Mr. Sarun visits us and stays for a week, enjoying my wife's hospitality. – Rajesh
Author's note: This is a story of a cheating wife, of adultery, of cuckoldry and small penis humiliation. If that is not your thing, skip this story. And remember while adultery can be a great source of enjoyment in fantasy and erotica, in real life it damages souls and destroys marriages. Please treat the following story as a fiction and fantasy piece only. It is written to deliver pleasure, and has no other purpose. If you are planning to whore out your wife, this story is not for you. This is for wanking off only. – Tarek Zia
It took some time for things to be normal after our return back to Pune from Mr. Sarun's house in Kolkata. I mean, Vidya needed two days after our return just to recover
some
of her strength. My darling wife barely had the stamina on the flight back – I guess after a week of having her pussy or asshole pulverized by my boss's monster sized dick on a near constant basis, she needed a lot of rest.
For that first week after our return from Mr. Sarun's home, Vidya and I didn't really get to speak that much. When I would get up for work, she would still be in bed, sleeping. I would make my own breakfast and head to work. I would throw myself into various projects in the office and return late. By the time I was home, it was 10 or even 1030 pm. Vidya had already eaten, and was back in bed, fast asleep. I would have some dinner that she had left out, and watch some TV before going to sleep myself.
It was somewhat of a relief not to have to talk – or even to encounter each other. We needed some time alone to reflect after
that
week. Moreover, I couldn't really bring myself to talk to her. I was ashamed, humiliated and unable to even meet her gaze.
I remembered how it had all started. How Mr. Sarun had described my wife when visiting me at work.
A sex bomb
, he had commented about my wife.
Nice long legs, good broad ass, and a great set of tits.
And then he had laid down the proposal:
I haven't fucked a high class pussy in a while.
My wife. The bastard was talking about my wife. A high class pussy.
For so long, I was enjoying the cuckold lifestyle by pretending it wasn't there. I mean, when I married Vidya, I didn't marry knowing I would become a cuckolded husband. I knew of course that she was no virgin, unlike me. And despite my small equipment, we did manage to keep each other happy. For so long after our wedding, we did maintain a stable, faithful marriage.
And then Gaurav happened.
And then Ramu.
Before I knew it, I had become a willing cuckold. My sweet wife was regularly being banged by other men with much larger cocks. In my house, on my bed. With, and often without, my knowledge. But most importantly, with my consent. Consent that became increasingly less and less important.
For example, whenever our former neighbor Balachandra visited, he would spend the time in my place with his large pecker buried into my wife's cunt. Vidya would announce his arrival, and I would be discreetly sent away, to be "busy in the office", and my dear wife and her lover would make up for lost time by fucking like rabbits.
You are the world's best husband
, Vidya would tell me, after I would return home and he was gone.
Then there had been the time when the guard Wasim and his friends treated my wife like their own personal hooker, with her providing sexual services to those low class men on demand. She was viscously fucked, gang banged, slapped, spanked, caned and humiliated on a constant basis when I was at work. If there wasn't a cock in her pussy, there was one in her ass, or in her mouth.
And Ramu. Her personal favourite, and her very first long term extra marital lover. Ramu the milkman. Even though he was no longer a milkman, that's what we both called him. Whenever Ramu would pass by the city, my wife was his personal booty call. Vidya would show me his text and send me away with a hug and a kiss.
I need his cock, jaanu
, she would tell me. And I would go outside, waiting like a faithful dog, until she would text me that he was gone, and it was OK for me to come back to my own house.
This was the way our marriage had been. And I had been fine with that. I had made peace with that.
You should be a proud cuckold, jaanu
, Vidya would tell me.
You know these affairs of mine are physical only. I need their large cocks. I need to be taken by a proper man and be ravaged by a real man. I need things done to me that you cannot do, darling
.
I
did
feel proud. I knew that she was getting momentary pleasure, and then she was coming back to me. I admit, I
did
get turned on by the fact that I thought I was giving Vidya away to someone else, and then she is choosing to come back to me after the sex was done. Yes, reality is more complicated of course, but I could play my mind games. The point is, none of her lovers knew that I knew.
As long we kept up this charade, everything was fine.
And then Mr. Sarun happened. The gig, as they say, was up.
Mr. Sarun broke that make-believe act to pieces. It was so bad that I couldn't even meet my wife's gaze after we had returned. Yes, she was tired and resting, but I was purposely avoiding her. Avoiding talking to her.
I mean, what could I say? What was there to say? I, a man, a proud INDIAN man, had watched silently and helplessly while my boss had violated my dear wife's body in all sorts of ways. I was powerless to help her as she was spanked or caned on her buttocks, slapped on her face, or had her pussy or asshole pounded by his humongous dick on a near constant basis. She was his personal cum dump.
Here was a man calling me a cuckold and fucking my wife in front of me. I had nowhere to hide; I had to feebly watch as my wife submitted herself to this other man in the full sense of the word.
Spread your legs, raandi,
Mr. Sarun would command, and my wife would obey.
What a tight cunt you have, bitch
, he would tell her, and she would thank him for the compliment, even as she was getting her pussy pummeled.
Don't delay in answering my question
s, Mr. Sarun would instruct her, before slapping her, and Vidya would meekly apologize and ask for forgiveness from him even as she was slapped again.
My wife was his personal slave girl. She had no dignity left of her own. She was stripped naked, spanked and then fucked in front of the servants. She was at my boss's beck and call.
And it was all happening in front of me.
I remembered one particular night when after discussing some work stuff with me, my boss had casually called Vidya into the room, stripped her fully nude, made her lie down on the floor, face down, and then had anal intercourse with her even as I sat there, shamelessly watching. Mr. Sarun would occasionally pause, raise a hand and smack Vidya sharply on her bum, leaving a red handprint. He would then smack her on the other butt cheek, before resuming the butt fucking. My wife Vidya was being fucked like a two rupee whore in front of me, and I could do nothing but try to look away. And I would recognize just how enthusiastically Vidya was participating in all of this.
Even as my wife was being spanked on her bum and called all types of crude insults, she would make grunting and moaning noises enthusiastically as Mr. Sarun boned her. I had watched feebly as he emptied gallons of cum into my wife's rectum. That had just been one night of the many nights of debauchery Mr. Sarun and Vidya had engaged in.
I no longer had the option to pretend that nothing was amiss; everything was out in the open. I was a cuckold. My wife – my dear Vidya – was a slut and another man's willing slave. There was nowhere to hide anymore. And the humiliating way Mr. Sarun had dealt with Vidya – fucking her, spanking her, slapping her, sodomizing her, using her at will, and the seemingly eager way Vidya had not only submitted but seemed to have enjoyed her new role as his slave girl – had completely destroyed any semblance of normalcy I could pretend existed in my marriage. Normally I could pretend Vidya was having a momentary pleasure and coming back to me. Now I wasn't sure any more – she seemed to have submitted to Mr. Sarun in every sense of the word.
The week after our return, I had ample time on my commute back and forth from work to think about the state of my marriage. I wondered how we could ever return to a normal marriage again.
I needn't have worried. Yes, my cuckoldry and my marriage was evolving, but my darling Vidya was going to take care of this new phase of our lives.
Or so it seemed at first.
