Adultery Home is where the scandals are !

[Lousy1995]

Chapter-1: The Devil's Awakening – My Descent into Unquenchable Lust

Fuck, where do I even start? I'm John, 21 years old, grinding through my third year of college, but right now, I'm parked at home for the next eight months on this work-from-home internship bullshit. It's not like I'm some genius anyway—studies have never been my thing. I scbang by with the bare minimum, my brain too wired for the rush of sports and athletics. Back in our old rented house, I'd hit the gym religiously, pumping iron until my muscles screamed, sculpting this ripped, sexy body that turns heads. Broad shoulders, chiseled abs, veins popping on my biceps—yeah, I know I look good, the kind of build that makes girls wet just glancing my way. But since we moved to this fancy new 4BHK in the upscale neighborhood, I haven't bothered starting up again. The internship's got me chained to my laptop, coding or whatever the hell they want, leaving me with blue balls and pent-up energy.

I'm an atheist through and through—no god, no prayers, just cold logic and the raw thrill of the physical world. Church? That's Mom's domain, dragging us there every Sunday like it's some holy obligation. Me? I sit there zoning out, but lately, it's become prime hunting ground for my newest filthy habit. Apart from half-assing my studies or skipping the gym, my daily routine is straight-up degenerate: jerking off like a fiend. Every goddamn day, I lock myself in my room, fire up porn videos on my phone—hardcore shit, MILFs getting railed, gangbangs, creampies, you name it. I'd stroke my thick cock slow at first, building that ache, then pound it furiously until ropes of hot cum splatter across my abs, leaving me gasping and spent. But recently, I've leveled up my perversion. I started sneaking hidden, candid pics of random street aunties, girls, and women who flaunt their sexy assets. Those juicy asses swaying in tight salwars, deep cleavages spilling out of low-cut blouses, hips curving like invitations to sin—fuck, it drives me wild. Even in church, I'd spot some pious bitch with her pallu slipping, revealing perky tits straining against her bra, and snap a quick shot from my phone, hidden in my lap. No one suspects the quiet guy in the pews is capturing their slutty secrets.

I've got accounts everywhere—Instagram, X (that Twitter rip-off), Snapchat for quick dick pics to online sluts. And yeah, I've got burner profiles on XVideos, ;'.,, Pornhub, uploading my amateur wank sessions or downloading filth to fuel my nights. But the real gem is my fake account on Instagram and X: "insidedevil." That's where I post those stolen candid pics—blurry shots of some aunty's fat ass bent over in the market, or a college girl's nipples poking through her wet top after rain. The comments roll in like cumshots: "I'd fuck that bitch raw," "Look at those whore tits begging for a squeeze." I jerk off reading them, making online lusty friends who share their own hidden gems. We're a pack of pervs, trading stories of near-misses and real scores, edging each other with descriptions of pussies we've spied on.

Ever since I hit adulthood, my lust has been a raging inferno, burning hotter every day. I crave real-time sex, not just pixels—slamming into a tight, wet cunt, hearing her moan as I fill her up. But all I get is nada, zip, just my hand and frustration. Until that one night in the old house, everything changed. It was late midnight, the kind of sticky Bangalore heat that makes your balls sweat. I was in bed, half-hard from some porn tab I left open, when strange noises drifted from the neighbor's place. Moans, grunts, the rhythmic slap of skin on skin—holy shit, someone was fucking. Adrenaline surged; my athletic build made it easy. I slipped out, scaled the low wall like a ninja, heart pounding as I crept toward the sound. It came from the upper window of Dinesh's house. Dinesh, that friendly bastard—always chatting with Dad, his family the picture of neighborhood normalcy. Wife, kids, the works. But tonight? A tree branch stretched right to that window like a perverted ladder. I climbed it effortlessly, muscles flexing, perching on the limb with a perfect view into the dimly lit room.

And there it was: Dinesh, buck-naked, his hairy chest heaving as he pounded into some mystery slut I'd never seen in the neighborhood. Not his wife—that mousy woman was probably asleep downstairs. This bitch was a total stranger, probably some office whore or street pickup, her legs spread wide on the bed, tits bouncing like ripe melons with every thrust. She was moaning like a pornstar, "Fuck me harder, Dinesh! Stretch my pussy with that fat cock!" He had her pinned, one hand squeezing her jiggling ass, the other yanking her hair as he rammed in deep, his balls slapping against her soaked slit. Her cunt was shaved smooth, lips puffy and glistening with their juices, and I could see his thick shaft sliding in and out, coated in her cream. The room reeked of sex even from outside—sweat, cum, that musky tang of arousal. They were lost in it, oblivious to the world, her nails raking his back as she bucked up to meet him, begging for more. "Cum inside me, you cheating bastard! Fill my whore hole!"

I was rock-hard instantly, my cock throbbing against my trousers. Perched on that branch, hidden in the shadows, I unzipped and yanked out my dick—eight inches of veiny meat, already leaking precum. I stroked furiously, matching their rhythm, imagining it was me balls-deep in that dripping pussy. Her screams echoed as he flipped her doggy-style, ass up, face down, slamming into her from behind. Her cheeks rippled with each impact, and she reached back to spread herself wider, exposing her tight asshole winking above her stretched cunt. Dinesh growled, spanking her hard enough to leave red marks, then buried himself to the hilt and unloaded—grunting as jets of cum flooded her, overflowing and dripping down her thighs in sticky white trails. She came too, shuddering, her pussy clenching around him like a vice.

I exploded right there on the tree, cum shooting in arcs onto the leaves below, my body shaking so hard I nearly fell. Panting, I zipped up and climbed down, sneaking back to my room with the image burned into my brain. That was my first real-time glimpse of raw, filthy sex—not porn, but actual flesh pounding flesh. It flipped a switch; I was at the peak of horniness after that, craving more like a drug.

Women flaunting their asses, cleavages, hips—every curve became an obsession. I'd eye-fuck them on the street, my cock twitching at the sight of a saree hugging a fat ass or a blouse barely containing overflowing tits. After hitting 12th grade, I finally got my own phone, and that's when the floodgates opened. I started hunting real sex scenes everywhere—random couples in parks grinding in the shadows, neighbors fucking with curtains half-drawn. Hell, even in my own family, the perversion crept in. First was my cousin brother's wedding night. The bride was a smoking-hot piece, all curves and innocent eyes during the ceremony, but I knew better. That night, I snuck to their window, peering through a crack as he stripped her wedding saree off, revealing lacy red lingerie clinging to her perky tits and shaved mound. She dropped to her knees, sucking his cock like a pro—deepthroating, gagging, saliva dripping down her chin while he face-fucked her. Then he bent her over the bed, eating her pussy from behind until she squirted, before pounding her missionary, her legs wrapped around him as he creampied her fertile womb. I jerked off twice watching, cum staining the wall outside.

Second was Dad's aunt—fuck, she was a MILF goddess in her 50s, body still tight from yoga or whatever. I caught her with her husband one afternoon, door ajar. She was riding him reverse cowgirl, her massive ass cheeks clapping as she bounced on his dick, tits flopping wildly. "Fuck my slutty cunt, old man!" she groaned, grinding her clit while he groped her. He flipped her, spreading her legs wide and hammering her hairy pussy until she screamed, orgasming in waves as he dumped his load inside, cum leaking out around his shaft.

Third: my aunt's daughter, barely 18, on a nude video call with her boyfriend. I overheard from the next room, peeked through the keyhole. She was stark naked on her bed, phone propped up, dancing seductively—shaking her perky ass, pinching her nipples, spreading her pink pussy lips for the camera. "Watch me finger this wet hole for you, baby," she purred, plunging two fingers in, fucking herself sloppy while moaning his name. She came hard, squirting on the sheets, then licked her fingers clean like a total whore.

Fourth—and my absolute favorite—was Aunt Madhu's daughter on her wedding night. The whole wedding was a boner-fest: so many sexy women in silk sarees, cleavages heaving, asses swaying. Even Mom looked fuckable, her curves accentuated in those elegant dbangs, but I pushed that thought down. That night, I crept to the bridal suite window. My cousin was a stunner—perfect tits, hourglass figure. She straddled her new husband, saree hiked up, no panties, sinking onto his cock with a gasp. "Ride me, you horny bride," he growled, hands on her hips as she bounced, her pussy slurping around his girth. Her tits jiggled free from her blouse, nipples hard as diamonds. She ground down, clit rubbing his pubes, moaning louder with each thrust. He sat up, sucking her tits while she rode harder, ass cheeks flexing. When she came, her body convulsed, juices soaking his balls, and he flipped her, pounding doggy until he bred her deep, cum overflowing from her spasming cunt. I snapped pics and video on my phone—grainy but gold—jerking off to them even now, reliving every filthy detail.

So yeah, that's me: a horn-dog extraordinaire, always chasing the next thrill. Even though I'm this horny, I've never had twisted feelings about Mom. Incest? Not my jam—for now. Who knows what the future holds in this house of secrets?