Adultery Contractual Sex - Munai's journey

[DeviKamasutra]

Hi Readers!! Bringing out a new story with some fresh Characters and a complete fiction. This is a background story. Hope you like this:

The silence in the cramped kitchen was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of Munai’s bangles as she kneaded dough. Forty years old Bengali housewife, with the soft, round contours of a well-loved doll and skin as fair as fresh cream, Munai felt anything but cherished. Six months. Six agonizing months since her husband, Som, was swallowed by the maw of a fraudulent MLM scheme, leaving her to face the world alone. The whispers followed her like a shadow – from her in-laws, whose eyes held a constant accusation, to the neighbours who offered saccharine pity laced with judgment, and relatives who now avoided her gaze. Each day was a tightrope walk, balancing the crushing weight of their disapproval with the desperate hope for Som's return.
 
Som, her 43-year-old husband, with his once-proud, well-built frame now softened by a protruding belly, was a coal processing plant technician. He was a simple man, easily swayed by the promise of quick riches, a vulnerability that had cost them everything. Munai remembered the day the security officer came, the chaos, Som's bewildered face. Now, the small savings were gone, swallowed by legal fees and the demands of daily life without his income. Her 5'2" chubby frame felt heavier with each passing day, burdened by the unspoken questions and the constant, piercing stares. She missed Som's booming laughter, even his snoring – anything to break the suffocating quiet of their home.
 
Then, like a sudden monsoon shower after a long drought, came Mr. Singh. Forty-five, dark-skinned, with a gleaming bald head and a surprisingly hairy body that belied his otherwise chubby build, he was Som’s colleague. Known for his spendthrift ways, Mr. Singh had, against all odds, stepped forward. He had moved mountains, pulling strings and arranging the best legal aid money could buy, tirelessly working to clear Som’s name. Munai had only seen him in passing before, a distant acquaintance. Now, he was their unlikely saviour, his presence a strange mix of relief and an unsettling intensity in his eyes whenever they met hers. She dismissed it as gratitude, a natural byproduct of their shared ordeal.
 
The day Som returned was a blur of tears and overwhelming relief. He looked gaunt, his eyes hollow, but he was home. Munai clung to him, burying her face in his chest, the scent of him, of freedom, washing over her. The house, once a tomb of despair, buzzed with a fragile joy. That evening, a small celebration was arranged. The in-laws, for once, wore smiles instead of frowns. Neighbours, curious and perhaps a little ashamed, brought small gifts. Munai, despite her weariness, had dressed in her finest saree, its vibrant blue a stark contrast to the muted tones of her recent life. Som, too, looked presentable, his spirit slowly rekindling.
 
They sat opposite Mr. Singh, who looked unusually sharp in a crisp white shirt and khakee trousers. The air was thick with unspoken thanks. "Singh," Som began, his voice thick with emotion, "we don't know how to thank you. You saved my life, saved my family. I will repay you, every penny, over the coming months." Munai nodded, her eyes welling up. Mr. Singh merely waved a dismissive hand. "Forget about money, Som. What are friends for?" Som insisted, his gratitude too profound to let it go. "No, Singh, I must. It's a matter of honour." Mr. Singh’s eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered towards Munai, lingering for a fraction too long before settling back on Som. A slow, chilling grin spread across his face, a silent, predatory promise that sent a shiver down Munai’s spine. The celebration continued, but for Munai, a new, unsettling shadow had just fallen.

[DeviKamasutra]

Chapter 1: 6 months later...

“Fuck, Bhabhi, look at you—such a greedy little whore. Taking me so deep,” Mr. Singh’s gravelly voice cut through the heavy air of the living room, his thick accent laced with both mockery and adoration. He leaned back slightly, his dark eyes raking over her naked, trembling form as her legs remained pinned high over his shoulders. Her chubby body jiggled with every thrust, her heavy boobs bouncing obscenely, the beauty spot above her left nipple catching the dim light like a mark of sin.

“You love this, don’t you? Being used like this, with your husband watching?)” he sneered, his tone a cruel mix of taunt and admiration. His thrusts were deliberate, each one driving deeper into her shaven pussy, her wetness coating his thick cock with every movement. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the room, mingling with Munai’s shaky moans and the rhythmic creak of the couch. “Look at you, Bhabhi, taking it like the fat little slut you are. You’re made for this.”

Munai whimpered, her breath hitching as her hips lifted slightly to meet his thrusts. Her full, soft yet trunk-like thighs trembled under the strain of being held open so wide, her pliant body submitting completely to his dominance. Her heavy boobs swayed rhythmically, her nipples hard and begging for attention, the lighter shade of her large areolas glistening with sweat. “Oh God… oh please…” she gasped, her voice breaking as pleasure coiled tightly in her core.

Mr. Singh chuckled darkly, his hand leaving her thigh to grab a handful of her boob, squeezing the soft flesh roughly. “These tits… fucking perfect,” he muttered, his fingers pinching her nipple hard enough to make her cry out. “You were made for this, Bhabhi. Born to be a slut. Tell me, how does it feel to have your husband watch you get fucked like the whore you are?”

Munai’s cheeks flushed deeper as she glanced toward Dipankar, who stood in the corner with the camera trembling in his hands. His face was a mask of shame and arousal, his eyes glued to her naked, debauched form. She felt a pang of guilt but also an undeniable thrill at the power she held over both men. “I… I can’t help it…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies colliding.

“Of course you can’t,” Mr. Singh growled, leaning down to suckle at her breast, his tongue swirling around her nipple in a way that made her moan louder. “You’re just a fat, greedy whore who can’t get enough of my cock. Admit it.” His thrusts grew harder, deeper, each one pushing her closer to the edge as her pussy clenched around him desperately.

Munai’s body arched off the couch as she teetered on the brink of ecstasy, her mind consumed by the sensations coursing through her. “Yes… yes, I’m a whore…” she gasped, her voice trembling with both shame and desire. “Fuck me… Fuck me like a whore…”

Mr. Singh smirked darkly, his grip tightening on her thighs as he drove into her with relentless force. “That’s right, Bhabhi. You’re mine now.”

Munai whimpered, her breath uneven as her legs were pinned high over his broad, hairy shoulders. Her pale, round face was flushed, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead despite the chilly winter breeze sneaking in through the open door. The sheer curtains danced wildly, threatening to expose them to the world beyond. Her chubby body jiggled with every thrust, her heavy breasts bouncing, the beauty spot above her left nipple catching the dim light.

“Even after several months, your pussy grips my thick cock tightly,” Mr. Singh grunted, his dark, hairy chest heaving as he slammed into her shaven pussy, her wetness coating his thick cock with every movement. Her pussy lips, soft and pink, stretched around him, glistening with their combined arousal.

Dipankar stood in the corner, his t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame, his shorts tented as he recorded the scene with trembling hands. His face was a mix of shame and arousal, his eyes glued to his wife’s naked form being ravaged by his colleague. He didn’t dare touch himself, though every fiber of his being screamed for release.

“Ahhh… oh God…” Munai moaned, her voice shaky as she gripped the edge of the couch beneath her. Her full, soft hips lifted slightly, meeting his thrusts with a needy urgency. Her heavy boobs swayed rhythmically, her nipples standing taut, the lighter shade of her large areolas begging for attention.

Mr. Singh chuckled darkly, slowing his pace just enough to torment her. “Look how eager are your fucking tits,” he said almost reverently, letting one hand leave her thigh to grab a handful of her breast. His rough fingers kneaded the soft flesh, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her gasp. “So soft. So juicy. You must love seducing men by your slutty tits right?"

“Please… don’t stop…” she begged, her voice trembling as she arched her back, offering herself to him completely. Her body was pliant under his control, her thighs trembling from the strain of being held open so wide. The cool breeze brushed against her overheated skin, sending shivers through her as she teetered on the edge of exposure.

“Such a fat, juicy cunt,” Mr. Singh sneered, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Your married pussy is soaking wet for me. Bet Dipankar hasn’t made you this wet in years, has he?” His words were cruel but laced with something almost possessive, as if he was claiming her in ways her husband never could.

Munai’s breath hitched as he hit a particularly sensitive spot, her toes curling as pleasure rippled through her. Her pussy clenched around him, her inner walls fluttering as she neared the edge. “Oh… oh fuck… I’m close…” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies slapping together.

“You better not come without my permission,” Mr. Singh growled, his voice low and commanding, cutting through the thick air of the room. His grip tightened on her soft thighs, fingers digging into her pale flesh as he held her legs open, pinned high over his shoulders. He leaned down, his dark, hairy chest brushing against her trembling body, and took her nipple and the complete areolae into his mouth, sucking hard. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, each flick sending jolts of electricity straight to her core. Munai gasped, arching her back as pleasure surged through her, her heavy boobs harmonizing with the movement.

“Such a needy slut,” he muttered against her boobs, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers as he pinched her other nipple between his rough fingers, twisting it just enough to make her cry out. “Look at you, squirming like a desperate whore.” His voice was laced with both cruelty and admiration, his gaze dark with dominance. “You can’t even control yourself, can you? You’re just a fat, greedy bitch who craves my cock.”

Munai whimpered, her body trembling under his relentless assault. Her pussy clenched around him, her wetness soaking his thick shaft as he continued to fuck her with slow, deliberate strokes. She felt herself teetering on the edge, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. “I… I can’t help it…” she whispered, her voice shaking with desperation.

“Yes, you can,” Mr. Singh snapped, slapping her thigh sharply. The sting made her yelp, her body jerking in surprise. “You don’t come until I fucking say so. Do you understand me, Bhabhi?” His voice was harsh, but there was a glint of something almost possessive in his eyes, as if he relished having this control over her.

She nodded frantically, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. Her pussy throbbed with need, her clit swollen and aching for release, but she forced herself to focus on his words, on his demands. “Y-yes… I… I’ll try…”

Mr. smirked darkly, clearly enjoying the way she fought to obey him. “Good girl,” he purred, his voice dripping with mock praise. He leaned down again, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “PBut don’t think I’m going to go easy on you. You’re mine now, Munai. And I’m going to take you apart piece by piece.”

With that, he pulled out of her abruptly, leaving her pussy clenching around empty air. Munai cried out, her body writhing in frustration as he positioned himself back at her entrance and plunged into her again with a single, brutal thrust. Her head fell back against the couch as she gave herself over to him completely, her mind consumed by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

From the corner, Dipankar’s hands trembled as he continued to record, his face a mask of shame and arousal. “I… I can’t hold it…” Munai gasped, her hips bucking uncontrollably as waves of pleasure began to crash over her. Her pussy pulsed around his cock, her body betraying her even as she tried to hold back.

“Fuck you Bhabhi!” Mr. Singh hissed, pulling out abruptly and slapping her pussy hard with his palm. The sharp sting made her cry out, her body jerking in surprise. “Not until I say so!”

She nodded frantically, tears welling up in her eyes as she struggled to regain control. Her pussy throbbed with need, her clit swollen and aching for attention. “Yes… yes, I’m sorry…”

Mr. Singh smirked, his dark eyes glinting with satisfaction as he positioned himself at her entrance again. He slid back inside slowly, relishing the way her tight walls gripped him once more. “Good,” he purred, his voice dripping with mock praise. “Dada, come here and take a close-up shot of her pussy while I fill her up.” With short steps, Dipankar moved towards them and kneeled to set the camera near his wife's violated pussy. He's gulping down his shame and compulsion.

As he began to thrust once more, Munai couldn’t help but glance over at Dipankar, her husband’s face a mask of conflicted emotions. His hands trembled as he held the camera, his breathing labored as he watched his wife being fucked raw by another man. She felt a pang of guilt but also an undeniable thrill at the power she held over both of them.

Mr. Singh noticed her gaze and chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry about him,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “He knows his place. Just like you know yours.”

With that, he picked up the pace again, his hips slamming into hers with a force that made the entire couch creak. Munai’s mind went blank as pleasure consumed her, her body surrendering completely to the sensations coursing through her...

“You love this fat cock, don’t you?” Mr. Singh taunted, his voice hoarse with exertion. “Say it.”

“I… I love it…” Munai moaned, her voice breaking as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “I love your cock…”

“Louder!” he demanded, his thrusts becoming even more erratic.

“I love your cock!” she cried out, her voice echoing through the room as her orgasm finally erupted, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her as her body convulsed in ecstasy.

“Oh, fuck, Bhabhi!” Mr. Singh growled, his voice thick with lust as he felt her pussy clamping down on him like a vice, her walls fluttering and squeezing his cock with desperate need. His thrusts became erratic, his rhythm breaking as the pleasure building inside him reached its peak. He gripped her hips tightly, the softness of her flesh yielding under his fingers, and buried himself deep inside her with one final, punishing thrust. “Take it, you fat little whore. Take every drop.”

Munai’s breath hitched as she felt him pulsing inside her, his thick cock jerking as he unleashed his release. She arched her back, her heavy breasts pressing against his chest as her body trembled under the force of her own orgasm. His hot seed flooded her tight channel, filling her in ways that made her toes curl and her mind go blank. “Oh God… oh yes…” she moaned, her voice trembling with ecstasy, her nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him.

Mr. Singh groaned loudly, his body shuddering as he emptied himself into her, his cock twitching with each wave of his release. He leaned down, his hot breath brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I love you my slut. Keep taking my hot cum, all of it.” His voice was low and possessive, the words sending a shiver down her spine even as her body continued to tremble in the aftermath of her climax.

From the corner, Dipankar’s hands shook violently as he kept the camera focused on them, his breathing labored and uneven. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his wife being claimed so completely by another man, her pliant body writhing in pleasure as she took everything Mr. Singh gave her. The shame and arousal warred within him, his own desire almost unbearable as he watched Munai’s face contort in ecstasy.

Mr. Singh didn’t pull out immediately, letting himself savor the way her pussy still clenched around him, milking the last drops of his cum from his spent cock. He ran a hand over her sweaty skin, his fingers trailing along the soft curve of her belly before gripping her thigh possessively. “You’re mine now, Munai,” he said, his voice firm and final. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Munai could only nod weakly, her body still trembling as she lay beneath him, completely spent. Her mind was a haze of pleasure and exhaustion, her thoughts scattered as she tried to catch her breath. The cool winter breeze swept through the room again, making her shiver, but she didn’t care. Right now, all she could focus on was the feeling of him inside her, marking her, owning her. And for the first time, she realized how much she craved it.

From the corner, Dipankar couldn’t look away as he was fighting his own guilt of being horny seeing another man's cum dripping out of his wife's pussy.

KNOCK! KNOCK! The sudden knock at the door jolted all three of them like a crack of thunder, as the curtains started to dance again with the slow breeze revealing the presence of a silhouette. 

[DeviKamasutra]

Chapter 2: Revelation

The sudden knock at the door jolted all three of them like a crack of thunder. Munai’s breath caught in her throat, her body still slick with sweat and trembling from the relentless pounding she’d just endured. Through the thin curtains, the silhouette of a man stood tall—Hira, the milkman, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

“Munai Didi? Milk for today?”

Dipankar scrambled off the chair, his face pale, and quickly sat on the sofa, trying to compose himself. Mr. Singh grabbed the nearest bedsheet, dbanging it over his muscular frame as he settled into another seat, his expression a mix of amusement and irritation. Munai, still naked, pulled the curtain around herself, her heart racing as she forced her voice to steady.

“Uh… yes, Hira. Just… give me a moment.”

She peeked through the gap in the curtains, her eyes meeting Hira’s. He was mid-30s, with a lean build and a curious glint in his eyes that made her stomach churn. She couldn’t tell if he’d seen her naked or not, but the way his gaze lingered on her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Why are you hiding behind the curtain, Didi?” Hira teased, his tone light but probing. “Are you… naked?”

Munai’s cheeks burned, but she managed a nervous laugh. “Don’t be silly, Hira. It’s just cold inside.”

From the sofa, Dipankar let out an awkward chuckle, though his hands were clenched into fists. Mr. Singh smirked, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation.

“Cold, huh?” Hira replied, his voice dripping with mock suspicion. “Well, I hope you’re not getting sick. You need some medicines?”

Munai’s eyes widened, and she tightened her grip on the curtain. “No, no! I’m fine, really. Just… tired. Actually I forgot to tell you that I did not want the milk today.”

Hira tilted his head, his gaze sharp and probing as it lingered on the trembling curtain. His voice carried a teasing edge, but beneath it lay something more—a curiosity that bordered on suspicion. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem… flustered. And also sweating a bit in this chilling day.”

Munai’s breath hitched, her grip tightening on the fabric she held against her bare skin. The cool air from the open doorway brushed against her exposed legs, sending a shiver up her spine. She forced a laugh, though it sounded strained even to her own ears. “Everything’s fine, Hira. Just… a little busy right now.”

His eyebrows lifted, and he leaned slightly closer, as if trying to peer through the narrow gap in the curtains. “Busy, huh?” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock innocence. “At this hour? I thought you were stuck to the TV for your favorite daily soaps.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. She glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Singh, who lounged on the sofa with a lazy smirk, seemingly unbothered by the situation. Dipankar, on the other hand, looked like he might faint at any moment, his fingers twitching nervously on the armrest.

“It’s nothing,” Munai insisted, her voice firmer this time, though she couldn’t hide the slight tremor. “Just… some guests.”
Hira’s lips curved into a sly smile, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Some guests, you say? Well if you need any help...”

Munai’s cheeks burned, and she shook her head quickly and interrupted him. “No, no trouble at all. They’re just… leaving soon.”
From behind her, Mr. Singh let out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating through the room like a rumble of thunder. Hira’s eyes flicked toward the source of the noise, and his smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Leaving soon, are they?” he repeated, his tone light but laced with something darker. “Well, alright then. But if you need anything, you know I am always just a call away.”

As he turned to leave, Munai exhaled slowly, her body still tense. But before he could step away, he paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Munai Didi?”

“Yes?” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her one last knowing look, his expression unreadable yet heavy with implication. “Don’t forget to lock your door next time. You never know who might be watching.”

With that, he sauntered away, his footsteps fading into the crisp winter air. Munai stood frozen for a moment, his words echoing in her mind like a warning. She glanced at Mr. Singh, who was already rising from the sofa with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Her stomach tightened as she realized the gravity of the situation. Hira hadn’t just come to deliver milk—he’d come to see. And now, there was no telling what he might do with the knowledge he’d gained.

“Everything’s fine,” Munai insisted, her voice firmer now. “Please, just go. And make sure to close the gate on your way out.”

For a moment, Hira hesitated, his eyes scanning the room through the barely parted curtains. Then, with a shrug and a sly smile, he turned away. “Alright, Didi. Take care.”

As soon as his footsteps faded, the room exhaled in relief. Dipankar slumped back into the sofa, running a hand through his hair, while Mr. Singh let out a low, rumbling laugh.

“Close call,” Mr. Singh said, his voice thick with amusement. “But I wouldn’t mind if he’d walked in. Might have made things more… interesting.”

Munai shot him a glare, though her outrage was tempered by the lingering warmth pooling between her thighs. She could still feel the ghost of him inside her, the way he’d claimed her so completely.

As Hira was rushing outside, he bumped into Munai's neighbour, Sarla. Her voice cut through the quiet from outside. “Hira! Why are you running away like this? Did something happen?”

Hira’s reply was muffled but unmistakably teasing. “You should see for yourself, Sarla Didi.”

The sound of their voices faded as they walked away, leaving the three of them in stunned silence. Munai’s heart was pounding again, her mind racing with possibilities. What if Sarla came to investigate? What if Hira had seen everything?

Mr. Singh stood abruptly, letting the bedsheet fall to the floor. His cock was already hardening again, thick and heavy against his thigh. He strode over to Munai, yanking the curtain away and exposing her naked form to the cool air.

“Looks like we’re not done yet,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her flush against him.

Munai gasped, her hands instinctively braced against his chest. “What are you doing? Someone could—”

“Let them see,” he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding. “Let them all see what a greedy whore you are.”

Before she could protest further, he spun her around and bent her over the arm of the sofa. Her ass jutted out, round and full, her pussy glistening with the remnants of their earlier encounter. Dipankar’s camera clicked back on, capturing every detail—every tremor of her body as Mr. Singh spread her cheeks wide.

“Look at this,” Mr. Singh said, his voice rough with desire. “A perfect little fuckhole, begging to be used again.” The squelching sounds emanating from inside her pussy was making Mr. Singh lose control. He didn’t wait for a response. With one fluid motion, he pushed inside her, the stretch making Munai cry out. Her hands clawed at the cushions as he began to thrust, each stroke deep and deliberate.

“Such a good slut,” he praised, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Taking my cock like you were made for it.”

Munai’s moans filled the room, her body responding eagerly despite the humiliation simmering beneath the surface. Her tits bounced with every thrust, the erect and sensitive nipples brushing against the sofa as Mr. Singh’s fingers dug into her hips.

Dipankar watched helplessly from the corner, his camera trembling in his hands. The sight of his wife being taken so blatantly—so vulgarly—was both gut-wrenching and electrifying. He couldn't look away, couldn't stop himself from adjusting his straining erection through his shorts. His breaths came shallow and quick, his body betraying him despite the knot of anger and jealousy tightening in his chest. Every sound Munai made—every moan, every gasp—seemed to reverberate through him, a cruel reminder of how completely she had surrendered to Mr. Singh.

The camera lens captured every detail: the way her tits bounced with each thrust, the flush of her skin as it turned rosy under the strain and pleasure, the way her fingers clawed at the sofa cushions as if begging for something to hold onto. Dipankar’s eyes were glued to the viewfinder, his hands shaking so badly he worried he might drop it. This was wrong, he thought, but the throbbing between his legs told him otherwise. He wanted to look away, to storm out of the room and reclaim some shred of dignity, but he couldn’t. He was utterly transfixed.

“Look at her,” Mr. Singh growled, his voice rough and commanding as he gripped Munai’s hips tighter, spreading her ass wide for the camera. “Your wife—so fucking filthy, so desperate for my dark cock. She doesn’t even care that you’re watching.” The words cut like a knife, but they also stoked something primal in Dipankar. He hated how right Mr. Singh was. Munai was desperate, her cries growing louder, her body writhing as if she couldn’t get enough. And yet, there was no denying the raw beauty of her submission, the way she gave herself so completely to the moment.

Dipankar’s hand moved involuntarily, gripping himself through his shorts as he struggled to stay quiet. He wanted to intervene, to pull Mr. Singh off her and remind her who she belonged to, but the unspoken rule held him back. He wasn’t allowed to touch himself, let alone join in. All he could do was watch—watch and endure the humiliating ache building inside him. His jaw clenched as Mr. Singh fucked her harder, the sounds of their bodies colliding filling the room like a cruel symphony.

Munai’s head fell forward, her hair spilling over her shoulders as she moaned again, louder this time. “Yes! Don’t stop!” she cried, her voice breaking on the edge of ecstasy. Dipankar’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, but his cock twitched in response, throbbing almost painfully against the fabric of his shorts. He hated himself for it, hated how he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face—how he couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to be the one inside her instead.

But as much as it hurt, there was something undeniably erotic about seeing Munai like this—completely unhinged, lost in pleasure, her body a living testament to her insatiable hunger. Dipankar’s breathing hitched as he adjusted his shorts again, his hand lingering there longer than it should have. He knew he was crossing a line, knew he was betraying her in some way by indulging even this much, but he couldn’t help it. This was Munai—his Munai—but she wasn’t his right now. She belonged to Mr. Singh and the camera, and all Dipankar could do was stand by and document every filthy second of it.

"Fuck, you’re even tighter this time,” Mr. Singh grunted, his pace quickening. “ Do you like the thought of being exposed to your milkman or neighbours, Munai?”

Her only response was a strangled cry as he slammed into her, his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with their ragged breaths and muffled curses. She kept feeling like her cervix would be split in two with the intense thrusts she's enduring.

“Come on, fuck me harder,” Munai pleaded, her voice breaking as she surrendered completely to the pleasure. She didn’t care who heard her anymore—didn’t care if anyone saw. All that mattered was the raw ecstasy coursing through her veins.

Mr. Singh obliged, his hands gripping her hips with bruising force as he drove into her one last time, his cock buried to the hilt. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex as their bodies crashed together in a frenzied rhythm. Munai's cries grew louder, more desperate, her nails digging into the sofa cushions as she arched her back, offering herself completely to his thrusts. "Yes, yes, harder!" she whimpered, her voice breaking as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

The sound of skin against skin echoed like a drumbeat, each slap punctuating the raw intensity of their coupling. Mr. Singh’s breath came in ragged bursts, his muscles taut with exertion as he pounded into her with unrelenting force. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, leaving marks that would linger long after this moment was over. "That’s it, take it, you filthy slut," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "You love this, don’t you? Love being used like a common whore."

Munai could barely form coherent words, her mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. "I do! I love it!" she cried out, her voice trembling with submission. Her body convulsed with each thrust, her pussy clenching around him as if trying to pull him deeper. The thrill of possible exposure—of someone walking in and witnessing her degradation—only heightened her arousal, making her feel both filthy and exhilarated.

Mr. Singh wasn’t holding back now, his pace relentless and erratic, his movements almost savage. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back as he whispered harshly in her ear, "Your married cunt belongs to me, and I’ll fuck you whenever—wherever—I want." His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she moaned in agreement, her body responding to his possession with an eager surrender. Her tits bounced wildly with each thrust, the beauty spot above her left nipple catching the light like a cruel reminder of her desirability.

From the corner, Dipankar’s camera captured it all—the way her body trembled, the raw need etched across her face, the beads of sweat trailing down her back. His own desire burned like a wildfire, but he remained rooted in place, forbidden to act yet unable to look away. The sound of their passion filled the room, drowning out any other thoughts, any other concerns. There was only this: the primal rhythm of their bodies, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak.

Mr. Singh’s thrusts became erratic, his control slipping as he neared his climax. His grip on her hips tightened even more, his fingers leaving deep imprints in her flesh. "Come for me, you greedy little slut," he commanded, his voice rough and urgent. Munai obeyed without hesitation, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Her cries echoed through the room, raw and unfiltered, as Mr. Singh followed her over the edge, his release spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan. For a moment, they stayed locked together, their bodies trembling as the aftershocks of their shared ecstasy coursed through them.

Meanwhile in their neighbour's home, another storm was brewing as Surya, Sarla's alcoholic husband, was starting a spree of verbal abuse because Sarla was 10 minutes late to serve the lunch. Her eyes filled with tears and with erratic breath she says, "I'm sorry but the man who regularly visits the neighbour's home in white SUV, is upto no good." Surya's anger took a halt to let his senses take the reign again. "What do you mean by no good?" And Sarla spun the tale as she witnessed from the door, hiding behind carefully to not let her presence give away. Surya's primal senses took over as his boner kept raging against the shorts he was wearing. "Looks like I was always right. That Bangalan is really a whore. And I know just the rightful punishment for tarnishing our colony's sanctity like that." With a wide grin like Cheshire cat, Surya sipped his whiskey and let his mind float into the devious plan he was cooking.

[DeviKamasutra]

Hey Readers!!!

Do let me know how is the story going so far. And I apologize for abandoning previous story. Meanwhile, this quick one will be in progress. I won't stretch it much and provide a conclusion soon. If you would like more parts, do let me know in the comments. I'd love to work on both positive and negative feedbacks.

[DeviKamasutra]

New chapter coming in tonight!!!

[DeviKamasutra]

Chapter 3: Office Gossip

The monitoring room was a stark contrast to the fiery pits of the blast furnace units it oversaw. The cold, sterile lights reflected off the steel surfaces, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the five individuals huddled around the main console. It was a winter night shift, and the chill of the industrial complex seeped into their very bones, making the warmth of their bodies seem almost taboo. Yet, Mr. Singh, the senior engineer, had something else in mind to heat things up.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather groaning under his substantial weight, and with a smirk that could cut through the thick tension, pulled out his latest mobile from his pocket. "Gentlemen," he announced, his voice a low rumble, "I've got something that'll blow your circuits."

The four junior colleagues, Rishab, Vikram, Aakash, and Jatin, exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued. They were used to Mr. Singh's unorthodox methods of relieving stress during the graveyard shifts, but this was new territory even for him. The room grew quiet as they leaned in closer, the hum of the machinery outside the only other sound.

Mr. Singh tapped the screen of his phone a few times before passing it to Rishab, the youngest of the group. His eyes widened as he saw the video thumbnails, each one more explicit than the last. "You've got to be kidding me," he murmured, his heart racing.

"Go on," Mr. Singh urged, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark, "Take a look. But remember, what happens in the office, stays in the office."

Rishab's trembling fingers swiped through the collection of videos, finally selecting a random one. He hit play, and the room fell silent as the screen lit up with the unmistakable sounds of passion—low moans, the rhythmic slap of skin, and the occasional creak of furniture. The camera angle was discreet but deliberate, focused on a woman’s body as it moved with raw, unbridled desire. Her heavy boobs swayed with each thrust, her nipples taut and glistening under the soft light of the room. Her hips arched upward, meeting the man’s movements with a desperation that spoke of insatiable hunger.

"What the fuck," Rishab murmured, passing the phone to Vikram, who took it with a look of astonishment.

Vikram's eyes devoured the screen, his pupils dilating as he watched Mr. Singh's thick, meaty cock plunge into the mystery woman's welcoming folds.The woman’s face was strategically hidden by the angle of the camera, leaving her identity a tantalizing mystery. But everything else was on full display, each curve and contour highlighted in vivid detail. Her thighs were parted wide, her shaven pussy glistening with arousal as Mr. Singh plowed into her with a force that made the men in the office shift uncomfortably in their seats. Her hands gripped the edges of the couch, her fingers digging into the fabric as if anchoring herself to reality amidst the ecstasy. "Singh Sir. Who is this wild bitch?"

"Ah, that's the million dollar mystery I can't reveal," Mr. Singh chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a knowing look. "But I'll tell you this much, she's got more fire in her than all your wives combined."

Vikram took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he passed the phone to Aakash. The video played on, showcasing Mr. Singh's prowess as he pounded into the woman's chubby pussy with the enthusiasm of a man half his age. Her moans grew louder, her body writhing in pleasure, and it was clear that she was loving every moment of it. The video's quality was surprisingly high, capturing every bead of sweat that glistened on Mr. Singh's broad back, every quiver of the woman's voluminous flesh.

Aakash's eyes bulged as he watched, his mind racing with thoughts of his own unsatisfying encounters at home. His wife, while beautiful, couldn't match the passion and raw sexuality that the mystery woman on the screen exuded. "Fuck! She's got some serious meat on her," he said, unable to tear his gaze away from the bouncing flesh. "And those tits... they're like fucking melons! She's a bengali sex bomb." Mr. Singh gazed at him with curiosity as if he was started with his deduction skills. Aakash immediately replied, "That's clear from the shakha-pola she's wearing. I am a pervert but not a complete idiot." And everyone chuckled with him.

Jatin was next to receive the phone, his palms sweaty with anticipation. He quickly scrolled through the videos, his heart racing as he searched for the perfect scene. Finally, his eyes landed on one that was nothing but a close-up of the woman's chubby pussy, Mr. Singh's cock sliding in and out in a mesmerizing rhythm. The camera was positioned just right so that her generous breasts filled the top of the screen, their light areolas standing out like beacons of temptation. He hit play and the room was filled with the sound of wet, unbridled passion.

"Damn, that's... intense," Jatin breathed, his voice cracking as he took in the explicit scene. The woman's pussy was a vision of beauty, stretched and glistening with desire around Mr. Singh's thick member. Her flesh jiggled and bounced with each thrust, and her moans grew more fervent as the video progressed.

The phone was passed back to Mr. Singh, who pocketed it with a satisfied grin. "So, gentlemen," he began, leaning back in his chair with a sense of authority, "now that we've established that I've got the moves, let's talk shop. What's the most outrageous thing you've ever done with your wives?"

The room went silent for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, each man contemplating their own marital escapades. Rishab spoke up first, his cheeks flushing. "Well, I tried to get my wife to do a sixty-nine once, but she said she'd get a neck cramp."

Mr. Singh chuckled, his belly jiggling. "A classic. But let's not be shy here, boys. We're all adults, and we all know that married sex can get as stale as last week's naan."

Vikram leaned in, his eyes alight with a mischievous spark. "Okay, I've got one," he began, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Once, I convinced my wife to let me fuck her in the shower. But instead of the usual soap and water, I used...whipped cream."

The room erupted with laughter, the tension momentarily broken. Mr. Singh clapped him on the back, his grin growing wider. "Now we're talking," he said, his voice thick with approval. "But tell me, if you had the chance with this mystery woman, what would you do to her?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge that none of the men could ignore. Rishab's eyes darkened with lust as he considered it. "I'd...I'd lick those melons like they were my last meal," he finally said, his voice hoarse.

"And what about you, Aakash?" Mr. Singh's gaze was intense, daring him to be as explicit as his thoughts.

Aakash swallowed hard, his mind racing with images of the mystery woman's voluptuous body. "I'd...I'd cover her in chocolate sauce," he stuttered, his face reddening with embarrassment. "And lick it off, bit by delicious bit."

Jatin, the most reserved of the group, spoke up next. "I'd love to...see those big tits bouncing while she's riding me," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Her pussy...it's so...so...inviting."

Mr. Singh nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "And you, Vikram?"

Vikram took a deep breath, his eyes glazed over with a look of intense contemplation. "I'd...I'd want to see her in a pair of those high-heeled sandals," he began, his voice a low purr. "The pencil heels which makes the ass jiggle more with each step."

The room fell silent as the image took root in everyone's minds. The mystery woman, her voluptuous figure accentuated by the high heels, strutting towards them, her chubby pussy quivering with every step.

Vikram's voice grew more assertive as he continued, "And then, I'd want her to wear those heels while I take her from behind. Standing. Feeling her warm, wet cunt squeeze around my cock while she's teetering on those heels...it'd be like fucking a goddess of lust."

Mr. Singh's smile grew, a hint of surprise flickering in his eyes. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh. "But what's the kinkiest part, my friend?"

Vikram took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't shared this particular fantasy with anyone before, not even in the confines of his own mind. But the atmosphere in the room, the heat of the unspoken desires, the raw lust that hung in the air like a thick fog, it all compelled him to go further. "I'd want to tie her hands behind her back," he began, his voice taking on a life of its own, "so she couldn't touch herself. And as she stands there, her body on full display, her tits bouncing in those sandals, I'd tease her with a feather."

The room was silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of five grown men, each lost in their own fantasies. The air was thick with the scent of desire, a palpable force that seemed to pulse with every beat of their hearts.

"And what about you, Jatin?" Mr. Singh prompted, breaking the spell. "You've been awfully quiet over there."

Jatin took a moment to compose himself before speaking, his voice a low growl of anticipation. "I'd...I'd get her one of those app-controlled vibrators," he said, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "You know, the kind that can be synced to your phone?"

Mr. Singh's eyes lit up, the wheels turning in his head. "Ah, I see where you're going with this," he murmured, his smile turning wicked. "Do tell, Jatin."

Jatin leaned in, his voice a seductive whisper. "Picture this," he began, his eyes glazed over with a mix of excitement and naughtiness. "We're out in the mall, right? She's got this little black dress on, the kind that clings to her curves like a second skin. And underneath, she's got those vibrators buzzing away, one nestled deep in her cunt, the other teasing her nipples."

The other men leaned in closer, their eyes sparkling with the same mischievous glee that had taken hold of Jatin. "And here's the kicker," he continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "The vibrators are synced to my phone, so every time she thinks she can't take it anymore, I just crank it up a notch. She'd have to walk around, trying to keep a straight face while her body betrays her. She'd be cumming in the middle of a crowded department store, and no one would even know."

Mr. Singh chuckled darkly, a twinkle in his eye. "That's a classic," he said, nodding in approval. "The thrill of exhibitionism without the risk of getting caught."

"But what about you, Mr. Singh?" Rishab asked, unable to resist the urge to pry further into the man's seemingly unbridled sex life.

Mr. Singh leaned back in his chair, stroking his thick mustache thoughtfully. "Ah, my dear boy," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You want to know what I'd do with our mystery woman? Well, let me tell you, I've got enough ideas to keep us all warm through the winter."

He took a dramatic pause, the anticipation in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. "But as your leader, I can't just give away all my secrets, can I?" He winked at the group, his chuckle deep and resonant. "Besides, I think it's about time we got back to the task at hand. And don't jerk off at the office washroom please."

The junior colleagues couldn't help but laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating like steam from a kettle. They knew Mr. Singh had a wicked sense of humor and an even more adventurous taste in bedroom antics. They'd heard the rumors, of course, but never had they imagined they'd be privy to such explicit details.

[Zoz34]

Nice going man , waiting for next update

[DeviKamasutra]

New chapter update coming within next 24 hours. Hope you people are having a good read

[Zoz34]

New chapter update coming within next 24 hours. Hope you people are having a good read

Eagerly waiting for it,pls add some pics

[Blackdick11]

Excellent and waiting for next update eagerly...
can we get to know how som's wife ended up getting fucked with Mr. Singh?

[Yash121]

Fucking Mind-blowing story

[Bakchod Londa]

DeviKamasutra, when’s the next update coming??? Can't wait to watch this bengalan getting her holes filled with big cocks....

[DeviKamasutra]

Excellent and waiting for next update eagerly...
can we get to know how som's wife ended up  getting fucked with Mr. Singh?

There's already a prologue to the story where you can find how it all began. However, I would also write when it happened the first time in upcoming chapters. Will get to work on it soon. Thanks for your feedback

[DeviKamasutra]

 Chapter 4: Reconciliation 

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight flickering against the walls. Since it was a winter night, they didn't care about the power outage. Munai sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of the tape she had carefully applied over her left areola. It was a reminder, a boundary, a silent agreement that hung in the air between her and Dipankar tonight. She could feel her husband’s eyes on her, his gaze heavy with a mix of desire and something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name. Dipankar approached slowly, his steps measured, as if he were afraid to break the fragile tension that had settled between them. He knelt in front of her, his hands resting on her knees, his touch warm and reassuring. His eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, charged with unspoken words and pent-up emotions.

“Munai…” he whispered her name like a prayer, his voice low and tender. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, her breath catching ever so slightly. “Dip,” she replied softly, her eyes searching his. There was a vulnerability in her voice, a hesitation that betrayed the complexity of their relationship. She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs tracing the line of his jaw. “Tonight… it's just us.” He nodded, his heart swelling with a mixture of love and longing. Just us. The weight of those words lingered, a reminder of the boundaries they had to navigate, the rules they had to follow. But for now, in this moment, it was just them.

Their lips met in a kiss that started soft, tender, almost tentative. It was a slow exploration, a re-acquaintance. Munai’s hands slid down to his shoulders, pulling him closer, while Dipankar’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her as if she might slip away. The kiss deepened, their tongues tangling in a dance that was both familiar and new. Heat bloomed between them, spreading through their bodies like wildfire.

Munai moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair. She could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against her thigh, and a shiver ran down her spine. She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss to catch her breath, her forehead resting against his. “Let me,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands moved down to his waistband, pulling the elastic of his shorts. Dipankar watched her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his need evident in the way his body trembled under her touch. She freed his cock from the confines of his boxers, and it sprang forward, hard and eager. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against the tip of his shaft and she kept slurping the shaft from tip to hilt, her touch teasing, almost reverent.

Dipankar groaned, his head falling back as her warm breath washed over him. Her tongue flicked out, tracing a soft line along the base before she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around him with practiced ease. She paused for a moment, her eyes lifting to meet his, a sly smile playing on her lips. "You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?" she murmured around him, her voice low and sultry. Her tongue swirled around the tip, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Dipankar could barely form words. "Munai..." he breathed, his voice thick with desire. His hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the silken strands as she began to move, her lips gliding up and down his length. Every stroke of her mouth, every flick of her tongue, sent jolts of electricity through his body, each one more intense than the last. She teased him relentlessly, her movements slow and deliberate, drawing out every ounce of pleasure. The room was filled with the sound of their combined breaths, heavy and laden with need. Munai’s eyes never left his, her gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made his heart race, "Look at your eager cock, recognizing the wife's touch."

Dipankar could feel the heat building within him, but he fought to hold on, wanting this moment to last forever. Munai seemed to sense his struggle and slowed her pace even further, her lips pressing soft kisses along his shaft before taking him back into her mouth with a low hum. The blend of her warmth and the teasing motion of her lips was almost too much to bear. Dipankar’s grip tightened in her hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're incredible," he managed to whisper, his voice trembling. And in that moment, with her in control and him at her mercy, nothing else mattered—nothing but Munai and the forbidden flames of their hidden desire. “Munai…” he breathed her name again, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so beautiful.” She looked up at him, her eyes dark with arousal. “You're loving it, aren't you?” she asked softly, her tone laced with a hint of teasing. “Seeing me like this?”

 

Dipankar didn’t respond with words. Instead, he kissed her again, harder this time, his passion spilling over. His hands moved to her full boobs, cupping them gently, his thumbs brushing over the taped areola. It was off-limits, a stark reminder of the agreement they had made with Mr. Singh. But even with that boundary in place, Dipankar couldn’t help but marvel at her body, at the way she filled his hands with her softness. Munai arched into his touch, a small whimper escaping her lips. “Dip…” she murmured against his mouth. “I love the way you look at me.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ll always look at you like this,” he said earnestly. “No matter what.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she kissed him again, pouring all of her emotions into the kiss. Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her palms. They were both lost in the moment, in each other, their connection stronger than ever. But even as they kissed, even as their bodies pressed together in desperate need, the reality of their situation lingered in the back of their minds. Mr. Singh’s shadow loomed over them, a constant reminder of the boundaries that had been set. Munai pulled away again, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. “Dip…” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Promise me… promise me that no matter what happens…” He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he silenced her fears with his lips, kissing her with a fervor that spoke of promises deeper than words could convey. His hands cradled her face, as though she were the most fragile and precious thing in the world, yet his touch burned with an intensity that left her breathless. Munai whimpered softly against his mouth, her body melting into his as if trying to close any distance that might exist between them.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was a low growl, laced with emotion. “I promise,” he said fiercely, his eyes locking onto hers with an unshakable resolve. “Always.” The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning, a vow that transcended the constraints of their agreement, their circumstances, even their own doubts.

Munai’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She traced his jawline with trembling fingers, her gaze searching his for any trace of hesitation. But there was none—only raw, unfiltered devotion. “Even when it’s hard?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as though afraid to break the spell. “Especially then,” he replied without hesitation, his thumb brushing away the faintest hint of moisture at the corner of her eye. “Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. Not him, not this… nothing. You’re my wife, Munai. My heart.” Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she pressed her forehead to his, her breathing uneven as she absorbed the weight of his promise. “I’m scared sometimes,” she admitted in a shaky whisper. “Scared that one day this won’t be enough. That I won’t be enough.” Dipankar’s hands tightened around her, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “You’re more than enough,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “You’ve always been enough. And I’ll spend every damn day proving it to you if I have to.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, their breaths mingling as their hearts beat in unison. The world outside didn’t matter—not Mr. Singh, not their agreement, not the boundaries that loomed over them. In that moment, it was just the two of them, clinging to the one thing no one could take away: their love. And as they sank back into the bed, their bodies entwined once more, Dipankar’s promise echoed in her mind—a lifeline, a beacon, a reminder that no matter what, he would always be hers. 

Dipankar’s hands roamed her back, pulling her closer until their chests pressed together, her heavy breasts flattening against him. The tape over her left areola only heightened the intensity of the moment. Munai looked down at him, her eyes dark with desire. “I need you, Dipankar,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Munai reached for the condom on the nightstand, her fingers trembling slightly as she tore open the wrapper. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against the tip of his shaft as she rolled the condom onto him slowly, her touch teasing, almost reverent. Though, Dipankar using condom always was another term of agreement; it didn't dampen his pent up hormones and love. Dipankar groaned, his head falling back as her warm breath washed over him. Her tongue flicked out, tracing a soft line along the base before she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around him with practiced ease. She paused for a moment, her eyes lifting to meet his, a sly smile playing on her lips. "See! Back like a stud again. Now I will mount this stud." She shifted her weight, straddling his hips, her thighs pressing against his sides. Her hands moved between them, her fingers wrapping around his cock, already hard and straining against the condom sheathed tightly around him. She gave him a few slow strokes, her grip firm but tender, and Dipankar gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily.

“Munai…” he breathed, his voice thick with need. His hands found her chubby hips, gripping them tightly as she positioned herself above him. Her boobs swayed slightly as she moved, the weight of them drawing his gaze despite the tape that marked one as forbidden. He couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful she looked, her pale skin glowing in the dim light, her body plump and inviting. With a steadying breath, Munai lowered herself onto him, guiding his cock inside her. The condom stretched tight as she sank down, her warmth enveloping him inch by excruciating inch. Dipankar groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as she took him all the way in. She paused for a moment, letting them both adjust to the sensation, before she started to move. Her hips rocked against his in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each movement drawing a gasp or moan from them both. Dipankar’s hands slid up her sides, grazing the undersides of her huge boobs but careful not to touch the taped area. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the way her body responded to every thrust.

 

“You feel so good,” Munai murmured, her voice husky, each word dripping with a mixture of desire and adoration. She leaned forward slightly, her heavy boobs brushing against his chest with every bounce. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving faint crescents in their wake as she picked up the pace, her movements becoming more urgent, more desperate. Dipankar could feel the tension building in his core, his body responding to hers in ways that were almost overwhelming, as though every nerve was alight with the need for her. Munai felt a familiar twitching inside her wet pussy. “Munai…” he breathed, his voice strained, his hands tightening on her hips as if trying to anchor himself in the storm of sensations. Her rhythm was relentless now, her thighs pressing into his sides, her warmth enveloping him completely. He could feel her muscles clenching around him, pulling him deeper, drawing him closer to the edge. She’s so perfect, he thought, his mind dizzy with the sheer intensity of it all. The way she moved, the way she moaned—it was as if she had unlocked a wild side of herself that he had never fully seen before, and it was breathtaking.

Her breath hitched, and she paused for just a moment, her eyes locking onto his. “Do you feel how much I want you?” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Dipankar’s heart clenched at the rawness in her tone, at the vulnerability she was showing him. He nodded, unable to speak, his hands sliding up her sides to caress the soft curve of her waist. She smiled, a slow, sultry smile, before resuming her rhythm, her hips rocking against his with even more intensity. If their son was at home, he would have woken up from deep slumber to the wet slaps. As she moved, Munai’s hands wandered from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers trailing over his skin in a way that sent shivers down his spine. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I love how you make me feel.” The words were soft, almost fragile, but they carried a weight that left Dipankar momentarily speechless. He could feel the emotion behind them, the love and passion that had been reignited between them in this moment. It wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, something that went beyond the act itself.

Dipankar’s hands found their way to her thighs, gripping them tightly as if to ground himself in the reality of the moment. “Munai,” he said again, his voice rough with need. “You’re… everything.” The words spilled out of him without thinking, but they felt right. She was everything to him—his wife, his partner, the woman who had given him so much and was now giving him this moment of raw, unbridled connection. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps as she continued to move, her body trembling with the effort. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice breaking on the words. “Just… don’t stop.” Dipankar obeyed, losing himself in the rhythm of their bodies moving together, in the heat of her skin against his, in the way she made him feel whole again. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by something that transcended words or agreements. It was pure, unfiltered passion, and it was theirs alone.

As the pleasure mounted, Dipankar’s hands moved to her thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. “Munai… wait,” he panted, his voice strained. She slowed her movements, looking down at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Hold on,” he said, his tone suddenly firm.

Before she could react, Dipankar hooked his arms under her legs and lifted her off the bed with surprising strength. Munai let out a startled gasp, her hands flying to his shoulders for balance as he stood, holding her aloft with her thighs cradled in his arms. “Dip!” she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. “Do you remember this?” he asked, his voice low and rough. He adjusted his grip, angling her body slightly so he could drive into her from this new position. Munai’s eyes widened as he thrust upward, the change in angle hitting her in a way that made her moan loudly. “Oh… oh god,” she gasped, her head falling back as he began to move. The stand-and-fuck position was something they hadn’t done in years—not since the night they conceived their son. The memory flashed between them like an unspoken bond, adding an emotional depth to the raw physicality of the act.

Dipankar’s arms shook slightly with the effort of holding her up, but he didn’t care. The feel of her wrapped around him, the way her body moved with every thrust, was worth every ounce of strain. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he lost himself in the rhythm. Munai’s hands tangled in his hair, her nails scbanging lightly against his scalp as she clung to him. Her moans grew louder, more urgent, signaling that she was close. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice breaking on the words. Dipankar obliged, driving into her with everything he had. The room filled with the low, rhythmic sound of their breathing, broken only by the sharp slap of skin against skin and Munai’s cries of pleasure, muffled against his shoulder. Her body tightened around him in waves, each one threatening to pull him under. He gritted his teeth, holding her close as her muscles gripped him with an almost desperate intensity. “Munai,” he gasped, his voice strained, his hands gripping her thighs so tightly he could feel the faint tremor of her quivering muscles.

She arched against him, her head falling back as a moan tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks that would linger long after this moment. Dipankar could feel every pulse of her climax, the way her body seemed to pull him deeper, demanding more from him even as she shuddered through her release. “Dip…” she whimpered, her voice breaking on his name, and it was enough to make his chest ache with a mixture of love and desire. He slowed his movements, letting her ride out the wave of her orgasm, but Munai wasn’t ready to let him stop. Her hands slid down to his wrists, tightening as she urged him on. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice shaking with need. “Keep going… please.” Dipankar obeyed, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor, each thrust driving her closer to the edge again. He could see it in her eyes—the hunger, the unrelenting desire—and it only fueled his own.

Her nails raked down his chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake, and Dipankar hissed at the sharp sensation. But it only heightened the pleasure, the mix of pain and ecstasy driving him wild. Munai’s thighs tightened around his hips, pulling him deeper with a force that left him breathless. “You feel so good,” she moaned, her words slurred with pleasure. Her body was on fire, every movement sending sparks of electricity through both of them. As she neared another climax, Munai’s hands moved to cup his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. There was something raw and vulnerable in her gaze, something that made his heart clench. “This… this is ours,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Just us.” Dipankar nodded, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the condom, not the agreement. It was just them, reconnecting in a way that felt achingly real.

When she came again, her body convulsed around him in a way that was almost too much to bear. Dipankar held her through it, his movements slowing as he savored every last second of her climax. Her cries echoed in the room, a symphony of pleasure that left him dizzy. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as she clung to him, trembling and spent. For a moment, they simply existed together, two hearts beating as one.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she shifted off him, her hands sliding down his chest as she settled back on her knees. Dipankar groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut as she moved, but he was too spent to protest. Munai’s fingers found the base of the condom, her touch careful as she rolled it off him. She tied it neatly, the act almost ritualistic, before rising to her feet. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by both exhaustion and emotion, but she moved quietly across the room to dispose of it. The sound of her bare feet against the floor was soft, almost imperceptible, as she returned to the bed. When she climbed back onto the mattress, she found Dipankar already in a deep sleep, his breathing even and steady. A faint snore escaped him, the sound comforting in its familiarity. She sat beside him for a moment, her gaze lingering on his face—the way his brow relaxed in sleep, the slight curve of his lips as if he were lost in a peaceful dream. He looked so vulnerable, so at ease, and it struck her deeply.

Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden and unstoppable. They rolled down her cheeks silently, hot and heavy, as she watched him. Her heart ached with a strange mix of love and guilt, of longing and regret. "I'm sorry I lied to you tonight."

Her eyes drifted to the bedside table where the condom wrapper lay discarded, a quiet reminder of their arrangement. Her hand trembled as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from Dipankar’s forehead. A tear slipped down her cheek, warm and sudden, as the words she’d been holding back for so long clawed their way to the surface. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of her confession. “I… I think I’ve started to love him.” The admission hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Not just his… his cock… but him. The way he makes me feel, the way he…” She trailed off, her breath hitching as another tear fell. Her fingers brushed against Dipankar’s cheek, but he didn’t stir.

Her mind raced back to Mr. Singh—his rough hands on her skin, his deep voice whispering things that made her blush and shiver all at once. She thought of his thickness inside her, the way he stretched her so perfectly, how his cum filled her up until it spilled out, leaving her breathless and aching for more. It wasn’t just the physical pleasure; it was the intensity, the way he made her feel desired, needed, alive. And then there was Dipankar—steady, loving, familiar. But familiarity wasn’t enough anymore. Her gaze dropped to her husband’s sleeping form, her heart breaking all over again. “You’ve always been my rock,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “But I need more than that now. I need… him.” Her shoulders shook as she tried to stifle her sobs, not wanting to wake him. “Thank you for letting me explore this, for letting me feel. I didn’t know I could be like this.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “You’ll always have a part of me,” she promised, her voice trembling. “But he… he has my heart.”

The confession left her feeling both lighter and heavier, as if she’d shed a layer of herself but gained a new one in its place. She wiped her tears with trembling fingers, her mind already racing ahead to the next time she’d see Mr. Singh. The thrill of anticipation sent a shiver through her body, her nipples hardening again, basking under the flickering candlelight. She wondered if Dipankar dreamed of her, if he felt the cracks in their relationship even in his subconscious. Part of her wished he’d wake up, pull her into his arms, and tell her everything would be okay. But another part—a growing, insistent part—wanted him to stay asleep, to remain blissfully unaware of the storm raging inside her. Her hand drifted down to her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hip absentmindedly. She thought of Mr. Singh’s hands on her body, his mouth on her skin, his voice low and commanding as he whispered filthy promises in her ear. The memory alone was enough to make her thighs clench, heat pooling between them. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to touch herself, to relive those moments in the privacy of her own mind.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice cracking. “But I can’t stop thinking about him. About what he does to me.” She closed her eyes, letting the memories wash over her—the way Mr. Singh had pinned her against the wall last week, his lips trailing down her neck as his hands cupped her heavy boobs . The way he’d teased the beauty spot just above her left nipple until she was whimpering with need. The way he’d filled her so completely, leaving her breathless and trembling. She opened her eyes and looked at Dipankar again, her heart aching with guilt and longing. “I hope one day you’ll understand,” she murmured, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “I hope one day you’ll forgive me.”

The room was silent except for the soft sound of Dipankar’s breathing. Munai hesitated for a moment before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. She knew there was no turning back now. She’d made her choice, and she was going to see it through.

[Blackdick11]

Wonderful update, DeviKamasutra
I don't know what is that agreement between Dipankar and Mr. Singh, we'll figure it out as the story unfolds but It seems Mr. Singh has awakened something in her and Now she wants to feel/experience more of it with him...

[DeviKamasutra]

Wonderful update, DeviKamasutra
I don't know what is that agreement between Dipankar and Mr. Singh, we'll figure it out as the story unfolds but It seems Mr. Singh has awakened something in her and Now she wants to feel/experience more of it with him...

Thank you for the feedback. Though there are hints in the story about the agreement between the trio.

[Bakchod Londa]

Since this bangalan has experienced some really good fuck, being intimate with her husband just won't be as EXCITING or THRILLING.

[Glenlivet]

Carry on, Devi.

[DeviKamasutra]

Since this bangalan has experienced some really good fuck, being intimate with her husband just won't be as EXCITING or THRILLING.

Love your input on it. However, in my belief it would create more tension and insecurity between their bonds. They still have mutual respect for each other. And ultimately she's thankful that her husband put her in that position.

[DeviKamasutra]

THE AGREEMENT TERMS

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This Agreement is made and entered into as of this day of XXXXXX, by and between:

Party A: Dipankar 

Party B: Munai

Party C: Mr. Singh

Hereinafter collectively referred to as the "Parties." 

But for our sake we will keep the names instead to avoid confusion

Preamble: This Agreement is intended to govern the terms and conditions of the unique relationship between the Parties, with the mutual consent and understanding of all involved. The Parties acknowledge that this document is for their private use and mutual understanding.

1. Purpose and Intent: The primary purpose of this Agreement is to establish the right of Mr. Singh to have consented sex with Munai on a more extensive basis. Dipankar agrees to act as a willing viewer in this relationship, and shall not interfere with or otherwise object to the interactions between Munai and Mr. Singh. Dipankar is also authorized to record the relation between Mr. Singh & Munai.
   
2. Scope of Relationship: The relationship shall primarily exist between Mr. Singh & Munai. Dipankar shall be considered a non-participatory observer and shall not seek to define, limit, or control the nature or boundaries of the relationship between Mr. Singh and Munai. However, Dipankar is allowed to pursue his relationship with Munai on a time when Mr. Singh and Munai are not engaged and with certain restrictions (explained in later section)
   
3. Communication Protocol: All communication protocols, including the frequency, timing, and nature of interactions, shall be determined and managed exclusively by Mr. Singh & Munai. Dipankar agrees to abide by all such decisions without objection or input.
   
4. Financial Considerations: Mr. Singh has provided full financial compensation for the legal fees incurred by Dipankar related to the aforementioned legal case. In exchange for this, Mr. Singh is granted the right to have sex with Munai. All Parties agree that no further monetary exchange or financial consideration will take place between them as part of this Agreement.
   
5. Confidentiality and Privacy: The agreement allows only Mr. Singh's mobile device to be used to record his sexual relationship with Munai. No other unauthorized devices are allowed for recording purposes. M. Singh is granted the right to show their sexual photos and videos to their friends and family, provided that Munai's face or identifying features are completely obscured. Party A (Husband) shall have no control over this activity and cannot object.
   
6. Conflict Resolution: Dipankar and Munai reserve the right to raise a conflict regarding any term of this Agreement at any time, which may be done through a verbal conversation, phone call, or written chat message. However, any resolution to such a conflict will only be considered binding if it is jointly decided upon and agreed to by Mr. Singh and Munai. The decision of Dipankar is not binding in such resolutions.
   
7. Future Modifications: Terms and clauses of this agreement could be modified mutually between Munai and Mr. Singh.
   
8. Termination: This Agreement shall be terminated if either Munai or Mr. Singh, or both, are no longer physically capable of continuing the relationship as defined herein. Additionally, the Agreement will be terminated if Mr. Singh does not meet with Munai for a period exceeding 60 consecutive days.
   
9. General Provisions: Any miscellaneous terms not covered in the above clauses.
   • Mr. Singh and/or Munai will never use protection during sex. However Dipankar always have to wear protection and he is not allowed to ejaculate inside any orifice of Munai, henceforth.
     
   • Dipankar has to record the sex, as directed by Mr. Singh.
     
   • Mr. Singh can choose to have sex with Munai any time or day, to his preference.
     
   • Munai's left breast is only exclusive to Mr. Singh. Dipankar is not allowed access to it.
     
   • In case of pregnancy, all the financial and relational availability has to be undertaken by Munai and Dipankar. Munai is not allowed to terminate pregnancy under any condition.
     
   • Munai has to keep her pubic region clean regularly.
     
   • Mr. Singh can choose all garments of his choice for Munai whenever they meet.
     

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