... please, be gentle." But I rubbed my tip against her entrance, teasing. "Gentle? For a sister who spreads her legs for strangers? No, Nidhi—you get it rough." I thrust in hard, burying myself to the hilt in one go. She screamed, her walls clenching around me, her breasts bouncing wildly.

I pounded her mercilessly, each thrust deep and punishing. "Take it, you incestuous bitch. Feel your brother's cock stretching your dirty cunt." Nidhi's cries turned from pain to pleasure, her hips meeting mine. "Oh god, Rudra... yes, fuck me!" I slapped her breasts, watching them redden. "And Priti, watch how I claim my sister. You're next, you cheating whore—after Siddu's cum is still leaking from you."

Siddu, emboldened now, pulled Priti onto his lap, fucking her as they watched. The room filled with moans, slaps, and my degrading words: "Nidhi, you're nothing but a family fucktoy now. Priti, my slut wife, getting off on her husband's incest." Nidhi came first, her orgasm ripping through her, squirting around my cock. I followed, pulling out to cum on her tits, marking her.

But the night was far from over. I flipped Nidhi onto her stomach, entering her from behind while making her eat Priti's pussy. "Lick my wife's cheating hole, sis. Taste Siddu's load while I fuck you." Degrading them relentlessly, I orchestrated position after position: Nidhi riding me reverse cowgirl, her ass bouncing as I slapped it; Priti sixty-nining with Nidhi while Siddu and I took turns. Hours blurred into a haze of orgasms, sweat, and taboo ecstasy.

By dawn, Nidhi lay in my arms, her body spent, whispering, "Rudra... I surrender." Priti and Siddu collapsed nearby, the group forever changed. I'd claimed my sister, degraded them all, and the fantasies were just beginning.
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Messages In This Thread
How I made my wife fuck my friend - by Kohsaitap - 06-04-2024, 04:59 PM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by Kabib - 07-04-2024, 01:57 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by redarc - 08-04-2024, 01:54 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by redarc - 10-04-2024, 01:59 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by redarc - 15-04-2024, 01:45 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by qazmlp - 15-04-2024, 02:10 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by ad1x - 21-04-2024, 05:49 PM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by redarc - 02-05-2024, 05:27 PM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by redarc - 07-06-2024, 12:50 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by Razz - 14-08-2025, 11:57 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by Kohsaitap - 03-09-2025, 11:32 AM
RE: How I made my wife fuck my friend - by ssxxx - 09-09-2025, 01:42 AM



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