24-10-2026, 12:21 PM
Rajesh pushed open the front door still carrying the residual heat of the goon’s call and the photographs that refused to leave his mind. The moment he stepped inside he stopped short.
Vicky and Rohan were already seated comfortably on the living-room sofa as if they owned the place. Ananya stood near the kitchen doorway in her simple cotton saree, face still faintly flushed from cooking.
“Sir… when did you come?” Rajesh managed.
Vicky smiled, completely at ease.
“I told you we would come in the evening… so we came. But you only got late, Rajesh.”
Ananya hurried forward, voice soft and slightly nervous.
“Ji, aap aa gaye… Vicky sir waiting for you…”
Vicky and Rohan both rose.
“Come, Rajesh. All of you should come to the party. OK?”
Rajesh forced a smile.
“OK sir, we will come.”
Vicky straightened his shirt as if preparing to leave.
“OK, I will take leave then.”
Ananya’s politeness overrode her discomfort.
“No sir, please… almost food is ready. Please take food and go.”
Vicky shook his head, still smiling.
“No… to be real, we waited for Rajesh.”
Rajesh, caught between hospitality and the strange tension in the room, added quickly,
“Sir… my wife’s hand dish… taste please…”
Vicky’s eyes glinted with open mischief.
“Yes, Rajesh… sure. I will taste your wife…”
The double meaning hung in the air like smoke. Ananya’s face flooded with colour. Rajesh’s own face went pale for a second. Rohan leaned forward, voice equally smooth and wicked.
“Yes, Rajesh… sure we will taste your wife…”
All three faces—Ananya’s, Rajesh’s, even Komali’s from the kitchen doorway—turned red. Ananya looked down, ashamed, fingers tightening on the edge of her pallu. Vicky laughed lightly, covering the moment.
“Yes… Ananya’s food we will taste.”
Ananya recovered enough to speak, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Rajesh… Rajesh, show them the house in between… we finish cooking.”
Grateful for any escape, Rajesh gestured toward the corridor.
“Please, sir… come.”
He led them first to the small balcony. The evening view of the colony lights was ordinary, but Vicky nodded as if impressed. Then the guest bedroom—neat, unused, the mattress still covered with a protective sheet. Rohan ran a hand over the bed frame and made a small appreciative sound.
Finally Rajesh stopped at the last door and pushed it open.
“This is… our bedroom.”
Rajesh pushed the bedroom door open and stepped aside.
The room was modest but unmistakably intimate. A large double bed dominated the space, its thick, soft mattress covered by a clean white sheet that still held the faint creases of two bodies. Two pillows sat slightly indented. The headboard was simple dark wood. A single window with half-drawn curtains let in the last of the evening light, and the air carried the quiet scent of Ananya’s soap mixed with the warmer, lived-in smell of a married couple’s private space. The wardrobe stood closed. A small bedside table held a half-empty glass of water and Ananya’s hair clip.
Vicky walked in first. His eyes moved slowly over the bed, the pillows, the exact place where Rajesh and Ananya slept every night. He turned and gave Rajesh a deliberate, knowing blink.
“Ohhh… that means you and Ananya both… privacy room.” His voice dropped a fraction. “Everyday you romancing Ananya on this bed…?”
Rajesh felt heat climb his neck.
“Haan… yes sir.”
Rohan brushed past him and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight. He bounced once, testing the give of the cushioned surface, then ran both palms flat across the sheet as if measuring it.
“Shall we sit on this bed where you daily romancing…?”
Rajesh’s throat worked.
“Haan… why not. Please sit.”
Rohan stretched out a little further, leaning back on his elbows. The soft mattress moulded around him.
“Wow… so soft and nice. Seriously so nice.” He looked up at Rajesh with a lazy, filthy smile. “Everyday she will moan on this bed?”
Rajesh swallowed. No answer came.
Vicky closed the door until it was only a few inches open, then walked to the other side of the bed and sat down as well. The mattress shifted again. Now both men were on the exact place Ananya laid her head every night. Vicky leaned back on one hand, the other resting casually on his thigh, and spoke as if discussing the weather.
“Yes, Rohan… I think Rajesh will fuck daily Ananya on this bed… naked.”
The two men shared a slow, private smile. Rajesh stood frozen at the foot of the bed. His cock, already sensitive from the afternoon’s photographs and the earlier teasing, began to swell inside his trousers. The outline became visible almost at once.
Rohan continued, voice low and conversational, eyes half-lidded.
“Yes, Rajesh… your wife is so beautiful. Her top to bottom is mesmerise… you damn lucky fellow.” He patted the mattress beside him. “This height is perfect. She would look so good on her back here… legs open… or on all fours with her face in these pillows.”
Vicky laughed softly, the sound dark with shared memory.
“Hey Rohan, don’t tell… and don’t keep your eyes on Rajesh’s wife. Yours stamina so good… I know how you fucked on that day in our villa when Rajesh came…”
The villa memory slammed into Rajesh with brutal clarity—a his collegue wife on her back, Rohan’s thick cock stretching her open while Vicky held her wrists, the wet sounds of her cunt taking every inch, the way she had moaned despite herself, the way her traditional body had trembled when she came. Rajesh’s cock jumped to full, painful hardness so fast the front of his trousers tented sharply. Now they referring my own innocent traditional wife, he thinks A dark spot of precum already spread against the fabric.
Vicky’s eyes dropped deliberately to the growing bulge, lingered, then rose again with open amusement.
“You thinking you can fuck Rajesh’s wife Ananya on his own marital bed… in his home?” He bounced once on the mattress, making it creak softly. “Whole room… not only room, whole house will echo with the sounds and moans of Ananya… and this bed total will damp with juices…”
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping further, almost intimate, eyes still fixed on the hard ridge in Rajesh’s trousers.
“Hey Rajesh… you don’t know about him. He will fuck especially wives who are traditional… innocents… He is the monster we call him in our batch.. Vicky told.. ""
The last word was pure mockery. Rajesh’s cock throbbed so hard he was certain both men could see the exact shape of it. The wet spot grew. He could not move. He could not speak. The image Vicky painted—Ananya naked on this very mattress, saree pushed up to her waist, soft thighs forced open, moaning loud enough for the kitchen and the living room to hear while Rohan fucked her deep and slow—mixed with the photographs of her held open against a stranger’s chest until his mind felt ready to split.
Rohan stretched out fully now, hands behind his head, completely at ease on the marital bed.
“Soft mattress… perfect height… she would look so good right here. Traditional wives always make the wettest sounds once you open them properly.
Then Rajesh imagine Imagine the bed creaking under her. Imagine her fingers gripping these sheets while we take turns. Imagine the wet spot she would leave exactly where I am sitting right now.”
Vicky moved a little closer to the centre of the bed, still watching Rajesh’s obvious erection with open satisfaction.
“Imagine, Rajesh… your wife’s soft body right here where we are sitting. Her saree pulled up. Her legs open. That pretty traditional face looking up while we take turns. The bed will creak. The walls will hear everything. And you… you will be outside listening. Or maybe inside watching. Either way…”
He left the sentence unfinished, but the smile finished it for him.
Rajesh stood at the foot of his own marital bed, fully hard, face burning, while the two men who had already taken his wife once lounged on the exact place she slept every night and described in slow, filthy detail how they would take her again—right here, until the mattress was soaked and the whole house echoed with her moans.
From the kitchen Ananya’s voice floated down the corridor, soft and ordinary.
“Food is almost ready…”
Neither Vicky nor Rohan moved immediately. They simply looked at the hard, obvious bulge in Rajesh’s trousers, then at each other, and smiled the same slow, shared smile that promised the evening—and the Saturday party—had only just begun.
Vicky and Rohan were already seated comfortably on the living-room sofa as if they owned the place. Ananya stood near the kitchen doorway in her simple cotton saree, face still faintly flushed from cooking.
“Sir… when did you come?” Rajesh managed.
Vicky smiled, completely at ease.
“I told you we would come in the evening… so we came. But you only got late, Rajesh.”
Ananya hurried forward, voice soft and slightly nervous.
“Ji, aap aa gaye… Vicky sir waiting for you…”
Vicky and Rohan both rose.
“Come, Rajesh. All of you should come to the party. OK?”
Rajesh forced a smile.
“OK sir, we will come.”
Vicky straightened his shirt as if preparing to leave.
“OK, I will take leave then.”
Ananya’s politeness overrode her discomfort.
“No sir, please… almost food is ready. Please take food and go.”
Vicky shook his head, still smiling.
“No… to be real, we waited for Rajesh.”
Rajesh, caught between hospitality and the strange tension in the room, added quickly,
“Sir… my wife’s hand dish… taste please…”
Vicky’s eyes glinted with open mischief.
“Yes, Rajesh… sure. I will taste your wife…”
The double meaning hung in the air like smoke. Ananya’s face flooded with colour. Rajesh’s own face went pale for a second. Rohan leaned forward, voice equally smooth and wicked.
“Yes, Rajesh… sure we will taste your wife…”
All three faces—Ananya’s, Rajesh’s, even Komali’s from the kitchen doorway—turned red. Ananya looked down, ashamed, fingers tightening on the edge of her pallu. Vicky laughed lightly, covering the moment.
“Yes… Ananya’s food we will taste.”
Ananya recovered enough to speak, still not meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Rajesh… Rajesh, show them the house in between… we finish cooking.”
Grateful for any escape, Rajesh gestured toward the corridor.
“Please, sir… come.”
He led them first to the small balcony. The evening view of the colony lights was ordinary, but Vicky nodded as if impressed. Then the guest bedroom—neat, unused, the mattress still covered with a protective sheet. Rohan ran a hand over the bed frame and made a small appreciative sound.
Finally Rajesh stopped at the last door and pushed it open.
“This is… our bedroom.”
Rajesh pushed the bedroom door open and stepped aside.
The room was modest but unmistakably intimate. A large double bed dominated the space, its thick, soft mattress covered by a clean white sheet that still held the faint creases of two bodies. Two pillows sat slightly indented. The headboard was simple dark wood. A single window with half-drawn curtains let in the last of the evening light, and the air carried the quiet scent of Ananya’s soap mixed with the warmer, lived-in smell of a married couple’s private space. The wardrobe stood closed. A small bedside table held a half-empty glass of water and Ananya’s hair clip.
Vicky walked in first. His eyes moved slowly over the bed, the pillows, the exact place where Rajesh and Ananya slept every night. He turned and gave Rajesh a deliberate, knowing blink.
“Ohhh… that means you and Ananya both… privacy room.” His voice dropped a fraction. “Everyday you romancing Ananya on this bed…?”
Rajesh felt heat climb his neck.
“Haan… yes sir.”
Rohan brushed past him and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress. The bed dipped under his weight. He bounced once, testing the give of the cushioned surface, then ran both palms flat across the sheet as if measuring it.
“Shall we sit on this bed where you daily romancing…?”
Rajesh’s throat worked.
“Haan… why not. Please sit.”
Rohan stretched out a little further, leaning back on his elbows. The soft mattress moulded around him.
“Wow… so soft and nice. Seriously so nice.” He looked up at Rajesh with a lazy, filthy smile. “Everyday she will moan on this bed?”
Rajesh swallowed. No answer came.
Vicky closed the door until it was only a few inches open, then walked to the other side of the bed and sat down as well. The mattress shifted again. Now both men were on the exact place Ananya laid her head every night. Vicky leaned back on one hand, the other resting casually on his thigh, and spoke as if discussing the weather.
“Yes, Rohan… I think Rajesh will fuck daily Ananya on this bed… naked.”
The two men shared a slow, private smile. Rajesh stood frozen at the foot of the bed. His cock, already sensitive from the afternoon’s photographs and the earlier teasing, began to swell inside his trousers. The outline became visible almost at once.
Rohan continued, voice low and conversational, eyes half-lidded.
“Yes, Rajesh… your wife is so beautiful. Her top to bottom is mesmerise… you damn lucky fellow.” He patted the mattress beside him. “This height is perfect. She would look so good on her back here… legs open… or on all fours with her face in these pillows.”
Vicky laughed softly, the sound dark with shared memory.
“Hey Rohan, don’t tell… and don’t keep your eyes on Rajesh’s wife. Yours stamina so good… I know how you fucked on that day in our villa when Rajesh came…”
The villa memory slammed into Rajesh with brutal clarity—a his collegue wife on her back, Rohan’s thick cock stretching her open while Vicky held her wrists, the wet sounds of her cunt taking every inch, the way she had moaned despite herself, the way her traditional body had trembled when she came. Rajesh’s cock jumped to full, painful hardness so fast the front of his trousers tented sharply. Now they referring my own innocent traditional wife, he thinks A dark spot of precum already spread against the fabric.
Vicky’s eyes dropped deliberately to the growing bulge, lingered, then rose again with open amusement.
“You thinking you can fuck Rajesh’s wife Ananya on his own marital bed… in his home?” He bounced once on the mattress, making it creak softly. “Whole room… not only room, whole house will echo with the sounds and moans of Ananya… and this bed total will damp with juices…”
He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping further, almost intimate, eyes still fixed on the hard ridge in Rajesh’s trousers.
“Hey Rajesh… you don’t know about him. He will fuck especially wives who are traditional… innocents… He is the monster we call him in our batch.. Vicky told.. ""
The last word was pure mockery. Rajesh’s cock throbbed so hard he was certain both men could see the exact shape of it. The wet spot grew. He could not move. He could not speak. The image Vicky painted—Ananya naked on this very mattress, saree pushed up to her waist, soft thighs forced open, moaning loud enough for the kitchen and the living room to hear while Rohan fucked her deep and slow—mixed with the photographs of her held open against a stranger’s chest until his mind felt ready to split.
Rohan stretched out fully now, hands behind his head, completely at ease on the marital bed.
“Soft mattress… perfect height… she would look so good right here. Traditional wives always make the wettest sounds once you open them properly.
Then Rajesh imagine Imagine the bed creaking under her. Imagine her fingers gripping these sheets while we take turns. Imagine the wet spot she would leave exactly where I am sitting right now.”
Vicky moved a little closer to the centre of the bed, still watching Rajesh’s obvious erection with open satisfaction.
“Imagine, Rajesh… your wife’s soft body right here where we are sitting. Her saree pulled up. Her legs open. That pretty traditional face looking up while we take turns. The bed will creak. The walls will hear everything. And you… you will be outside listening. Or maybe inside watching. Either way…”
He left the sentence unfinished, but the smile finished it for him.
Rajesh stood at the foot of his own marital bed, fully hard, face burning, while the two men who had already taken his wife once lounged on the exact place she slept every night and described in slow, filthy detail how they would take her again—right here, until the mattress was soaked and the whole house echoed with her moans.
From the kitchen Ananya’s voice floated down the corridor, soft and ordinary.
“Food is almost ready…”
Neither Vicky nor Rohan moved immediately. They simply looked at the hard, obvious bulge in Rajesh’s trousers, then at each other, and smiled the same slow, shared smile that promised the evening—and the Saturday party—had only just begun.
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