21-03-2026, 02:40 PM
"Ahhhhhhhhh… Ahhhh… It's bigggg… Ahhhhhh… Ohhhhh…
Goddddddddd…" please mercy on me " words
coming from my beautiful wife Ananya.
Heavy, desperate moans and sharp feminine screams spilled out from
our marital bedroom. The king-size
bed — the same bed where Ananya and I had taken our vows, made
love gently on our wedding night — was
now creaking violently under brutal rhythm.
“Take it, my bitch… take every fucking inch,” Vicky’s deep,
commanding voice boomed, followed by the wet,
obscene slap of flesh against flesh.
Ananya’s cries echoed down the corridor straight into my ears. My
cock stood painfully hard inside my pants,
throbbing with every scream she let out, every time she begged
incoherently. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
One word of protest and Vicky would end my career tomorrow — no
reference, no severance, nothing. Just
with a single sign my job will remove. And my life will ruined.
So I stood outside like a coward, palms pressed to the wall, breathing
shallow, listening to my wife being claimed.
Inside, on our marital bed, my 38-year-old boss Vicky and his gym-
friend Arun were double-teaming my
beautiful Ananya without mercy. "Ohhh... Nooooo.... Please.... Pl
Please"". Ananya pleading...
Vicky — tall, thick-muscled, always smelling faintly of expensive
cologne and power — had her hips locked in
his big hands, slamming into her from behind in deep, punishing
strokes. Arun, leaner but cruelly endowed,
knelt in front, feeding her mouth his cock while gripping her long
black hair like reins.
And Ananya… God, Ananya.
Even in this degrading scene she looked impossibly beautiful — more
beautiful than the day I married her.
At 29, her body had ripened into something almost unfair. Her skin
was the color of warm caramel, glowing
under the bedroom lights even when slick with sweat. Her face —
heart-shaped, delicate yet sensual — was
flushed deep pink. Those large, almond-shaped eyes, lined with kohl
even now, were half-lidded in helpless
pleasure-pain, long lashes wet with tears. Her full lips, naturally pouty
and rose-colored, were stretched wide
around Arun’s shaft, glistening with saliva, trembling every time he
pushed deeper into her throat.
Her hair — thick, jet-black, waist-length waves — spilled across the
sheets like spilled ink, strands sticking to
her sweaty cheeks and neck.
Her breasts… oh fuck, her breasts. Full, heavy 34D globes that had
grown even lusher after marriage. They
swayed violently with each thrust from behind, dark areolas wide and
puffy, nipples thick and erect like ripe
berries, dark brown and aching. Every time Vicky bottomed out i
inside her, her tits bounced forward, slapping
together audibly.
Her waist dipped inward dramatically — a perfect hourglass — before
flaring into wide, womanly hips that
Vicky’s fingers dug into so hard I could already see red marks for
forming. Those hips… the same hips I used to
hold gently while making love… now being used as handles for rough,
animalistic fucking.
And her navel — a deep, oval innie that I used to tease with my to
tongue on lazy Sunday mornings. Right now it
was quivering, the soft flesh around it jumping with every brutal
plunge into her core.
Her back — smooth, long, gracefully arched — was glistening with
sweat. The elegant line of her spine curved
beautifully as she was forced onto all fours. And her buttocks… God,
her buttocks. Round, plump, impossibly
firm yet jiggly, the kind of ass that made men turn in the street even
when she wore modest sarees. Right
now those glorious cheeks were rippling with every slap of Vicky’s
hips, turning bright pink from the spanking
he’d given her earlier. Deep dimples decorated the top of each globe,
and between them her tiny puckered
hole winked helplessly with every thrust.
“Such a perfect married slut,” Vicky growled, slapping her right ass
cheek hard enough to make it jiggle for
seconds. “Look at this fat ass… made for breeding.”
Ananya only whimpered in response, her voice muffled around Arun’s
cock.
I could see everything through the half-open door — the way her
wedding mangalsutra swung wildly between
her bouncing breasts, the gold chain and black beads mocking me.
The way her anklets jingled frantically
with every thrust. The way her red bangles clinked together as she
gripped the sheets.
She was still wearing the tiny red nightie I’d bought her last
anniversary — now torn at the neckline, straps
hanging uselessly, the fabric bunched around her waist like a
defeated...
Introduction:::
My name: Rajesh age 32
Wife. Name: Ananya age 29
Vicky : My company CEO age 36
Arun: Vicky friend age 38..
Goddddddddd…" please mercy on me " words
coming from my beautiful wife Ananya.
Heavy, desperate moans and sharp feminine screams spilled out from
our marital bedroom. The king-size
bed — the same bed where Ananya and I had taken our vows, made
love gently on our wedding night — was
now creaking violently under brutal rhythm.
“Take it, my bitch… take every fucking inch,” Vicky’s deep,
commanding voice boomed, followed by the wet,
obscene slap of flesh against flesh.
Ananya’s cries echoed down the corridor straight into my ears. My
cock stood painfully hard inside my pants,
throbbing with every scream she let out, every time she begged
incoherently. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t.
One word of protest and Vicky would end my career tomorrow — no
reference, no severance, nothing. Just
with a single sign my job will remove. And my life will ruined.
So I stood outside like a coward, palms pressed to the wall, breathing
shallow, listening to my wife being claimed.
Inside, on our marital bed, my 38-year-old boss Vicky and his gym-
friend Arun were double-teaming my
beautiful Ananya without mercy. "Ohhh... Nooooo.... Please.... Pl
Please"". Ananya pleading...
Vicky — tall, thick-muscled, always smelling faintly of expensive
cologne and power — had her hips locked in
his big hands, slamming into her from behind in deep, punishing
strokes. Arun, leaner but cruelly endowed,
knelt in front, feeding her mouth his cock while gripping her long
black hair like reins.
And Ananya… God, Ananya.
Even in this degrading scene she looked impossibly beautiful — more
beautiful than the day I married her.
At 29, her body had ripened into something almost unfair. Her skin
was the color of warm caramel, glowing
under the bedroom lights even when slick with sweat. Her face —
heart-shaped, delicate yet sensual — was
flushed deep pink. Those large, almond-shaped eyes, lined with kohl
even now, were half-lidded in helpless
pleasure-pain, long lashes wet with tears. Her full lips, naturally pouty
and rose-colored, were stretched wide
around Arun’s shaft, glistening with saliva, trembling every time he
pushed deeper into her throat.
Her hair — thick, jet-black, waist-length waves — spilled across the
sheets like spilled ink, strands sticking to
her sweaty cheeks and neck.
Her breasts… oh fuck, her breasts. Full, heavy 34D globes that had
grown even lusher after marriage. They
swayed violently with each thrust from behind, dark areolas wide and
puffy, nipples thick and erect like ripe
berries, dark brown and aching. Every time Vicky bottomed out i
inside her, her tits bounced forward, slapping
together audibly.
Her waist dipped inward dramatically — a perfect hourglass — before
flaring into wide, womanly hips that
Vicky’s fingers dug into so hard I could already see red marks for
forming. Those hips… the same hips I used to
hold gently while making love… now being used as handles for rough,
animalistic fucking.
And her navel — a deep, oval innie that I used to tease with my to
tongue on lazy Sunday mornings. Right now it
was quivering, the soft flesh around it jumping with every brutal
plunge into her core.
Her back — smooth, long, gracefully arched — was glistening with
sweat. The elegant line of her spine curved
beautifully as she was forced onto all fours. And her buttocks… God,
her buttocks. Round, plump, impossibly
firm yet jiggly, the kind of ass that made men turn in the street even
when she wore modest sarees. Right
now those glorious cheeks were rippling with every slap of Vicky’s
hips, turning bright pink from the spanking
he’d given her earlier. Deep dimples decorated the top of each globe,
and between them her tiny puckered
hole winked helplessly with every thrust.
“Such a perfect married slut,” Vicky growled, slapping her right ass
cheek hard enough to make it jiggle for
seconds. “Look at this fat ass… made for breeding.”
Ananya only whimpered in response, her voice muffled around Arun’s
cock.
I could see everything through the half-open door — the way her
wedding mangalsutra swung wildly between
her bouncing breasts, the gold chain and black beads mocking me.
The way her anklets jingled frantically
with every thrust. The way her red bangles clinked together as she
gripped the sheets.
She was still wearing the tiny red nightie I’d bought her last
anniversary — now torn at the neckline, straps
hanging uselessly, the fabric bunched around her waist like a
defeated...
Introduction:::
My name: Rajesh age 32
Wife. Name: Ananya age 29
Vicky : My company CEO age 36
Arun: Vicky friend age 38..
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