Ravi’s office door clicked shut behind him, the lock sliding home with a soft, final snick. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the AC and the distant murmur of colleagues outside. He’d meant to check emails during the lunch break, but the lingering tingle from that morning’s accidental dive into Niyoga porn had followed him all day—like an itch he couldn’t scratch in public.
He sat at his desk, pulled the blinds halfway, and opened an incognito tab. One search led to another—ancient practices, modern interpretations, then darker corners of the web. A thumbnail caught his eye, “Frustrated Wife Takes Father-in-Law’s Seed to Get Pregnant.” He clicked before he could think twice.
The video loaded. A young wife, beautiful and desperate, peeks through a cracked door late at night—watching her father-in-law, a powerful older man, fuck her mother-in-law with raw, relentless strokes. The mother-in-law’s moans fill the scene—deep, satisfied. The wife’s hand slips between her legs as she watches, eyes wide, biting her lip.
Next day: seduction. The wife corners the father-in-law in the kitchen, dress slipping off her shoulder, pressing her body against him. He resists at first—then gives in. The scene cuts to the bedroom: her on all fours, him behind, thick cock slamming into her from behind, her breasts swinging, crying out in Hindi-subtitled ecstasy— “Papa-ji… aaaahhh… give me your seed… make me pregnant…”
Ravi’s hand was already in his pants, gripping his hardening cock. He locked the door fully, leaned back in his chair, volume low but enough to hear the wet slaps and moans.
“Ummfff… fuck…” he muttered, stroking slowly at first, eyes glued to the screen as the father-in-law flipped the wife onto her back, spreading her legs wide, pounding deep while she begged for his cum.
“Mmmphhh… aaaahhh…” Ravi’s moans came muffled, hand pumping faster, pre-cum slicking his palm. The idea exploded in his mind—this exists? A wife fucking her father-in-law to get pregnant? Because her husband can’t? It was filthy, wrong, perfect. His cock throbbed—veins pulsing, head swollen—as he imagined it: Simran, desperate, turning to… someone stronger. Someone who could fill her the way he couldn’t.
“Ummfff… yes… aaaahhh…” His strokes quickened, hips lifting off the chair, the video’s moans syncing with his own—wet sounds from the screen, his hand slapping softly against his pants. The father-in-law growled, thrusting harder, the wife screaming as he flooded her.
Arjun couldn’t help himself. The sight of Preeti and Shikha kissing—soft at first, then deeper, tongues sliding hungrily—ignited something wicked in him. Every time their lips met, he timed a single, hard thrust—driving his iron-hard cock deep into Shikha’s slick pussy with a forceful shove that jolted her body forward.
The first time, their kiss broke with a wet gasp—Shikha’s moan spilling out as her head snapped back.
“Aaahhh…”
Preeti laughed softly against her mouth, pulling her back in. They kissed again—deeper, messier—and Arjun struck once more, slamming home.
Initially, the women didn’t mind; it added a thrilling edge, Shikha’s moans vibrating into Preeti’s mouth with every disruption. But as Arjun kept it up—slow withdrawal, then one brutal, hips-snapping thrust—the interruptions grew deliberate, teasing. Shikha and Preeti exchanged a glance, eyes sparkling with mischief. Revenge.
This time, they locked in—hands cupping each other’s faces tightly, fingers digging into cheeks, mouths fused in a fierce, unbreakable smooch. Tongues battled, wet and desperate, lips sealed so completely no thrust could separate them.
Arjun grinned darkly and shoved harder—cock slamming balls-deep in one powerful stroke.
“UUUNNNGGGHHH!” Shikha’s moan exploded into Preeti’s mouth—a deep, guttural, animal sound that vibrated through both women, her pussy clenching hard around Arjun’s shaft.
The kiss held.
Arjun tried again—harder still, hips snapping forward with a loud, wet slap.
“Fuuuck… aaaahhh…” he grunted involuntarily, the tight heat gripping him almost too much.
Shikha answered with another raw “UUUNNNGGGHHH!”—muffled but powerful, her body shuddering as the thrust drove her forward, but the kiss never broke.
Preeti was getting worked up now—her breath ragged against Shikha’s lips, thighs squeezing together under the lace babydoll, pussy throbbing with neglected need as the ritual continued: slow pull-out… long pause… then one vicious, deep shove that made Shikha’s whole-body jolt.
Thrust after thrust—slow, deliberate, punishing—the room filled with wet slaps, muffled moans, and the obscene squelch of Shikha’s soaked pussy taking him again and again.
Preeti’s control snapped. Still locked in the fierce smooch, her hands slid down, grabbing the hem of Shikha’s silky top and yanking it upward—exposing her full, bouncing breasts completely, nipples dark and stiff from earlier attention.
Arjun’s eyes flashed. He bent forward immediately—still thrusting in that slow-hard rhythm—and clamped his mouth over Shikha’s left tit, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
Shikha’s hands flew to his arms—gripping tight, nails digging in—as her moans deepened into the kiss: “Mmmphhh… aaaahhh…”
The scene was pure heaven: two women locked in a desperate, wet smooch—tongues sliding, lips sealed—while Arjun drove his Viagra-hard cock into Shikha’s clenching pussy in slow, brutal strokes, mouth latched onto her left nipple, sucking and biting with greedy pulls.
It should have destroyed him—overstimulated, overwhelmed—but the blue pill held him steady, letting him savour every second of the filthy, perfect combination.
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