16-03-2026, 10:25 PM
On my way back from the office that evening, I stopped by the market and finalized things with the CCTV shop. We agreed that the installation would be done on Saturday. When I reached home, Puja was sitting in the drawing room.
Me: “So… did you talk to your friend?”
Puja: “Yes. We spoke after quite a long time. She was saying we should meet, so I told her I’d come over to her place. I’ll go on Friday then.”
Me: (Barely able to hide my excitement)
“Ohhh, niceee. Then I’ll drop you there on Friday.”
It felt as if destiny itself was conspiring to bring the two of them together. Every step connected to this—everything I was planning—was falling into place effortlessly. The CCTV would be installed on Saturday. Puja would leave on Friday. It was almost poetic, as if two lovers—Aslam’s desire and my wife’s body—were destined to move closer, and I was merely the instrument reducing the distance between them.
After dinner, we went out for a walk. Aslam Chacha was standing at the gate.
Me:
“Namaste, Aslam Chacha. You weren’t around yesterday evening.”
Aslam:
“Yes, saab, I had stepped out for some work.”
Neither of them looked at each other. Puja was keeping her distance as well. I knew exactly why—the aftertaste of yesterday’s conversation still lingered. Breaking the silence, I said—
Me:
“Aslam Chacha, Memsaab feels completely alone here when I leave for office. She doesn’t have any friends here either. Don’t they organize any get-togethers in this society?”
Aslam:
“They used to, saab, but after Corona it stopped. But if Memsaab stays this shy, how will she make any friends?”
(He said this while looking straight at Puja.)
“Memsaab will have to open up a little.”
My body reacted instantly. Right in front of me, he was throwing double-meaning lines at my wife. If he could say this much in front of me, what would he do when I wasn’t around? But I wasn’t going to back down.
Me:
“Then Chacha, you should help her open up. There’s no one else here anyway. At least she can talk to you.”
Aslam:
“That depends on Memsaab letting herself open up. When did I ever refuse?”
I looked at Puja. Her face had turned completely red with embarrassment. After yesterday’s exchange, she knew exactly what Aslam Chacha meant. I knew it too—but I deliberately pretended otherwise.
Me:
“Yes, Puja, listen to Aslam Chacha. Who else is here for you to befriend anyway? This way, you won’t feel so lonely either.”
Puja didn’t say a word. She stood there with her face lowered. Aslam, on the other hand, watched her with a shameless grin. Then we walked back home.
That night, we had intense sex. Just that conversation alone had heated me up completely. Maybe she was just as aroused. Along with me, she was moving aggressively too, matching my rhythm.
That night, we were so wild that we fell asleep naked.
On Friday, I dropped Puja off at her friend’s place. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
For Saturday, I called the CCTV installer. I had already instructed him not to discuss anything at the entrance—no explanations, no small talk. I didn’t want Puja or Aslam—or anyone else—to have even the slightest hint that cameras were being installed.
He came and installed the cameras: one outside the house entrance, one inside the entrance, one in the bedroom, one in the drawing room, one in the kitchen, and one in the bathroom.
Each camera had an attached microphone—I didn’t want to miss a single conversation. Everything was connected to my desktop. I password-protected it so Puja wouldn’t be able to access it.
The only limitation was that I couldn’t watch anything live. I could only review the footage at night after coming home. But at least I would be able to see everything.
Just thinking about it sent electricity coursing through me. As each camera was installed, my mind filled in the blanks—imagining what would happen there, in that space, in that position. Imagining Puja and Aslam… imagining her body reacting to his presence…
Puja Sucking Aslam's Big Dick
![[Image: 0heVOdDS_o.gif]](https://images2.imgbox.com/32/07/0heVOdDS_o.gif)
Aslam Fucking her inside the bathroom
![[Image: KNvMz7nF_o.gif]](https://images2.imgbox.com/59/95/KNvMz7nF_o.gif)
Inside Kitchen:
Puja enjoying Aslam's Cock while cooking food for me
![[Image: apMwGzE3_o.gif]](https://images2.imgbox.com/da/13/apMwGzE3_o.gif)
All these thoughts were swirling through my mind, and I was getting intensely excited. In that moment, all I could hear in my head was Puja’s moaning—the imagined rhythm, the thap-thap-thap sound of Aslam’s body colliding with Puja’s.
![[Image: rV9G1UA9_o.gif]](https://images2.imgbox.com/f6/3b/rV9G1UA9_o.gif)
Almost unconsciously, my hand moved to my body, and I began stroking myself hard. Within seconds, I released an overwhelming amount.
You may have noticed that once a man finishes, his desire momentarily subsides. The same happened with me. As the heat faded, doubt crept in. What if I was doing something terribly wrong? What if letting my wife be with another man ended up becoming a permanent habit for her? What if she grew accustomed to him? What if she stopped wanting me altogether? These two opposing fears kept circling my mind.
But more than anything, I needed to understand what was going on inside Puja’s head. Did she truly want to give herself to Aslam? Did she want to tear herself open for another man—or did she still want to remain loyal as a married woman? I knew she was enjoying the teasing, the attention. But would she actually go that far? Could she betray her husband? Could she truly give herself to another man? There were still many veils left to be lifted.
Everything was ready. Every part of my plan had been executed. Only one step remained. And that step could only be taken if Puja herself chose to move forward. She could do that only once her shyness dissolved completely. To remove that shyness, I would have to open her up—open her so much that moving forward would no longer feel wrong or uncomfortable to her.
The next day, I brought Puja back from her friend’s place. It was Sunday, so there was no office. I spent the entire day thinking about what I could do to make Puja more open. I searched extensively online for ways to help a wife open up sexually. Many suggestions pointed toward roleplay as the best method—gradually easing a woman into imagining intimacy with another man.
The idea appealed to me. I thought, why not try it? But I was also afraid. What if I told Puja to imagine sex with someone else during intimacy, and she flatly refused? What if she realized that her husband was thinking about her being with another man? Everything could collapse instantly.
So I had to move carefully—slowly—so that nothing felt strange or forced to her. She had to agree naturally. But how?
All day, I kept wondering how to even begin the conversation. What if I was wrong? What if I had misunderstood everything? What if she didn’t enjoy any of this at all? If that were true, her respect for me would shatter. So I knew one thing for certain: I had to proceed gently. No pushing. No pressure. Just slow, careful steps forward.
Me: “So… did you talk to your friend?”
Puja: “Yes. We spoke after quite a long time. She was saying we should meet, so I told her I’d come over to her place. I’ll go on Friday then.”
Me: (Barely able to hide my excitement)
“Ohhh, niceee. Then I’ll drop you there on Friday.”
It felt as if destiny itself was conspiring to bring the two of them together. Every step connected to this—everything I was planning—was falling into place effortlessly. The CCTV would be installed on Saturday. Puja would leave on Friday. It was almost poetic, as if two lovers—Aslam’s desire and my wife’s body—were destined to move closer, and I was merely the instrument reducing the distance between them.
After dinner, we went out for a walk. Aslam Chacha was standing at the gate.
Me:
“Namaste, Aslam Chacha. You weren’t around yesterday evening.”
Aslam:
“Yes, saab, I had stepped out for some work.”
Neither of them looked at each other. Puja was keeping her distance as well. I knew exactly why—the aftertaste of yesterday’s conversation still lingered. Breaking the silence, I said—
Me:
“Aslam Chacha, Memsaab feels completely alone here when I leave for office. She doesn’t have any friends here either. Don’t they organize any get-togethers in this society?”
Aslam:
“They used to, saab, but after Corona it stopped. But if Memsaab stays this shy, how will she make any friends?”
(He said this while looking straight at Puja.)
“Memsaab will have to open up a little.”
My body reacted instantly. Right in front of me, he was throwing double-meaning lines at my wife. If he could say this much in front of me, what would he do when I wasn’t around? But I wasn’t going to back down.
Me:
“Then Chacha, you should help her open up. There’s no one else here anyway. At least she can talk to you.”
Aslam:
“That depends on Memsaab letting herself open up. When did I ever refuse?”
I looked at Puja. Her face had turned completely red with embarrassment. After yesterday’s exchange, she knew exactly what Aslam Chacha meant. I knew it too—but I deliberately pretended otherwise.
Me:
“Yes, Puja, listen to Aslam Chacha. Who else is here for you to befriend anyway? This way, you won’t feel so lonely either.”
Puja didn’t say a word. She stood there with her face lowered. Aslam, on the other hand, watched her with a shameless grin. Then we walked back home.
That night, we had intense sex. Just that conversation alone had heated me up completely. Maybe she was just as aroused. Along with me, she was moving aggressively too, matching my rhythm.
That night, we were so wild that we fell asleep naked.
On Friday, I dropped Puja off at her friend’s place. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
For Saturday, I called the CCTV installer. I had already instructed him not to discuss anything at the entrance—no explanations, no small talk. I didn’t want Puja or Aslam—or anyone else—to have even the slightest hint that cameras were being installed.
He came and installed the cameras: one outside the house entrance, one inside the entrance, one in the bedroom, one in the drawing room, one in the kitchen, and one in the bathroom.
Each camera had an attached microphone—I didn’t want to miss a single conversation. Everything was connected to my desktop. I password-protected it so Puja wouldn’t be able to access it.
The only limitation was that I couldn’t watch anything live. I could only review the footage at night after coming home. But at least I would be able to see everything.
Just thinking about it sent electricity coursing through me. As each camera was installed, my mind filled in the blanks—imagining what would happen there, in that space, in that position. Imagining Puja and Aslam… imagining her body reacting to his presence…
Puja Sucking Aslam's Big Dick
Aslam Fucking her inside the bathroom
Inside Kitchen:
Puja enjoying Aslam's Cock while cooking food for me
All these thoughts were swirling through my mind, and I was getting intensely excited. In that moment, all I could hear in my head was Puja’s moaning—the imagined rhythm, the thap-thap-thap sound of Aslam’s body colliding with Puja’s.
Almost unconsciously, my hand moved to my body, and I began stroking myself hard. Within seconds, I released an overwhelming amount.
You may have noticed that once a man finishes, his desire momentarily subsides. The same happened with me. As the heat faded, doubt crept in. What if I was doing something terribly wrong? What if letting my wife be with another man ended up becoming a permanent habit for her? What if she grew accustomed to him? What if she stopped wanting me altogether? These two opposing fears kept circling my mind.
But more than anything, I needed to understand what was going on inside Puja’s head. Did she truly want to give herself to Aslam? Did she want to tear herself open for another man—or did she still want to remain loyal as a married woman? I knew she was enjoying the teasing, the attention. But would she actually go that far? Could she betray her husband? Could she truly give herself to another man? There were still many veils left to be lifted.
Everything was ready. Every part of my plan had been executed. Only one step remained. And that step could only be taken if Puja herself chose to move forward. She could do that only once her shyness dissolved completely. To remove that shyness, I would have to open her up—open her so much that moving forward would no longer feel wrong or uncomfortable to her.
The next day, I brought Puja back from her friend’s place. It was Sunday, so there was no office. I spent the entire day thinking about what I could do to make Puja more open. I searched extensively online for ways to help a wife open up sexually. Many suggestions pointed toward roleplay as the best method—gradually easing a woman into imagining intimacy with another man.
The idea appealed to me. I thought, why not try it? But I was also afraid. What if I told Puja to imagine sex with someone else during intimacy, and she flatly refused? What if she realized that her husband was thinking about her being with another man? Everything could collapse instantly.
So I had to move carefully—slowly—so that nothing felt strange or forced to her. She had to agree naturally. But how?
All day, I kept wondering how to even begin the conversation. What if I was wrong? What if I had misunderstood everything? What if she didn’t enjoy any of this at all? If that were true, her respect for me would shatter. So I knew one thing for certain: I had to proceed gently. No pushing. No pressure. Just slow, careful steps forward.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)