Indian Hotwife's Desires

My wife and I have been married for 3 years. We met in college and fell hard for each other. Her name is Kiara. She's a film industry writer, slim and curvy, standing 5'7". I'm Praful, 5'10", slim with an athletic build. I work in finance at an MNC. We live together in our beautiful apartment. Our parents visit us every quarter.

We've had a lot of fun in our relationship. It was healthy, and our sex life was great. But then, stress crept in. My job intensified, and so did my struggles. My sexual performance faded. I started cumming too quickly. I couldn't thrust like she wanted. I also sensed Kiara's dissatisfaction with my size. She masked it, but I could see through her facade.

Once, we had sex at least 20 times a month. Now? It's down to once. She always has excuses. "Baby, I'm tired. Maybe tomorrow." I knew the truth. The issue was me. As evolution suggests, men have greater sexual desires. In a sexless marriage, I turned to porn.

I stumbled upon cuckolding long ago. It was just a fantasy back then. But now, I had to persuade my wife to reconnect, to get naked in front of me again. One morning, I broached the topic of our sex life. She agreed we weren't intimate. Then I ventured into that couple swapping fantasy. Her coffee nearly sprayed. She spat, angrily listing slurs. I calmed her down. "Let's not involve others. Let's try a new dildo." The idea weirded her out initially.

After a tense discussion, she agreed. Later that evening, we browsed online for the toy. I hesitated to ask her choice. I let her decide. My length, 6 inches and 4.5 inches in girth, which is quite average in length, but a pencil in girth, I believe that it was my length that kept her married to me. She picked one -- 7.5 inches long and 5 inches wide. I noted the shy look on her face. She conveyed her desire for an adventure with size. I placed an order for that big boy and surprisingly, she was in the mood to make out with me, maybe it was her happiness that made her horny. We made out good, but I didn't get any sex that night. A few days later the package had arrived. I came home early that day. I prepped the bedroom, candles, rose petals, everything to make it special. When she walked in, her face lit up with joy at my setup. I handed her the gift, watching her slowly unwrap it, curiosity and excitement building.

Then came that moment. "Let's play," I said, adrenaline rushing. Soft kisses turned heated as I introduced the dildo as if offering a new adventure. Kiara's eyes widened, excitement palpable. "Are you ready?" I asked, heart pounding. She nodded, biting her lip, and began removing her clothes. I got some lube, but she denied. she wanted to make that dildo wet with her own spit, she wanted it all for herself. I was a little shocked and surprisingly excited when she said that. She used to say that to me during the early days of our relationship.

My breath hitched as she took the dildo in her hand, her fingers tracing its smooth, sculpted length. Her gaze locked with mine, a challenge, a dare. And then, she brought it to her lips. The sight of her, her mouth caressing the synthetic cock, was a jolt to my senses. A primal surge of jealousy, hot and visceral, coursed through me. I wanted to rip it from her grasp, to replace it with myself, to reclaim my place as the sole object of her desire. But a darker, more insidious voice whispered in my ear, urging me to watch, to witness, to surrender to the intoxicating humiliation.

She began to suck, her lips tightening around the shaft, her cheeks hollowing with each deliberate pull. A low moan escaped her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She choked slightly, a gasp escaping her lips, but she didn't stop. "Babe," she finally gasped, her voice thick with lust. "I want you to shove this dick inside my pussy."

I got on my knees holding the new alpha dick as she laid on her back and spread her legs wide. I hadn't seen her pussy for a while. The words hit me like a physical blow. The air rushed from my lungs, leaving me breathless and trembling. This was it. The line had been crossed. The fantasy, the game, had become a reality. I knelt before her, my hands shaking as I grasped the dildo. Her legs were spread wide, her inner thighs glistening in the candlelight. The sight of her, so vulnerable, so exposed, sent another wave of conflicting emotions crashing over me. I wanted to protect her, to cherish her, but I also wanted to dominate her, to possess her, to lose myself in the depths of her desire.

I slowly pushed the tip of the dildo against her opening, feeling the slick heat of her anticipation. She moaned softly, her hips lifting slightly to meet my touch. "Deeper," she whispered, her eyes closed, her body trembling. I pressed harder, the dildo sliding into her with a slow, deliberate glide. Her moans grew louder, more insistent, as the synthetic cock filled her. I pushed it deeper, stretching her, feeling the resistance and then the yielding as she accommodated the unfamiliar size.

"Oh, God," she breathed, her head thrown back, her fingers digging into the sheets. "That feels so fucking good." I began to thrust, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of her body around the dildo. Her moans escalated, turning into gasps and cries as I increased the pace. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed with pleasure, her lips parted in a silent scream.

The cuckold fantasy that had been slowly brewing inside me for years was now a raging fire. I wanted to hear her praise the artificial cock, to compare it to mine, to prove to me how inadequate I was. "Keep going," she urged, her voice hoarse. "Fuck me with his big dick."

Why did she say his? Who is he? The words were like a brand, searing themselves into my memory. I thrusted harder, faster, driving the dildo deep inside her, mimicking the rhythm of a lover I could never be. Her moans reached a fever pitch, a symphony of lust and surrender.

"Oh, my God," she cried, her body arching off the bed. "That feels so fucking good." "I'm gonna cum," she gasped, her muscles clenching around the dildo. "Keep going, fuck."

And then, she came. A long, shuddering orgasm that wracked her body from head to toe. Her cries were loud, primal, as she squeezed the dildo with all her might. Her pussy pulsed around it, a series of intense contractions that sent waves of pleasure radiating through her. She gasped for air, her body trembling, her face flushed and radiant. She was a goddess, a queen, bathed in the afterglow of her pleasure. And I, her humble servant, knelt before her, still holding the instrument of her ecstasy. I slowly withdrew the dildo, watching as her pussy remained open, stretched wider than I had ever seen it.

A wave of shame washed over me, a bitter reminder of my own shortcomings. "That was so good," she whispered, her voice filled with awe. Her words were like a knife to my heart. Was she comparing it to me? Was she thinking about how much better it was than my own pathetic attempts?

My own arousal was a painful ache, a constant reminder of my inability to satisfy her. A few strokes could make me explode, I was precumming so hard. Instead, I lowered my head and began to lick her. Her taste was intoxicating, a sweet and salty mix of sweat and desire. She moaned softly, her fingers threading through my hair as I lavished attention on her swollen lips. I licked and sucked, teasing her clit, driving her wild with pleasure. Finally, she pulled me up, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and desire. She kissed me deeply, her tongue exploring my mouth, her body pressed against mine.

"I love you," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. The words were a balm to my wounded ego, a reassurance that despite everything, she still cared for me. We talked for a long time that night, sharing our fears and desires, our hopes and dreams. We admitted things we had never dared to say before, secrets that had been festering beneath the surface for years. We agreed to explore our fantasies, to experiment with new things, to push the boundaries of our relationship. We both acknowledged that we had been drifting apart, that we had allowed our desires to become a source of shame and resentment.

And then, I got lucky. After months of rejection, she finally offered me a blowjob. I savored every moment, every touch, every sensation even though it took me seconds to release. It was explosive, a torrent of pent-up frustration and desire. We fell asleep in each other's arms, our bodies intertwined, our hearts finally open and connected.

The following days we continued our experiment with the superior toy, again no action for me other than casual make outs. Later, she broached the subject again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Swapping," she said, her voice teasing. "It's not such a bad idea, is it?" The thought sent a shiver of both fear and excitement down my spine. The idea of sharing her with another man, of witnessing her pleasure with someone else, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

I knew that this was a path fraught with danger, a path that could lead to heartbreak and destruction. But I also knew that it was a path that could lead to something new, something exciting, something that could reignite the spark in our marriage. "I don't know," I said, my voice hesitant. "Are you sure about this?"

She smiled, a slow, seductive smile that made my heart race. "I don't know," she replied, her eyes gleaming. "But isn't that the point?" And in that moment, I knew that our lives were about to change forever. The climax had passed, the storm had subsided, but the aftershocks were just beginning. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear, our journey was far from over.

TO BE CONTINUED