Fantasy Married Innocent Bengali Wife

[Indian True Lust stories]

Next Update

Inside Komilla’s sun-drenched farmhouse lawn, Rashmi traced a finger through spilled jam on the marble counter. "Someone’s eager," she purred, nodding toward Mohit, who’d just crushed a strawberry with unnecessary force. Arjun snorted into his coffee, while Danny leaned back, chair creaking under his weight. "Eager? He’s been dreaming of licking Shweta's cherries since dawn." Mohit smirked, wiping juice from his chin. "Breakfast shouldn’t be boring." Komilla shot them a warning look as Raj shuffled in, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Rashmi : Hii Raj, how was sleep last night ? And where is your hot wife ?

Raj: She is sleeping like an ass from last night. Hope she wakes up soon and join us for breakfast.

Danny: Hell yaa. Mohit said she has a hell of an ass smooth like butter ( and started laughing)

Mohit: common guys don't make it hard for Raj to swallow his breakfast. Bdw Shweta has a heavy ass I know that for sure. I lifted her and carried her for long. 

The mood shifted when Shweta entered, She was dbangd in Komilla’s borrowed clothes, which clung to her body in all the right places.

 The tank top, thin and flimsy, strained against her boobs, leaving little to the imagination. Her dark nipples were clearly visible beneath the fabric, a tantalizing hint of what lay beneath. The shorts she wore were equally revealing, barely containing the curve of her hips and the swell of her ass. Every movement she made was a seductive dance.

Shweta was standing there will a juice glass and smiling towards everyone. 

"Delicious," Danny murmured under his breath, his eyes roaming over Shweta’s body with unbridled lust. His comment earned him muffled laughter from the others, a shared understanding of the raw desire that hung heavy in the air.

Raj, who had been sipping his coffee with a semblance of calm, froze mid-sip. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the mug, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his wife. Rashmi, ever the opportunist, sidled up to Raj, her breath warm against his ear. "Leave the dessert for others, Raj. Holi is for bachelors," she purred, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Her hand trailed down his arm, a possessive gesture that left no room for misunderstanding. "Stick with me."

Raj’s response was a mix of confusion and resignation. He set his mug down with a clink, his eyes flickering between Shweta and Rashmi, unsure of where his loyalties lay in this moment of heightened sensuality. 

After breakfast, the atmosphere shifted from one of casual morning routine to a charged anticipation. Komilla, ever the orchestrator of their pleasures, clapped her hands sharply, the sound echoing through the room with a commanding finality. "Change for Holi! Unlimited drinks, unlimited fun!" Her voice was a sultry promise, laced with the allure of untold delights and forbidden pleasures.

The words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Rashmi, with a wicked grin, vanished into a cropped tee and denim shorts, her choice of attire a deliberate tease, designed to highlight her curves and leave little to the imagination. The fabric hugged her body, accentuating every line and contour, a visual feast for the eyes.

Komilla : "Shweta, my dear, are you ready for a day of fun and frivolity?" Komilla asked, her voice a sultry purr as she approached, a tray of colorful powders and water guns in her hands.

Shweta nodded, a small, tentative smile playing on her lips. "I think so. What do we do?"



Komilla's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Oh, it's simple. We play with colors, we touch, we tease, and we explore. It's all about letting go and embracing the moment."



Rashmi, standing nearby, chimed in, her voice a low, seductive murmur. "And don't worry, Shweta. We'll take good care of you."


Rashmi vanished into a cropped tee and denim shorts. Shweta hesitated, then retreated to fetch her washed saree—the same one stained with Mohit’s release yesterday. She returned transformed: sindur vermilion on her forehead, mangalsutra gold against her throat, bangles chiming with every step. A bride ready for ruin.