Misc. Erotica My Wife's Evening College (COMPLETED) - By Novelist Casanova

[novelistcasanova]

We reached the Cameraman’s house. The security guard opened the gate, nodding politely as I drove the car inside and parked it near the entrance. My wife got down first, her yellow saree rustling softly, her boobs heaving over the yellow blouse as she stood, immediately reaching back to adjust her yellow saree pallu over her boobs, smoothing it down over her white bra and boobs, tucking a stray fold at her waist, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the yellow saree, her plump ass cheeks jiggling slightly as she straightened the pleats, her yellow petticoat hugging her hips and ass cheeks tightly beneath.

As we entered inside the house, the Cameraman, Giridhar Sir, and the boys — Arjun, Vikram, Suresh, Karthik — were all waiting in the living room, their eyes locked on the doorway, their cocks already hard in their trousers, their mouths watering the moment they saw my wife.
My wife looked stunningly hot in her yellow saree and yellow blouse — the yellow saree dbangd perfectly over her wide hips, hugging her plump ass cheeks, the pallu falling softly over her boobs, the yellow blouse fitting tight, her boobs full and round, pushing against the blouse, her thick juicy thighs outlined under the yellow saree, her navel deep and inviting through the sheer yellow chiffon, her mangalsutra resting between her boobs, her hips swaying seductively as she walked, the rich yellow color glowing against her skin, every fold and dbang accentuating her boobs, hips, ass cheeks, and thighs, her face radiant with light makeup, her lips red and glossy, her large dark eyes captivating, her beauty overwhelming, making their mouths water visibly, their eyes hungry, their breathing heavier, their cocks straining harder as they stared at her, ready to fuck her.
Giridhar Sir stepped forward first, his cock throbbing in his trousers, arms open wide.
"Sudha... you look absolutely beautiful today... come here," he said warmly, voice thick with emotion.
My wife smiled shyly, stepping into his hug. Giridhar Sir wrapped his arms around her waist over her yellow saree, pulling her close, his chest pressing firmly against her boobs over the yellow blouse, his hands sliding down to rest on her hips, squeezing lightly, his cock pressing against her thighs through his trousers as he held her tight for several long seconds.
"Thank you sir... it's so nice to see you," she whispered, hugging him back, her arms around his neck, her boobs pressing harder against his chest over the yellow blouse, her thick juicy thighs brushing his legs.
Giridhar Sir held her a moment longer, his hands lingering on her hips, then released her slowly, his eyes on her yellow saree and yellow blouse.
The Cameraman stepped forward next, arms open.
"Sudha... my baby... you look stunning... come to daddy," he said softly, voice emotional.
My wife stepped into his embrace, the Cameraman wrapping his arms tightly around her waist over her yellow saree, pulling her close, his chest crushing her boobs over the yellow blouse, his hands sliding down to grip her plump ass cheeks over the saree, squeezing gently, his cock pressing firmly against her belly through his black pants as he held her tight, his face buried in her hair.
"Thank you daddy... I am so happy to be here," she whispered, hugging him back, her arms around his neck, her boobs pressing against him over the yellow blouse, her thick juicy thighs brushing his legs.
Arjun came forward, arms open.
"Sudha akka... you look amazing... welcome," he said, voice warm.
My wife stepped into his hug, Arjun wrapping his arms around her waist over her yellow saree, pulling her close, his chest pressing against her boobs over the yellow blouse, his hands resting on her hips, squeezing lightly, his cock pressing against her thighs as he held her.
"Thank you Arjun... thank you for everything," she said softly, hugging him back, her arms around his neck.
Vikram stepped up, arms open.
"Sudha akka... you are looking so graceful... welcome," he said, voice sincere.
My wife hugged him, Vikram wrapping his arms around her waist over her yellow saree, pulling her close, his chest pressing against her boobs over the yellow blouse, his hands resting on her lower back, his cock pressing against her belly as he held her tight.
"Thank you Vikram... it's good to see you," she whispered, hugging him back.
Suresh hugged her next, arms open.
"Sudha akka... you look so radiant... welcome," he said, voice gentle.
My wife hugged him, Suresh wrapping his arms around her waist over her yellow saree, pulling her close, his chest pressing against her boobs over the yellow blouse, his hands on her hips, squeezing lightly, his cock pressing against her thighs as he held her.
"Thank you Suresh... thank you," she said softly, hugging him back.
Karthik was last, arms open.
"Sudha akka... you look so beautiful... welcome," he said, voice warm.
My wife hugged him, Karthik wrapping his arms around her waist over her yellow saree, pulling her close, his chest pressing against her boobs over the yellow blouse, his hands resting on her hips, squeezing gently, his cock pressing against her belly as he held her tight.
"Thank you Karthik... thank you all," she whispered, hugging him back, her boobs pressing against his chest over the yellow blouse.
I stood beside her, my cock throbbing painfully inside my white dhoti, leaking precum, the sight of all of them — Giridhar Sir, the Cameraman, Arjun, Vikram, Suresh, Karthik — hugging my wife one by one, their arms around her waist, their hands on her hips and ass cheeks, their cocks pressing against her thighs and belly as she hugged them back, thanking them innocently, her boobs pressing against their chests, drove me wild with jealousy and filthy excitement, rage boiling inside me, my balls aching as I watched, heart pounding in the luxurious living room.



The old man looked at Arjun, his cock throbbing in his black pants, his voice calm but commanding.
"Arjun... explain the script to all... their roles... let everyone understand the story properly," he said, his eyes flicking to my wife’s boobs heaving over the yellow blouse.
Arjun nodded eagerly, his cock throbbing in his trousers.
"Yes sir... everyone... please sit... let me explain," Arjun said, gesturing to the maroon leather sofas.
He made all sit on the sofa and all sat around him to listen to the script. My wife sat next to me on the maroon leather sofa, her yellow saree dbanging sensually over her boobs and hips, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the saree. Giridhar Sir sat next to my wife’s left, his cock throbbing in his trousers. The three boys, Vikram, Suresh, Karthik, sat on the opposite maroon leather sofa, their cocks throbbing in their trousers. Arjun and the Cameraman sat next to each other on another sofa, ready to listen.
The moment Giridhar Sir placed his right hand on my wife’s left thigh over her yellow saree, his fingers spreading wide, squeezing her thick juicy thigh gently through the yellow saree, his palm warm and possessive, rubbing slow circles over her thigh, the yellow saree wrinkling slightly under his touch, his cock throbbing visibly in his trousers, his breathing heavier, his eyes dark with lust as he felt the softness of her thigh, the other boys watching his hand on her thigh, their cocks throbbing harder in their trousers, their mouths watering, tempted and jealous, their eyes fixed on where Giridhar Sir squeezed her thigh over the yellow saree.
I got possessive and angry, jealousy burning like fire in my chest, rage boiling at Giridhar Sir’s hand on her thigh, the boys watching, all of them wanting her. I quickly made her shift position, pulling her closer to me, sitting in between my wife and Giridhar Sir, my arm around her waist over her yellow saree, protecting her, my heart pounding with fury.
Arjun began explaining the script, his voice enthusiastic, but my mind raced with possessive rage, my heart hammering as I held my wife close, fury and anger boiling inside me in the luxurious living room.


Arjun cleared his throat, his cock throbbing in his trousers as he looked around the maroon leather sofas at everyone gathered, the air thick with anticipation and unspoken hunger.
"Okay... everyone... let me explain the script clearly... the story is about a village girl named Sudha... she grows up naive... uneducated... trusting men too easily... she gets cheated... used... abandoned... at different ages... each lover takes advantage of her innocence... until she realizes education is the only way to rise... to become strong... to take control... she studies hard... becomes an IAS officer... empowers other women... the message is powerful... women's education changes everything," Arjun said, his voice steady but thick with excitement, his eyes flicking to my wife’s boobs heaving over the yellow blouse, each word slicing into me like a slow, deliberate cut.
He continued, pointing to each person, his tone almost reverent.
"Sudha akka is the main lead... the village girl... she plays all ages... teenage... 20s... 25s... 30s... 35s... the lovers are different at each stage... Vikram plays her lover when she is in her teenage... the first man who cheats her... Arjun plays her lover in her 20s... the second man who uses her... Suresh plays her lover in her 25s... the third man who betrays her... Karthik plays her lover in her 30s... the fourth man who abandons her... and Giridhar Sir plays her lover in her 35s... the last man who cheats her... before she rises... the story shows her pain... her fall... her transformation... her strength," Arjun explained, his cock throbbing harder in his trousers as he spoke, his eyes on my wife’s yellow saree hugging her boobs and hips, each name he uttered a fresh wound, a new chain around her neck, a new hand reaching for what was mine.
My wife listened intently, her boobs rising and falling over the yellow blouse, her large dark eyes wide and trusting, her thick juicy thighs shifting under the yellow saree, her plump ass cheeks pressing into the maroon leather sofa, her cheeks still flushed from earlier, completely unaware of the storm tearing me apart from the inside.
Giridhar Sir nodded slowly, his cock throbbing in his trousers, his eyes never leaving my wife’s boobs and yellow saree, a faint, satisfied smile on his lips.
The boys stared, their cocks throbbing in their trousers, mouths watering, eyes fixed on my wife’s yellow saree and yellow blouse, her boobs, hips, ass cheeks, and thighs, their breathing shallow, their hunger almost palpable.
The Cameraman smiled, his cock throbbing in his black pants, his eyes on my wife’s boobs over the yellow blouse, his voice soft.
"Beautiful... the script is perfect... Sudha... my baby... you will bring her to life... we will make it unforgettable," he said, his words like acid pouring into an open wound, burning deeper with every syllable.
I sat between my wife and Giridhar Sir, my arm around her waist over her yellow saree, my grip tightening until my knuckles ached, my heart slamming against my ribs like a trapped animal. Every name Arjun spoke — Vikram... Arjun... Suresh... Karthik... Giridhar Sir — felt like a blade twisting in my gut, carving out pieces of her, handing them to these men. My wife, my Sudha, the woman whose boobs I had kissed, whose pussy I had tasted, whose ass cheeks I had grabbed — now scripted to be taken by each of them on screen, her body offered up for their pleasure, their cameras, their cocks. My chest felt like it was being crushed, jealousy roaring through me like wildfire, scorching every thought until only rage remained. Why am I sitting here? Why am I letting her sit in this room, dressed like this, surrounded by them, listening to a story where she gets fucked by every single one of them? My mind screamed to stand up, drag her out, lock her away from their eyes, their hands, their words. But she sat there, innocent, trusting, beautiful, believing this was for a “noble cause”, while I drowned in the image of her moaning under Giridhar Sir’s direction, under Arjun’s lens, under the boys’ stares. My throat burned, my vision blurred with fury, my cock hard with sick, twisted anger — she’s mine... she’s fucking mine... but right now, in this moment, with every name, every role, every scene laid out, she already feels like theirs... and the thought of tomorrow, of her giving herself to their story, to their touch, to their lust, ripped me apart like nothing ever had before. She’s mine... she’s mine... she’s mine... but she’s already slipping... already theirs... and I’m just watching... burning... breaking... helpless.