[Sengolan]

"Do you feel that, Aman?" she whimpered, her voice a broken, velvet rasp. "Do you feel how he's stretching me? How my cunt is just... swallowing everything?"



The stranger leaned in, his breath hot against the shell of her ear, his voice a dark, resonant rumble. "She's practically begging for the real thing. Look at the way her walls are pulsing around us. She’s so wet she’s practically leaking onto the floor."


"She's always been a wet little thing," I groaned, my voice sounding like a landslide of gravel. I shifted my grip, my fingers digging into the lush, heavy curve of her ass, pulling her back so hard that my throbbing cock crushed against the damp silk of her wrap. "But she's never been this desperate. Not even for me."


The stranger let out a dark, resonant chuckle, his hand finally withdrawing from her depths with a loud, wet *pop* that echoed in the narrow space. The sound was obscene, a proclamation of how saturated she truly was. He didn't step away; instead, he shifted his stance, his hand moving to the buckle of his own trousers.


"You're a lucky man, Aman," the stranger murmured, his eyes locked on mine, challenging and knowing. "But I think your wife is curious about something more than just fingers."


He freed himself with a slow, deliberate motion, and my breath hitched. His cock was a formidable piece of architecture—thick, veiny, and pulsing with a heavy, arrogant heat. It stood proud and rigid, the head glistening with a bead of pre-cum that caught the dim light of the gallery.


Sushma’s gaze dropped instantly. She didn't just look; she stared, her eyes widening with a raw, primal fascination. Her breath came in short, jagged hitches, her chest heaving as her heavy breasts strained against the silk. She looked at his cock, then looked at me, then looked back at the stranger, a tiny, needy whimper escaping her throat.


"Oh god," she whispered, her voice a broken, velvet rasp. "Look at it, Aman... look at the size of it. It's so... thick."


She didn't wait for a response. Driven by a hunger that seemed to consume her, Sushma shifted her weight, leaning forward and sinking to her knees on the cold gallery floor. The silk wrap slid further down her shoulders, exposing the creamy curve of her upper chest as she lowered her face toward the stranger's pulsing length.


"Is it as big as you imagined, Sushma?" the stranger asked, his voice a dark, resonant rumble.


"Bigger," she breathed, her lips barely an inch away from the crown of his cock. "So much bigger."


She didn't just look; she worshipped. Her tongue darted out, a sudden, wet flick that captured the bead of pre-cum at the tip. She let out a low, throaty hum, her eyes remaining locked on mine, wanting me to see the exact moment her resolve crumbled.


"Do you see him, Aman?" she whimpered, her voice a broken, velvet rasp. "Do you see how this thick, arrogant prick is just... waiting for me?"


"I see him," I groaned, my own cock throbbing in a frantic rhythm against my thigh. I reached forward, my hand tangling in her dark hair to hold her in place, my knuckles brushing against the stranger's thigh. "I see exactly how much you want it. I see how your pussy is practically screaming for something this size to stretch you open."


The stranger let out a dark chuckle, his hand coming down to cup the back of her head, guiding her closer. "He’s right, isn't he? You can feel it in your cunt, can't you? The need to be filled by something that doesn't just fit, but dominates."


Sushma didn't answer with words; she answered with her mouth. She opened wide, her lips stretching to encompass the crown of his thick cock, her tongue swirling around the glans with a desperate, starving precision. A wet, sliding sound echoed in the quiet corner as she slid her mouth down the shaft, her throat constricting around the thickness. She looked up at me, her eyes glazed, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she sucked him with a rhythmic, pulsing intensity that made the stranger groan.


"Oh god, Aman... it's so thick," she whimpered, pulling back just enough to let the air hit the glistening skin of his prick. "The way it feels against my tongue... the heat of it... I can't stop thinking about it stretching my pussy open."


"You want it, don't you, slut?" the stranger rumbled, his fingers tightening in her hair, pulling her face back toward his length. "You want this cock to stretch your soaking wet cunt until you can't even remember your own name."


"Yes... yes, please," she gasped, her voice a broken, needy rasp. She shifted on her knees, the silk wrap now pooling around her waist, leaving her heavy, rounded breasts swaying freely. She reached back, her hand finding the damp lace of her panties and ripping them aside with a sharp snap of fabric, exposing her dripping, swollen pussy to the cool air and the stranger's hungry gaze. "Look at me, Aman! Look at how my pussy is pulsing for him! I'm so wet... I'm absolutely overflowing for this man."


I felt a surge of raw, electric heat. Watching her—my wife—kneeling before another man, her pussy glistening and open, was a level of liberal trust I hadn't known existed. I stepped closer, my own cock throbbing in synchronization with the wet sounds of her mouth on his shaft. "She's a little monster, isn't she?" I murmured, my hand sliding over the curve of her shoulder. "She can't get enough of the size."


"I can't!" Sushma cried out, her voice a jagged moan as she wrapped both hands around the base of the stranger's cock, pulling him harder against her lips. "It's too much... it's everything... I want it inside me, Aman! I want to feel him splitting me open while you watch!"


Sushma didn’t just want the act; she wanted the submission. She remained on her knees, her gaze drifting from the stranger’s pulsing, veiny cock up to my face, her eyes shimmering with a predatory kind of glee. She didn’t move to take him inside her yet; instead, she leaned back on her heels, her heavy breasts swaying with the movement, the translucent silk now a ruined heap around her waist. She looked at me, a wicked, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.


"You're just standing there, Aman," she murmured, her voice a velvet rasp that seemed to vibrate in the small, shadowed space. "Watching. Wanting. But you haven't asked for it yet."


I felt a jolt of confusion, my cock pulsing against my thigh. "What do you mean? You’re the one who—"


"Shhh," she interrupted, pressing a finger to her swollen, wet lips. She shifted her hips, the wet, sliding sound of her thighs parting echoing in the silence. She looked at the stranger, then back to me, her expression challenging and sultry. "I don't want it just because it's there. I want to know that you *want* him to have me. I want to hear you beg him to stretch my pussy open."


The stranger let out a low, dark chuckle, his hand sliding back to cup his own thick, pulsing shaft. He leaned back against the wall, his gaze scanning me with a cool, detached amusement. "Beg? That's a steep price for a little bit of pleasure, isn't it, Aman?"


"Please," Sushma whimpered, her eyes glazed with a liquid heat. "Aman, tell him. Tell him how much you want to see his thick cock burying itself in my soaking wet cunt. Tell him you want him to claim me."


I swallowed hard, the air in the gallery feeling suddenly thin. The sight of her—kneeling, exposed, dripping—clashed with the sudden requirement of submission. "I... I want it," I rasped, my voice sounding raw.


"Not good enough," the stranger rumbled, his voice a dark, resonant vibration. He looked down at his own cock, then at Sushma’s pulsing pussy, and then back to me. He didn't move. He didn't reach for her. "I don't know. I'm feeling rather satisfied just standing here. Why should I bother stretching out your wife when you can't even find the words to plead for it? Maybe she should just stay wet and wanting."


Sushma let out a sharp, jagged moan, her hips involuntarily twitching forward, her pussy clamping shut in a desperate, phantom rhythm. "Aman, please!" she gasped, her voice a broken, needy rasp. "I can't take it... the way he's looking at me... the way that prick is just *there*... I need it. Please, beg him!"


The tension was agonizing, a slow-burn torture that made my own cock throb with a frantic, painful intensity. I looked at the stranger, the cool amusement in his eyes, and then at my wife, whose face was flushed a deep crimson, her breath coming in short, jagged hitches. The "liberal" husband in me was fighting a war with the man who wanted to possess every single moan she made.


"Please," I groaned, the word tearing from my throat. "Please fuck her. Please... stretch her open with that thick cock. I want to watch you use her. I want you to fill her up until she can't take any more."


A wicked, knowing smile finally tugged at the corner of the stranger's mouth. "Now we're getting somewhere," he murmured. He didn't move immediately; instead, he stepped closer, the head of his cock grazing the damp, swollen lips of her pussy. He didn't push in; he just teased the entrance, the glistening bead of pre-cum sliding over her clit.


Sushma let out a sharp, broken gasp, her back arching as she pressed her pussy against him, trying to force him inside. "Oh god, Aman... he's right there... please, tell him again! Tell him how much you want him to destroy my pussy!"


"I want it," I rasped, my hand tightening in her hair, pulling her head back so she had to look at the thickness of the cock hovering over her. "I want you to feel every single inch of him. I want you to be his little slut while I hold you. Please, fuck my wife."


The stranger let out a low, guttural growl, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, gripping her firmly. He didn't slide in slowly; he shifted his weight, his hips snapping forward with a sudden, violent precision. With one powerful thrust, he buried the massive head of his cock deep into her soaking wet heat.


Sushma’s scream was muffled, a jagged, guttural moan that vibrated through the gallery. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in a silent plea as she was stretched wide. The sound was obscene—a heavy, wet *squelch* as her walls clung to the thick shaft, the saturation of her pussy acting as a lubricant for the brutal intrusion.


"Oh god, Aman!" she wailed, her voice a broken, velvet rasp. "He's... he's so thick! He's splitting me open! I can feel him hitting my cervix... oh god, yes!"


The stranger didn't stop, his hips beginning a rhythmic, punishing drive. He wasn't just fucking her; he was claiming her, each thrust sending a shockwave through her heavy, rounded ass. I watched, mesmerized, as her pussy clamped around him with a desperate, pulsing intensity, the slickness of her juices foaming around the base of his cock.


"Look at her, Aman," the stranger rumbled, his voice a dark, resonant vibration that seemed to echo the rhythmic slapping of his balls against her thighs. "Look at how her pussy is just swallowing me whole. She’s never felt something this thick, has she? She’s fucking starving for it."


Sushma let out a series of sharp, jagged gasps, her fingers digging into the gallery floor, her nails scratching the polished wood. "I am! I'm starving!" she shrieked, her voice dripping with a raw, primal need. "Fill me up! Stretch me until I break! Aman, look at how he's using me! Look at my cunt... it's so wet... I'm absolutely dripping for him!"


I couldn't look away. The sight of her—my wife, the woman I had vowed to trust and cherish—being driven into the floor by a stranger's massive prick was the most erotic thing I had ever witnessed. I stepped closer, my own cock throbbing in a frantic, painful rhythm. I reached out, my hand sliding over the curve of her shoulder, feeling the tremors racking her body with every deep, sliding thrust.


"You're a little slut, aren't you, Sushma?" I groaned, my voice sounding like a landslide of gravel. "A little wet slut who wants to be stretched open by a real man."


"Yes! I am!" she wailed, her head tossing back, her eyes rolling into her head. "Oh god, he's so deep... he's hitting everything... it's too much... it's perfect!"


The stranger shifted his grip, his hand sliding down to grip the lush, heavy swell of her ass, pulling her tighter against him to ensure every single millimeter of his length was buried in her depths. He let out a low, guttural growl, his pace increasing, the wet, squelching sound of their union becoming the only thing I could hear.


"You see how she takes it, Aman?" the stranger rumbled, his voice vibrating through the space. "How her pussy just wraps around me, begging for more? She's not just taking it; she's craving it. She's starving for a cock that doesn't just love her, but owns her."


Sushma let out a jagged, broken moan, her fingers clawing at the floor. "I'm starving! I'm absolutely starving for this thick prick! Aman, look at me... look at how he's filling me... I'm so wet, I'm practically overflowing for him!"


As the stranger's rhythm became a punishing, rhythmic drive, he suddenly slowed down, his cock sliding out until only the head remained perched at the entrance of her dripping pussy. Sushma let out a sharp, desperate cry of protest, her hips twitching forward, trying to pull him back in.


"Where are you going?" she whimpered, her voice a broken, needy rasp. "Don't stop... please, don't stop!"


The stranger looked over at me, a cool, detached amusement in his eyes. He didn't look at her; he looked at me, his hand tightening on the back of her neck. "I don't know, Aman. I’m starting to think this isn’t enough of a sacrifice. I’m feeling rather satisfied just teasing her. Why should I bother finishing what I started when the husband is just... observing?"