Yesterday, 11:46 PM
The weekend arrived like a fever dream, the air thick with anticipation. Radha had recounted the phone call to me in bed, her fingers stroking my manhood as she described every vulgar detail, her plans to get me drunk with the scotch so she and Mike could fuck wildly. We’d spent the week teasing each other—Radha recounting her two-month affair in filthy detail, how Mike had fucked her in his office, the car, even a hotel, all sparked by our roleplays and my braless office command, and how she’d come home to make love to me, her core still leaking his cum, without me suspecting until now. “Your dirty mind made me this slut, darling,” she’d purr, kissing me deeply, “and now you’ll watch him ruin me again, knowing everything.”
Saturday evening, the house glowed with candlelight, the scent of spiced curry and jasmine filling the air, the bottle of Glenfiddich 18 prominently on the table—Mike’s gift. Radha was a vision of depravity—a sheer black saree dbangd low, barely containing her 34C breasts, no bra, her dark nipples piercing the fabric, jiggling with every step. The matching blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, her light brown cleavage a magnet for Mike’s eyes. Her petticoat clung to her thick thighs, and her black lace panties were already soaked, her core dripping with anticipation. I’d dressed casually, ready to play my part.
The doorbell rang at seven sharp. Radha opened it with a sultry smile, and Mike stepped in, his Beamer keys dangling, his tight shirt outlining that massive bulge. Without a word, he pulled Radha into a tight hug right in the doorway, his arms wrapping around her waist, one hand sliding down to boldly grope her round buttocks, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to make her gasp. “Missed this fat ass already,” he growled low, his fingers digging in as he pressed his hardness against her belly. Radha moaned softly, grinding back, her almond eyes flicking to me with a teasing wink. I stood nearby, pretending not to notice, my cock already stirring at the brazen display.
Mike released her with a smirk and shook my hand firmly. “Great to see you, mate. Radha’s been invaluable at the office—always going the extra mile, taking on the heaviest loads with such… enthusiasm.” His words dripped with double meaning, his eyes locked on Radha as she bit her lip, stifling a giggle. “She handles my biggest projects without complaint, stays late to make sure everything’s… fully satisfied.” Radha’s cheeks flushed, her nipples hardening visibly under the saree as she exchanged a knowing smile with Mike. I played along, chuckling, “She’s always been dedicated—glad she’s making you happy at work.” Mike’s grin widened, “Oh, she makes me very happy—her tight deadlines and wet enthusiasm keep me coming back for more.” Radha’s eyes sparkled with mischief, her core clenching at the loaded praise.
Dinner was a slow burn of tension. I poured the Glenfiddich generously, taking shots to flush my face and slur my words, acting the drunk husband—laughing too loud, stumbling, my eyes secretly sharp. Radha played the perfect hostess, leaning over Mike to serve, her breasts nearly spilling out, nipples grazing his arm. “Oops, sorry, sir,” she’d purr, her voice dripping with fake innocence, her eyes locked on mine with a wicked gleam. Mike’s trousers tightened, his bulge obscene, and Radha’s core glistened under the saree, her thighs rubbing together. Mid-meal, I “passed out” on the couch, sprawled with a glass in hand, my manhood throbbing as I pretended to snore, watching through slitted eyes.
Radha announced loudly, “He’s out cold—finally.” She turned to Mike with a wicked grin. “Got that surprise for me, Daddy?” Mike smirked, pulling a gift-wrapped package from his bag. “Thought my sweet muffin would look perfect in my daughter’s old college uniform—outgrew it years ago, but it’ll hug your curves like it was made for Daddy’s naughty girl.” Radha’s eyes lit up as she tore open the package right there in the living room: a crisp white college blouse, two sizes too small, a tiny navy pleated skirt, and—nestled at the bottom—a pair of soft, white cotton panties with a tiny pink bow, clearly his daughter’s. Radha gasped, then giggled filthily, holding the cotton panties up. “Oh, Daddy,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock-innocence, “your little girl’s panties? I’ll be your sweet muffin, call you Daddy, and let you punish me like I’ve always been yours—right next to my drunk husband.”
She began her strip-tease inches from my “sleeping” form, swaying her hips to an imaginary beat, teasing Mike mercilessly. “Come on, Daddy,” she cooed, letting the saree pallu slip to reveal her heaving cleavage, “pull this off your naughty daughter.” Mike growled, stepping forward and yanking the pallu free, the silk ripping slightly as it fell. Radha giggled, turning to present her back, “Now the blouse, Daddy—rip it open, I’ve been bad.” Mike’s hands trembled with lust as he gripped the fabric, tearing the blouse apart with a savage rip, buttons flying as her full breasts spilled free, dark nipples erect. “That’s it, Daddy,” she moaned, bending forward to push her ass toward him, “now the petticoat—tear it off your sweet muffin.” Mike obliged, ripping the petticoat down her thighs, the fabric shredding as it pooled at her feet. Finally, she stepped out of her soaked black lace panties, dangling them in front of Mike. “Last one, Daddy—rip these off your little girl’s dripping pussy.” Mike snatched them, tearing the lace in half with a primal grunt, the wet crotch slapping against his palm.
Naked, her light brown curves glistening, Radha stepped into the uniform slowly, teasingly. The white blouse strained obscenely over her 34C breasts, buttons barely closing, gaps flashing skin and stiff nipples. The pleated skirt rode high on her thick thighs, hem fluttering inches below her dripping core. She slid the cotton panties up last, the soft fabric clinging to her soaked folds, the pink bow sitting just above her clit. “How do I look, Daddy?” she purred, twirling so the skirt flared, exposing her ass cheeks and the cotton stretched tight over her leaking pussy. Mike’s eyes darkened, his hands roaming her body, feeling the tight blouse and skirt. “Like Daddy’s perfect little girl,” he growled, “these curves in my daughter’s uniform—fuck, I’ve dreamed of touching you like this.”
He pulled her across his lap on the couch, her body dbangd over his thighs, her ass up. “Time to punish my sweet muffin for being such a filthy little slut,” he murmured, his voice thick with taboo hunger. He gently lifted the pleated skirt, folding it up to fully expose her round, light brown buttocks, the cotton panties pulled tight between her cheeks, the pink bow peeking out. His large hands caressed the soft flesh first, fingers tracing every curve, squeezing hard enough to leave red marks. “Look at this fat, naughty ass, my little girl,” he growled, “Daddy’s been dreaming of spanking his sweet muffin red.” He delivered the first sharp, stinging spank, the slap echoing like a gunshot, her cheek jiggling violently. Radha screamed, “Spank your naughty daughter’s fat fucking ass, Daddy—I’ve been a bad little slut, punish your sweet muffin’s juicy cheeks!”
Mike’s hand lingered after each spank, rubbing the burning skin, his fingers dipping between her thighs to graze the soaked cotton. “You love Daddy’s punishment, don’t you, my filthy daughter?” he snarled, spanking harder, alternating cheeks, each slap leaving a vivid red handprint. Radha’s screams grew louder, more desperate, “Harder, Daddy—beat your little girl’s ass until it’s raw! I’m your cock-hungry sweet muffin, spank me until I squirt in your daughter’s panties!” Her body jolted with every strike, her core gushing, the cotton darkening as her juices soaked through. Mike paused to pull the cotton panties tighter, wedging them deeper between her cheeks, exposing more flesh. “Daddy’s little whore needs her ass wrecked,” he roared, spanking relentlessly, his palm cracking against her skin, her cheeks bouncing and reddening to a deep crimson. “Scream for Daddy, tell me how much you love your punishment!” Radha wailed, “I love Daddy’s brutal spanks—my ass is burning for you, make your sweet muffin cry and cum!” Her orgasms exploded from the pain and pleasure, her body convulsing, squirting onto his lap, the cotton panties drenched and clinging.
Mike lifted her, seating her in his lap, her legs straddling him, the cotton panties soaked and stretched. His hands slid under the straining blouse, groping and fondling her full breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. “Always wanted to do this to my little girl,” he confessed, his voice raw with depraved lust, “feel these big, married tits in my daughter’s uniform, pinch these hard nipples like I’ve fantasized for years.” He pinched her dark nipples hard, twisting them viciously until she screamed, “Pinch your daughter’s fat nipples, Daddy—make your sweet muffin cum just from this, twist them until I beg!” Her hips ground against his bulge, the cotton panties rubbing her clit, her screams public and deliberate.
Finally, his hands gripped the front of the college blouse, and with a primal roar, he ripped it open, buttons exploding as her breasts bounced free, nipples red and swollen. “Daddy’s ripping his little girl’s blouse,” Radha howled, “expose your sweet muffin’s tits, make them bounce for you!” Mike’s fingers plunged under the cotton panties, rubbing her clit roughly, then slipping inside her wet core. Radha screamed, “Finger-fuck your daughter’s slutty cunt, Daddy—harder, make your sweet muffin squirt again!” her hips bucking, her eyes locked on mine with a wicked grin.
Mike’s fingers pumped relentlessly, curling inside her, her core gushing around his hand, soaking the cotton panties and squirting onto the couch. “Scream louder, my sweet muffin,” he commanded, resuming the spanks on her exposed ass with sharp slaps, her cheeks burning redder. Radha wailed, “Spank your cheating daughter’s fat ass, Daddy—make it burn while you finger my sloppy pussy, wreck your little girl!” Her screams were public, her body convulsing as she came hard, juices flooding his hand and drenching the cotton. “I’m cumming on Daddy’s fingers—right in front of my drunk husband!” she howled, her voice raw, her ass jiggling with each spank
Saturday evening, the house glowed with candlelight, the scent of spiced curry and jasmine filling the air, the bottle of Glenfiddich 18 prominently on the table—Mike’s gift. Radha was a vision of depravity—a sheer black saree dbangd low, barely containing her 34C breasts, no bra, her dark nipples piercing the fabric, jiggling with every step. The matching blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, her light brown cleavage a magnet for Mike’s eyes. Her petticoat clung to her thick thighs, and her black lace panties were already soaked, her core dripping with anticipation. I’d dressed casually, ready to play my part.
The doorbell rang at seven sharp. Radha opened it with a sultry smile, and Mike stepped in, his Beamer keys dangling, his tight shirt outlining that massive bulge. Without a word, he pulled Radha into a tight hug right in the doorway, his arms wrapping around her waist, one hand sliding down to boldly grope her round buttocks, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to make her gasp. “Missed this fat ass already,” he growled low, his fingers digging in as he pressed his hardness against her belly. Radha moaned softly, grinding back, her almond eyes flicking to me with a teasing wink. I stood nearby, pretending not to notice, my cock already stirring at the brazen display.
Mike released her with a smirk and shook my hand firmly. “Great to see you, mate. Radha’s been invaluable at the office—always going the extra mile, taking on the heaviest loads with such… enthusiasm.” His words dripped with double meaning, his eyes locked on Radha as she bit her lip, stifling a giggle. “She handles my biggest projects without complaint, stays late to make sure everything’s… fully satisfied.” Radha’s cheeks flushed, her nipples hardening visibly under the saree as she exchanged a knowing smile with Mike. I played along, chuckling, “She’s always been dedicated—glad she’s making you happy at work.” Mike’s grin widened, “Oh, she makes me very happy—her tight deadlines and wet enthusiasm keep me coming back for more.” Radha’s eyes sparkled with mischief, her core clenching at the loaded praise.
Dinner was a slow burn of tension. I poured the Glenfiddich generously, taking shots to flush my face and slur my words, acting the drunk husband—laughing too loud, stumbling, my eyes secretly sharp. Radha played the perfect hostess, leaning over Mike to serve, her breasts nearly spilling out, nipples grazing his arm. “Oops, sorry, sir,” she’d purr, her voice dripping with fake innocence, her eyes locked on mine with a wicked gleam. Mike’s trousers tightened, his bulge obscene, and Radha’s core glistened under the saree, her thighs rubbing together. Mid-meal, I “passed out” on the couch, sprawled with a glass in hand, my manhood throbbing as I pretended to snore, watching through slitted eyes.
Radha announced loudly, “He’s out cold—finally.” She turned to Mike with a wicked grin. “Got that surprise for me, Daddy?” Mike smirked, pulling a gift-wrapped package from his bag. “Thought my sweet muffin would look perfect in my daughter’s old college uniform—outgrew it years ago, but it’ll hug your curves like it was made for Daddy’s naughty girl.” Radha’s eyes lit up as she tore open the package right there in the living room: a crisp white college blouse, two sizes too small, a tiny navy pleated skirt, and—nestled at the bottom—a pair of soft, white cotton panties with a tiny pink bow, clearly his daughter’s. Radha gasped, then giggled filthily, holding the cotton panties up. “Oh, Daddy,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock-innocence, “your little girl’s panties? I’ll be your sweet muffin, call you Daddy, and let you punish me like I’ve always been yours—right next to my drunk husband.”
She began her strip-tease inches from my “sleeping” form, swaying her hips to an imaginary beat, teasing Mike mercilessly. “Come on, Daddy,” she cooed, letting the saree pallu slip to reveal her heaving cleavage, “pull this off your naughty daughter.” Mike growled, stepping forward and yanking the pallu free, the silk ripping slightly as it fell. Radha giggled, turning to present her back, “Now the blouse, Daddy—rip it open, I’ve been bad.” Mike’s hands trembled with lust as he gripped the fabric, tearing the blouse apart with a savage rip, buttons flying as her full breasts spilled free, dark nipples erect. “That’s it, Daddy,” she moaned, bending forward to push her ass toward him, “now the petticoat—tear it off your sweet muffin.” Mike obliged, ripping the petticoat down her thighs, the fabric shredding as it pooled at her feet. Finally, she stepped out of her soaked black lace panties, dangling them in front of Mike. “Last one, Daddy—rip these off your little girl’s dripping pussy.” Mike snatched them, tearing the lace in half with a primal grunt, the wet crotch slapping against his palm.
Naked, her light brown curves glistening, Radha stepped into the uniform slowly, teasingly. The white blouse strained obscenely over her 34C breasts, buttons barely closing, gaps flashing skin and stiff nipples. The pleated skirt rode high on her thick thighs, hem fluttering inches below her dripping core. She slid the cotton panties up last, the soft fabric clinging to her soaked folds, the pink bow sitting just above her clit. “How do I look, Daddy?” she purred, twirling so the skirt flared, exposing her ass cheeks and the cotton stretched tight over her leaking pussy. Mike’s eyes darkened, his hands roaming her body, feeling the tight blouse and skirt. “Like Daddy’s perfect little girl,” he growled, “these curves in my daughter’s uniform—fuck, I’ve dreamed of touching you like this.”
He pulled her across his lap on the couch, her body dbangd over his thighs, her ass up. “Time to punish my sweet muffin for being such a filthy little slut,” he murmured, his voice thick with taboo hunger. He gently lifted the pleated skirt, folding it up to fully expose her round, light brown buttocks, the cotton panties pulled tight between her cheeks, the pink bow peeking out. His large hands caressed the soft flesh first, fingers tracing every curve, squeezing hard enough to leave red marks. “Look at this fat, naughty ass, my little girl,” he growled, “Daddy’s been dreaming of spanking his sweet muffin red.” He delivered the first sharp, stinging spank, the slap echoing like a gunshot, her cheek jiggling violently. Radha screamed, “Spank your naughty daughter’s fat fucking ass, Daddy—I’ve been a bad little slut, punish your sweet muffin’s juicy cheeks!”
Mike’s hand lingered after each spank, rubbing the burning skin, his fingers dipping between her thighs to graze the soaked cotton. “You love Daddy’s punishment, don’t you, my filthy daughter?” he snarled, spanking harder, alternating cheeks, each slap leaving a vivid red handprint. Radha’s screams grew louder, more desperate, “Harder, Daddy—beat your little girl’s ass until it’s raw! I’m your cock-hungry sweet muffin, spank me until I squirt in your daughter’s panties!” Her body jolted with every strike, her core gushing, the cotton darkening as her juices soaked through. Mike paused to pull the cotton panties tighter, wedging them deeper between her cheeks, exposing more flesh. “Daddy’s little whore needs her ass wrecked,” he roared, spanking relentlessly, his palm cracking against her skin, her cheeks bouncing and reddening to a deep crimson. “Scream for Daddy, tell me how much you love your punishment!” Radha wailed, “I love Daddy’s brutal spanks—my ass is burning for you, make your sweet muffin cry and cum!” Her orgasms exploded from the pain and pleasure, her body convulsing, squirting onto his lap, the cotton panties drenched and clinging.
Mike lifted her, seating her in his lap, her legs straddling him, the cotton panties soaked and stretched. His hands slid under the straining blouse, groping and fondling her full breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. “Always wanted to do this to my little girl,” he confessed, his voice raw with depraved lust, “feel these big, married tits in my daughter’s uniform, pinch these hard nipples like I’ve fantasized for years.” He pinched her dark nipples hard, twisting them viciously until she screamed, “Pinch your daughter’s fat nipples, Daddy—make your sweet muffin cum just from this, twist them until I beg!” Her hips ground against his bulge, the cotton panties rubbing her clit, her screams public and deliberate.
Finally, his hands gripped the front of the college blouse, and with a primal roar, he ripped it open, buttons exploding as her breasts bounced free, nipples red and swollen. “Daddy’s ripping his little girl’s blouse,” Radha howled, “expose your sweet muffin’s tits, make them bounce for you!” Mike’s fingers plunged under the cotton panties, rubbing her clit roughly, then slipping inside her wet core. Radha screamed, “Finger-fuck your daughter’s slutty cunt, Daddy—harder, make your sweet muffin squirt again!” her hips bucking, her eyes locked on mine with a wicked grin.
Mike’s fingers pumped relentlessly, curling inside her, her core gushing around his hand, soaking the cotton panties and squirting onto the couch. “Scream louder, my sweet muffin,” he commanded, resuming the spanks on her exposed ass with sharp slaps, her cheeks burning redder. Radha wailed, “Spank your cheating daughter’s fat ass, Daddy—make it burn while you finger my sloppy pussy, wreck your little girl!” Her screams were public, her body convulsing as she came hard, juices flooding his hand and drenching the cotton. “I’m cumming on Daddy’s fingers—right in front of my drunk husband!” she howled, her voice raw, her ass jiggling with each spank
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