01-11-2025, 01:17 AM
This isn't a real story .All are came from a cozy mind and fulfilled by ai.If I do mistake please forgive.
One day i found my mom ,dad and our house servant sex together. The housekeeper was on top of my mother, while my father watched from the corner chair, stroking himself slowly. No one noticed me frozen in the doorway, my backpack slipping off my shoulder to thud softly on the hardwood floor. The smell hit me next—musky sweat mixed with my mother's jasmine perfume and something sour I couldn't name. My mother's eyes were closed, her lips parted as she moaned, a sound that didn't match the stern voice she used when scolding me for unfinished homework. Her silk sari was bunched around her waist, the gold border gleaming under the dim bedroom light like a misplaced decoration. The servant's calloused hands gripped her hips, his back muscles flexing with each thrust, his dhoti pooled around his ankles like discarded laundry.
My father chuckled low in his throat, a wet, unfamiliar sound. "Harder, Ramu," he murmured, his fingers tightening around himself. "Make her scream like last Diwali." Ramu grunted in response, driving deeper, making my mother gasp sharply. Her eyes snapped open—wide, glazed—and locked onto mine across the room. For a heartbeat, everything stopped: Ramu's hips froze mid-thrust, my father's hand stilled on his cock, my mother's choked breath hanging in the air. Her face flushed crimson, not from pleasure but shame, her mouth working soundlessly. Then Ramu followed her gaze, his dark eyes widening in panic as he scrambled off her, tripping over his tangled dhoti. My father jerked upright, scrambling to cover himself with a cushion.
SUMMARY^1: The narrator walked in on their parents and servant engaged in a sexual encounter. The servant was atop the mother while the father watched and masturbated. When the mother spotted the narrator, the participants froze in shock and shame, with the servant hastily dismounting and the father attempting to cover himself.
My father " nice ramu if you fuck her about 1 hour i will fulfill your fantasy" Ramu's chuckle was brave "don't think sir but you have to kept promise" "If i can i will pregnant her." Ramu said boldly. His eyes didn't leave my mother's flushed face as he spoke, fingers tracing the damp hollow of her throat. My father leaned forward, elbows on knees, the cushion slipping from his lap. "Her pussy's yours tonight, Ramu. Earn it."My mom " You and your sir both are mad ramu" "Shut up," Dad snapped, voice cracking like dry wood. "You spread for him last monsoon when I was in Jaipur." Mom's gasp was sharp. Ramu's thumb pressed against her parted lips, silencing her. "She tastes like mangoes, sahib," he murmured, gaze flicking between them. "Always sweet." The confession hung thick, mingling with jasmine and sweat.
Mom's hands trembled as Dad shoved her head toward his lap. Her eyes squeezed shut when her lips met his rigid cock, a tear tracking through the kohl smudged beneath her lashes. Ramu didn't wait—he gripped her hips again, thrusting back into her wetness with a groan that vibrated through the room. She choked around Dad's length, gagging reflexively before finding a rhythm, hollowing her cheeks. Each bob of her head jerked her body forward onto Ramu's cock, the slap of skin echoing off the walls. Saliva slicked Dad's shaft, gleaming in the lamplight as Mom struggled to breathe through her nose, nostrils flaring with each ragged inhale.
Ramu's rhythm grew frantic, sweat dripping from his brow onto her arched spine. He watched Dad's hand fist in Mom's hair, forcing her deeper. "Twenty minutes," Dad gasped, hips lifting off the chair. "Make her feel every inch, Ramu. Breed her deep." Ramu's calloused thumb rubbed tight circles on Mom's clit, making her shudder violently against him. Her moan vibrated around Dad's cock, muffled and desperate. The sour-musk scent thickened, mixed now with the tang of salt and Dad's precum slicking her chin. Her fingers clawed at the hardwood floor, seeking purchase, knuckles white.
"Sir," Ramu panted, slowing deliberately, drawing out the slide of his thick cock from her clenching warmth. "Think if you didn't want... I will stop." He paused fully seated inside her, making her whimper against Dad's thigh. "But after this..." His dark eyes burned into Dad's, unwavering. "...Mam will be mine." The declaration hung heavy, silencing Dad's ragged breathing. Mom froze, lips still stretched wide around him, her tear-filled eyes darting wildly between the two men. Ramu held Dad's stare, his stillness more threatening than any thrust. "Her belly swollen with my child, her milk heavy for me." He traced the curve of her ass possessively.
"No," Mom gasped, pulling her mouth free with a wet pop, her voice raw. "Ramu, please—" Dad's hand clamped over her lips, shoving her face back down onto him. "Finish what you started, bitch," he snarled, grinding her nose into his groin. Ramu chuckled, low and dark, and began moving again—deep, slow, purposeful strokes that dragged against her inner walls, making her body jerk helplessly with each penetration. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured in Hindi, "*Dekh lo, memsaab, aapka pati aapko mujhse chudwa raha hai. Aapka ghar ab mera hai.*" (See, memsaab, your husband is making you fuck me. Your house is mine now). Her muffled sob vibrated against Dad's cock.
Ramu's thrusts grew harder, more rhythmic, timed with the metronome-like slap of skin filling the room. Sweat dripped from his chin onto Mom's trembling back, tracing paths through the smudged sindoor powder clinging to her spine. He watched Dad's knuckles whiten in her hair, felt her clench around him tighter with each forced gag around his employer's shaft. "One hour," Ramu grunted, his eyes locked on the brass clock ticking above the dresser. "Almost there, sahib. Her womb feels... eager." Dad's answering groan was guttural, his hips bucking violently into Mom's mouth, forcing her throat open wider. The air thickened with Ramu's musky scent, Dad's sharp sweat, and the cloying sweetness of Mom's perfume now soured by panic and exertion.
Suddenly, Ramu stilled, buried deep inside her. His rough hand slid down her hip, fingers brushing aside the crumpled silk of her sari bunched at her waist. With deliberate slowness, he withdrew slightly – just enough. Dad’s gaze, heavy-lidded with lust, snapped to Ramu’s hands. "What—?" Dad started, voice thick. Ramu didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers hooked into the thin rubber sheath stretched taut over his cock. A sharp tug, a slick snap, and he flung the used condom aside. It landed near my discarded backpack, a pale, glistening heap on the polished wood. Without hesitation, he slammed back into her bare, the wet, obscene sound of skin-on-skin impossibly louder now. Mom’s muffled scream vibrated against Dad’s groin. Ramu’s gaze burned into Dad’s. "No barriers now, sahib," he hissed. "Direct. Pure." Dad’s eyes widened, flickering between shock and a twisted hunger, before he nodded curtly, grinding Mom’s face harder onto him. "Yes. Breed her raw."
Ramu’s thrusts became primal, deep and grinding, each powerful shove lifting Mom’s hips off the floor. Her choked gags around Dad’s cock punctuated the relentless slap of flesh. Sweat stung my eyes, the room thick with the reek of sex, desperation, and the sour tang of Ramu’s bare penetration. His fingers dug into her hipbones, leaving angry red marks. "Feel that?" he growled, voice thick with exertion. "My seed pumping straight into your wife’s womb. Your promise, sahib... starting now." Dad groaned, a shudder running through him, his release pulsing hotly into Mom’s protesting throat. She convulsed, her body tightening violently around Ramu’s thrusting cock. Her eyes rolled back, tears streaming freely, mixing with spit and Dad’s spend on her chin. Ramu laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "Good. Take it all. Deep."
The silence that followed Dad’s climax was deafening, broken only by Mom’s ragged breaths and Ramu’s harsh panting. He didn’t stop, maintaining a brutal rhythm inside her. Dad slumped back, limp, his hand finally loosening its cruel grip on her hair. Mom slumped forward, forehead pressing against Dad’s thigh, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Ramu leaned down, his lips brushing her ear again. "*90 days ,* memsaab," he whispered, the Hindi words slicing through the haze. "*Nabbai din ke liye tum sirf meri ho.*" (90 days. For 90 days you are mine alone). His hand smoothed possessively over her trembling back. "*Shadi ki raat se pehle,* I’ll plant my child deep. Your husband agreed. Three months as my wife." My blood froze. *Three months? Wife?* The sheer impossibility of it crashed over me—my mother, Ramu’s *wife*. Her shuddering gasp confirmed it wasn’t a nightmare.
Dad shifted, pushing Mom’s limp form fully onto Ramu’s lap with a grunt. "Ask him, Ramu," he rasped, wiping sweat from his brow. "Where does the servant want the wedding? The village temple?" Ramu’s thrusts slowed, becoming deliberate, grinding circles designed to milk every sensation. He cupped Mom’s chin, forcing her tear-streaked face up. Her kohl ran in dark rivers. "Not the temple," Ramu murmured, his eyes locked on hers, dark with triumph. "*Yahan.* Here. In this room." His thumb traced her swollen lower lip. "*Jahan tumhari pahli chudai hui. Jahan tumhare pati ne tumhe mujhe diya.*" (Where your first fucking happened. Where your husband gave you to me). "*Aur,*" his voice dropped to a dangerous purr, "*jahan tumne mere lund ko apne muh mein liya.*" (And where you took my cock in your mouth). Mom whimpered, a broken sound. "*Shadi ke baad,*" Ramu continued, tightening his grip on her hips, "*hum yahin kamre mein rahenge. Tumhari choot mein roz mera beej.*" (After the wedding, we stay in this room. My seed in your cunt every day).
Ramu slammed deeper, making her gasp sharply as his fingers tangled in her disheveled hair. "Tonight," Dad growled, rising unsteadily. "Sleep on the floor, Ramu." He gestured dismissively toward the crumpled bedsheet near the door. "*Kal se tumhara kamra.*" (From tomorrow, your room). Ramu didn’t stop thrusting, his gaze flicking to Dad’s retreating form. "*Nahin,* sahib," he countered, voice thick with exertion. "*Aaj raat se.*" (No. Tonight). He pulled Mom closer, her back flush against his sweat-slicked chest. "*Mera ghar, meri biwi, mera bed.*" (My house, my wife, my bed). Dad paused, shoulders stiffening, then gave a curt nod. "*Bas,*" he muttered, stepping into the hallway. "*Maalik ban gaya hai?*" (Think you’re the master now?) Ramu’s answering chuckle was low, predatory. "*Haan,*" he breathed against Mom’s ear as Dad’s footsteps faded. "*Iska pati ab tum nahin, woh hoon.*" (Yes. Her husband isn’t you anymore—it’s me).
The door clicked shut. Mom trembled violently, her choked sob muffled against Ramu’s forearm braced across her collarbones. He loosened his grip slightly, turning her limp body to face him. Her dilated pupils reflected the dim lamplight, the sindoor smeared like blood across her forehead. Ramu traced it with his thumb, smudging the sacred vermillion deeper into her skin. "*Shadi ka sindoor,*" he murmured, his other hand sliding possessively down her stomach. "*Ab tumhari choot mein mera beej hi tumhara pati hai.*" (This sindoor of marriage... now only my seed in your cunt is your husband). His calloused palm pressed flat below her navel, fingers splayed wide. "*Yahan,*" he whispered, thrusting shallowly to emphasize the point, "*mera baccha paida hoga.*" (Here, my child will be born). Mom’s breath hitched, eyes darting toward the closed door. "*Uska...*" she stammered. Ramu silenced her with a rough kiss, biting her lower lip. "*Tumhara sirf mera ho gaya,*" he growled against her mouth. "*Kal subah se tumhari sari chudai meri hogi.*" (You belong only to me now. From tomorrow morning, every fucking is mine).
He pulled her toward the rumpled marital bed, silk sheets still bearing the indentations and damp patches from earlier. Mom stumbled, knees buckling, but Ramu hauled her upright effortlessly. With a sharp tug, he ripped away the torn remnants of her sari blouse, exposing her breasts. The chill air pebbled her skin, but Ramu’s gaze burned hotter. "*Apne pati ke saamne nangi kyun sharmati ho?*" (Why shame before your husband?) His voice dripped mockery as he pushed her backward onto the mattress. She scrambled to cover herself, but he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. "*Nahin,*" he commanded, yanking her legs apart with brutal efficiency. "*Aaj raat tumhari choot dekh kar hi soun ga.*" (No. Tonight I sleep only after seeing your cunt). His fingers plunged inside her without warning, making her arch off the bed with a strangled cry. "*Itni geeli?*" He chuckled darkly. "*Sir ke lund ke baad bhi bhukhi hai?*" (Still wet after sahib’s cock? So hungry?) He twisted his fingers cruelly.
Dad’s discarded pillow lay crumpled near the headboard. Ramu snatched it, shoving it forcefully beneath Mom’s hips, elevating her pelvis toward him. The lamplight caught the slick, swollen folds of her sex, glistening obscenely. He spat onto his palm, rubbing it over his thick, still-erect cock, the head dark and glistening. "*Dekho,*" he ordered, stroking himself slowly, deliberately. "*Yeh lund tumhare andar daalne wala hai har subah, har raat.*" (See this cock? It will enter you every morning, every night). Mom turned her face away, squeezing her eyes shut, but Ramu gripped her jaw, forcing her to watch. "*Nabbai din mein ek pal bhi nahin bhoologi.*" (In 90 days, you won’t forget it for a moment). He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad tip pressing insistently against her tender flesh. "*Ab bolo... apne pati ka lund lene ke liye taiyar ho?*" (Now say it… are you ready to take your husband’s cock?). Her refusal died in a gasp as he slammed home, burying himself to the hilt in one vicious thrust.
The bedframe groaned under their weight as Ramu settled into a relentless, deep rhythm. His hands clamped onto her hips, fingers bruising her pale skin, lifting her to meet each downward drive. Mom’s choked whimpers filled the room, her back arching off the mattress with every penetration. Ramu leaned forward, his sweat dripping onto her breasts, mingling with the smear of sindoor on her sternum. "*Sirf meri ho,*" he growled, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. "*Tumhari choot... tumhara pet... tumhari saans bhi meri.*" (Only mine. Your cunt… your womb… your breath too). His thumb found her clit, rubbing rough, tight circles that made her thighs tremble violently. "*Aaj se tumhara naam 'Ramu ki randi' hai.*" (From today, your name is ‘Ramu’s whore’). She sobbed, a raw, broken sound, as his pace quickened, the wet slap of skin echoing louder.
Ramu’s gaze locked onto the bedroom door, imagining Dad listening on the other side. A cruel smile twisted his lips. "*Sun lo, sahib!*" he shouted, driving harder, deeper. "*Tumhari biwi kaise chikhti hai mere niche!*" (Listen, sahib! How your wife screams under me!). Mom gasped, clawing at the sheets, her knuckles white. Ramu hauled her legs higher over his shoulders, spreading her wider, exposing her swollen flesh to the humid air. The lamplight caught the slick mess between her legs—streaks of Dad’s spend mixed with her own wetness and Ramu’s precum glistening on her thighs. "*Dekho,*" he hissed, slowing deliberately to grind against her cervix. "*Yeh choot ab sirf mere beej ko bulati hai.*" (See? This cunt now calls only for my seed). He watched her stomach clench with each internal nudge, her breath hitching in ragged bursts.
Her eyes squeezed shut, tears carving fresh paths through smeared kohl. Ramu’s palm cracked sharply against her inner thigh—a stinging slap that jerked her gaze open. "*Nahin,*" he growled, gripping her chin. "*Dekho apne pati ko!*" (No. Look at your husband!). Her dilated pupils reflected his sweat-slicked chest, the harsh panting of his exertion. "*Har thokkar mein… tumhare andar… mera haq jama ho raha hai.*" (With every thrust… inside you… my claim settles deeper). He punctuated each word with a brutal snap of his hips, the bedframe screeching protest. Mom’s whimper dissolved into a choked gasp as Ramu’s thumb rubbed punishingly over her swollen clit. The scent of their coupling—musky, ripe, sour-sweet—clung thickly to the humid air. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly against the silk sheets damp with sweat and earlier release. "*Bol!*" he demanded, slamming deeper. "*Kaun chod raha hai?*" (Say it! Who’s fucking you?). Her lips trembled. "*T-Tum…*" she stammered, voice shredded. "*Sirf… tum…*" (You… only you…).
Ramu’s triumphant chuckle vibrated against her collarbone. "*Haan,*" he hissed, thrusts slowing to a deliberate, grinding rhythm, his thick cockhead nudging her cervix with possessive intimacy. "*Yahin… isi pal… tumhari choot ne mera naam chun liya.*" (Right here… this moment… your cunt chose my name). His hand slid down her trembling belly, fingers splaying possessively over the soft curve below her navel. "*Yahan meri nasal chalegi.*" (My bloodline will run here). Outside, floorboards creaked—Dad shifting beyond the door. Ramu’s eyes hardened. He hauled Mom’s hips higher, angling her pelvis sharply. "*Sun lo sahib!*" he bellowed toward the door, driving into her with renewed ferocity. "*Tumhari biwi ki choot ab meri zameen hai!*" (Listen, sahib! Your wife’s cunt is now my land!). The wet slap of skin echoed obscenely. Mom arched, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as Ramu’s fingers dug bruisingly into her flesh, marking her as his territory.
He collapsed atop her, spent, his weight pressing her into the damp mattress. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples as his ragged breaths fanned her neck. "*Saans lo,*" he murmured, lips grazing her earlobe. "*Mera beej tumhare andar taiyar ho raha hai.*" (Breathe. My seed prepares inside you). His calloused hand remained splayed low on her belly, a branding iron of ownership. The brass clock ticked loudly—well past midnight. Ramu shifted, rolling her limp body toward him, trapping her thigh between his legs. His still-hard cock nestled against her hip, sticky with their mingled fluids. "*Aaj raat tumhare choot ka swad chakh kar hi soun ga,*" he declared thickly, fingers lazily tracing her swollen labia. (Tonight I sleep only after tasting your cunt). She flinched as he dipped two fingers inside her slick heat, withdrawing them glistening. He sucked them clean, eyes locked on hers—a silent vow. "*Har raat yahi karna hoga.*" (Every night, this ritual).
Ramu shoved Dad's pillow aside, claiming the headboard space. He hauled her backward, molding her spine against his chest, his arm clamping like a vise across her ribs. "*Chup chap so jao,*" he ordered, nuzzling her tangled hair. (Sleep quietly). His palm slid down to cup her mound possessively. She trembled, stifling a sob as his thumb pressed insistently against her clit through damp curls. "*Agar roya, toh phir chodunga.*" (If you cry, I'll fuck you again). Outside, a floorboard groaned—Dad, pacing the hall. Ramu chuckled darkly, grinding his erection against the cleft of her buttocks. "*Sun raha hai.*" (He's listening). He rocked slowly, deliberately, making the bedsprings creak. "*Sunaye ki tumhari choot mein mera lund hai.*" (Let him hear my cock is in your cunt). Her breath hitched; he bit her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. "*So jao.*" (Sleep).
Hours crawled by. Moonlight sliced through the curtains, illuminating the sweat drying on her skin. Ramu’s grip never loosened. His fingers explored her lazily—traced the curve of her hip, dipped into her navel, circled the soreness between her thighs. Each touch made her flinch. "*Geeli ho rahi ho?*" he murmured, probing her entrance with a fingertip. (Getting wet again?). She shook her head violently. He pinched her clit. "*Jhoot.*" (Liar). His palm flattened low on her belly again. "*Yahan dard ho raha hai?*" (Pain here?). When she didn’t answer, he dug his knuckles deep. She gasped. "*Achha... matlab mera beej kaam kar raha hai.*" (Good... means my seed is working). His chuckle vibrated against her spine. Outside, footsteps retreated. Ramu sighed, satisfied. "*Ab sahi se so jao.*" (Now sleep properly).
Morning light painted stripes across the tangled sheets. .. Continue.......
One day i found my mom ,dad and our house servant sex together. The housekeeper was on top of my mother, while my father watched from the corner chair, stroking himself slowly. No one noticed me frozen in the doorway, my backpack slipping off my shoulder to thud softly on the hardwood floor. The smell hit me next—musky sweat mixed with my mother's jasmine perfume and something sour I couldn't name. My mother's eyes were closed, her lips parted as she moaned, a sound that didn't match the stern voice she used when scolding me for unfinished homework. Her silk sari was bunched around her waist, the gold border gleaming under the dim bedroom light like a misplaced decoration. The servant's calloused hands gripped her hips, his back muscles flexing with each thrust, his dhoti pooled around his ankles like discarded laundry.
My father chuckled low in his throat, a wet, unfamiliar sound. "Harder, Ramu," he murmured, his fingers tightening around himself. "Make her scream like last Diwali." Ramu grunted in response, driving deeper, making my mother gasp sharply. Her eyes snapped open—wide, glazed—and locked onto mine across the room. For a heartbeat, everything stopped: Ramu's hips froze mid-thrust, my father's hand stilled on his cock, my mother's choked breath hanging in the air. Her face flushed crimson, not from pleasure but shame, her mouth working soundlessly. Then Ramu followed her gaze, his dark eyes widening in panic as he scrambled off her, tripping over his tangled dhoti. My father jerked upright, scrambling to cover himself with a cushion.
SUMMARY^1: The narrator walked in on their parents and servant engaged in a sexual encounter. The servant was atop the mother while the father watched and masturbated. When the mother spotted the narrator, the participants froze in shock and shame, with the servant hastily dismounting and the father attempting to cover himself.
My father " nice ramu if you fuck her about 1 hour i will fulfill your fantasy" Ramu's chuckle was brave "don't think sir but you have to kept promise" "If i can i will pregnant her." Ramu said boldly. His eyes didn't leave my mother's flushed face as he spoke, fingers tracing the damp hollow of her throat. My father leaned forward, elbows on knees, the cushion slipping from his lap. "Her pussy's yours tonight, Ramu. Earn it."My mom " You and your sir both are mad ramu" "Shut up," Dad snapped, voice cracking like dry wood. "You spread for him last monsoon when I was in Jaipur." Mom's gasp was sharp. Ramu's thumb pressed against her parted lips, silencing her. "She tastes like mangoes, sahib," he murmured, gaze flicking between them. "Always sweet." The confession hung thick, mingling with jasmine and sweat.
Mom's hands trembled as Dad shoved her head toward his lap. Her eyes squeezed shut when her lips met his rigid cock, a tear tracking through the kohl smudged beneath her lashes. Ramu didn't wait—he gripped her hips again, thrusting back into her wetness with a groan that vibrated through the room. She choked around Dad's length, gagging reflexively before finding a rhythm, hollowing her cheeks. Each bob of her head jerked her body forward onto Ramu's cock, the slap of skin echoing off the walls. Saliva slicked Dad's shaft, gleaming in the lamplight as Mom struggled to breathe through her nose, nostrils flaring with each ragged inhale.
Ramu's rhythm grew frantic, sweat dripping from his brow onto her arched spine. He watched Dad's hand fist in Mom's hair, forcing her deeper. "Twenty minutes," Dad gasped, hips lifting off the chair. "Make her feel every inch, Ramu. Breed her deep." Ramu's calloused thumb rubbed tight circles on Mom's clit, making her shudder violently against him. Her moan vibrated around Dad's cock, muffled and desperate. The sour-musk scent thickened, mixed now with the tang of salt and Dad's precum slicking her chin. Her fingers clawed at the hardwood floor, seeking purchase, knuckles white.
"Sir," Ramu panted, slowing deliberately, drawing out the slide of his thick cock from her clenching warmth. "Think if you didn't want... I will stop." He paused fully seated inside her, making her whimper against Dad's thigh. "But after this..." His dark eyes burned into Dad's, unwavering. "...Mam will be mine." The declaration hung heavy, silencing Dad's ragged breathing. Mom froze, lips still stretched wide around him, her tear-filled eyes darting wildly between the two men. Ramu held Dad's stare, his stillness more threatening than any thrust. "Her belly swollen with my child, her milk heavy for me." He traced the curve of her ass possessively.
"No," Mom gasped, pulling her mouth free with a wet pop, her voice raw. "Ramu, please—" Dad's hand clamped over her lips, shoving her face back down onto him. "Finish what you started, bitch," he snarled, grinding her nose into his groin. Ramu chuckled, low and dark, and began moving again—deep, slow, purposeful strokes that dragged against her inner walls, making her body jerk helplessly with each penetration. He leaned close, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured in Hindi, "*Dekh lo, memsaab, aapka pati aapko mujhse chudwa raha hai. Aapka ghar ab mera hai.*" (See, memsaab, your husband is making you fuck me. Your house is mine now). Her muffled sob vibrated against Dad's cock.
Ramu's thrusts grew harder, more rhythmic, timed with the metronome-like slap of skin filling the room. Sweat dripped from his chin onto Mom's trembling back, tracing paths through the smudged sindoor powder clinging to her spine. He watched Dad's knuckles whiten in her hair, felt her clench around him tighter with each forced gag around his employer's shaft. "One hour," Ramu grunted, his eyes locked on the brass clock ticking above the dresser. "Almost there, sahib. Her womb feels... eager." Dad's answering groan was guttural, his hips bucking violently into Mom's mouth, forcing her throat open wider. The air thickened with Ramu's musky scent, Dad's sharp sweat, and the cloying sweetness of Mom's perfume now soured by panic and exertion.
Suddenly, Ramu stilled, buried deep inside her. His rough hand slid down her hip, fingers brushing aside the crumpled silk of her sari bunched at her waist. With deliberate slowness, he withdrew slightly – just enough. Dad’s gaze, heavy-lidded with lust, snapped to Ramu’s hands. "What—?" Dad started, voice thick. Ramu didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers hooked into the thin rubber sheath stretched taut over his cock. A sharp tug, a slick snap, and he flung the used condom aside. It landed near my discarded backpack, a pale, glistening heap on the polished wood. Without hesitation, he slammed back into her bare, the wet, obscene sound of skin-on-skin impossibly louder now. Mom’s muffled scream vibrated against Dad’s groin. Ramu’s gaze burned into Dad’s. "No barriers now, sahib," he hissed. "Direct. Pure." Dad’s eyes widened, flickering between shock and a twisted hunger, before he nodded curtly, grinding Mom’s face harder onto him. "Yes. Breed her raw."
Ramu’s thrusts became primal, deep and grinding, each powerful shove lifting Mom’s hips off the floor. Her choked gags around Dad’s cock punctuated the relentless slap of flesh. Sweat stung my eyes, the room thick with the reek of sex, desperation, and the sour tang of Ramu’s bare penetration. His fingers dug into her hipbones, leaving angry red marks. "Feel that?" he growled, voice thick with exertion. "My seed pumping straight into your wife’s womb. Your promise, sahib... starting now." Dad groaned, a shudder running through him, his release pulsing hotly into Mom’s protesting throat. She convulsed, her body tightening violently around Ramu’s thrusting cock. Her eyes rolled back, tears streaming freely, mixing with spit and Dad’s spend on her chin. Ramu laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "Good. Take it all. Deep."
The silence that followed Dad’s climax was deafening, broken only by Mom’s ragged breaths and Ramu’s harsh panting. He didn’t stop, maintaining a brutal rhythm inside her. Dad slumped back, limp, his hand finally loosening its cruel grip on her hair. Mom slumped forward, forehead pressing against Dad’s thigh, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Ramu leaned down, his lips brushing her ear again. "*90 days ,* memsaab," he whispered, the Hindi words slicing through the haze. "*Nabbai din ke liye tum sirf meri ho.*" (90 days. For 90 days you are mine alone). His hand smoothed possessively over her trembling back. "*Shadi ki raat se pehle,* I’ll plant my child deep. Your husband agreed. Three months as my wife." My blood froze. *Three months? Wife?* The sheer impossibility of it crashed over me—my mother, Ramu’s *wife*. Her shuddering gasp confirmed it wasn’t a nightmare.
Dad shifted, pushing Mom’s limp form fully onto Ramu’s lap with a grunt. "Ask him, Ramu," he rasped, wiping sweat from his brow. "Where does the servant want the wedding? The village temple?" Ramu’s thrusts slowed, becoming deliberate, grinding circles designed to milk every sensation. He cupped Mom’s chin, forcing her tear-streaked face up. Her kohl ran in dark rivers. "Not the temple," Ramu murmured, his eyes locked on hers, dark with triumph. "*Yahan.* Here. In this room." His thumb traced her swollen lower lip. "*Jahan tumhari pahli chudai hui. Jahan tumhare pati ne tumhe mujhe diya.*" (Where your first fucking happened. Where your husband gave you to me). "*Aur,*" his voice dropped to a dangerous purr, "*jahan tumne mere lund ko apne muh mein liya.*" (And where you took my cock in your mouth). Mom whimpered, a broken sound. "*Shadi ke baad,*" Ramu continued, tightening his grip on her hips, "*hum yahin kamre mein rahenge. Tumhari choot mein roz mera beej.*" (After the wedding, we stay in this room. My seed in your cunt every day).
Ramu slammed deeper, making her gasp sharply as his fingers tangled in her disheveled hair. "Tonight," Dad growled, rising unsteadily. "Sleep on the floor, Ramu." He gestured dismissively toward the crumpled bedsheet near the door. "*Kal se tumhara kamra.*" (From tomorrow, your room). Ramu didn’t stop thrusting, his gaze flicking to Dad’s retreating form. "*Nahin,* sahib," he countered, voice thick with exertion. "*Aaj raat se.*" (No. Tonight). He pulled Mom closer, her back flush against his sweat-slicked chest. "*Mera ghar, meri biwi, mera bed.*" (My house, my wife, my bed). Dad paused, shoulders stiffening, then gave a curt nod. "*Bas,*" he muttered, stepping into the hallway. "*Maalik ban gaya hai?*" (Think you’re the master now?) Ramu’s answering chuckle was low, predatory. "*Haan,*" he breathed against Mom’s ear as Dad’s footsteps faded. "*Iska pati ab tum nahin, woh hoon.*" (Yes. Her husband isn’t you anymore—it’s me).
The door clicked shut. Mom trembled violently, her choked sob muffled against Ramu’s forearm braced across her collarbones. He loosened his grip slightly, turning her limp body to face him. Her dilated pupils reflected the dim lamplight, the sindoor smeared like blood across her forehead. Ramu traced it with his thumb, smudging the sacred vermillion deeper into her skin. "*Shadi ka sindoor,*" he murmured, his other hand sliding possessively down her stomach. "*Ab tumhari choot mein mera beej hi tumhara pati hai.*" (This sindoor of marriage... now only my seed in your cunt is your husband). His calloused palm pressed flat below her navel, fingers splayed wide. "*Yahan,*" he whispered, thrusting shallowly to emphasize the point, "*mera baccha paida hoga.*" (Here, my child will be born). Mom’s breath hitched, eyes darting toward the closed door. "*Uska...*" she stammered. Ramu silenced her with a rough kiss, biting her lower lip. "*Tumhara sirf mera ho gaya,*" he growled against her mouth. "*Kal subah se tumhari sari chudai meri hogi.*" (You belong only to me now. From tomorrow morning, every fucking is mine).
He pulled her toward the rumpled marital bed, silk sheets still bearing the indentations and damp patches from earlier. Mom stumbled, knees buckling, but Ramu hauled her upright effortlessly. With a sharp tug, he ripped away the torn remnants of her sari blouse, exposing her breasts. The chill air pebbled her skin, but Ramu’s gaze burned hotter. "*Apne pati ke saamne nangi kyun sharmati ho?*" (Why shame before your husband?) His voice dripped mockery as he pushed her backward onto the mattress. She scrambled to cover herself, but he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. "*Nahin,*" he commanded, yanking her legs apart with brutal efficiency. "*Aaj raat tumhari choot dekh kar hi soun ga.*" (No. Tonight I sleep only after seeing your cunt). His fingers plunged inside her without warning, making her arch off the bed with a strangled cry. "*Itni geeli?*" He chuckled darkly. "*Sir ke lund ke baad bhi bhukhi hai?*" (Still wet after sahib’s cock? So hungry?) He twisted his fingers cruelly.
Dad’s discarded pillow lay crumpled near the headboard. Ramu snatched it, shoving it forcefully beneath Mom’s hips, elevating her pelvis toward him. The lamplight caught the slick, swollen folds of her sex, glistening obscenely. He spat onto his palm, rubbing it over his thick, still-erect cock, the head dark and glistening. "*Dekho,*" he ordered, stroking himself slowly, deliberately. "*Yeh lund tumhare andar daalne wala hai har subah, har raat.*" (See this cock? It will enter you every morning, every night). Mom turned her face away, squeezing her eyes shut, but Ramu gripped her jaw, forcing her to watch. "*Nabbai din mein ek pal bhi nahin bhoologi.*" (In 90 days, you won’t forget it for a moment). He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad tip pressing insistently against her tender flesh. "*Ab bolo... apne pati ka lund lene ke liye taiyar ho?*" (Now say it… are you ready to take your husband’s cock?). Her refusal died in a gasp as he slammed home, burying himself to the hilt in one vicious thrust.
The bedframe groaned under their weight as Ramu settled into a relentless, deep rhythm. His hands clamped onto her hips, fingers bruising her pale skin, lifting her to meet each downward drive. Mom’s choked whimpers filled the room, her back arching off the mattress with every penetration. Ramu leaned forward, his sweat dripping onto her breasts, mingling with the smear of sindoor on her sternum. "*Sirf meri ho,*" he growled, punctuating each word with a sharp snap of his hips. "*Tumhari choot... tumhara pet... tumhari saans bhi meri.*" (Only mine. Your cunt… your womb… your breath too). His thumb found her clit, rubbing rough, tight circles that made her thighs tremble violently. "*Aaj se tumhara naam 'Ramu ki randi' hai.*" (From today, your name is ‘Ramu’s whore’). She sobbed, a raw, broken sound, as his pace quickened, the wet slap of skin echoing louder.
Ramu’s gaze locked onto the bedroom door, imagining Dad listening on the other side. A cruel smile twisted his lips. "*Sun lo, sahib!*" he shouted, driving harder, deeper. "*Tumhari biwi kaise chikhti hai mere niche!*" (Listen, sahib! How your wife screams under me!). Mom gasped, clawing at the sheets, her knuckles white. Ramu hauled her legs higher over his shoulders, spreading her wider, exposing her swollen flesh to the humid air. The lamplight caught the slick mess between her legs—streaks of Dad’s spend mixed with her own wetness and Ramu’s precum glistening on her thighs. "*Dekho,*" he hissed, slowing deliberately to grind against her cervix. "*Yeh choot ab sirf mere beej ko bulati hai.*" (See? This cunt now calls only for my seed). He watched her stomach clench with each internal nudge, her breath hitching in ragged bursts.
Her eyes squeezed shut, tears carving fresh paths through smeared kohl. Ramu’s palm cracked sharply against her inner thigh—a stinging slap that jerked her gaze open. "*Nahin,*" he growled, gripping her chin. "*Dekho apne pati ko!*" (No. Look at your husband!). Her dilated pupils reflected his sweat-slicked chest, the harsh panting of his exertion. "*Har thokkar mein… tumhare andar… mera haq jama ho raha hai.*" (With every thrust… inside you… my claim settles deeper). He punctuated each word with a brutal snap of his hips, the bedframe screeching protest. Mom’s whimper dissolved into a choked gasp as Ramu’s thumb rubbed punishingly over her swollen clit. The scent of their coupling—musky, ripe, sour-sweet—clung thickly to the humid air. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly against the silk sheets damp with sweat and earlier release. "*Bol!*" he demanded, slamming deeper. "*Kaun chod raha hai?*" (Say it! Who’s fucking you?). Her lips trembled. "*T-Tum…*" she stammered, voice shredded. "*Sirf… tum…*" (You… only you…).
Ramu’s triumphant chuckle vibrated against her collarbone. "*Haan,*" he hissed, thrusts slowing to a deliberate, grinding rhythm, his thick cockhead nudging her cervix with possessive intimacy. "*Yahin… isi pal… tumhari choot ne mera naam chun liya.*" (Right here… this moment… your cunt chose my name). His hand slid down her trembling belly, fingers splaying possessively over the soft curve below her navel. "*Yahan meri nasal chalegi.*" (My bloodline will run here). Outside, floorboards creaked—Dad shifting beyond the door. Ramu’s eyes hardened. He hauled Mom’s hips higher, angling her pelvis sharply. "*Sun lo sahib!*" he bellowed toward the door, driving into her with renewed ferocity. "*Tumhari biwi ki choot ab meri zameen hai!*" (Listen, sahib! Your wife’s cunt is now my land!). The wet slap of skin echoed obscenely. Mom arched, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as Ramu’s fingers dug bruisingly into her flesh, marking her as his territory.
He collapsed atop her, spent, his weight pressing her into the damp mattress. Sweat plastered her hair to her temples as his ragged breaths fanned her neck. "*Saans lo,*" he murmured, lips grazing her earlobe. "*Mera beej tumhare andar taiyar ho raha hai.*" (Breathe. My seed prepares inside you). His calloused hand remained splayed low on her belly, a branding iron of ownership. The brass clock ticked loudly—well past midnight. Ramu shifted, rolling her limp body toward him, trapping her thigh between his legs. His still-hard cock nestled against her hip, sticky with their mingled fluids. "*Aaj raat tumhare choot ka swad chakh kar hi soun ga,*" he declared thickly, fingers lazily tracing her swollen labia. (Tonight I sleep only after tasting your cunt). She flinched as he dipped two fingers inside her slick heat, withdrawing them glistening. He sucked them clean, eyes locked on hers—a silent vow. "*Har raat yahi karna hoga.*" (Every night, this ritual).
Ramu shoved Dad's pillow aside, claiming the headboard space. He hauled her backward, molding her spine against his chest, his arm clamping like a vise across her ribs. "*Chup chap so jao,*" he ordered, nuzzling her tangled hair. (Sleep quietly). His palm slid down to cup her mound possessively. She trembled, stifling a sob as his thumb pressed insistently against her clit through damp curls. "*Agar roya, toh phir chodunga.*" (If you cry, I'll fuck you again). Outside, a floorboard groaned—Dad, pacing the hall. Ramu chuckled darkly, grinding his erection against the cleft of her buttocks. "*Sun raha hai.*" (He's listening). He rocked slowly, deliberately, making the bedsprings creak. "*Sunaye ki tumhari choot mein mera lund hai.*" (Let him hear my cock is in your cunt). Her breath hitched; he bit her shoulder, hard enough to bruise. "*So jao.*" (Sleep).
Hours crawled by. Moonlight sliced through the curtains, illuminating the sweat drying on her skin. Ramu’s grip never loosened. His fingers explored her lazily—traced the curve of her hip, dipped into her navel, circled the soreness between her thighs. Each touch made her flinch. "*Geeli ho rahi ho?*" he murmured, probing her entrance with a fingertip. (Getting wet again?). She shook her head violently. He pinched her clit. "*Jhoot.*" (Liar). His palm flattened low on her belly again. "*Yahan dard ho raha hai?*" (Pain here?). When she didn’t answer, he dug his knuckles deep. She gasped. "*Achha... matlab mera beej kaam kar raha hai.*" (Good... means my seed is working). His chuckle vibrated against her spine. Outside, footsteps retreated. Ramu sighed, satisfied. "*Ab sahi se so jao.*" (Now sleep properly).
Morning light painted stripes across the tangled sheets. .. Continue.......
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)