Adultery The journey of an Indian couple
#11
(11-10-2025, 07:58 AM)cutekomal Wrote: The following morning, we woke up to a heavy silence. We were physically tired, having slept after the intense emotional exhaustion of the previous night. **Samiksha smiled at me, but her eyes held a weariness** that went beyond just lack of sleep; it was the residue of the ordeal she endured, the pain from Vikram’s rough handling. The tension between us was palpable, despite my attempts the previous night to diffuse her anger by claiming I was only jealous because Vikram satisfied her in ways I couldn't. I knew deep down that my true motivation for masturbating and climaxing on her was the sheer, overwhelming lust fueled by the thought that she had a "whore hidden inside her".



I got up and checked my phone. The 25k Vikram had given us felt heavy in my pocket, but I knew that this money, like the 20k from Alok, would sustain us for a very limited time. The bills were relentless, eating up our temporary income. I was still adamantly searching for a new job, but the market was down, and finding work was proving difficult. I had to confront the reality that **Samiksha might have to venture out again**.



Later that day, Samiksha broke the silence. She sat next to me on the couch while I was pretending to look for jobs on my laptop. “How long do you think this 25k will last?” she asked softly. Her question mirrored my own anxiety. I answered truthfully, "Maybe a little over two weeks, if we are careful, baby." She nodded, a thoughtful, distant look in her eyes. It reminded me of the days following our first conversation about Richa, when Samiksha was often lost in thought, contemplating what she needed to do for our financial condition.



My ego immediately flared up. Was she already planning the next session? Was she craving the rough attention Vikram gave her? I had seen how she had eventually given in to the pleasure, even wrapping her legs around Vikram and sucking his tongue. I found myself simultaneously disgusted and intensely aroused by the memory of her getting penetrated by Vikram. I watched her closely, trying to discern if her concern was purely financial, or if she was subtly expressing a desire to continue this new "lifestyle".



“We need to look at the emails again,” I finally said, avoiding her eyes. I didn't want her to suggest calling Vikram again, which had previously tripped my ego. Samiksha readily agreed, which surprisingly disappointed me, as I half-expected her to object out of shame or pain. We logged into our email id. We had decided before that we would only do this until I found a new job. The emails were still pouring in, mostly from "freeloaders" or people who didn't provide enough details.



We sifted through the messages, looking for genuine "clients" who would pay the charge we demanded. We came across an email from someone named **Rajat, a 30-year-old software engineer from Pune**, who mentioned he was visiting Mumbai the following week. His email was detailed and polite, explaining that he was looking for a discreet cuckold relationship and was ready to pay Rs 30,000, explicitly stating he was a fan of the “modern Indian couples” lifestyle mentioned in the article we had read.



"Thirty thousand, Amey," Samiksha whispered, her eyes wide. "That's more than Alok or Vikram offered". The thought of gaining 30k instantly quieted the part of me that was fighting against this "lifestyle". The money felt essential to our survival, sustaining us until I could secure new employment.



We decided to contact Rajat. I picked up the phone and dialed the number he provided, while **Samiksha sat naked beside me**, as she had when we called Vikram.

Me: Hello, Rajat? This is Amey calling from Mumbai. We received your email regarding the cuckold relationship.

Rajat: Amey! I’m surprised you called so quickly. I am very serious about this. Your wife is Samiksha, correct?

Me: Yes, that’s right. We can meet you next Tuesday evening when you are in Mumbai.

Rajat: Perfect. But before we finalize, I need to know: what exactly are the charges, and is there any flexibility?

Me: The charge is 30,000 .

Rajat: Done. I agree to 30,000. I just have one request. Can I meet both of you naked first? I want to see how beautiful she is and how excited you are to show her off.



My blood boiled at the boldness of his request, and Samiksha gasped beside me. He was demanding a viewing before committing the money. This was even worse than Vikram forcing me to send a picture. I held the phone tight. My mind raced: *we need the money.*

Me: We don't generally agree to that, Rajat. But if you meet us in a private room at Hotel ****, and you pay us 10,000 immediately upon entering, we will agree to meet you naked, before proceeding with the session.

Rajat: (Laughing) You are a smart man, Amey. I like that. Yes, I agree to your terms. I look forward to meeting you and your **hot naked wife** next Tuesday at 7 PM.



I hung up the phone. I looked at Samiksha. Her face was flushed, but she wasn’t angry this time. Instead, she smiled, a small, weary but confident smile. She hugged me tight. "I love you, baby," she said, "We are going to be okay." I hugged her back, feeling immense guilt but also an undeniable surge of excitement knowing that my beautiful wife, who now seemed almost eager, would soon be naked in front of another man, and I would be there to watch. The catalyst had indeed changed us forever.


After the phone call with Rajat concluded, the agreement hung heavy in the air. Rajat, the 30-year-old software engineer from Pune, had secured his appointment for the following Tuesday evening at 7 PM at Hotel ****. The terms were clear, challenging, and financially compelling: he would pay Rs 30,000 for the session, but first, he demanded to meet both of us naked upon entering the private room, preceded by an immediate payment of Rs 10,000.
The interim days were a strained blend of expectation and necessity. The 25k Vikram had paid us was dwindling rapidly, proving the decision to seek another client essential for our survival. I was still adamantly searching for a job, but the market conditions remained poor. Samiksha’s demeanor since the phone call was unsettling; the shame and pain from Vikram’s rough handling seemed to have been replaced by a "small, weary but confident smile". When she hugged me, affirming "We are going to be okay," I felt a paralyzing mix of "immense guilt but also an undeniable surge of excitement". My ego had initially flared at Rajat’s audacity, but the promise of 30k had quickly silenced the part of me fighting the "lifestyle".
Tuesday evening arrived, bringing with it a sharp, nervous anticipation. I kept reminding myself that we needed this money, which felt "essential to our survival, sustaining us until I could secure new employment".
We booked the private room at Hotel **** and waited. As 7 PM approached, Samiksha looked calm, though her eyes still carried a deep weariness. I knew, however, that her recent experiences, and perhaps the money itself, had solidified her resolve.
There was a knock on the door precisely at 7 PM. I took a deep breath, fighting the internal battle between the shame of what we were doing and the intense arousal sparked by the idea of fulfilling Rajat's specific, degrading request. I opened the door.
Rajat was standing there, exactly as he had presented himself in the email: detailed and polite, yet with a confidence that matched his bold request. He was perhaps better dressed than either Alok or Vikram had been, fitting the description of a successful software engineer.
"Amey," he greeted me, his eyes quickly sweeping past me to Samiksha, who stood a few steps behind me. "You came. And Samiksha is just as beautiful as I imagined."
I quickly cut to the agreed-upon arrangement, feeling the need to maintain control, though I was inwardly trembling. "Rajat, the 10,000, as we discussed. And then we proceed."
He laughed—a genuine, appreciative laugh. "You are a smart man, Amey. I like that," just as he had said on the phone. He immediately pulled out a stack of crisp notes and placed them in my hand. "Ten thousand, paid for the viewing."
The touch of the money instantly subdued my moral objections. I counted it quickly, nodding in confirmation.
Rajat looked intently at Samiksha. "Now, the viewing. I want to see how beautiful she is and how excited you are to show her off," he requested, repeating the condition he had laid out earlier.
I looked at Samiksha, expecting a moment of hesitation, but she met my gaze, offering that familiar, weary but resolved smile. Without waiting for my command, she slowly began to unbutton the top she was wearing. I knew this was the point of no return. My blood started to boil again, not in anger, but in the overwhelming, lustful confirmation that my "hot naked wife" was now ready to expose herself for money. I felt the undeniable surge of excitement as I began to unbutton my own shirt, ready to show Rajat that I was indeed "excited to show her off". This new chapter was beginning, and we had fully committed to the terms of survival.

Samiksha had already begun to unbutton her top, initiating the fulfillment of Rajat's bold demand. She had shown no resistance, only that familiar, "weary but resolved smile". As the fabric parted, revealing her lingerie beneath, Rajat, the successful 30-year-old software engineer, allowed his eyes to linger on her body, confirming that she was "just as beautiful as I imagined".
I stood opposite Samiksha, attempting to maintain a facade of control, though I was inwardly trembling. I was driven by the grim reality that the promise of 30k had instantly quelled the moral part of me fighting this "lifestyle". This money felt "essential to our survival, sustaining us until I could secure new employment".
In response to Rajat’s explicit request to see "how beautiful she is and how excited you are to show her off", I began to unbutton my own shirt. The air thickened with anticipation, and the internal battle raging inside me—the "immense guilt but also an undeniable surge of excitement"—intensified as I actively participated in her exposure. I was confirming to Rajat that I was indeed "excited to show her off".
Samiksha’s movements were slow, almost practiced. She slid her top down her arms and let it fall to the floor. Next, she reached for the clasp of her skirt, letting it pool around her feet. She stood before Rajat in only her undergarments. Her figure—which the sources describe as fair, about 5-2 height and having a sexy slim figure of 34-28-34—was being offered up for judgment.
Rajat leaned forward slightly from the bed, his gaze unwavering, taking in the sight of my "hot naked wife" piece by piece. His expression was one of genuine appreciation, not just for the view, but for the success of his negotiation: he had demanded a viewing and received immediate compliance for the 10,000 paid.
I finished removing my own shirt and shorts, standing beside Samiksha in my underwear, confirming my own arousal, which was clearly visible. The memory of Vikram’s rough session was still fresh, yet Samiksha, having previously been lost in thought contemplating what she needed to do for our financial condition, was now resolute.
Finally, Samiksha looked at me, gave a subtle nod, and with a deep breath, undid her bra. Her breasts, firm and exposed, swelled slightly as the fabric dropped. Then, she slowly pulled down her panties. She stood completely naked, wearing only the weary but confident expression that marked her transition since the night with Vikram. This was the explicit viewing Rajat had paid for.
Rajat simply watched for a long moment, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. He nodded, acknowledging the completion of the terms. The initial 10,000 was earned, and the full 30,000 session was now ready to commence. We had fully committed to this "new chapter".

The moment Samiksha and I stood before Rajat, naked, fulfilling the demanding condition for the initial 10,000 INR, the air in the Hotel \*\*\*\* room became heavy with transactional finality. We had crossed the threshold completely; the money, which felt **"essential to our survival"**, had bought not just access, but compliance to an exhibition.

Samiksha stood perfectly still, fully naked. Her body—described as **fair, about 5-2 height and having a sexy slim figure of 34-28-34**—was now entirely exposed to the 30-year-old software engineer from Pune. She wore only the lingering traces of her previous turmoil, manifest in her **"weary but confident expression"**. The shame and pain she felt following Vikram’s rough handling had been superseded by a resolute acceptance of this new reality.

I, too, had shed my clothes, standing in only my underwear, or perhaps fully naked, confirming my own arousal. This was part of Rajat’s explicit request: he needed to see **"how excited you are to show her off"**. My visible erection was proof, serving as a silent declaration that I was participating eagerly in her humiliation and commodification. The truth was, my emotions were a tempest: **"immense guilt but also an undeniable surge of excitement"**. The memory of Vikram's aggressive penetration of my wife—which had simultaneously disgusted and intensely aroused me, fueling my own private, guilt-ridden climax—now amplified the complex desire I felt watching Rajat observe her.

Rajat, having secured the initial payment and now witnessing the performance, remained seated slightly on the edge of the bed. He didn't rush. He simply watched for a long moment, allowing the silence to stretch and intensify the explicit nature of the viewing.

His slow, predatory smile confirmed the **"success of his negotiation"**. This was not the brute force of Vikram, nor the crass familiarity of Alok. Rajat was calculated, demanding compliance up front as part of the price of the transaction, ensuring that Amey, the husband, was equally implicated and exposed in the scene.

"Amey," Rajat finally spoke, his voice measured and calm, in stark contrast to the pounding of my heart. "You are indeed a man of your word. And Samiksha..." He paused, his gaze tracing the curves of her figure, lingering on her **"perky firm breasts"** and the wetness he might infer around her pussy, which the sources noted was often ripe and wet during arousal. "...She is magnificent. Every detail is perfect."

He was confirming that the financial sacrifice was justified, quietening the last moral objection that struggled inside me. *30k. We need this to survive.*.

"You agreed to the viewing," I managed, my voice strained. I was desperately trying to assert the control I believed I held, though standing naked beside my exposed wife, I felt utterly powerless.

Rajat chuckled softly, a sound of genuine appreciation that echoed his earlier statement: **"You are a smart man, Amey. I like that,"**. "Yes. But a viewing is more than just a quick look, isn't it? It’s an examination. A confirmation of quality before I commit the full fee."

He stood up, moving slowly. He was better dressed than the previous clients had been, and his movements were deliberate and confident. He took one step closer to Samiksha.

My entire body tensed. This was the moment I feared, the transition from me controlling the gaze to Rajat possessing the experience. I could not turn away, as my function now was to exhibit her and demonstrate my **"excitement"**.

Rajat stopped inches from her. He did not touch her immediately. Instead, he looked at me. "Amey, tell me. When you look at your beautiful wife, standing here, naked for a stranger who has paid you money... what do you feel?"

This interrogation was worse than any physical demand. It forced me to articulate the conflict. The **"immense guilt"** screamed in my mind, but the physical reality of my erection demanded a different answer.

"I feel... proud," I lied, the word tasting like ash, yet somehow simultaneously fueling the heat in my groin. "I'm proud to show her off. She is mine, but tonight, she is yours." I was echoing the cuckold fantasy he sought, confirming my role as the willing exhibitor.

Samiksha remained passive, her eyes fixed on a point just past Rajat's shoulder. Her **"weary but confident smile"** was still in place, a mask of composure protecting her from the emotional violation. She was performing the role of the desirable, available woman for whom her husband had sacrificed everything.

Rajat nodded slowly, seeming satisfied with my answer. "Good. Then you won't mind if I inspect the purchase."

He lifted a hand, his fingers tracing a line from her jaw down to her shoulder. Samiksha flinched almost imperceptibly, a subtle reminder of the pain endured during Vikram's rough handling. Rajat, however, took note of the reaction and immediately adjusted his touch, making it appreciative rather than aggressive.

He moved behind her, his body heat radiating close to her back. He began to trace the curve of her spine, emphasizing her **"sexy slim figure of 34-28-34"**. My jealousy flared, but it was instantly drowned by the excitement of witnessing this proximity. I was confirming my internal belief that she had a **"whore hidden inside her"** that was now being validated by Rajat’s appreciative gaze.

"Turn around, Samiksha," Rajat instructed softly.

She complied instantly. She was **"resolute"**.

Now facing him fully, Rajat’s eyes traveled down, settling on her exposed feminine parts. Her bush, which was noted previously as appearing **"very wet and ripe"** even during the less appealing session with Alok, was now on full display.

"Amey," Rajat addressed me again, forcing my attention back to my duties. "Look at your wife. Do you see the anticipation in her?"

I stared, attempting to discern whether her current arousal was genuine, a continuation of the desire I suspected was sparked by the rougher encounters, or merely performance. She stood there, beautiful, exposed, and entirely available.

"She is ready," I affirmed, projecting my own escalating desire onto her.

Rajat smiled, acknowledging my statement. He then took Samiksha’s hand, lifting it slowly. He kissed her fingertips, a gesture far more intimate and respectful than the previous clients had offered.

"You have such soft hands, Samiksha," he murmured. "They have worked hard, haven't they? Now, they will rest, and your body will work for us."

He then guided her hands to rest on my chest, forcing us into a small, uncomfortable embrace. Our naked bodies were pressed together, but our attention was fixed entirely on the stranger who now controlled our interaction.

"Amey," Rajat commanded, "I want you to tell her how much you want me to enjoy her tonight. Tell her why she is here."

The shame was overwhelming, yet the command acted like a release valve for the accumulated guilt and lust.

"Samiksha," I began, my voice thick. "We are here because we need this. Because you are the most beautiful, desirable woman, and Rajat deserves to enjoy you. You are going to make us 30,000 tonight, baby. You are going to be perfect for him."

As I spoke the words, I felt her squeeze my hand slightly, a gesture that was either affirmation of our financial pact or a plea for reassurance. I chose to interpret it as the latter, reinforcing the narrative that we were partners in this for survival.

Rajat watched this interaction, his smile widening. He had successfully coerced the husband into verbalizing the commercial transaction and the wife's role within it. The 10,000 viewing fee was extracting the desired performance.

He stepped back and began to walk around her slowly, observing her from every angle. He was assessing her figure, paying attention to the details of her skin, the firmness of her breasts, and the shape of her ass, which was previously noted for being shapely and receiving spankings.

"Samiksha," Rajat said, stopping directly behind her. "Bend over."

The simple, unadorned command hung in the air. Samiksha paused, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of the old resistance, the reluctance she felt when Alok demanded she kneel or when Vikram forced her doggy style. But Rajat wasn't using violence; he was using the power of the contract, the **30,000** price tag.

She complied, bending forward gracefully, resting her hands on her knees, exposing her backside fully to Rajat and to my gaze. Her breasts hung forward, and her ass was perfectly poised.

Rajat reached out and ran the back of his hand across her exposed buttocks, feeling the texture of her skin. "Soft," he noted. "Perfect. I prefer a wife who is cooperative."

He then looked at me. "Amey, come here."

I walked over, standing next to Samiksha. Rajat took my hand, placing it firmly on Samiksha’s lower back.

"Hold her like this," he instructed. "I want you to feel her tension, feel her heat, and feel my anticipation."

I gripped her waist, the warmth of her naked body radiating into my palm. I could feel her breathing accelerate slightly beneath my touch.

Rajat then began to talk to Samiksha, but his words were directed at me, emphasizing my voyeuristic complicity. He placed his fingers lightly near her pussy, confirming the wetness, confirming that his presence, and mine, was stimulating her.

"She is very receptive, Amey," Rajat observed clinically. "Your efforts have certainly prepared her. This is exactly what I paid to see. The cuckold dynamic is evident."

He withdrew his hand, satisfying himself with the viewing. The performance was complete, the compliance was verified, and the arousal was confirmed.

"Excellent," Rajat said, stepping back towards the bed. He reached for his wallet again. "The viewing is concluded. The main event begins now."

He pulled out the rest of the crisp 30,000 INR notes, adding them to the 10,000 he already paid me, ensuring the full amount was visible. The sight of the money, which was **"more than Alok or Vikram offered"**, was the final, potent fuel to this **"new chapter"**.

"You may now lie down, Samiksha," Rajat commanded, his tone shifting from appreciative examiner to commanding lover. "And Amey, you remain exactly where you are. I want you watching."

Samiksha straightened up, gave me a brief, charged glance—part plea, part affirmation of her enduring love—and then walked toward the bed. She laid down, already accepting her fate, fully committed to earning the full price of our survival. I watched, my heart pounding, knowing that Rajat was about to begin what we had agreed upon, ready to experience the blend of **"guilt and undeniable surge of excitement"** that defined my role.

whats with the extremely tiny text?
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Messages In This Thread
The journey of an Indian couple - by cutekomal - 05-10-2025, 11:23 PM
RE: The journey of an Indian couple - by Xhusb - 06-10-2025, 08:25 AM
RE: The journey of an Indian couple - by eagerseeker - 11-10-2025, 08:24 AM



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