17-01-2026, 10:32 PM
Hi, this is Bhanu Bhaiya taking over the storytelling reins for this chapter, because damn, that night in Goa deserves to be told from my eyes—the one who orchestrated the whole twisted, sweat-drenched symphony. You've heard Chaitali's side, her breathless recount of surrendering to Razzaq's commanding cock while Sammir watched like a silent predator, his presence turning the room into a voyeur's wet dream. But while she was down the hall, legs spread and moaning like a woman possessed, I was in the master suite with Subiya—Razzaq's 25-year-old third wife, that exotic Arabian beauty who looked like she stepped out of a forbidden harem fantasy. Let me paint every filthy, throbbing detail for you, from the moment Chaitali disappeared into Razzaq's room to the dawn when we all emerged, bodies marked and souls a little darker. I'll spare nothing—the scents, the tastes, the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, the way her body quivered under my touch. This wasn't just sex; it was a conquest, a ritual of dominance and submission that pushed us both to edges we didn't know existed. Buckle up; this is going to be long, raw, and so intensely erotic you'll feel it in your bones.
It all kicked off right after dinner on that balmy Goa evening, the sea breeze whispering through the villa like a lover's sigh. Chaitali looked stunning in her tiny sundress, her curves on full display, nipples poking through the thin fabric from the chill and anticipation. Razzaq's eyes had been devouring her all night, his hand occasionally brushing her thigh under the table, while Subiya—oh, Subiya—sat demurely beside him, her abaya hugging her like a second skin, hinting at the treasures beneath. She was a vision: 5'6" of olive-toned perfection, with long, raven-black hair cascading down her back when she removed her veil, almond-shaped eyes lined with kohl that made them smolder like coals, full lips painted a deep crimson that begged to be kissed or wrapped around something thicker. Her body? God, where do I start? Breasts that were a generous C-cup, firm and high, with dark areolas the size of silver dollars and nipples that hardened to stiff peaks at the slightest touch, like chocolate kisses waiting to be sucked. Her waist was slim, flaring into hips that swayed with hypnotic grace, leading to an ass that was round, plump, and jiggling just enough to make my cock twitch—two perfect globes separated by a deep cleft that promised tightness and heat. Her pussy—shaved smooth as silk, lips puffy and pinkish-brown, clit peeking out like a hidden pearl when aroused. And her legs? Long, toned from who-knows-what Dubai gym routines, ending in delicate feet with painted toes that I'd soon have in my mouth.
Razzaq and I had planned this swap over encrypted texts—sealing a business deal with pleasure, as men like us do. "Take good care of my Subiya," he'd said with a wink. "She's feisty, but break her in." Chaitali glanced at me nervously as Razzaq took her hand, leading her to the guest room with Sammir trailing like a shadow. "Enjoy, bhabhi," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Scream loud enough for me to hear." She blushed, but her eyes sparkled with that slutty excitement I loved. The door closed behind them, and faint moans started drifting down the hall soon after—Chaitali's voice, breathy and building, as Razzaq undoubtedly began his seduction.
That left me with Subiya. She stood there in the living room, her abaya slightly parted to reveal a sliver of thigh, her eyes lowered in that faux-shy way Arab wives sometimes do, but I could see the fire beneath. "Come, Subiya," I said, my voice low and commanding, extending my hand. "Let's see what Razzaq's prized possession can do." She took it, her palm soft and warm, nails manicured in red to match her lips. I led her to the master suite—king bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, mirrors on the ceiling and walls for every angle, dim lights casting golden hues over everything. The ocean roared outside the open balcony doors, masking what was about to happen.
I closed the door, locking it with a click that echoed like a promise. Subiya turned to me, her breathing already quickened, chest rising and falling, those magnificent breasts straining against the fabric. "Bhanu... Razzaq said you're a master. Show me." Her accent was thick, sultry, with a hint of challenge. I stepped closer, towering over her, my 6'2" frame making her look even more delicate. "Strip for me, slowly. Let me see what he married." She hesitated for a second—playing the innocent wife—but then her hands moved to the clasps of her abaya. It fell open like a curtain revealing a masterpiece: underneath, she wore nothing but a sheer black lace thong and matching bra that did little to hide her assets. Her skin was flawless, a warm caramel tone glowing under the light, faint tan lines from Dubai pools accentuating her curves. I drank her in—the way her breasts heaved, nipples already erect and poking through the lace like eager buds; her flat stomach with a subtle navel piercing, a diamond glinting; her thong clinging to her pussy lips, a dark wet spot already forming at the crotch.
"Turn around," I ordered, voice gravelly with lust. She did, slowly, her ass coming into view—two perfect, round cheeks bisected by the thin thong string, dimples at the base of her spine begging to be licked. I reached out, tracing a finger down her back, feeling her shiver. "Bend over." She complied, hands on her knees, ass thrust out. I knelt behind her, inhaling her scent—musky jasmine perfume mixed with arousal. My hands gripped her cheeks, spreading them wide to reveal the thong string nestled between, her puckered asshole winking above it, pink and tight, and her pussy lips puffy, juices seeping through the fabric. "Razzaq's lucky," I murmured, leaning in to bite one cheek lightly, making her gasp. "But tonight, you're mine."
I yanked the thong down her legs, exposing everything. Her pussy was a work of art—outer lips full and smooth, inner ones delicate and glistening, clit swollen and peeking from its hood like a ruby. I spread her wider, my thumb circling her asshole while my tongue dipped into her slit—long, flat laps from clit to hole, tasting her sweetness, tangy and exotic, like ripe dates mixed with salt. She moaned, pushing back: "Bhanu... ,.', your tongue!" I rimmed her then—circling her asshole with wet, insistent licks, probing the tight ring, feeling it clench and relax under my assault. Her cheeks jiggled as she trembled, hands gripping her knees harder. I added fingers—two in her pussy, curling to hit her G-spot, thumb on her clit, while my tongue fucked her ass deeper. "Ahh! Yes... eat me like that!" she cried, her voice echoing off the walls. I felt her build—body tensing, pussy walls fluttering—and then she came, squirting a fine mist onto my chin, her asshole pulsing around my tongue. I lapped it all, greedy, my cock throbbing in my shorts.
Standing, I stripped—shirt off to reveal my broad chest, shorts down to free my thick, veiny 9-incher, head already slick with pre-cum. Subiya turned, eyes widening at the size. "It's... bigger than Razzaq's," she whispered, licking her lips. I pushed her to her knees. "Suck it, wife. Show me how you please your husband." She obeyed, her full lips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling the underside as she took me deeper. Her mouth was hot, wet, skilled—bobbing with rhythm, cheeks hollowing, gagging when I hit her throat but pushing on. I fisted her hair, guiding her faster: "Deeper, Subiya... choke on it." Saliva dripped down her chin, onto her breasts, making them glisten. She cupped my balls, massaging gently, one finger teasing my ass—bold move that made me groan. "Good girl... finger me while you suck." She did, sliding a manicured finger into my ass, crooking it against my prostate while deep-throating me. The sensation was electric—pressure building, my balls tightening. I pulled out just in time, slapping her face with my wet cock: "Not yet. I want to mark every hole first."
I lifted her onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was soaked, lips parted invitingly. I dove in again—tongue fucking her hole, sucking her clit like a nipple, nipping gently until she bucked. "Bhanu... please, fuck me!" she begged. I mounted her missionary, cockhead rubbing her slit, teasing. "Beg in Arabic." She did: "Na'akni, Bhanu... fill my kuss!" I slammed in—deep, one thrust to the hilt, her tightness gripping me like a velvet vice. She screamed, nails raking my back: "Too big... ahh, yes!" I pounded her relentlessly—long strokes pulling almost out, then slamming back, balls slapping her ass. Her breasts bounced wildly, nipples hard as diamonds; I sucked one, biting lightly while pinching the other. "Your tits... perfect for milking," I growled, twisting her nipple until she whimpered in pleasure-pain. Her pussy clenched, juices squirting with each thrust, soaking the sheets.
We switched—her on top, riding me cowgirl. Her ass jiggled as she bounced, hands on my chest for leverage. I spanked her cheeks hard: "Ride harder, slut wife!" Red handprints bloomed on her olive skin. She ground her clit against my pubic bone, moaning Arabic curses, her breasts swinging in my face. I caught one nipple in my teeth, sucking hard while fingering her ass—one finger, then two, stretching her. "You like that? Ready for my cock there?" She nodded frantically: "Yes... take my ass, Bhanu!"
I flipped her doggy-style, ass up, face down. Lube poured over her hole—cold at first, making her shiver. I rimmed her again, tongue deep, then fingers—scissoring, preparing. My cockhead pressed against her ring—pressure building, her gasps filling the room. "Relax, Subiya... push back." She did, and I inched in—burning tightness, her walls gripping every vein. "Ahh! Dard... but good!" she cried. Fully buried, I paused, letting her adjust, then thrust—slow at first, building to savage slams. Her ass rippled with each impact, cheeks clapping against my hips. I reached around, rubbing her clit furiously: "Cum with my cock in your gaand!" She did—body convulsing, ass spasming around me, squirting onto the bed. I pulled out, cumming across her back—ropes hitting her skin, dripping down her crack.
No rest. I grabbed toys from the nightstand—a vibrating dildo, nipple clamps. Clamped her nipples—silver chains connecting them, tugging gently to make her yelp. "Pain and pleasure," I said, inserting the dildo in her pussy while eating her ass again. Vibrations on high, her moans turned to screams. Surprise: I blindfolded her with her own veil, heightening senses. Fucked her mouth while the dildo buzzed, then switched to her ass with the toy in her pussy—DP solo style. She thrashed, cumming repeatedly.
Hours blurred: 69 with me on top, face-fucking her while licking her clit; reverse cowgirl anal, her bouncing while I spanked; standing against the mirror, watching our reflection as I pounded her from behind, her tits pressed against glass. Cum in her mouth, on her tits, inside her pussy. Nitty-gritty: sweat beading on her forehead, mixing with tears of ecstasy; her pussy queefing from the pounding; my balls aching from multiple loads; her nails drawing blood on my shoulders; the room reeking of sex, jasmine, and salt air.
By dawn, she was a wreck—cum-glazed, nipples raw, ass red, but smiling. "Razzaq never... like this," she whispered. I held her: "Our secret." Parallel to Chaitali's night—while she surrendered to Razzaq and Sammir, I claimed Subiya completely.
It all kicked off right after dinner on that balmy Goa evening, the sea breeze whispering through the villa like a lover's sigh. Chaitali looked stunning in her tiny sundress, her curves on full display, nipples poking through the thin fabric from the chill and anticipation. Razzaq's eyes had been devouring her all night, his hand occasionally brushing her thigh under the table, while Subiya—oh, Subiya—sat demurely beside him, her abaya hugging her like a second skin, hinting at the treasures beneath. She was a vision: 5'6" of olive-toned perfection, with long, raven-black hair cascading down her back when she removed her veil, almond-shaped eyes lined with kohl that made them smolder like coals, full lips painted a deep crimson that begged to be kissed or wrapped around something thicker. Her body? God, where do I start? Breasts that were a generous C-cup, firm and high, with dark areolas the size of silver dollars and nipples that hardened to stiff peaks at the slightest touch, like chocolate kisses waiting to be sucked. Her waist was slim, flaring into hips that swayed with hypnotic grace, leading to an ass that was round, plump, and jiggling just enough to make my cock twitch—two perfect globes separated by a deep cleft that promised tightness and heat. Her pussy—shaved smooth as silk, lips puffy and pinkish-brown, clit peeking out like a hidden pearl when aroused. And her legs? Long, toned from who-knows-what Dubai gym routines, ending in delicate feet with painted toes that I'd soon have in my mouth.
Razzaq and I had planned this swap over encrypted texts—sealing a business deal with pleasure, as men like us do. "Take good care of my Subiya," he'd said with a wink. "She's feisty, but break her in." Chaitali glanced at me nervously as Razzaq took her hand, leading her to the guest room with Sammir trailing like a shadow. "Enjoy, bhabhi," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Scream loud enough for me to hear." She blushed, but her eyes sparkled with that slutty excitement I loved. The door closed behind them, and faint moans started drifting down the hall soon after—Chaitali's voice, breathy and building, as Razzaq undoubtedly began his seduction.
That left me with Subiya. She stood there in the living room, her abaya slightly parted to reveal a sliver of thigh, her eyes lowered in that faux-shy way Arab wives sometimes do, but I could see the fire beneath. "Come, Subiya," I said, my voice low and commanding, extending my hand. "Let's see what Razzaq's prized possession can do." She took it, her palm soft and warm, nails manicured in red to match her lips. I led her to the master suite—king bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, mirrors on the ceiling and walls for every angle, dim lights casting golden hues over everything. The ocean roared outside the open balcony doors, masking what was about to happen.
I closed the door, locking it with a click that echoed like a promise. Subiya turned to me, her breathing already quickened, chest rising and falling, those magnificent breasts straining against the fabric. "Bhanu... Razzaq said you're a master. Show me." Her accent was thick, sultry, with a hint of challenge. I stepped closer, towering over her, my 6'2" frame making her look even more delicate. "Strip for me, slowly. Let me see what he married." She hesitated for a second—playing the innocent wife—but then her hands moved to the clasps of her abaya. It fell open like a curtain revealing a masterpiece: underneath, she wore nothing but a sheer black lace thong and matching bra that did little to hide her assets. Her skin was flawless, a warm caramel tone glowing under the light, faint tan lines from Dubai pools accentuating her curves. I drank her in—the way her breasts heaved, nipples already erect and poking through the lace like eager buds; her flat stomach with a subtle navel piercing, a diamond glinting; her thong clinging to her pussy lips, a dark wet spot already forming at the crotch.
"Turn around," I ordered, voice gravelly with lust. She did, slowly, her ass coming into view—two perfect, round cheeks bisected by the thin thong string, dimples at the base of her spine begging to be licked. I reached out, tracing a finger down her back, feeling her shiver. "Bend over." She complied, hands on her knees, ass thrust out. I knelt behind her, inhaling her scent—musky jasmine perfume mixed with arousal. My hands gripped her cheeks, spreading them wide to reveal the thong string nestled between, her puckered asshole winking above it, pink and tight, and her pussy lips puffy, juices seeping through the fabric. "Razzaq's lucky," I murmured, leaning in to bite one cheek lightly, making her gasp. "But tonight, you're mine."
I yanked the thong down her legs, exposing everything. Her pussy was a work of art—outer lips full and smooth, inner ones delicate and glistening, clit swollen and peeking from its hood like a ruby. I spread her wider, my thumb circling her asshole while my tongue dipped into her slit—long, flat laps from clit to hole, tasting her sweetness, tangy and exotic, like ripe dates mixed with salt. She moaned, pushing back: "Bhanu... ,.', your tongue!" I rimmed her then—circling her asshole with wet, insistent licks, probing the tight ring, feeling it clench and relax under my assault. Her cheeks jiggled as she trembled, hands gripping her knees harder. I added fingers—two in her pussy, curling to hit her G-spot, thumb on her clit, while my tongue fucked her ass deeper. "Ahh! Yes... eat me like that!" she cried, her voice echoing off the walls. I felt her build—body tensing, pussy walls fluttering—and then she came, squirting a fine mist onto my chin, her asshole pulsing around my tongue. I lapped it all, greedy, my cock throbbing in my shorts.
Standing, I stripped—shirt off to reveal my broad chest, shorts down to free my thick, veiny 9-incher, head already slick with pre-cum. Subiya turned, eyes widening at the size. "It's... bigger than Razzaq's," she whispered, licking her lips. I pushed her to her knees. "Suck it, wife. Show me how you please your husband." She obeyed, her full lips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling the underside as she took me deeper. Her mouth was hot, wet, skilled—bobbing with rhythm, cheeks hollowing, gagging when I hit her throat but pushing on. I fisted her hair, guiding her faster: "Deeper, Subiya... choke on it." Saliva dripped down her chin, onto her breasts, making them glisten. She cupped my balls, massaging gently, one finger teasing my ass—bold move that made me groan. "Good girl... finger me while you suck." She did, sliding a manicured finger into my ass, crooking it against my prostate while deep-throating me. The sensation was electric—pressure building, my balls tightening. I pulled out just in time, slapping her face with my wet cock: "Not yet. I want to mark every hole first."
I lifted her onto the bed, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was soaked, lips parted invitingly. I dove in again—tongue fucking her hole, sucking her clit like a nipple, nipping gently until she bucked. "Bhanu... please, fuck me!" she begged. I mounted her missionary, cockhead rubbing her slit, teasing. "Beg in Arabic." She did: "Na'akni, Bhanu... fill my kuss!" I slammed in—deep, one thrust to the hilt, her tightness gripping me like a velvet vice. She screamed, nails raking my back: "Too big... ahh, yes!" I pounded her relentlessly—long strokes pulling almost out, then slamming back, balls slapping her ass. Her breasts bounced wildly, nipples hard as diamonds; I sucked one, biting lightly while pinching the other. "Your tits... perfect for milking," I growled, twisting her nipple until she whimpered in pleasure-pain. Her pussy clenched, juices squirting with each thrust, soaking the sheets.
We switched—her on top, riding me cowgirl. Her ass jiggled as she bounced, hands on my chest for leverage. I spanked her cheeks hard: "Ride harder, slut wife!" Red handprints bloomed on her olive skin. She ground her clit against my pubic bone, moaning Arabic curses, her breasts swinging in my face. I caught one nipple in my teeth, sucking hard while fingering her ass—one finger, then two, stretching her. "You like that? Ready for my cock there?" She nodded frantically: "Yes... take my ass, Bhanu!"
I flipped her doggy-style, ass up, face down. Lube poured over her hole—cold at first, making her shiver. I rimmed her again, tongue deep, then fingers—scissoring, preparing. My cockhead pressed against her ring—pressure building, her gasps filling the room. "Relax, Subiya... push back." She did, and I inched in—burning tightness, her walls gripping every vein. "Ahh! Dard... but good!" she cried. Fully buried, I paused, letting her adjust, then thrust—slow at first, building to savage slams. Her ass rippled with each impact, cheeks clapping against my hips. I reached around, rubbing her clit furiously: "Cum with my cock in your gaand!" She did—body convulsing, ass spasming around me, squirting onto the bed. I pulled out, cumming across her back—ropes hitting her skin, dripping down her crack.
No rest. I grabbed toys from the nightstand—a vibrating dildo, nipple clamps. Clamped her nipples—silver chains connecting them, tugging gently to make her yelp. "Pain and pleasure," I said, inserting the dildo in her pussy while eating her ass again. Vibrations on high, her moans turned to screams. Surprise: I blindfolded her with her own veil, heightening senses. Fucked her mouth while the dildo buzzed, then switched to her ass with the toy in her pussy—DP solo style. She thrashed, cumming repeatedly.
Hours blurred: 69 with me on top, face-fucking her while licking her clit; reverse cowgirl anal, her bouncing while I spanked; standing against the mirror, watching our reflection as I pounded her from behind, her tits pressed against glass. Cum in her mouth, on her tits, inside her pussy. Nitty-gritty: sweat beading on her forehead, mixing with tears of ecstasy; her pussy queefing from the pounding; my balls aching from multiple loads; her nails drawing blood on my shoulders; the room reeking of sex, jasmine, and salt air.
By dawn, she was a wreck—cum-glazed, nipples raw, ass red, but smiling. "Razzaq never... like this," she whispered. I held her: "Our secret." Parallel to Chaitali's night—while she surrendered to Razzaq and Sammir, I claimed Subiya completely.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)