05-02-2026, 12:42 PM
Beedaa suddenly stopped.
Mid-thrust — buried so deep his pubic bone was crushed against her mound, cock throbbing thick and hot inside her stretched walls — he went completely still.
Divya’s body jerked once from the abrupt halt. Her breath came in short, desperate pants. She was right on the edge again — second climax building like a storm — walls fluttering wildly around him, clit throbbing from the constant grind of his coarse hair.
Her glassy eyes flew open. She looked up at him — confused, needy, lips parted on an unfinished moan.
Beedaa’s scarred face hovered inches above hers. Sweat beaded on his brow. His dark eyes locked on her tear-streaked one.
Then — low, gravel-rough — he murmured:
“Bahut tight hai tu… ab andar hi nikalunga.”
Divya’s eyes widened in sudden panic.
She shook her head frantically — small, urgent movements — voice cracking with leftover lust and fresh fear.
“Nahi… Beedaa ji… bahar… please… bahar nikaalo…”
The words tumbled out in a breathless rush — shy, pleading, traditional wife instinct kicking back in even as her body clenched greedily around him.
She tried to push at his chest weakly, thigh trembling around his waist, but he didn’t budge.
Beedaa just smiled — that same slow, victorious curve of his lips.
One hand came up to cup her jaw — thumb stroking her lower lip — while the other gripped her hip hard, pinning her exactly where he wanted.
And then he moved once more.
Not thrusting. Just a deep, rolling grind — hips circling, cock stirring inside her like he was stirring her very core.
Divya gasped — “Ahh… nahi… please…”
But it was too late.
His cock swelled even thicker — veins pulsing against her walls — and he came.
Hot, thick spurts flooded her.
Deep. Relentless. Pulse after pulse, filling her completely until she could feel the warmth spreading, overflowing, trickling down her inner thighs where their bodies joined.
Beedaa groaned low in his throat — animal satisfaction — forehead pressed to hers as he emptied himself inside her.
Divya froze.
Her body — still trembling on the brink — clenched hard around him one last time, milking him involuntarily. A broken, shuddering moan escaped her lips despite herself.
But when the pulses finally slowed… when he stayed buried deep, softening only slightly inside her flooded heat…
She looked up at him.
Little anger flickered in her glassy eyes — mixed with shame, confusion, lingering lust, and something almost like betrayal.
Her voice came out small, trembling, edged with that quiet fury only a woman who’d just been claimed so completely could muster:
“Aapne… andar hi… kyun?”
Tears welled fresh. One slipped down her cheek. Her mangalsutra — still trapped between their sweat-slicked chests — felt heavier than ever.
Beedaa didn’t pull out yet. He just looked back at her — calm, unapologetic — thumb brushing away the tear on her cheek.
“Kyuki tu meri hai ab, bhabhi. Bahar nahi… andar hi sahi jagah hai.”
He leaned in — pressed one slow, possessive kiss to her swollen lips.
Divya didn’t kiss back this time. She just stared at him — anger simmering under the haze of afterglow — body still trembling, full of him, marked in the deepest way possible.
Mid-thrust — buried so deep his pubic bone was crushed against her mound, cock throbbing thick and hot inside her stretched walls — he went completely still.
Divya’s body jerked once from the abrupt halt. Her breath came in short, desperate pants. She was right on the edge again — second climax building like a storm — walls fluttering wildly around him, clit throbbing from the constant grind of his coarse hair.
Her glassy eyes flew open. She looked up at him — confused, needy, lips parted on an unfinished moan.
Beedaa’s scarred face hovered inches above hers. Sweat beaded on his brow. His dark eyes locked on her tear-streaked one.
Then — low, gravel-rough — he murmured:
“Bahut tight hai tu… ab andar hi nikalunga.”
Divya’s eyes widened in sudden panic.
She shook her head frantically — small, urgent movements — voice cracking with leftover lust and fresh fear.
“Nahi… Beedaa ji… bahar… please… bahar nikaalo…”
The words tumbled out in a breathless rush — shy, pleading, traditional wife instinct kicking back in even as her body clenched greedily around him.
She tried to push at his chest weakly, thigh trembling around his waist, but he didn’t budge.
Beedaa just smiled — that same slow, victorious curve of his lips.
One hand came up to cup her jaw — thumb stroking her lower lip — while the other gripped her hip hard, pinning her exactly where he wanted.
And then he moved once more.
Not thrusting. Just a deep, rolling grind — hips circling, cock stirring inside her like he was stirring her very core.
Divya gasped — “Ahh… nahi… please…”
But it was too late.
His cock swelled even thicker — veins pulsing against her walls — and he came.
Hot, thick spurts flooded her.
Deep. Relentless. Pulse after pulse, filling her completely until she could feel the warmth spreading, overflowing, trickling down her inner thighs where their bodies joined.
Beedaa groaned low in his throat — animal satisfaction — forehead pressed to hers as he emptied himself inside her.
Divya froze.
Her body — still trembling on the brink — clenched hard around him one last time, milking him involuntarily. A broken, shuddering moan escaped her lips despite herself.
But when the pulses finally slowed… when he stayed buried deep, softening only slightly inside her flooded heat…
She looked up at him.
Little anger flickered in her glassy eyes — mixed with shame, confusion, lingering lust, and something almost like betrayal.
Her voice came out small, trembling, edged with that quiet fury only a woman who’d just been claimed so completely could muster:
“Aapne… andar hi… kyun?”
Tears welled fresh. One slipped down her cheek. Her mangalsutra — still trapped between their sweat-slicked chests — felt heavier than ever.
Beedaa didn’t pull out yet. He just looked back at her — calm, unapologetic — thumb brushing away the tear on her cheek.
“Kyuki tu meri hai ab, bhabhi. Bahar nahi… andar hi sahi jagah hai.”
He leaned in — pressed one slow, possessive kiss to her swollen lips.
Divya didn’t kiss back this time. She just stared at him — anger simmering under the haze of afterglow — body still trembling, full of him, marked in the deepest way possible.
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