29-12-2025, 08:43 PM
Part 5
Let me tell you, my friends, that afternoon still burns in my memory like nothing else. I’m Ramesh, the husband who doesn’t just permit his wife’s pleasure with another man—he craves it, jerks off to it, lives for every filthy second of it. And on that cold December , while I was trapped in Assam, my gorgeous Sunanda was home, sliding deeper into the game we both love.
It began with her text to Pradeep. She was already throbbing from remembering their late-night call—how she’d whispered that she was completely naked under her thin nightie, how his breathing had turned ragged. So she typed, fingers trembling with excitement: “Hey Pradeep, are you free this afternoon? Come over… I need you here.”
Pradeep was stuck at his desk when the message flashed on his screen. His cock stirred instantly, thickening as he remembered her husky voice confessing how wet she’d gotten for him. He typed back fast, grin wicked: “Sunanda, fuck yes, afternoon is perfect. But be honest, baby—is this just coffee and chat, or are you finally going to let me unwrap that delicious body? Tell me you’re offering me that sweet pussy as my special gift today.”
Sunanda was in front of the mirror, pressing that sheer golden saree against her naked skin, watching her nipples harden against the fabric. His words sent a fresh rush of heat straight to her clit. She bit her lip, glanced at my photo on the dresser—knowing how much I wanted this—and replied: “Pradeep… whatever you want, I’ll give you. My mouth, my tits, my wet pussy—everything. Come take it.”
Pradeep groaned out loud in his empty office, palming the bulge straining against his pants. He could almost taste her already. “Jesus, Sunanda, you’re making me so fucking hard right now. I’m clearing my schedule—I’ll be at your door at 3 sharp. You better be ready to spread those legs the moment I walk in. I’m going to devour every inch of you.”
She moaned softly to herself, thighs pressing together as her pussy clenched at his promise. “You’re such a dirty, naughty boy, Pradeep,” she typed, voice in her head already breathy, “and I love it. I’ll be dripping for you when you arrive. I promise—my body is yours this afternoon. Fuck me however you want, as hard as you want.”
That sealed it. The messages stopped, but the air between them crackled with raw, hungry lust.
Sunanda set the phone down, heart racing, and immediately messaged me: “He’s coming at 3, darling. It’s really happening.” She added a winking emoji and a little devil—one she knew would make my cock leap.
I was in the middle of a pointless training session when my phone vibrated. I slipped into the hallway, pulse hammering, and read her words. My dick hardened instantly, straining painfully against my zipper. I pictured her in that transparent saree—gold threads clinging to her heavy breasts, dark nipples poking through, the outline of her shaved pussy visible when she moved. Pradeep was going to walk in, see her like that, and lose his fucking mind.
I leaned against the wall, hand pressing against my throbbing erection, and typed back: “Fuck, Sunanda, you’re destroying me here. He’s going to rip that saree off you the second the door closes. I want it all later—every detail of how he sucks those perfect tits, how deep he buries his cock in my wife’s tight cunt. Better yet, call me when he’s inside you. Put the phone on speaker so I can hear you moaning his name, hear your wet pussy taking every thrust. I’ll be stroking myself raw listening to him fuck you senseless.”
I paused, breathing hard, then added: “I love you, my filthy hot wife. Let him use you completely. Make that pussy cream all over his cock—I want to hear how loud you scream when you come for him.”
I hit send and retreated to my hotel room, pacing like a madman, counting down the minutes to three o’clock. My mind replayed her promise to him—“My mouth, my tits, my wet pussy… everything”—and his hungry demand to spread her legs the moment he arrived. I wasn’t jealous; I was consumed. I needed Pradeep to pound her mercilessly, to make her cry out in ways I could hear or imagine in vivid, aching detail.
Three o’clock was approaching fast, and soon my Sunanda would open the door wearing almost nothing, smile that wicked smile, and let Pradeep inside to claim every steamy promise she’d made. And I, Ramesh—her devoted, obsessed, extreme wife-watcher—would be waiting, hard and desperate, for the sounds or the story of exactly how thoroughly she gave herself to him.
The part that still makes my cock throb every time I replay it in my head. Three o’clock on that scorching December afternoon, I was alone in my Assam hotel room, phone clutched in my hand, hard as steel, waiting for whatever scrap of sound or message my Sunanda would send me while Pradeep finally took what she’d promised him.
The doorbell rang at exactly three. Sunanda had spent the last hour preparing—showering, oiling her skin until it glowed, dbanging that golden transparent saree low on her hips, no blouse underneath, no petticoat, nothing but a tiny black thong that barely covered her smooth, shaved pussy. Her heavy breasts swayed freely under the sheer fabric, dark nipples already stiff and visible, the pallu dbangd loosely so it would slip with the slightest movement.
She opened the door with a slow, wicked smile.
Pradeep stood there in a crisp shirt and trousers, but the moment he saw her, his jaw tightened and his eyes darkened with raw hunger. “Fuck, Sunanda… you look like pure sin,” he growled, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. “That saree… I can see every inch of those gorgeous tits. Your nipples are begging for my mouth already.”
Sunanda’s breath hitched, her pussy clenching at his words. She pressed herself against him, letting him feel her hard nipples through the thin fabric against his chest. “I told you I’d give you whatever you want,” she whispered, voice husky. “So take it, Pradeep. Touch me. Taste me. Fuck me like you’ve been dreaming about.”
He didn’t wait. His hands shot to her waist, yanking the pallu aside so her full breasts spilled free, bouncing heavily. “These tits… God, they’re even better than I imagined,” he groaned, cupping them roughly, thumbs flicking her stiff nipples until she gasped. He bent down and sucked one deep into his mouth, tongue swirling hard while his hand squeezed the other, pinching until she moaned out loud.
“Ohhh… yes, just like that,” Sunanda whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “Suck them harder, baby… bite them. They’re all yours today.”
Pradeep growled against her skin, teeth grazing her nipple before he pulled back, eyes blazing. “On your knees, Sunanda. I want that hot mouth on my cock first. I’ve been hard since your texts—now show me how much you want it.”
She dropped instantly, saree pooling around her knees, and unzipped him with trembling fingers. His thick cock sprang free, already leaking at the tip. “Mmm… so big and hard for me,” she murmured, licking her lips before swirling her tongue around the head, tasting his precum. Then she took him deep, moaning around his shaft as he filled her mouth.
“Fuck yes… suck it, Sunanda,” Pradeep hissed, hand fisting her hair, guiding her rhythm. “Take it all… just like that. God, your husband’s wife is such a perfect little cocksucker.”
The words sent a fresh flood of wetness between her thighs. She pulled off just long enough to gasp, “He loves this… he’s probably stroking himself right now, imagining your cock down my throat.” Then she swallowed him again, deeper, gagging softly as he thrust into her mouth.
Pradeep pulled her up after a few minutes, breathing ragged. “Bedroom. Now. I need that pussy.”
They stumbled to our bedroom—my bedroom—where he pushed her onto the bed, saree falling open completely. He ripped the tiny thong aside and buried his face between her legs without warning. “So fucking wet already,” he groaned, tongue diving into her folds, lapping hungrily at her clit. “Taste so sweet… this cunt is dripping for me.”
Sunanda cried out, hips bucking against his mouth. “Yes… eat me, Pradeep… oh God, your tongue feels so good… don’t stop… make me come on your face.”
He sucked her clit hard, two fingers sliding deep inside her, curling until she shattered—screaming his name, thighs clamping around his head, pussy pulsing and flooding his mouth.
Before she could catch her breath, he flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and thrust into her from behind in one brutal stroke. “Take it… take every inch,” he grunted, pounding deep, the bed creaking under them. “This tight pussy is mine right now… fuck, you feel incredible.”
“Yes! Harder… fuck me harder!” Sunanda begged, pushing back to meet every thrust, breasts swinging beneath her. “Fill me up… make me come again on your cock…”
He reached around to rub her clit while he slammed into her, growling filthy things in her ear—“Your husband’s going to love hearing how loud his wife screams for another man’s dick… come for me, Sunanda… milk my cock…”
She came again, harder this time, walls clenching around him as she wailed, and he followed seconds later—groaning her name, pumping hot and deep inside her until they both collapsed, sweaty and spent.
Later, when Pradeep finally left with a long, hungry kiss at the door, Sunanda lay there glowing, my cum-filled wife, and picked up her phone with a wicked smile. She dialed me on video, still naked, saree discarded on the floor, his cum glistening between her thighs.
The moment I answered, hard and desperate, she whispered, “Hi darling… you won’t believe how good he just fucked me. Want me to tell you every single detail while you stroke that cock for your naughty wife?”
And that, my friends, is how my ultimate fantasy came true in December my beautiful Sunanda thoroughly used, marked, and satisfied by another man… while I, Ramesh, her obsessed wife-watcher husband, got to hear and feel every exquisite second of it.
Let me tell you about the video call that followed, my friends—the one that pushed me, to the absolute edge of my obsession. I was already a wreck in that Assam hotel room, cock aching in my fist from hours of teasing myself while imagining every thrust Pradeep was giving my wife. Then, just after five o’clock on that unforgettable December 29, 2025, my phone lit up with a video call from Sunanda.
I answered on the second ring, heart slamming against my ribs.
There she was on the screen—my stunning, freshly-fucked wife—lying naked on our marital bed, sheets tangled around her thighs, skin flushed and glowing with sweat. The golden saree was a crumpled heap on the floor behind her. Her heavy breasts rose and fell with every breath, nipples still swollen and red from Pradeep’s teeth and mouth. And between her spread legs… God, I could clearly see his thick cum glistening on her inner thighs and slowly leaking from her well-used pussy. She looked utterly ravished, utterly satisfied, and utterly mine in the most deliciously filthy way.
“Hi, darling,” she purred, voice low and husky, a wicked smile curving her lips. She tilted the phone so I had the perfect view of her body and the mess Pradeep had left inside her. “Miss me?”
“Sunanda… fuck,” I groaned, already stroking myself harder. “Look at you. Look at what he did to you. You’re dripping with his cum, baby. Tell me everything—don’t leave out a single detail.”
She laughed softly, that throaty sound that always drives me insane, and trailed one finger lazily down her stomach, dipping it between her slick folds. She brought it back up to the camera, coated and shining, then slowly licked it clean, eyes locked on mine. “Mmm… he tasted so good inside me, Ramesh. Thick, hot, so much of it. He came deep, just like I begged him to.”
“Tell me how it started,” I rasped, pumping faster. “From the moment he walked in.”
She shifted, propping the phone against a pillow so both her hands were free, one circling her sensitive clit while the other pinched a nipple. “The second I opened the door in that transparent saree, he couldn’t speak. He just grabbed me, Ramesh—pushed me against the wall and kissed me so hard I felt it in my pussy. His hands were everywhere, yanking the pallu away, squeezing my bare tits, telling me how perfect they are, how he’s been jerking off thinking about sucking them.”
I groaned louder. “And you let him?”
“I begged him,” she whispered, sliding two fingers inside herself now, pumping slowly so I could hear the wet sounds. “I told him, ‘Suck them hard, Pradeep, bite them—they’re yours today.’ He did, darling. He bit so hard I screamed. Then he made me get on my knees right there in the hallway and suck his cock. He was so thick, Ramesh—thicker than I remembered from our calls. I gagged on him, drooled all over him, while he called me your perfect little slut wife.”
“Fuck… yes,” I panted, close already but forcing myself to hold back. “Then what?”
“He carried me to our bed—your bed—and ate my pussy until I came all over his face. Twice. He said I taste sweeter when I’m this turned on knowing my husband wants me fucked by another man.” She moaned, fingers moving faster. “Then he flipped me over, grabbed my hips, and slammed into me from behind. No warning, just one hard thrust and he was balls-deep. He fucked me so rough the headboard banged the wall. He kept growling, ‘This cunt belongs to me right now… your husband’s going to hear how loud his wife screams for my cock.’”
I was shaking, stroking furiously. “Did you scream his name?”
“Over and over,” she admitted breathlessly, her pussy squelching around her fingers. “I begged him to fuck me harder, to fill me up, to breed your wife while you watched from afar. And when he came… oh God, Ramesh, he pumped so deep, so much… I felt every spurt. I came again just from feeling him flood me.”
She angled the phone lower, spreading her lips wide so I could see his cum still oozing out, thick and white against her pink, swollen folds. “Look what he left inside me, darling. Your wife’s pussy full of another man’s load. All because you wanted it.”
That broke me. “Sunanda… I’m coming… fuck!” I exploded in my hand, ropes of cum shooting as I stared at her ruined, beautiful body, listening to her moan my name while she rubbed herself to another quick climax, milking the last of Pradeep’s seed out onto the sheets.
When we both caught our breath, she brought the phone close to her face, eyes soft now, that loving smile I adore. “I love you, Ramesh. Thank you for letting me have this. For wanting this. You’re the best husband in the world.”
“I love you more,” I whispered, spent and blissful. “My perfect, filthy hot wife.”
And that, my friends, is how December 29, 2025 ended for us—with my Sunanda glowing in the aftermath of her lover’s passion, and me, Ramesh, her devoted, insatiable wife-watcher, coming harder than ever to the sight and sound of every exquisite detail she so generously shared.
What came next, my friends—the part that always reminds me why I’m the luckiest man alive. After that explosive video call when I’d just watched my beautiful Sunanda finger herself while showing me every trace of Pradeep’s cum still leaking from her swollen pussy, I was completely spent… but my heart was fuller than ever.
The moment we both caught our breath, her flushed face softened on the screen. She blew me a little kiss and whispered, “I’m all sticky and sore now, darling… but so, so happy.”
That hit me like a wave. The raw lust faded for a second, and all I felt was this fierce, protective love for her. I leaned closer to the camera, voice gentle. “Baby, listen to me. Go run a hot bath right now. Put in that lavender oil you love—the one I packed for you. Soak for as long as you want. Let the warm water ease every ache between your legs.”
She smiled lazily, nodding. “Yes, husband.”
“And after,” I continued, “order your favorite food— that butter chicken and garlic naan from the place near home. Eat in bed if you want. Don’t lift a finger for anything else tonight. You’ve been my perfect, brave, sexy girl today. Now let me take care of you, even from here.”
Her eyes glistened a little. “You always do, Ramesh. Even when you’re enjoying me being naughty, you always make me feel so cherished afterward.”
“Because you are,” I said firmly. “What we just shared—what you gave me—was incredible. But you’re still my wife, my Sunanda, the woman I love more than anything. I need you rested, glowing, and happy tomorrow morning when I call you again.”
She stretched like a satisfied cat, still gloriously naked. “I’ll do everything you said. Bath, food, then straight to bed with your pillow hugged tight so I can smell you.”
“Good girl,” I murmured. “And drink plenty of water, okay? You came so many times—I don’t want you dehydrated on top of everything else.” She laughed softly at that, but promised she would.
Before we hung up, I made her turn the camera once more so I could see her face clearly. “Sunanda,” I said, voice low and full of feeling, “thank you for trusting me with your pleasure today. For giving me that gift. I love every filthy second of it… but I love you even more for letting me care for you afterward. Sleep well, my beautiful wife. Dream of me.”
“I always do,” she whispered, blowing one last kiss. “I love you, Ramesh. Good night.”
The call ended, and I lay back on my hotel bed, chest warm with something deeper than lust. Yes, I’m the extreme wife-watcher who gets off on another man taking her hard—but I’m also the husband who will always run her bath, order her dinner, and tuck her in from a thousand miles away. That perfect balance of wild passion and tender care… that’s what makes our marriage unbreakable.
And that, my Sunanda soaked, fed, and adored, sleeping peacefully in the afterglow, knowing her husband cherishes every single part of her: the naughty, the vulnerable, the loved.
Let me tell you, my friends, that afternoon still burns in my memory like nothing else. I’m Ramesh, the husband who doesn’t just permit his wife’s pleasure with another man—he craves it, jerks off to it, lives for every filthy second of it. And on that cold December , while I was trapped in Assam, my gorgeous Sunanda was home, sliding deeper into the game we both love.
It began with her text to Pradeep. She was already throbbing from remembering their late-night call—how she’d whispered that she was completely naked under her thin nightie, how his breathing had turned ragged. So she typed, fingers trembling with excitement: “Hey Pradeep, are you free this afternoon? Come over… I need you here.”
Pradeep was stuck at his desk when the message flashed on his screen. His cock stirred instantly, thickening as he remembered her husky voice confessing how wet she’d gotten for him. He typed back fast, grin wicked: “Sunanda, fuck yes, afternoon is perfect. But be honest, baby—is this just coffee and chat, or are you finally going to let me unwrap that delicious body? Tell me you’re offering me that sweet pussy as my special gift today.”
Sunanda was in front of the mirror, pressing that sheer golden saree against her naked skin, watching her nipples harden against the fabric. His words sent a fresh rush of heat straight to her clit. She bit her lip, glanced at my photo on the dresser—knowing how much I wanted this—and replied: “Pradeep… whatever you want, I’ll give you. My mouth, my tits, my wet pussy—everything. Come take it.”
Pradeep groaned out loud in his empty office, palming the bulge straining against his pants. He could almost taste her already. “Jesus, Sunanda, you’re making me so fucking hard right now. I’m clearing my schedule—I’ll be at your door at 3 sharp. You better be ready to spread those legs the moment I walk in. I’m going to devour every inch of you.”
She moaned softly to herself, thighs pressing together as her pussy clenched at his promise. “You’re such a dirty, naughty boy, Pradeep,” she typed, voice in her head already breathy, “and I love it. I’ll be dripping for you when you arrive. I promise—my body is yours this afternoon. Fuck me however you want, as hard as you want.”
That sealed it. The messages stopped, but the air between them crackled with raw, hungry lust.
Sunanda set the phone down, heart racing, and immediately messaged me: “He’s coming at 3, darling. It’s really happening.” She added a winking emoji and a little devil—one she knew would make my cock leap.
I was in the middle of a pointless training session when my phone vibrated. I slipped into the hallway, pulse hammering, and read her words. My dick hardened instantly, straining painfully against my zipper. I pictured her in that transparent saree—gold threads clinging to her heavy breasts, dark nipples poking through, the outline of her shaved pussy visible when she moved. Pradeep was going to walk in, see her like that, and lose his fucking mind.
I leaned against the wall, hand pressing against my throbbing erection, and typed back: “Fuck, Sunanda, you’re destroying me here. He’s going to rip that saree off you the second the door closes. I want it all later—every detail of how he sucks those perfect tits, how deep he buries his cock in my wife’s tight cunt. Better yet, call me when he’s inside you. Put the phone on speaker so I can hear you moaning his name, hear your wet pussy taking every thrust. I’ll be stroking myself raw listening to him fuck you senseless.”
I paused, breathing hard, then added: “I love you, my filthy hot wife. Let him use you completely. Make that pussy cream all over his cock—I want to hear how loud you scream when you come for him.”
I hit send and retreated to my hotel room, pacing like a madman, counting down the minutes to three o’clock. My mind replayed her promise to him—“My mouth, my tits, my wet pussy… everything”—and his hungry demand to spread her legs the moment he arrived. I wasn’t jealous; I was consumed. I needed Pradeep to pound her mercilessly, to make her cry out in ways I could hear or imagine in vivid, aching detail.
Three o’clock was approaching fast, and soon my Sunanda would open the door wearing almost nothing, smile that wicked smile, and let Pradeep inside to claim every steamy promise she’d made. And I, Ramesh—her devoted, obsessed, extreme wife-watcher—would be waiting, hard and desperate, for the sounds or the story of exactly how thoroughly she gave herself to him.
The part that still makes my cock throb every time I replay it in my head. Three o’clock on that scorching December afternoon, I was alone in my Assam hotel room, phone clutched in my hand, hard as steel, waiting for whatever scrap of sound or message my Sunanda would send me while Pradeep finally took what she’d promised him.
The doorbell rang at exactly three. Sunanda had spent the last hour preparing—showering, oiling her skin until it glowed, dbanging that golden transparent saree low on her hips, no blouse underneath, no petticoat, nothing but a tiny black thong that barely covered her smooth, shaved pussy. Her heavy breasts swayed freely under the sheer fabric, dark nipples already stiff and visible, the pallu dbangd loosely so it would slip with the slightest movement.
She opened the door with a slow, wicked smile.
Pradeep stood there in a crisp shirt and trousers, but the moment he saw her, his jaw tightened and his eyes darkened with raw hunger. “Fuck, Sunanda… you look like pure sin,” he growled, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him. “That saree… I can see every inch of those gorgeous tits. Your nipples are begging for my mouth already.”
Sunanda’s breath hitched, her pussy clenching at his words. She pressed herself against him, letting him feel her hard nipples through the thin fabric against his chest. “I told you I’d give you whatever you want,” she whispered, voice husky. “So take it, Pradeep. Touch me. Taste me. Fuck me like you’ve been dreaming about.”
He didn’t wait. His hands shot to her waist, yanking the pallu aside so her full breasts spilled free, bouncing heavily. “These tits… God, they’re even better than I imagined,” he groaned, cupping them roughly, thumbs flicking her stiff nipples until she gasped. He bent down and sucked one deep into his mouth, tongue swirling hard while his hand squeezed the other, pinching until she moaned out loud.
“Ohhh… yes, just like that,” Sunanda whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “Suck them harder, baby… bite them. They’re all yours today.”
Pradeep growled against her skin, teeth grazing her nipple before he pulled back, eyes blazing. “On your knees, Sunanda. I want that hot mouth on my cock first. I’ve been hard since your texts—now show me how much you want it.”
She dropped instantly, saree pooling around her knees, and unzipped him with trembling fingers. His thick cock sprang free, already leaking at the tip. “Mmm… so big and hard for me,” she murmured, licking her lips before swirling her tongue around the head, tasting his precum. Then she took him deep, moaning around his shaft as he filled her mouth.
“Fuck yes… suck it, Sunanda,” Pradeep hissed, hand fisting her hair, guiding her rhythm. “Take it all… just like that. God, your husband’s wife is such a perfect little cocksucker.”
The words sent a fresh flood of wetness between her thighs. She pulled off just long enough to gasp, “He loves this… he’s probably stroking himself right now, imagining your cock down my throat.” Then she swallowed him again, deeper, gagging softly as he thrust into her mouth.
Pradeep pulled her up after a few minutes, breathing ragged. “Bedroom. Now. I need that pussy.”
They stumbled to our bedroom—my bedroom—where he pushed her onto the bed, saree falling open completely. He ripped the tiny thong aside and buried his face between her legs without warning. “So fucking wet already,” he groaned, tongue diving into her folds, lapping hungrily at her clit. “Taste so sweet… this cunt is dripping for me.”
Sunanda cried out, hips bucking against his mouth. “Yes… eat me, Pradeep… oh God, your tongue feels so good… don’t stop… make me come on your face.”
He sucked her clit hard, two fingers sliding deep inside her, curling until she shattered—screaming his name, thighs clamping around his head, pussy pulsing and flooding his mouth.
Before she could catch her breath, he flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and thrust into her from behind in one brutal stroke. “Take it… take every inch,” he grunted, pounding deep, the bed creaking under them. “This tight pussy is mine right now… fuck, you feel incredible.”
“Yes! Harder… fuck me harder!” Sunanda begged, pushing back to meet every thrust, breasts swinging beneath her. “Fill me up… make me come again on your cock…”
He reached around to rub her clit while he slammed into her, growling filthy things in her ear—“Your husband’s going to love hearing how loud his wife screams for another man’s dick… come for me, Sunanda… milk my cock…”
She came again, harder this time, walls clenching around him as she wailed, and he followed seconds later—groaning her name, pumping hot and deep inside her until they both collapsed, sweaty and spent.
Later, when Pradeep finally left with a long, hungry kiss at the door, Sunanda lay there glowing, my cum-filled wife, and picked up her phone with a wicked smile. She dialed me on video, still naked, saree discarded on the floor, his cum glistening between her thighs.
The moment I answered, hard and desperate, she whispered, “Hi darling… you won’t believe how good he just fucked me. Want me to tell you every single detail while you stroke that cock for your naughty wife?”
And that, my friends, is how my ultimate fantasy came true in December my beautiful Sunanda thoroughly used, marked, and satisfied by another man… while I, Ramesh, her obsessed wife-watcher husband, got to hear and feel every exquisite second of it.
Let me tell you about the video call that followed, my friends—the one that pushed me, to the absolute edge of my obsession. I was already a wreck in that Assam hotel room, cock aching in my fist from hours of teasing myself while imagining every thrust Pradeep was giving my wife. Then, just after five o’clock on that unforgettable December 29, 2025, my phone lit up with a video call from Sunanda.
I answered on the second ring, heart slamming against my ribs.
There she was on the screen—my stunning, freshly-fucked wife—lying naked on our marital bed, sheets tangled around her thighs, skin flushed and glowing with sweat. The golden saree was a crumpled heap on the floor behind her. Her heavy breasts rose and fell with every breath, nipples still swollen and red from Pradeep’s teeth and mouth. And between her spread legs… God, I could clearly see his thick cum glistening on her inner thighs and slowly leaking from her well-used pussy. She looked utterly ravished, utterly satisfied, and utterly mine in the most deliciously filthy way.
“Hi, darling,” she purred, voice low and husky, a wicked smile curving her lips. She tilted the phone so I had the perfect view of her body and the mess Pradeep had left inside her. “Miss me?”
“Sunanda… fuck,” I groaned, already stroking myself harder. “Look at you. Look at what he did to you. You’re dripping with his cum, baby. Tell me everything—don’t leave out a single detail.”
She laughed softly, that throaty sound that always drives me insane, and trailed one finger lazily down her stomach, dipping it between her slick folds. She brought it back up to the camera, coated and shining, then slowly licked it clean, eyes locked on mine. “Mmm… he tasted so good inside me, Ramesh. Thick, hot, so much of it. He came deep, just like I begged him to.”
“Tell me how it started,” I rasped, pumping faster. “From the moment he walked in.”
She shifted, propping the phone against a pillow so both her hands were free, one circling her sensitive clit while the other pinched a nipple. “The second I opened the door in that transparent saree, he couldn’t speak. He just grabbed me, Ramesh—pushed me against the wall and kissed me so hard I felt it in my pussy. His hands were everywhere, yanking the pallu away, squeezing my bare tits, telling me how perfect they are, how he’s been jerking off thinking about sucking them.”
I groaned louder. “And you let him?”
“I begged him,” she whispered, sliding two fingers inside herself now, pumping slowly so I could hear the wet sounds. “I told him, ‘Suck them hard, Pradeep, bite them—they’re yours today.’ He did, darling. He bit so hard I screamed. Then he made me get on my knees right there in the hallway and suck his cock. He was so thick, Ramesh—thicker than I remembered from our calls. I gagged on him, drooled all over him, while he called me your perfect little slut wife.”
“Fuck… yes,” I panted, close already but forcing myself to hold back. “Then what?”
“He carried me to our bed—your bed—and ate my pussy until I came all over his face. Twice. He said I taste sweeter when I’m this turned on knowing my husband wants me fucked by another man.” She moaned, fingers moving faster. “Then he flipped me over, grabbed my hips, and slammed into me from behind. No warning, just one hard thrust and he was balls-deep. He fucked me so rough the headboard banged the wall. He kept growling, ‘This cunt belongs to me right now… your husband’s going to hear how loud his wife screams for my cock.’”
I was shaking, stroking furiously. “Did you scream his name?”
“Over and over,” she admitted breathlessly, her pussy squelching around her fingers. “I begged him to fuck me harder, to fill me up, to breed your wife while you watched from afar. And when he came… oh God, Ramesh, he pumped so deep, so much… I felt every spurt. I came again just from feeling him flood me.”
She angled the phone lower, spreading her lips wide so I could see his cum still oozing out, thick and white against her pink, swollen folds. “Look what he left inside me, darling. Your wife’s pussy full of another man’s load. All because you wanted it.”
That broke me. “Sunanda… I’m coming… fuck!” I exploded in my hand, ropes of cum shooting as I stared at her ruined, beautiful body, listening to her moan my name while she rubbed herself to another quick climax, milking the last of Pradeep’s seed out onto the sheets.
When we both caught our breath, she brought the phone close to her face, eyes soft now, that loving smile I adore. “I love you, Ramesh. Thank you for letting me have this. For wanting this. You’re the best husband in the world.”
“I love you more,” I whispered, spent and blissful. “My perfect, filthy hot wife.”
And that, my friends, is how December 29, 2025 ended for us—with my Sunanda glowing in the aftermath of her lover’s passion, and me, Ramesh, her devoted, insatiable wife-watcher, coming harder than ever to the sight and sound of every exquisite detail she so generously shared.
What came next, my friends—the part that always reminds me why I’m the luckiest man alive. After that explosive video call when I’d just watched my beautiful Sunanda finger herself while showing me every trace of Pradeep’s cum still leaking from her swollen pussy, I was completely spent… but my heart was fuller than ever.
The moment we both caught our breath, her flushed face softened on the screen. She blew me a little kiss and whispered, “I’m all sticky and sore now, darling… but so, so happy.”
That hit me like a wave. The raw lust faded for a second, and all I felt was this fierce, protective love for her. I leaned closer to the camera, voice gentle. “Baby, listen to me. Go run a hot bath right now. Put in that lavender oil you love—the one I packed for you. Soak for as long as you want. Let the warm water ease every ache between your legs.”
She smiled lazily, nodding. “Yes, husband.”
“And after,” I continued, “order your favorite food— that butter chicken and garlic naan from the place near home. Eat in bed if you want. Don’t lift a finger for anything else tonight. You’ve been my perfect, brave, sexy girl today. Now let me take care of you, even from here.”
Her eyes glistened a little. “You always do, Ramesh. Even when you’re enjoying me being naughty, you always make me feel so cherished afterward.”
“Because you are,” I said firmly. “What we just shared—what you gave me—was incredible. But you’re still my wife, my Sunanda, the woman I love more than anything. I need you rested, glowing, and happy tomorrow morning when I call you again.”
She stretched like a satisfied cat, still gloriously naked. “I’ll do everything you said. Bath, food, then straight to bed with your pillow hugged tight so I can smell you.”
“Good girl,” I murmured. “And drink plenty of water, okay? You came so many times—I don’t want you dehydrated on top of everything else.” She laughed softly at that, but promised she would.
Before we hung up, I made her turn the camera once more so I could see her face clearly. “Sunanda,” I said, voice low and full of feeling, “thank you for trusting me with your pleasure today. For giving me that gift. I love every filthy second of it… but I love you even more for letting me care for you afterward. Sleep well, my beautiful wife. Dream of me.”
“I always do,” she whispered, blowing one last kiss. “I love you, Ramesh. Good night.”
The call ended, and I lay back on my hotel bed, chest warm with something deeper than lust. Yes, I’m the extreme wife-watcher who gets off on another man taking her hard—but I’m also the husband who will always run her bath, order her dinner, and tuck her in from a thousand miles away. That perfect balance of wild passion and tender care… that’s what makes our marriage unbreakable.
And that, my Sunanda soaked, fed, and adored, sleeping peacefully in the afterglow, knowing her husband cherishes every single part of her: the naughty, the vulnerable, the loved.
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