2 hours ago
Saga 9 - Scene 3 - Beggars Pleasure
==========================
Sameer left the office early, telling his boss he felt unwell. The truth was, he couldn't stop thinking about what Dipa might be doing. The stories she told him were a potent drug, but he was beginning to crave a purer, more direct hit. He let himself into the quiet house with his spare key, calling out her name. No answer. Strange. He heard a noise from the master bedroom. A low moan.
His heart began to hammer, a frantic, terrifying rhythm. He crept down the hall. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. He heard a man’s rough voice, then Dipa’s answering cry of pleasure. It was happening. Now. In their bed.
He didn't feel anger. He felt a dizzying, electric surge of pure, uncut arousal. He had to see. He slipped into the adjoining dressing room, positioning himself in the shadows where he could peer through the gap in the door. The sight that greeted him stole the air from his lungs.
Dipa was on their bed, naked, a wild, ecstatic expression on her face. And on top of her, between her, and around her, were the three beggars.
Rohan: Look at this high-class meat! Spreading her legs for us! You like this, don't you, Memsahab? You like being filled by a dirty beggar?
Dipa: Yes! Oh God, yes! Fuck my cunt, Rohan! Fill it!
Rohan was pounding into her, his rhythm brutal. Beside them, Vijay and Kiran were focused entirely on her magnificent breasts.
Vijay: Fuck, look at these tits! They’re so heavy! I want to suck them until they’re dry.
Kiran: Squeeze them harder! Let more milk come out! I want to taste it while he fucks her!
Sameer watched, his own cock straining painfully in his trousers, as Vijay bit Dipa’s nipple. She screamed, a sound of pure, agonized pleasure.
Dipa: Yes! Bite me! Hurt me! Treat me like the whore I am!
Rohan grunted, his pace quickening.
Rohan: I’m cumming, you rich slut! I’m going to fill your pretty pussy with my beggar seed!
Dipa: Give it to me! All of it! Please!
Sameer watched, his hand clamped over his own mouth to stifle a groan, as Rohan roared and emptied himself deep inside his wife. Dipa’s body convulsed around him, her own orgasm ripping through her. Rohan pulled out, and Vijay
immediately took his place.
Vijay: My turn, you milky bitch. Now I’m going to fuck you while Kiran drinks from you.
Kiran latched onto her breast, suckling like a hungry animal, while Vijay slammed into her, his cock sliding easily into her already flooded cunt. Sameer could do nothing but watch, a silent, helpless, and ecstatically aroused spectator to his wife’s brutal gang-bang. He saw the look on her face it wasn't pain or fear. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.
Dipa: Oh, fuck, yes! Your cock feels so good! Pound me harder!
Vijay: You love this, don’t you? You love being passed around by us slum dogs.
Dipa: I love it! Please… cum in me too! Fill me up!
Vijay obliged a few minutes later, adding his own load to Rohan’s inside her. Then it was Kiran’s turn. By now, Dipa was a slick, trembling mess, her mind completely gone, her body just a vessel for their lust. Kiran fucked her with a slow, grinding rhythm, savoring every moment.
Kiran: You’re all mine now, Memsahab. Full of my friends’ cum. Now you take mine.
He came with a final, deep thrust, and Dipa screamed, her third massive orgasm shaking the bed.
They were on top of her, a heap of sweaty, spent bodies. Sameer stayed hidden, his own body trembling in the aftermath of what he had witnessed. After a few minutes, the beggars stirred.
Rohan: That was good. The best yet.
Vijay: She’s a fucking animal. I love it.
Kiran: We should go.
They pulled on their filthy clothes. Dipa lay on the bed, looking utterly ravaged and incredibly beautiful.
Dipa: (a weak, breathy voice) Come again soon. And next time… bring your friends.
The beggars laughed, then slipped out of the house. The front door clicked shut. The house was silent again.
Sameer remained in the dressing room, his mind a whirlwind. She had enjoyed it. Every brutal, degrading second. She had begged for it. And she had invited them back… with friends. It wasn't about charity. It wasn't about healing.
It was about lust. Is it the smell of their sweat? he wondered. The dirty look? The danger? What is it that she loves so much?
He watched as Dipa slowly, painfully, sat up. She didn’t look ashamed. She looked sated. Powerful. She swung her legs off the bed, her cunt dripping a mixture of their semen onto the expensive sheets. She didn't seem to notice or care. She went to her bedside table, took out a packet of wet wipes, and began to calmly clean herself, wiping the cum from her belly and thighs.
Then, she did something that shattered Sameer’s world completely. She opened the drawer again and took out a long, thick, purple vibrator. She lay back on the bed, spread her legs wide, and pushed it deep inside herself.
Dipa: (a low, hungry moan) Not enough… it’s never enough…
Sameer watched in stunned disbelief as his wife, having just been brutally gang-banged by three men, began to masturbate with a frantic, desperate energy. She rode the toy, her hips bucking, her moans growing louder, until she climaxed again, a long, shuddering orgasm that left her panting and slick with a new layer of sweat. She did it again. And again. He watched her bring herself to climax three more times, each one more violent and desperate than the last.
Finally, she lay still, the vibrator falling from her hand. She was breathing heavily, a look of blissful exhaustion on her face.
Then, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. Sameer’s heart sank. Was she calling him? Was she going to confess?
He listened as she dialed. Her voice, when she spoke, was not the voice of a sated lover. It was low, seductive, and full of a new, fresh hunger.
Dipa: Usman… it’s me. I was just thinking about you. I was missing you badly… No, I’m not busy tonight. Sameer is working late… Yes, I want you to. Come at nine. I’ll be waiting.
She hung up the phone. She had just been ravaged by three men, had brought herself to orgasm multiple times, and now she was arranging for another lover to come in a few hours.
Sameer slid down the wall in the dressing room, a silent laugh escaping his lips. It wasn't a laugh of joy. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated despair and the most profound, soul-shattering arousal he had ever known. He was not a cuckold. She was an addict....his wife… his beautiful, depraved wife… and she calls herself a Healer, they call her a goddess.
And who I am ? Sameer asked himself, I am the dealer. And he would do anything for another hit. To watch her get pounded again and again.
==========================
Sameer left the office early, telling his boss he felt unwell. The truth was, he couldn't stop thinking about what Dipa might be doing. The stories she told him were a potent drug, but he was beginning to crave a purer, more direct hit. He let himself into the quiet house with his spare key, calling out her name. No answer. Strange. He heard a noise from the master bedroom. A low moan.
His heart began to hammer, a frantic, terrifying rhythm. He crept down the hall. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. He heard a man’s rough voice, then Dipa’s answering cry of pleasure. It was happening. Now. In their bed.
He didn't feel anger. He felt a dizzying, electric surge of pure, uncut arousal. He had to see. He slipped into the adjoining dressing room, positioning himself in the shadows where he could peer through the gap in the door. The sight that greeted him stole the air from his lungs.
Dipa was on their bed, naked, a wild, ecstatic expression on her face. And on top of her, between her, and around her, were the three beggars.
Rohan: Look at this high-class meat! Spreading her legs for us! You like this, don't you, Memsahab? You like being filled by a dirty beggar?
Dipa: Yes! Oh God, yes! Fuck my cunt, Rohan! Fill it!
Rohan was pounding into her, his rhythm brutal. Beside them, Vijay and Kiran were focused entirely on her magnificent breasts.
Vijay: Fuck, look at these tits! They’re so heavy! I want to suck them until they’re dry.
Kiran: Squeeze them harder! Let more milk come out! I want to taste it while he fucks her!
Sameer watched, his own cock straining painfully in his trousers, as Vijay bit Dipa’s nipple. She screamed, a sound of pure, agonized pleasure.
Dipa: Yes! Bite me! Hurt me! Treat me like the whore I am!
Rohan grunted, his pace quickening.
Rohan: I’m cumming, you rich slut! I’m going to fill your pretty pussy with my beggar seed!
Dipa: Give it to me! All of it! Please!
Sameer watched, his hand clamped over his own mouth to stifle a groan, as Rohan roared and emptied himself deep inside his wife. Dipa’s body convulsed around him, her own orgasm ripping through her. Rohan pulled out, and Vijay
immediately took his place.
Vijay: My turn, you milky bitch. Now I’m going to fuck you while Kiran drinks from you.
Kiran latched onto her breast, suckling like a hungry animal, while Vijay slammed into her, his cock sliding easily into her already flooded cunt. Sameer could do nothing but watch, a silent, helpless, and ecstatically aroused spectator to his wife’s brutal gang-bang. He saw the look on her face it wasn't pain or fear. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.
Dipa: Oh, fuck, yes! Your cock feels so good! Pound me harder!
Vijay: You love this, don’t you? You love being passed around by us slum dogs.
Dipa: I love it! Please… cum in me too! Fill me up!
Vijay obliged a few minutes later, adding his own load to Rohan’s inside her. Then it was Kiran’s turn. By now, Dipa was a slick, trembling mess, her mind completely gone, her body just a vessel for their lust. Kiran fucked her with a slow, grinding rhythm, savoring every moment.
Kiran: You’re all mine now, Memsahab. Full of my friends’ cum. Now you take mine.
He came with a final, deep thrust, and Dipa screamed, her third massive orgasm shaking the bed.
They were on top of her, a heap of sweaty, spent bodies. Sameer stayed hidden, his own body trembling in the aftermath of what he had witnessed. After a few minutes, the beggars stirred.
Rohan: That was good. The best yet.
Vijay: She’s a fucking animal. I love it.
Kiran: We should go.
They pulled on their filthy clothes. Dipa lay on the bed, looking utterly ravaged and incredibly beautiful.
Dipa: (a weak, breathy voice) Come again soon. And next time… bring your friends.
The beggars laughed, then slipped out of the house. The front door clicked shut. The house was silent again.
Sameer remained in the dressing room, his mind a whirlwind. She had enjoyed it. Every brutal, degrading second. She had begged for it. And she had invited them back… with friends. It wasn't about charity. It wasn't about healing.
It was about lust. Is it the smell of their sweat? he wondered. The dirty look? The danger? What is it that she loves so much?
He watched as Dipa slowly, painfully, sat up. She didn’t look ashamed. She looked sated. Powerful. She swung her legs off the bed, her cunt dripping a mixture of their semen onto the expensive sheets. She didn't seem to notice or care. She went to her bedside table, took out a packet of wet wipes, and began to calmly clean herself, wiping the cum from her belly and thighs.
Then, she did something that shattered Sameer’s world completely. She opened the drawer again and took out a long, thick, purple vibrator. She lay back on the bed, spread her legs wide, and pushed it deep inside herself.
Dipa: (a low, hungry moan) Not enough… it’s never enough…
Sameer watched in stunned disbelief as his wife, having just been brutally gang-banged by three men, began to masturbate with a frantic, desperate energy. She rode the toy, her hips bucking, her moans growing louder, until she climaxed again, a long, shuddering orgasm that left her panting and slick with a new layer of sweat. She did it again. And again. He watched her bring herself to climax three more times, each one more violent and desperate than the last.
Finally, she lay still, the vibrator falling from her hand. She was breathing heavily, a look of blissful exhaustion on her face.
Then, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. Sameer’s heart sank. Was she calling him? Was she going to confess?
He listened as she dialed. Her voice, when she spoke, was not the voice of a sated lover. It was low, seductive, and full of a new, fresh hunger.
Dipa: Usman… it’s me. I was just thinking about you. I was missing you badly… No, I’m not busy tonight. Sameer is working late… Yes, I want you to. Come at nine. I’ll be waiting.
She hung up the phone. She had just been ravaged by three men, had brought herself to orgasm multiple times, and now she was arranging for another lover to come in a few hours.
Sameer slid down the wall in the dressing room, a silent laugh escaping his lips. It wasn't a laugh of joy. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated despair and the most profound, soul-shattering arousal he had ever known. He was not a cuckold. She was an addict....his wife… his beautiful, depraved wife… and she calls herself a Healer, they call her a goddess.
And who I am ? Sameer asked himself, I am the dealer. And he would do anything for another hit. To watch her get pounded again and again.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)