Adultery Husband's mistake -Wife's bang bang

[Suresh@123]

The camera never wavered.

Moin stayed buried to the hilt inside Athidhi even as her orgasmic spasms finally began to ebb. Her inner

walls still fluttered weakly around his thickness, milking him in involuntary aftershocks. Sweat beaded on her

collarbones, trickled between her breasts still heaving under the stretched black lace. Her wrists—reddened

now from gripping the headboard posts—trembled but remained obediently high.

Moin rolled his hips once, slowly, letting her feel every ridged vein dragging along her over-sensitized

channel.

"Haaaa… still so sensitive… Moin… please… just a second…" Athidhi's voice cracked into a fragile whisper.

He ignored the plea.

Instead he hooked her knees over his thick forearms, folding her almost in half. The new angle drove him

impossibly deeper; the fat head of his cock pressed directly against her cervix with each lazy roll. Her eyes

rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent scream before sound finally tore free.

"Aaaaahhhhh… too deep… hitting my womb… haaaaa… margayiiii… it's pressing right there… oh god…"

Gupta leaned in from the left side, fingers twisting cruelly into the damp lace covering her left nipple. He

pulled the bra cup down roughly, exposing the swollen, dark areola completely.

"Look how hard these little buds still are," he murmured to the camera. "Even after cumming like a whore, her

body's begging for more."

Rahul mirrored him on the right, yanking the other cup down so both breasts spilled free—full, flushed,

nipples glistening from earlier saliva. He pinched the right one between thumb and forefinger, rolling it slowly

while watching her face contort.

"Tell Kamal which part of you hurts the most right now, Athidi."

She sobbed once, hips twitching involuntarily around Moin's slow-grinding cock.

"My… my pussy… haaaaa… it's burning… stretched so wide… and my cervix… every time he pushes… it aches so

good… aaa… I hate that it feels good…"

Moin chose that moment to pull almost all the way out—only the broad head remaining inside—then slam

back in with punishing force.

Her entire body jolted. Breasts bounced violently. A fresh gush of her arousal squirted out around his shaft,

trickling down to soak the cleft of her ass.

"HAAAAAAAAA… FUCK… aaa… again… do it again… no… slow… haaaaa… margayiiii…"

He repeated the brutal withdrawal-and-plunge five more times—each one drawing a higher, more broken

scream. By the sixth her voice had gone raw, almost silent, just desperate air exploding from her lungs.

Gupta slid two fingers into her mouth, forcing her to suck while Moin kept that punishing rhythm.

"Clean them," Gupta ordered. "Taste how wet your husband's shame makes you."

She obeyed instantly, tongue swirling around his knuckles even as tears streamed continuously.

Rahul, meanwhile, reached under Moin's thrusting hips and pressed two fingers against her tightly puckered

anus—still slick from earlier tongue attention. He didn't penetrate yet—just circled, pressed, circled again,

matching Moin's tempo.

Athidhi's eyes flew wide.

"No… not there… not at the same time… please… haaaaa… I can't take both…"

"You will," Rahul said simply, and pushed one finger past the first tight ring.

Her back bowed off the mattress. The dual invasion—cock stretching her pussy to its absolute limit, finger

breaching her ass—sent her spiraling toward another edge almost immediately.

"Aaaaahhhh… both holes… filling me… ohhhhh… it's too full… margayiiii… I'm going to… again… haaaaa…"

Moin growled low in his throat—the first real sound of strain from him—and sped up. The wet slap-slap-slap of

flesh on flesh filled the room, punctuated by the creak of the heavy teak bedframe protesting.

Gupta pulled his fingers from her mouth with a wet pop and replaced them with his cock—thick, already

leaking pre-cum. He fed it past her lips until her nose pressed against his trimmed pubic hair.

"Suck while you get ruined, baby. Show Kamal how multi-tasking his wife has become."

Her cheeks hollowed. Throat worked visibly around the intrusion even as muffled whimpers vibrated against

Gupta's shaft. Drool leaked from the corners of her stretched mouth, running down her chin to mix with the

sweat on her neck.

Rahul added a second finger to her ass—scissoring slowly, stretching the tight ring while Moin hammered her

g-spot relentlessly.







The triple stimulation broke something fundamental inside her.

Her next orgasm wasn't graceful.

It was violent.

Legs locked straight, toes splayed, every muscle in her body seizing at once. A high, keening wail escaped

around Gupta's cock—muffled but unmistakable. Her pussy clamped down so hard Moin hissed through

clenched teeth. Clear fluid jetted out in rhythmic pulses, soaking his balls, the sheets, Rahul's wrist.

"Hmmmmmmph… mmmph… cummmm… ing… haaaaa… again… sorry Kamal… sorry… haaaaa…"

Gupta pulled out of her mouth just long enough for her to scream properly—raw, animal, endless—before

shoving back in, fucking her throat in short, sharp strokes while she convulsed.

Moin finally showed mercy… of a sort.

He buried himself to the root and held still, letting her ride the aftershocks around his unmoving length while

Rahul kept slowly finger-fucking her ass.

When her trembling eased to shivers, Moin spoke—voice like crushed gravel.

"Time to change positions. I want to see her ride."





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They moved her like she weighed nothing.

Gupta lay on his back in the center of the bed. Athidhi—legs still shaking—was lifted and positioned to

straddle him reverse-cowgirl style. Her back to his chest, facing the hidden camera. Gupta guided his cock to

her dripping entrance and pulled her down slowly until she was fully seated.

"Haaaa… still so full… Gupta… deeper than before… aaa…"

Rahul knelt in front of her. His cock—slick from her earlier saliva—bobbed near her lips.

"Open," he said.

She did.

Moin stood at the foot of the bed, stroking his glistening length while watching her impaled on Gupta.

"Now the real fun begins," Moin rumbled.

Gupta began thrusting upward—short, powerful strokes that made Athidhi's breasts bounce wildly. Each

upward snap forced a fresh whimper from her stuffed mouth.

Rahul reached down and spread her ass cheeks wide—exposing her stretched, pink hole to the camera.

Moin stepped forward.

The head of his massive cock pressed against that forbidden entrance.

Athidhi's eyes rolled in panic. She tried to speak around Rahul's shaft—only garbled pleading emerged.

Moin pushed.

The first inch breached her slowly, inexorably.

Her entire body locked up. Gupta froze mid-thrust to let her adjust. Rahul held her head steady, cock still

buried in her throat.

Another inch.

Then another.

By the time half his length was inside her ass she was shaking violently—tears pouring, body glistening with

fresh sweat.

"Hmmmmph… too big… splitting… both holes… haaaaa… can't… can't breathe…"

Moin didn't stop.

One final, steady push—and he bottomed out.

Athidhi's scream was completely muffled. Her body jerked once, hard, then went rigid as another shattering

orgasm tore through her without warning—triggered purely by the impossible fullness.

Gupta and Moin began moving—opposite rhythms at first, then finding a brutal synchronization. When one

withdrew, the other thrust. Her body rocked helplessly between them like a vessel caught in storm waves.

Rahul fucked her mouth in time with their thrusts—three cocks claiming her completely.

The room filled with obscene symphony:

Wet squelching from her overstuffed pussy and ass.

Gagging, choking sounds from her throat.

The heavy slap of Moin's balls against her perineum.

Gupta's low grunts.

Rahul's hissed praise: "That's it… take it all… show your husband what a perfect three-hole slut you've

become…"

Athidhi could only drool and shudder—lost, broken open, remade in their image with every punishing stroke.

Minutes stretched into eternity.

When Moin finally growled that he was close, Gupta matched his urgency.

They didn't ask where she wanted it.

They simply took.

Moin came first—deep in her ass, hips grinding, flooding her with heat she could feel pulsing inside. The

sensation triggered her yet again—silent this time, just violent trembling and fluttering walls.

Gupta followed seconds later—burying himself and pumping rope after thick rope into her spasming cunt.

Rahul pulled out at the last moment, aimed at her tear-streaked face, and painted her cheeks, lips, closed

eyelids with heavy white streaks.

Athidhi collapsed forward—still impaled, cum leaking from every hole, body twitching with aftershocks.

The three men stepped back.

Let the camera drink in the wreckage:

Wrists bruised.

Nipples swollen dark red.

Pussy gaping slightly, creamy white leaking steadily.

Ass winking around the slow trickle of Moin's load.

Face glazed, mascara ruined.

She managed one broken whisper toward the lens—voice barely audible.

"Kamal… haaaaa… they… they own me now… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"

The feed cut.

But on the island, the morning was far from over.

Gupta wiped himself casually on the sheet.

"Round three in 50 minutes. Someone bring the restraints from the playroom."

Athidhi whimpered softly—already anticipating.











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Her husband get hard he stroks continuously the video running... But after her tremoundeous organism the video

closed. The video ended there, black screen fading to static. Back in Mumbai, Kamal slumped back, hand sticky in his

lap, breath ragged. Shock warred with arousal, betrayal twisting like a knife. He replayed the final moan, cock

twitching anew. What have they done to you? But deep down, a dark whisper: What will they do next?



To be continued..... Next....