Adultery Conservative Married woman and cuck husband(updated 22-03-26)

[Suresh@123]

Thank you to all..



The next day Harish devils mind is cooked up from something inside. And he regularly thinking of cuckload

thoughts. And he sometimes touch Priya here and there in the presence of brother in law Vivek. She shyly

deny to Harish not here.



But later one night “You’re… different tonight,” she murmured as he pressed her against the door,

mouth already on her throat.


He didn’t answer with words. Instead he yanked her nightie up to her waist, fingers finding her cotton panties

already damp. Priya gasped—half surprise, half pleasure—as he shoved the fabric aside and plunged two

fingers inside her without preamble.


“Harish—slowly—”

“No,” he growled against her ear. “Not tonight.”

He spun her around, bent her over the edge of the bed so her palms braced on the mattress, ass presented.

The position reminded him too vividly of Mrunal on the charpoy: back arched, thighs parted, cunt glistening.

His cock throbbed painfully against his lungi.

When he thrust into Priya from behind he didn’t ease in. One brutal stroke buried him to the root. Priya cried

out, then bit the bedsheet to muffle herself. Harish fucked her hard, hips snapping, each slap of flesh echoing

the memory of Vivek pounding Mrunal. He closed his eyes and saw it again: Mrunal’s dark hair swinging, ass

cheeks rippling, the wet shine of her pussy lips gripping cock.


His wife moaned beneath him, oblivious. “God… what’s gotten into you?”





Harish didn’t reply. He reached around, pinched her clit roughly the way he’d seen Vivek do to Mrunal, and

Priya shattered almost instantly—back bowing, thighs shaking, a keening sound escaping her throat. The

sight of her coming undone sent him over. He pulled out at the last second and painted her lower back with

thick ropes, exactly where Vivek had marked Mrunal hours earlier.

Afterward Priya curled against him, sleepy and sated. Harish stared at the ceiling fan, heart still racing, cock

still half-hard.


The touching started small.

A hand brushing Priya’s hip when Vivek was in the room. Fingers trailing along the small of her back while

she stirred dal on the stove and Vivek sat at the table scrolling reels. Once, when Mrunal was doing work in

the next room, Harish slid his palm over Priya’s ass under the table—slow, deliberate squeeze.

Priya’s eyes widened. She leaned close, voice barely a whisper. “Harish… Vivek is right there.”

“I know.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson. “He’ll see.”

“That’s the point,” he murmured, thumb circling the cleft of her ass through the saree.

She jerked away, breathing fast, but he caught the way her nipples had pebbled against the thin blouse.

Denial, yes—but arousal too.

It became a game. A dangerous, silent game.

Harish would graze the underside of Priya’s breast when he passed her in the narrow kitchen corridor while

Vivek lounged outside. He’d press against her from behind when she reached for a vessel on the top shelf,

letting her feel how hard he was. Each time she hissed “not here”… yet each time she leaned back just a

fraction, letting him feel the heat between her thighs.

Mrunal noticed. Of course she did.She began wearing sarees lower on her hips. Blouses that dipped an inch

deeper at the neckline. When she bent to sweep the courtyard her pallu “accidentally” slipped, offering

Harish long seconds of cleavage before she adjusted it with feigned embarrassment.

The tension thickened until it was suffocating.


Then came the morning Vivek asked.


The next morning Priya went to office and Mrunal is went for tailors shop. The two men were alone in the

house for the first time since the neem-tree afternoon.


Vivek lit a cigarette, leaned against the courtyard pillar, and spoke casually—as though discussing cricket

scores.


“I want to watch you fuck Priya tonight.”

Harish froze, glass of chai halfway to his lips.

Vivek exhaled smoke. “Blindfold her first. Tie something soft over her eyes so she can’t see shit. Then fuck

her like you usually do. I’ll come in quiet. I just want to… see her. All of her. Up close. Tits jumping. Pussy

stretched. Face when she comes. Everything.”

Harish’s cock jumped so violently it hurt. A pulse of pre-cum soaked his underwear.

He tried to speak. Nothing came out at first.

Vivek grinned, slow and dirty. “You’re hard just thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Harish swallowed. “She’ll know.”

“Not if you blindfold her properly. And keep her facing away from the door at first. I’ll stay in the shadows. She won’t see me unless I want her to.”

A long silence.

Then Harish rasped, “Okay.”

Vivek’s smile widened. “Good boy.” and he laughs..




That night the house felt charged, electric.

Priya returned tired but happy, smelling faintly of jasmine from the puja. She showered, changed into a soft

cream nightie that clung to her damp skin, nipples dark points beneath the fabric.

Harish waited until she lay on the bed, hair still wet.

He straddled her hips, kissed her slow and deep—buying time, letting her relax. Then he reached for the black

silk dupatta she sometimes wore as a scarf.

“What’s that for?” she asked, voice sleepy.

“Something new,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

He folded the dupatta, tied it gently but firmly over her eyes. Priya giggled nervously.

“I can’t see anything.”

“That’s the idea.”









He kissed down her throat, peeled the nightie straps down her shoulders, bared her breasts. Her nipples were

already tight from anticipation. He sucked one into his mouth—hard—while rolling the other between thumb

and finger. Priya arched, moaning softly.


Harish glanced toward the doorway.

Vivek was already there.




Vivek Silent. Shirtless. Lungi low on his hips. Eyes glittering in the dim night-bulb glow. His cock was already thick

and heavy against the cotton.

Harish’s own erection throbbed in answer.

He pulled Priya’s nightie all the way off, left her naked except for the blindfold. Spread her thighs wide. Her

pussy lips were swollen, glistening. He dragged two fingers through her slit, coating them, then pushed inside

—slow, deep.

Priya whimpered. “Harish…”





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Vivek stepped closer—soundless on bare feet—until he stood at the foot of the bed, less than three feet away.

His gaze devoured Priya: the gentle rise and fall of her breasts, the dark triangle between her thighs, the way

her inner lips parted around Harish’s fingers.

Harish withdrew his fingers, slick and shining, and offered them to Vivek without a word.

Vivek leaned in, sucked them clean—tongue curling around the digits—eyes never leaving Priya’s blindfolded

face.

Then Harish moved.

He flipped Priya onto her stomach, pulled her hips up so she knelt, ass high, face pressed to the pillow. The

position exposed everything: puckered asshole, dripping cunt, heavy breasts hanging and swaying.




Vivek dropped to one knee beside the bed for a better view.

Harish rubbed the head of his cock along Priya’s slit—once, twice—then sank in to the hilt.

Priya moaned long and low.

Harish began to fuck her—slow at first, letting Vivek drink in every detail: the way Priya’s pussy lips gripped

the shaft on each out-stroke, the creamy ring of arousal that coated him, the jiggle of her ass with each

thrust.


Vivek reached out—hesitant at first—then bolder. He cupped one of Priya’s swaying breasts, thumb brushing

the nipple. Priya gasped, thinking it was Harish’s other hand.

Harish didn’t stop her from thinking that.

Vivek pinched. Rolled. Tugged.

Priya keened. “Yes… harder…”

Vivek obeyed.

He slid his other hand beneath her, found her clit, rubbed in slow, firm circles while Harish fucked deeper,

harder. Priya’s moans turned desperate. Her hips rocked back greedily.






Vivek leaned closer still—close enough that Harish could feel his brother-in-law’s breath on Priya’s skin. He


dragged his tongue along the side of one breast, then captured the nipple between his lips and sucked—hard.

Priya cried out. “Harish—oh god—”

Harish fucked faster. The wet slap of bodies filled the room.

Vivek released the nipple with a wet pop, moved to the other breast, bit down gently. Priya shuddered

violently.
T
hen Vivek did the unthinkable.

He slid two fingers alongside Harish’s cock—pressing them into Priya’s already stretched cunt.

She screamed—muffled by the pillow—back bowing.

Two fingers and a cock inside her. Stretched obscenely.

Vivek finger-fucked her in counterpoint to Harish’s thrusts—curling, rubbing the front wall, searching for that

spot.

He found it.

Priya convulsed. Her orgasm hit like a storm—thighs shaking, cunt clamping, a gush of wetness soaking

Harish’s balls and Vivek’s hand.

Vivek didn’t stop. He kept rubbing that spot, kept sucking her nipple, kept watching her face twist in

blindfolded ecstasy.

Harish couldn’t hold back. He slammed deep one final time and came—hot, thick spurts flooding Priya’s cunt

while Vivek’s fingers stayed buried beside him, feeling every pulse.

When Harish finally pulled out, a thick trickle of cum followed—creamy white against her dark pink folds.

Vivek scooped it up with two fingers, brought it to Priya’s lips.

Instinctively—still lost in aftershocks—she opened. Sucked.

Vivek groaned low in his throat.

He stood then, cock straining against his lungi, glistening at the tip.

He looked at Harish.




A question.


Harish—still breathing hard—nodded once.

Vivek shed the lungi. His cock sprang free—heavier, thicker than Harish’s.

He positioned himself behind Priya.

She was still trembling, ass up, cunt leaking.

Vivek dragged the fat head through the mess of cum and arousal.


Priya stirred. “Harish… again?”

Vivek didn’t speak.

He simply pushed in—slow, relentless—stretching her open inch by inch.

Priya’s mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Harish watched, transfixed, as his brother-in-law buried himself completely inside his wife.

Vivek began to move—long, punishing strokes that made Priya’s breasts swing wildly.

He reached around, pinched both nipples at once.

Priya sobbed with pleasure.

“Harder…” she begged, thinking it was still her husband.

Vivek gave it to her.

He fucked her like he’d fucked Mrunal under the neem tree—brutal, possessive.

Priya came again—harder this time—squirting around the thick shaft, soaking the sheets.

Only then did Vivek let go—pulling out and painting her ass and lower back with heavy, pearlescent streaks.

He stepped back, breathing ragged.

Priya collapsed forward, trembling, blindfold still in place.

Neither man spoke for a long minute.

Then Vivek leaned down, kissed the small of Priya’s back—soft, almost tender.

He left the room as silently as he’d entered.

Harish removed the blindfold.

Priya blinked up at him, dazed, flushed, marked.

She smiled sleepily. “That was… incredible.”

Harish kissed her forehead.

He didn’t tell her.

Not yet.

But the farmhouse shadow had grown longer.

And none of them were safe anymore.

The next morning, when Mrunal returned and saw the faint red marks on Priya’s breasts, the limp in her walk,

the secret smile she couldn’t quite hide…

She knew.

And when her eyes met Harish’s across the breakfast table—knowing, dark, hungry—he felt his cock stir all

over again.





To be continued......