07-09-2025, 05:26 AM
The days following the balcony spectacles blurred into a haze of insatiable desire and escalating risks, each encounter building upon the last like layers of a forbidden cake—sweet, decadent, and dangerously addictive. Nidhi's lavish apartment in the gated community had become my personal playground, her body a canvas for my darkest whims. The bachelor brothers across the way had evolved from mere voyeurs to active participants in my fantasies, their hungry stares fueling Nidhi's shame-laced ecstasy. Meanwhile, back at home, Priti's accidental exposure to the milkman had ignited a spark that refused to be extinguished, pulling her deeper into the web of exhibitionism and submission. Siddu's visits continued, always under my watchful eye, his dominance over Priti a thrilling counterpoint to my control over Nidhi. But as the secrets piled up—incestuous ravagings, public displays, shared wives—the need to cover them grew, birthing new deceptions, new indulgences. To hide the old sins, we'd create fresh ones, entangling more souls in our twisted game. It was inevitable: Nidhi would make the brothers' dreams come true, and Priti would surrender to the milkman's gaze, all while I orchestrated from the shadows, my hunger growing with every moan.
It started innocently enough—or as innocently as our lives could be—with Nidhi. After days of teasing the brothers with her balcony performances, their "accidental" encounters in the community corridors had become charged with unspoken promises. The elder brother, Arjun, a tall, athletic software engineer with a perpetual smirk, had taken to lingering near the elevators, his eyes devouring Nidhi whenever she passed. His younger sibling, Karan, shorter but more muscular from his gym routine, was less subtle, often "bumping" into her at the community pool or gym, his compliments laced with innuendo. "Nidhi ma'am, that balcony show last night? You're a goddess. We'd worship you properly if given the chance," Karan had whispered one afternoon, his hand brushing her waist as she collected her mail. Nidhi had flushed, mumbling denials, but later that evening, as I fucked her on the kitchen table, she confessed the thrill. "Rudra... they want me. It's wrong, but... imagining them joining us makes me so wet."
I paused mid-thrust, my cock buried deep inside her, her saree hiked up and blouse torn open. "Then make their dreams come true, sis," I growled, slapping her ass sharply. "Invite them over tomorrow. Let them fuck you while I watch—hidden, of course. We'll say it's your mystery lover arranging it, to keep my identity safe." Her eyes widened, a mix of horror and arousal flashing across her face. "But... the kids? The community? If word gets out..." I thrust harder, making her gasp. "That's the risk, Nidhi. Secrets to cover secrets. You'll do it because you're my slut now." She came then, her pussy clenching around me as she nodded frantically. "Yes... brother... I'll do it."
The next day, I orchestrated it all from afar, texting Nidhi instructions while I "worked" from home—though in reality, I was setting up Priti's own adventure. Nidhi, dressed in a provocative red saree that hugged her curves, "accidentally" ran into the brothers in the lobby. "Arjun, Karan... about those... glimpses you've been getting," she said shyly, her voice trembling. "My... lover wants to share me. Tomorrow evening, when my kids are at their grandparents'. Come over. But no questions about him—he stays anonymous." The brothers' faces lit up like they'd won the lottery, agreeing eagerly. "Anything for you, ma'am," Arjun said, his voice husky. "We'll make it unforgettable."
That evening, as Nidhi prepared, I slipped into her apartment early, hiding in the walk-in closet of her master bedroom with a perfect view through the slats. The lavish space was dimly lit with candles, soft music playing to set the mood. Nidhi paced nervously in her saree, her heavy breasts straining against the blouse, her mind racing with the taboo of what was to come. When the doorbell rang, she answered, ushering Arjun and Karan inside. They were dressed casually—jeans and t-shirts that did little to hide their excitement, bulges already forming. "Nidhi ma'am... you look stunning," Karan said, his eyes roaming hungrily. "Where's your mystery man?"
"He's... watching from afar," she lied, glancing toward the closet. "This is for him. Now, make me forget my name." The brothers didn't need more encouragement. Arjun stepped forward first, pulling her into a deep kiss, his hands cupping her ass through the saree. Karan joined from behind, pressing against her, his lips on her neck as he untied her pallu. Nidhi moaned into Arjun's mouth, her body responding despite her nerves, her nipples hardening as they stripped her layer by layer. The saree fell to the floor, followed by her petticoat, leaving her in just her blouse and panties. "Fuck, those tits," Karan groaned, ripping open her blouse to free her heavy breasts, sucking on one nipple while Arjun took the other.
They led her to the bedroom, pushing her onto the king-sized bed. From my hiding spot, I watched with throbbing arousal, stroking myself slowly as Arjun knelt between her legs, pulling her panties aside to lick her pussy. "So wet already, ma'am? Your lover must have trained you well," he teased, his tongue delving deep. Nidhi arched, her hands gripping the sheets. "Oh god... yes... eat me..." Karan straddled her chest, freeing his cock—thick and veined—and feeding it into her mouth. She sucked eagerly, her orthodox facade shattered as she deepthroated him, gagging slightly but pushing on. The sight was intoxicating: my sister, the widow businesswoman, being devoured by two strangers while I watched, her moans muffled around Karan's shaft.
Arjun entered her first, thrusting into her slick pussy with a grunt. "Tight as fuck... better than the balcony teases." He pounded her missionary, her legs wrapped around him, breasts bouncing wildly. Karan pulled out of her mouth to let her scream, then switched positions, taking her doggy-style while Arjun fucked her face. They tagged team her relentlessly, flipping her between them, her body slick with sweat. "Ride me, slut," Karan commanded, lying back as she mounted him reverse cowgirl, her ass facing Arjun who slapped it red. She bounced frantically, her cries echoing: "Fuck me... both of you... harder!" Arjun lubed his cock with her juices and entered her ass slowly, making her scream in pleasure-pain as they DP'd her, filling both holes.
From the closet, I came quietly, my seed spilling onto a towel as I watched Nidhi shatter, orgasming multiple times, squirting onto the sheets. The brothers came too—Arjun in her ass, Karan in her pussy—pulling out to paint her body with the rest. "Best fuck ever, ma'am," Arjun panted, collapsing beside her. Nidhi lay there, cum-dripping and spent, whispering, "This covers our secrets... right?" They nodded, promising discretion, but I knew it was just the start—more encounters to ensure silence, layering secrets upon secrets.
While Nidhi fulfilled the brothers' dreams, Priti's own descent mirrored it back at our apartment. The milkman, Raju—a burly, middle-aged man with a mustache and weathered skin from years of early deliveries—hadn't forgotten the accidental spectacle. Since walking in on Siddu fucking Priti while I watched, he'd lingered during drop-offs, his eyes hopeful, knocking instead of leaving bottles outside. Priti noticed, confessing to me one night as I fucked her post-Siddu visit. "Rudra... the milkman, Raju—he stares now. It excites me, the way he undresses me with his eyes. What if... we make his dream come true? To cover up that incident, maybe... give him more?"
I grinned, thrusting deeper. "Perfect, my slut wife. Tomorrow morning, when he delivers. I'll hide and watch. Seduce him—let him fuck you right in the hall. Secrets breeding secrets." She moaned her agreement, her pussy clenching at the idea.
The next morning, I positioned myself behind the partially open bedroom door, peeking out with a clear view of the hall. Priti wore a thin nightie that left little to the imagination, her curves on display as she waited. When Raju knocked, she opened the door with a smile. "Raju ji... come in, the bottles are heavy today." He stepped inside hesitantly, his eyes widening at her attire, the outline of her nipples visible. "Ma'am... I, uh, saw something last time. I didn't mean to..."
Priti stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. "You saw me being... enjoyed. Did you like it, Raju ji? Want to make that dream real?" His face flushed, but his bulge grew. "Ma'am... your husband?" She glanced toward my hiding spot with a wink. "He's at work. This is our secret—to forget what you saw before." She dropped to her knees, unzipping his pants to free his thick, uncut cock, sucking it eagerly. Raju groaned, his hands in her hair. "Oh ma'am... yes..."
She led him to the sofa, stripping her nightie to reveal her nude body. Raju worshiped her, sucking her breasts, fingering her wet pussy. "So beautiful... better than dreaming." He entered her missionary, thrusting with surprising vigor, her legs over his shoulders. "Fuck me, Raju ji... claim me like Siddu did." He pounded harder, the sofa creaking, her moans filling the room. From my vantage, I stroked myself, aroused by the sight of my wife submitting to this common man. Raju came inside her, grunting, then pulled out to cum on her tits. "Thank you, ma'am... our secret." But as he left, I knew it'd happen again—to ensure his silence.
The fulfillments spiraled. Nidhi invited the brothers back twice that week, each time with me hidden, watching them ravage her in new ways: once in the shower, water cascading as they took turns; another in the home office, bending her over the desk amid business papers. "This keeps our mouths shut," Arjun said post-fuck, but their demands grew, wanting photos, videos—more secrets to layer. Nidhi obliged, her shame turning to addiction, confessing to me as I reclaimed her afterward. "Rudra... fucking them while you watch... it's intoxicating. But what if the community finds out?"
Priti's milkman encounters escalated too. Raju returned daily, now fucking her in the kitchen before deliveries, his rough hands leaving marks. One day, he brought a friend—a fellow vendor—claiming, "To share the secret, ma'am. He saw me leaving happy." Priti, aroused by the escalation, let them both have her on the dining table, one in her mouth, the other in her pussy. I watched from hiding, cumming as she screamed in ecstasy. "More secrets... to cover the old," she panted later.
Siddu's visits intertwined, always with me present. One evening, as he fucked Priti on the bed, I mentioned the milkman. "Hot, man. Bring him next time—let's share her properly." It happened: Siddu and Raju tag-teaming Priti while I watched, her body a vessel for their desires. Similarly, with Nidhi, I hinted to the brothers about "inviting friends," but held back—for now.
The web grew: Nidhi seducing a security guard who'd glimpsed the balcony shows, fucking him in the parking garage to buy silence; Priti blowing the society's plumber after he "overheard" moans. Each act birthed new deceptions, a pyramid of taboos. My goals expanded—total domination, endless sharing. The dreams fulfilled, but at what cost? The thrill was worth it, the game eternal.
It started innocently enough—or as innocently as our lives could be—with Nidhi. After days of teasing the brothers with her balcony performances, their "accidental" encounters in the community corridors had become charged with unspoken promises. The elder brother, Arjun, a tall, athletic software engineer with a perpetual smirk, had taken to lingering near the elevators, his eyes devouring Nidhi whenever she passed. His younger sibling, Karan, shorter but more muscular from his gym routine, was less subtle, often "bumping" into her at the community pool or gym, his compliments laced with innuendo. "Nidhi ma'am, that balcony show last night? You're a goddess. We'd worship you properly if given the chance," Karan had whispered one afternoon, his hand brushing her waist as she collected her mail. Nidhi had flushed, mumbling denials, but later that evening, as I fucked her on the kitchen table, she confessed the thrill. "Rudra... they want me. It's wrong, but... imagining them joining us makes me so wet."
I paused mid-thrust, my cock buried deep inside her, her saree hiked up and blouse torn open. "Then make their dreams come true, sis," I growled, slapping her ass sharply. "Invite them over tomorrow. Let them fuck you while I watch—hidden, of course. We'll say it's your mystery lover arranging it, to keep my identity safe." Her eyes widened, a mix of horror and arousal flashing across her face. "But... the kids? The community? If word gets out..." I thrust harder, making her gasp. "That's the risk, Nidhi. Secrets to cover secrets. You'll do it because you're my slut now." She came then, her pussy clenching around me as she nodded frantically. "Yes... brother... I'll do it."
The next day, I orchestrated it all from afar, texting Nidhi instructions while I "worked" from home—though in reality, I was setting up Priti's own adventure. Nidhi, dressed in a provocative red saree that hugged her curves, "accidentally" ran into the brothers in the lobby. "Arjun, Karan... about those... glimpses you've been getting," she said shyly, her voice trembling. "My... lover wants to share me. Tomorrow evening, when my kids are at their grandparents'. Come over. But no questions about him—he stays anonymous." The brothers' faces lit up like they'd won the lottery, agreeing eagerly. "Anything for you, ma'am," Arjun said, his voice husky. "We'll make it unforgettable."
That evening, as Nidhi prepared, I slipped into her apartment early, hiding in the walk-in closet of her master bedroom with a perfect view through the slats. The lavish space was dimly lit with candles, soft music playing to set the mood. Nidhi paced nervously in her saree, her heavy breasts straining against the blouse, her mind racing with the taboo of what was to come. When the doorbell rang, she answered, ushering Arjun and Karan inside. They were dressed casually—jeans and t-shirts that did little to hide their excitement, bulges already forming. "Nidhi ma'am... you look stunning," Karan said, his eyes roaming hungrily. "Where's your mystery man?"
"He's... watching from afar," she lied, glancing toward the closet. "This is for him. Now, make me forget my name." The brothers didn't need more encouragement. Arjun stepped forward first, pulling her into a deep kiss, his hands cupping her ass through the saree. Karan joined from behind, pressing against her, his lips on her neck as he untied her pallu. Nidhi moaned into Arjun's mouth, her body responding despite her nerves, her nipples hardening as they stripped her layer by layer. The saree fell to the floor, followed by her petticoat, leaving her in just her blouse and panties. "Fuck, those tits," Karan groaned, ripping open her blouse to free her heavy breasts, sucking on one nipple while Arjun took the other.
They led her to the bedroom, pushing her onto the king-sized bed. From my hiding spot, I watched with throbbing arousal, stroking myself slowly as Arjun knelt between her legs, pulling her panties aside to lick her pussy. "So wet already, ma'am? Your lover must have trained you well," he teased, his tongue delving deep. Nidhi arched, her hands gripping the sheets. "Oh god... yes... eat me..." Karan straddled her chest, freeing his cock—thick and veined—and feeding it into her mouth. She sucked eagerly, her orthodox facade shattered as she deepthroated him, gagging slightly but pushing on. The sight was intoxicating: my sister, the widow businesswoman, being devoured by two strangers while I watched, her moans muffled around Karan's shaft.
Arjun entered her first, thrusting into her slick pussy with a grunt. "Tight as fuck... better than the balcony teases." He pounded her missionary, her legs wrapped around him, breasts bouncing wildly. Karan pulled out of her mouth to let her scream, then switched positions, taking her doggy-style while Arjun fucked her face. They tagged team her relentlessly, flipping her between them, her body slick with sweat. "Ride me, slut," Karan commanded, lying back as she mounted him reverse cowgirl, her ass facing Arjun who slapped it red. She bounced frantically, her cries echoing: "Fuck me... both of you... harder!" Arjun lubed his cock with her juices and entered her ass slowly, making her scream in pleasure-pain as they DP'd her, filling both holes.
From the closet, I came quietly, my seed spilling onto a towel as I watched Nidhi shatter, orgasming multiple times, squirting onto the sheets. The brothers came too—Arjun in her ass, Karan in her pussy—pulling out to paint her body with the rest. "Best fuck ever, ma'am," Arjun panted, collapsing beside her. Nidhi lay there, cum-dripping and spent, whispering, "This covers our secrets... right?" They nodded, promising discretion, but I knew it was just the start—more encounters to ensure silence, layering secrets upon secrets.
While Nidhi fulfilled the brothers' dreams, Priti's own descent mirrored it back at our apartment. The milkman, Raju—a burly, middle-aged man with a mustache and weathered skin from years of early deliveries—hadn't forgotten the accidental spectacle. Since walking in on Siddu fucking Priti while I watched, he'd lingered during drop-offs, his eyes hopeful, knocking instead of leaving bottles outside. Priti noticed, confessing to me one night as I fucked her post-Siddu visit. "Rudra... the milkman, Raju—he stares now. It excites me, the way he undresses me with his eyes. What if... we make his dream come true? To cover up that incident, maybe... give him more?"
I grinned, thrusting deeper. "Perfect, my slut wife. Tomorrow morning, when he delivers. I'll hide and watch. Seduce him—let him fuck you right in the hall. Secrets breeding secrets." She moaned her agreement, her pussy clenching at the idea.
The next morning, I positioned myself behind the partially open bedroom door, peeking out with a clear view of the hall. Priti wore a thin nightie that left little to the imagination, her curves on display as she waited. When Raju knocked, she opened the door with a smile. "Raju ji... come in, the bottles are heavy today." He stepped inside hesitantly, his eyes widening at her attire, the outline of her nipples visible. "Ma'am... I, uh, saw something last time. I didn't mean to..."
Priti stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. "You saw me being... enjoyed. Did you like it, Raju ji? Want to make that dream real?" His face flushed, but his bulge grew. "Ma'am... your husband?" She glanced toward my hiding spot with a wink. "He's at work. This is our secret—to forget what you saw before." She dropped to her knees, unzipping his pants to free his thick, uncut cock, sucking it eagerly. Raju groaned, his hands in her hair. "Oh ma'am... yes..."
She led him to the sofa, stripping her nightie to reveal her nude body. Raju worshiped her, sucking her breasts, fingering her wet pussy. "So beautiful... better than dreaming." He entered her missionary, thrusting with surprising vigor, her legs over his shoulders. "Fuck me, Raju ji... claim me like Siddu did." He pounded harder, the sofa creaking, her moans filling the room. From my vantage, I stroked myself, aroused by the sight of my wife submitting to this common man. Raju came inside her, grunting, then pulled out to cum on her tits. "Thank you, ma'am... our secret." But as he left, I knew it'd happen again—to ensure his silence.
The fulfillments spiraled. Nidhi invited the brothers back twice that week, each time with me hidden, watching them ravage her in new ways: once in the shower, water cascading as they took turns; another in the home office, bending her over the desk amid business papers. "This keeps our mouths shut," Arjun said post-fuck, but their demands grew, wanting photos, videos—more secrets to layer. Nidhi obliged, her shame turning to addiction, confessing to me as I reclaimed her afterward. "Rudra... fucking them while you watch... it's intoxicating. But what if the community finds out?"
Priti's milkman encounters escalated too. Raju returned daily, now fucking her in the kitchen before deliveries, his rough hands leaving marks. One day, he brought a friend—a fellow vendor—claiming, "To share the secret, ma'am. He saw me leaving happy." Priti, aroused by the escalation, let them both have her on the dining table, one in her mouth, the other in her pussy. I watched from hiding, cumming as she screamed in ecstasy. "More secrets... to cover the old," she panted later.
Siddu's visits intertwined, always with me present. One evening, as he fucked Priti on the bed, I mentioned the milkman. "Hot, man. Bring him next time—let's share her properly." It happened: Siddu and Raju tag-teaming Priti while I watched, her body a vessel for their desires. Similarly, with Nidhi, I hinted to the brothers about "inviting friends," but held back—for now.
The web grew: Nidhi seducing a security guard who'd glimpsed the balcony shows, fucking him in the parking garage to buy silence; Priti blowing the society's plumber after he "overheard" moans. Each act birthed new deceptions, a pyramid of taboos. My goals expanded—total domination, endless sharing. The dreams fulfilled, but at what cost? The thrill was worth it, the game eternal.