In the Abyss of Perversion

"Almost there," I called out to Javed, my phone clamped tightly to my ear. The car's engine hummed as I navigated the unfamiliar streets of a quiet, suburban neighborhood in the outskirts of Manchester. Bidisha, my wife, sat next to me, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, her eyes darting to the GPS on the dashboard.

"Good," Javed's voice crackled over the speakerphone. "Make sure Bidisha's wearing that bridal saree I told her about."

My heart skipped a beat. The plan was in motion, and there was no turning back now. The very thought of my beautiful Bengali wife dressed in that crim*** and gold silk, her hair adorned with fresh jasmine, sent a peculiar mix of excitement and dread coursing through me. It was the kind of garment reserved for the most special of occasions, and tonight was definitely going to be one for the books.

Bidisha shot me a nervous smile, her dark eyes glistening in the dim car light. She knew what was expected of her, and she'd agreed to it all. It was like watching a silent film play out across her features--fear, anticipation, and a hint of something else, something darker, that I hadn't seen before. Her hand found mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. We'd been married for a decade, but this is the first time my wife bidisha will have two cocks inside her.

The house was a nondescript semi-detached, a stark contrast to the opulence I'd imagined for the kind of rendezvous Javed had described. As we approached the door, my heart hammered against my ribs. Javed had assured me his friend was a connoisseur, that he'd appreciate the beauty of a Bengali wife like Bidisha. And now, she was dressed to impress, in a stunning crim*** and gold bridal saree that accentuated her curves in all the right ways.

Flashback to the first time we met Javed--it was a typical Sunday afternoon in the sprawling shopping center downtown. Our *** had been playing hide and seek among the clothes racks, his laughter echoing through the air. And then, the unthinkable--we lost him. Panic set in, a cold sweat breaking out across my brow as we frantically searched the crowded aisles. Bidisha's eyes were wide with fear, her voice shaking as she called out for our little one. And then, like a guardian angel, Javed appeared, our *** clutching his hand, his grin wide and comforting.

Javed was a man of formidable stature, his muscles straining against the fabric of his tight t-shirt, his eyes dark and intense. I could feel the power radiating from him, his very presence commanding attention. He'd looked at Bidisha that day, and I'd noticed something in his gaze--a hunger, a craving that sent a peculiar shiver down my spine. But I'd brushed it off as mere admiration. After all, she was a stunning woman, with her smooth fair skin and those deep brown eyes that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

"Thank you so much," I'd said, relief flooding my voice as I took our ***'s hand. "We really appreciate your help."

Javed's smile grew broader. "It was nothing, truly," he replied, his English accent hinting at his west punjab heritage. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Javed. I own a restaurant just a few streets over."

Bidisha's grip on my arm tightened, her eyes still searching for our ***. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Javed nodded, his gaze lingering on my wife. "Please, come visit my restaurant sometime. It's called 'Shahi Mahal'. You'll find the best curries in town there," he said, handing me a business card with a flourish.

Bidisha had never warmed up to the idea of Javed. Something about him made her uncomfortable, a tension that had become palpable in the air between us. And so, despite his repeated invitations, we never found ourselves at 'Shahi Mahal'. Time had marched on, our lives filling with the mundane rhythms of work and parenthood. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

It was a busy Saturday, the mall teeming with shoppers. Our *** had begged us for a new game, and we'd finally caved, promising to treat him if he behaved. As we turned the corner, there was Javed, his family in tow. His wife was a healthy woman with a gentle smile, dressed modestly in a veil that matched her long, flowing abaya. Three young boys and a girl, probably around seven or eight, trailed behind her. They looked so much like him--his strong features softened by their youthful innocence.

My heart raced as our eyes met. He looked surprised but delighted to see us. "Hey " he called out, waving a beefy hand. We approached awkwardly, our *** hiding behind my wife's legs. He took in Bidisha's nervous petite posture and my ****** smile, and his own grin grew wider, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "I was just telling my wife about the lovely couple I helped out that one time," he said, slapping me on the back.

His wife offered a tentative smile, her eyes darting from me to Bidisha and back again. The ******** stared with innocent curiosity. Javed leaned closer, his cologne a heady mix of musk and spice. "I see you never made it to my restaurant," he said, his tone light but with an underlying edge that sent a chill down my spine. "It's a shame. I had something special in mind for you."

Bidisha's hand tightened around my arm, and I could feel her body tense up. She'd never liked Javed, not from that first encounter in the mall. There was something about him that made her skin crawl, a sense of danger she couldn't quite articulate. But now, here we were, face to face with him again, and I could see the wheels turning in her head as she processed the implications of his words.

"Maybe we could come by next week?" I suggested, trying to keep the conversation light.

Javed's eyes lit up. "That would be excellent," he said, his smile never wavering. "In fact, why don't I send over some takeout tonight? A little taste of what you've been missing," he winked.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, looking for a hint of what she already knew I was thinking. But I just nodded, playing along. "That's very kind of you, Javed. What's your address?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Javed's wife stepped forward, her smile warm but her eyes calculating. "Oh, it's no trouble at all. We live quite close," she said, her accent lilting and musical. "But I'd much rather know where you live, so I can send one of our guys sending delivery to your house"

The rest of the encounter was a blur. We exchanged numbers, and she promised to send the address over. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as we parted ways, Javed's eyes lingering on Bidisha just a moment too long during the whole conversation.

That evening, as the shadows grew long, the doorbell rang. It was Javed's delivery boy, a young man with a shy smile and a bag of steaming food. He handed over the order with a courteous nod and disappeared as quickly as he'd come. We sat down to eat, the aroma of spices filling our small apartment. Bidisha picked at her food, her appetite gone, her eyes on the TV as if she could will the images to drown out the thoughts in her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

Bidisha shrugged, her eyes never leaving the TV screen. "It's just... Javed's wife was so nice," she murmured, her voice trailing off. "But something feels... off."

I nodded, understanding her unspoken concern. The '. community in our part of town was tight-knit, often keeping to themselves. Their customs and beliefs were foreign to us, but we'd always strived to be respectful and open-minded. Yet, there was something about their behavior today that had left us both feeling unsettled.

The next week, we found ourselves standing before the gleaming sign of 'Shahi Mahal', the scent of sizzling meat and fragrant spices wafting through the air. Javed's restaurant was a far cry from the stereotypical curry houses we were used to--elegant, with dim lighting that cast a warm glow on the plush red booths. The ambiance was intimate, the walls adorned with intricate tapestries that whispered of faraway lands.

As we stepped inside, the sound of sizzling spices grew louder, melding with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of silverware. Javed himself emerged from the kitchen, his smile wide and welcoming. He enveloped us in "So good to see you!" he boomed, leading us to a table in the corner.

The meals at 'Shahi Mahal' were indeed special. The flavors danced on our tongues, a symphony of heat and sweetness that was both familiar and exotic. Javed was a masterful host, attentive without being overbearing, ensuring that our every need was met. His wife, Rubina, often joined us at the table, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she regaled us with tales of her ********* in her native place.

Over time, Bidisha and Rubina grew closer. Their friendship blossomed like a desert flower in the heat of the kitchen, sharing recipes and stories of their respective cultures. Rubina, a skilled housewife with a flair for hospitality, would sometimes invite us over for dinner at their home, and Bidisha would return the favor. Our evenings grew richer with shared laughter and the spicy aromas of their combined culinary talents.

Yet, amidst the warmth of friendship, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to it. Bidisha had confided in me one night, her voice a whisper in the dark. "Rubina... she's obsessed with Javed. It's almost unhealthy, the way she worships the ground he walks on." I nodded, unsure of how to respond. I'd noticed it too--how Rubina's eyes would follow Javed around the room, how she'd hang onto his every word. But I'd dismissed it as cultural, a sign of respect in their marriage.

But the night that changed everything, I stumbled upon something I wasn't meant to see. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and Bidisha was busy in the kitchen, the scent of her latest experiment--a fusion of spicy and cheesy flavors--filling the air. She'd stepped away to grab some spices, and that's when I saw it--her phone, lying on the counter, screen glowing with an unread message from Rubina. The curiosity was too much to resist.

I glanced at the screen and felt the ***** drain from my face. "Why don't you let Javed take you out for a night?" it read. "You deserve it. He's got a surprise planned."

My hand trembled as I scrolled back, the conversation unfolding before my eyes like a sordid dance of temptation and rejection. The images that followed were explicit, a deluge of Javed's naked body, his cock thick and proud, the kind of size that could only be described in expletives. And there it was, the question that had been popped more than once, "Could you imagine that inside of you?"

My eyes darted to the kitchen, where Bidisha hummed to herself, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my chest. I read her replies, a string of polite refusals, each one a delicate balancing act of friendship and discomfort. "No, thank you," she'd typed, "Vikram is more than enough for me." But the more I scrolled, the more it dawned on me--Rubina wasn't just sharing a fleeting infatuation. She was pushing a boundary, and the size of Javed's member was just the wedge.

The thought of my petite, beautiful wife getting filled up by that monster cock sent a rush of heat through me, my own erection straining against my pants. It was a forbidden excitement, one that made my heart race and my palms sweat. I knew I shouldn't be reading these messages, but I couldn't look away. The images of Javed, his dark skin slick with oil, his cock jutting out like a weapon of seduction, filled my mind, and I couldn't help but imagine it sliding into Bidisha's tight pussy.

In our ten years of marriage, we'd never discussed the size of a man's member, but I'd always known Bidisha had a fascination with the idea of being taken by a larger-than-average lover. We'd watched porn together, her eyes glued to the screen as the men on the display took women with an enthusiasm that sometimes made me feel inadequate. But it was just a fantasy, a harmless way to spice things up in the bedroom, or so I'd thought. Now, it seemed like reality was knocking on our door, and I wasn't sure if I could keep it out much longer.

That night, as our *** finally drifted off to *****, I approached Bidisha, who was curled up on the couch with a book. She looked up at me with those dark, expressive eyes, her features softened by the glow of the reading lamp. "Hey," she said, setting her book aside.

I took a deep breath, my heart racing like a wild stallion. "We need to talk," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Bidisha looked at me quizzically. "Is everything okay?" she asked, setting her book aside.

I took a deep breath and sat down next to her, my heart thumping in my chest. "It's just... we haven't been... intimate lately," I said, my voice cracking.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, and she nodded solemnly. "I know," she whispered, reaching out to stroke my cheek. "It's the stress, isn't it?"

Her voice was soothing, a gentle caress against the turmoil that roiled inside me. I swallowed hard, my mind racing with the words I wanted to say, the accusations I wanted to hurl at her for the secret messages, for the images of Javed's cock that I knew had been seared into her mind. But instead, I took her hand in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin, the delicate bones beneath. "It's not just that," I confessed, my voice thick with emotion. "I think we need to... spice things up a bit."

Bidisha's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tentative.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my tone light. "Just... I mean, it's been a while, right?" I said, avoiding eye contact. "Do you miss it?"

Bidisha's eyes searched my face, the question hanging in the air between us like a fine mist. She sat up straighter, her hand still resting on my cheek. "Miss it?" she echoed, a hint of surprise in her voice. "Vikram, we're married. We have a ***. Sex isn't just about... desire. It's about connection, love."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. I knew she was right, but the images of Javed's cock kept playing in my head like a pornographic reel on repeat. "But what if we did something... different?" I ventured, my voice tentative.

Bidisha leaned in, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

"Your chats with Rubina," I began, my voice steady despite the tumult in my chest. "The ones about Javed... I saw them."

Bidisha's hand froze mid-air, the warmth of her touch vanishing from my cheek. Her eyes grew wide, and she pulled her hand back as if I'd burned her. "Vikram," she breathed, the color draining from her face. "I can explain."

But I held up my hand, stopping her before she could speak another word. "It's okay," I said, my voice calm, almost soothing. "I know you didn't cheat. But you're curious, aren't you?"

Bidisha looked at me with a mix of fear and hope, the words hanging in the air like a question that had been waiting for an answer. She took a shaky breath and nodded. "I've never seen anything like that before," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "It scared me, but... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

I leaned in closer, my heart racing. "It's okay," I said, stroking her arm. "We can explore that together."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a flicker of something unidentifiable crossing her features. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I know you're curious," I said, taking her hand in mine. "And I don't blame you. Javed is... a big guy." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "But he's using his wife to manipulate you, to get what he wants."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a hint of defiance in them. "It's just... talking, Vikram," she protested weakly. "It's not real. It's just... a way to feel something, you know?"

I nodded, my heart thumping against my ribs. "I know," I murmured. "But it's okay. You don't have to hide it from me."

Her gaze dropped to our entwined hands, and she took a deep, shaky breath. "Vikram," she began, her voice trembling.

"It's okay," I reassured her, feeling a strange mix of excitement and fear coiling in my stomach. "I want to see it. I want to know what you're thinking, what you're feeling."

Bidisha's hand trembled as she handed over her phone. The screen lit up with their conversation, the words stark against the black background. I scrolled through the messages, each one more explicit than the last. The images of Javed, his cocky smirk and the sheer size of his manhood, filled the screen. Bidisha watched me, her eyes wide and unblinking, her breath coming in short gasps.

"We'll chat with her together," I said, my voice steady despite the tumult in my chest. "It'll be... exciting."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a hint of curiosity mixing with the fear. "But why?" she whispered.

"Because," I said, my voice low and filled with a newfound excitement, "it's exciting to see how much other men want you. To know that you're desired so fiercely."

Bidisha looked at me with a mix of shock and fascination, her eyes wide. "What are you saying, Vikram?" she whispered.

"I'm saying that I know you're curious," I replied, my voice low and even. "And I understand. But we don't have to hide it anymore."

Bidisha stared at me, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and something else--fear, perhaps? But there was also a spark of excitement, a flicker of something that told me she'd been waiting for this moment. "You do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," I said, nodding firmly. "And it's okay. We're married, we can share everything."

Bidisha took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the confession. "Javed has been...stalking me," she began, her voice shaking. "He joined the gym I go to. I didn't want to raise a red flag without any rea***."

I nodded, my heart racing as I encouraged her to continue. "He's been flirting with me," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "But I've always kept my distance. I don't want to ruin what we have."

"But what if we could... explore that?" I suggested, my voice tentative. "Together?"

Bidisha's eyes snapped to mine, a mix of confusion and horror. "What do you mean?" she squeaked, her grip on the phone tightening.

"I mean," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and steady, "you could go on a date with Javed. Tease him, flirt with him. But nothing more."

Bidisha's eyes grew wide, and she took a step back, her hand flying to her mouth. "Vikram," she gasped, "you can't be serious."

"Think about it," I urged, my voice low and earnest. "You can flirt, go on a date, but you set the boundaries. And I'll be there, watching, making sure he doesn't cross the line."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a mix of fear and something else--desire, perhaps? "But what if he doesn't accept no?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"That's the thrill of it," I said, my own voice thick with anticipation. "You get to push his buttons, see how far he'll go. I will be there watching every thing...i will stop him if he crosses the line"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly morphing into something darker, more primal. "But what if he doesn't listen?" she whispered, her voice a shiver of doubt.

"That's the risk we take," I said, my own excitement growing with each passing second. "But I'll be there. I'll keep you safe."

Bidisha took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes still locked on mine. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I did not want this...I can only explore this if you agree you will be there around me all the time, Vikram."

Her words sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and terror. We'd never done anything like this before, and the thought of my beautiful wife with another man was both terrifying and exhilarating. But I knew she was strong, and I trusted her. We had a bond that nothing could break.

"Rubina's going to want an answer," I said, my voice a gentle prompt. "What will you tell her?"

Bidisha bit her lower lip, her eyes clouded with a mix of anxiety and excitement. "I'll tell her I've been busy," she began, her voice a shaky whisper. "But that I'm... I'm open to the idea."

I nodded, feeling a thrill rush through me. "Perfect," I said, a smile playing on my lips. "Keep it casual. Play hard to get."

Bidisha took a deep, shaky breath and picked up her phone, her thumbs flying over the screen as she composed a message. "Rubina, I've been thinking about your suggestion," she typed. "And I've decided to take you up on your offer."

My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her, her eyes focused on the screen, her expression unreadable. "But it's just a date," she wrote, the words echoing in my head. "A chance to get out of the house, to feel alive again."

Bidisha hit send and the silence between us was deafening. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. "I'm scared, Vikram," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

I reached out and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "It's okay," I assured her, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. "We're in this together."

Bidisha looked up at me with those dark, soulful eyes, her expression a tumult of emotions. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the weight of the decision she'd just made. "I trust you," she murmured.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips to hers, a soft, reassuring kiss. It was a moment of connection, a promise of the boundaries we'd set. "Kissing is allowed," I whispered against her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her lip gloss.

Her eyes searched mine, a hint of panic flickering in their depths. "But what if he... goes further?" she murmured, her breath warm and minty.

"You said you'd tell him no," I reminded her gently, stroking her hair. "And if he doesn't listen, I'll be there."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. "But what if he tries to... more than kiss?" she whispered.

"If he tries, you stop him," I said firmly, trying to ignore the thrill that raced through me at the thought. "You tell him you're not comfortable, and I will show up."

Bidisha nodded, but the fear in her eyes hadn't disappeared. "But why are you okay with this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why are you letting this happen?"

"Because I trust you," I said, my voice firm. "And because I know that sometimes we need to explore our fantasies to keep the spark alive." I could feel the heat of her gaze on me as she processed my words.

Bidisha took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. "Okay," she whispered, her voice trembling. "But you have to be there. You have to be close enough to... stop things if it goes too far."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her trust in me. "I will," I promised. "But for now, let's just focus on the date."

Bidisha took a deep breath and nodded, her grip on my hand tightening. The message from Rubina popped up on her screen, and she held it out for me to read. "Can I call you?"

I nodded, my heart racing. "Sure," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I want to hear everything."

Bidisha and I went to the dining room.
Bidisha's fingers trembled as she accepted the call, putting it on speaker. Rubina's melodic voice filled the room, a strange mix of excitement and innocence. "So, you're in?" she asked, her words tinged with eagerness.

I nodded for Bidisha to go ahead. She took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, her voice shaky. "Yes," she said, her eyes locked on mine. "I'll go on a date with your hubby."

Rubina's squeal of excitement was palpable, even over the phone. "Oh my God, Bidisha!" she exclaimed. "You won't regret it, I promise. He'll take you to the most romantic places!...How are you going to manage Vikram?...I can take care of your kid...you can drop him in our house."

Bidisha muted the call, her eyes searching my face for guidance. I nodded, the plan forming in my head. "Tell her I have to go on an office tour," I murmured, my heart racing with anticipation. "Say it's a work thing, and I will not be there."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes never leaving mine as she unmuted the call. "Rubina," she began, her voice steady, "Vikram has an office tour next week. He won't be home."

"Perfect!" Rubina's voice was a purr, a knowing smile in her tone. "Javed will be so excited, Bidisha. He talks about you all the time."

Bidisha's cheeks flushed, and she swallowed hard. "I appreciate that," she murmured, her eyes darting to me.

"Don't you?" Rubina's voice was a seductive whisper, her words a siren's call luring us into the murky waters of temptation. "Javed is obsessed with the thought of you, Bidisha. Every night, he fucks me, but it's you he's imagining beneath him."

Bidisha's eyes grew wide, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. She looked at me, her hand shaking as she held the phone. "I... I think we should talk later," she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bidisha disconnected the call. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and nerves. "What did she say about Javed in the past?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite the tumult of emotions raging within me.

"She said that he talks about me all the time," Bidisha murmured, her voice barely audible. "That he's... obsessed with the thought of me."

The room felt as if it was closing in on us, the air thick with tension. Bidisha's words hung in the air like a confession, a secret we'd both been keeping from each other. "But I'm not sure I'm ready for this," she whispered, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

I took a step closer to her, my hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," I said gently, trying to ease the worry etched into her features. "We're just exploring, remember?"

Bidisha searched my eyes, looking for the truth in my words. "But what if it's more than just exploring?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if I actually... like it?"

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through me, and I swallowed hard. "Then we'll deal with it," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But remember, it's just a date. You're in control."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes still locked on mine. "Okay," she murmured. "But... what if I do want more?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of her question heavy in the air. "Then we'll talk about it," I said, my voice firm. "But for now, let's just focus on the date."

Bidisha nodded, but the worry didn't leave her eyes. "But what if I cross the line?" she whispered, her grip on my hand tight.

"You won't," I assured her, trying to keep the thrill from my voice. "You'll know your limits."

Bidisha searched my eyes, looking for the truth in my words. "But what if I don't?" she whispered, her grip on my hand tightening.

"Don't what?" I asked, my own heart racing.

"Don't you get... jealous?" she whispered, her eyes searching my face.

I paused for a moment, considering her question. "Jealous?" I echoed, my voice a gentle rumble. "No, Bidisha. This isn't about jealousy. It's about trust. And excitement."

Her eyes searched mine, looking for a lie, for any hint of anger or resentment. But all she'd find was the truth—my heart pounding with anticipation, my mind racing with the thought of watching her flirt, watching her tease him. "But why?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Why are you okay with this?"

"Because you're mine," I murmured, leaning in closer. "And no matter what happens, you'll always come back to me."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, and I could see the war of emotions playing out behind them—fear, excitement, doubt. But there was something else there, too—a spark of curiosity that hadn't been there before. "What if...what if I don't?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my own emotions in check. "Don't what?" I asked, my heart racing.

Bidisha's gaze searched my face, her eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "What if I don't come back?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You will," I said with a conviction that surprised even me. "Because you love me. And this is just a... a way to explore."

Bidisha nodded, but the fear in her eyes hadn't completely disappeared. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll think about it."

The room was thick with unspoken words, the tension palpable as she pulled away from me. She paced the living room, her thoughts racing as she chewed on her lower lip. "Vikram," she said finally, her voice a tremulous whisper, "are we playing with fire?"

I watched her, my heart heavy with the weight of our conversation. "Bidisha," I began, my voice gentle, "we're just exploring our boundaries. It doesn't have to mean anything more than that."

After two days, Bidisha informed me that Javed is directly messaging her, suggesting they extend their dinner date and spend some time in a night club. Her voice was tentative, unsure of how I'd react. "Vikram," she began, her eyes darting around the room, "Javed wants to take me to a nightclub after dinner."

The mention of the club sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Which club?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, looking for a hint of disapproval. "He suggested 'The Blue Lotus'," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The Blue Lotus?" I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue like a sweet poison. It was one of the most exclusive clubs in the city, known for its private booths and late-night dances that often led to... other activities. "What do you think?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly giving way to excitement. "I've heard it's a nice place," she murmured, her voice tentative. "But it's... a bit risky, isn't it?"

"Risky?" I repeated, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver down my spine. "What makes you say that?"

Bidisha took a deep breath, her eyes darting to the floor. "I've heard...things," she murmured, her voice a mix of fear and excitement. "Things that happen there."

I nodded, my mind racing with the possibilities. "What things?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions in my chest.

Bidisha's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she avoided my gaze. "Well, it's known for... for people to get a bit... wild," she murmured, her eyes darting to the floor.

"Wild?" I repeated, my mind racing with images of Bidisha, dressed in something revealing, dancing with Javed in a dimly lit corner. "How wild?"

Bidisha's eyes darted to me, a mix of fear and excitement in their depths. "I've heard there are... private areas," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Where people can... get intimate."

"Intimate?" I echoed, my heart racing with the possibilities. "What kind of intimate?"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a hint of defiance in them. "The kind of intimacy that makes you uncomfortable," she said, her voice firm. "But I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do, Vikram."

The words hung in the air, a challenge and a question all rolled into one. "What do you want from this date?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and irritation.

"I expect you to enjoy yourself," I replied, my voice calm despite the storm of emotions brewing inside me. "To explore your curiosity. I know about your infatuation about big cocks"

Bidisha laughed- "why do you think Javed will show that to me without any intention? I just wanted to touch it. I don't want it to go beyond that"

I said- "If you really want to see that, then get intimate with him"

Bidisha- " How can you say that? Don't you feel any attachment towards me? I am your wife. I am not interested in real sex. I heard stories where women got hurt my big dick"

I said - "I am giving you the opportunity to enjoy yourself "

Bidisha- "You are sick. I did not expect you to talk to me about this"

I said-"I am not asking you to have sex with Javed"

There was curiosity in Bidisha's eyes - "Don't act smart, Vikram," she said, her voice holding an edge of challenge. "I know what you mean. If I go on this date with Javed, and we end up at The Blue Lotus, what are you expecting to happen?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken desires and fears. "I'm expecting you to have fun," I said, trying to keep my voice calm despite the thunderous beat of my heart. "To explore your boundaries. And to come back to me."

Bidisha stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face for any sign of deception. "But you know what Javed wants, Haven't you noticed how he has looked at me" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "What if he tries something?"

"Bidisha," I said firmly, taking her hand in mine, "you're in control. If you don't want to go any further, just tell him no.Also don't lie to me that you don't like his attention"

Bidisha - "I don't want to play this dangerous game. There is a boundary to every fantasy. I don't want him to get a green signal if I went out with him. I know men like him sees most women as slut"

I repeated- "Just say no"

Bidisha nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. "But what if saying no isn't enough?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I told Bidisha- "Javed is not going to ***** you in a club"

Bidisha took a deep breath, looking into my eyes. "I know," she said softly. "But what if he tries?"

I said - "you are thinking too much. At least let Javed kiss sweet lips of yours and then you can decide if you want to go ahead or not."

Bidisha looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and frustration. "Vikram," she sighed, her voice heavy with the weight of our conversation. "I don't understand. Why are you pushing me into this?"

I took a step closer, my hand reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair from her face. "I'm not pushing you," I said softly. "I'm just giving you the freedom to explore your desires."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly giving way to understanding. "But what if I don't want to?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

I took a deep breath, my heart racing with the thought of what she was suggesting. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I assured her, trying to keep my voice steady. "But sometimes, exploring our fantasies can lead to amazing experiences."

Bidisha's gaze searched my own, looking for a way out of the tangled web of emotions she was caught in. "But what if it's not just a fantasy for Javed?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "What if he expects more?"

"Bidisha," I said firmly, my grip on her hand tightening. "You're in control. You tell him no, and he'll respect that."

Her eyes searched mine, the fear slowly receding as she nodded. "Okay," she murmured, taking a deep breath. "But I'm not sure I trust him."

"Trust is a funny thing, Bidisha," I said, my voice low and soothing. "It's about knowing someone's intentions and respecting your boundaries."

Her eyes searched my face, the fear slowly being replaced by a spark of anger. "But how can I trust him?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "He's a Muslim man, and you know how they are."

I took a step back, surprised by the venom in her voice. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, my own voice tight.

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, regret flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean it like that. I just... I'm scared, Vikram."

"Scared?" I repeated, my heart racing as I tried to understand the sudden shift in her tone. "Scared of what?"

Bidisha took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Scared of losing you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Scared of what this might do to us."

I pulled her into a tight embrace, my heart aching at the thought of losing her. "You won't," I assured her, my voice strong. "We're in this together."

Bidisha leaned into me, her breath warm against my neck. Her lips found mine, and we kissed with a passion that seemed to consume us both. It was a kiss filled with apology and a hint of desperation, as if she were trying to reassure me with every stroke of her tongue. I could feel the tremble in her body, the fear of what we were about to do. But as we pulled apart, the look in her eyes told me she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her breath warm against my cheek. "I never meant for it to go this far. I should not be curious about him, about... his size."

I pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Bidisha," I said gently, "it's okay to have desires. It's human."

Her gaze searched mine, and she nodded slowly. "I know," she murmured. "But I don't want to hurt you."

"Bidisha," I said, my voice firm, "you won't. This is about trust and exploration. If you want to experience what it's like with someone else, I'll be okay with it. We'll get through it together."

Her eyes searched mine, looking for reassurance, and I knew that this was a pivotal moment in our relationship. With a deep breath, she nodded. "Okay," she murmured. "But promise me, you'll be there."

"Always," I whispered, my heart racing with excitement. "But remember, if you decide to go further... I won't stop you."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, the fear slowly morphing into something else—desire. "What if I want you to?" she whispered, her voice a seductive purr.

I stepped back, my heart racing with the sudden shift in her demeanor. "Want me to what?" I asked, my voice hoarse with anticipation.

Bidisha took a deep breath, her eyes dark with desire. "If I get... too carried away," she murmured, "I want you to be the one to stop me."

The words sent a jolt through me, a mix of excitement and possessiveness I hadn't felt in years. "You're mine," I growled, my hand sliding down her arm to entwine with hers. "And I won't let anyone take you from me."

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, and she nodded, the spark of excitement in them growing brighter. "I know," she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound confidence.

Everything started from that day and now I am a cuckold now. I am driving my wife dressed as a bride in a traditional Bengali wedding attire to a lodge, following Javed's instructions.

Tonight, my wife Bidisha would be taken by two men—Javed and his friend, Ahmed. Javed had trained her well. He had introduced her to a world of pleasure she had never known, pushing her boundaries and fulfilling her deepest desires. I watched from the shadows, a silent observer in their clandestine meetings, my heart pounding with a mix of new excitement and fear.

When we pulled up to the discreet lodge, nestled between a row of trees, I spotted Javed leaning against a sleek black car, a knowing smile playing across his lips as he watched us approach. His eyes lingered on Bidisha, dressed in a stunning bridal saree that clung to every curve of her body. I could feel the heat of his gaze from across the parking lot, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

Bidisha stepped out of the car, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. She looked over at me, her eyes questioning, and I gave her a nod of encouragement. Javed stepped forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and took her hand, leading her to the entrance of the lodge. As they disappeared inside, I took a deep breath, my heart racing with anticipation.

When I entered the room they'd reserved, the sight before me was nothing short of erotic. The lights were dimmed, candles flickered, and the smell of incense filled the air. Bidisha looked absolutely stunning, her bridal attire a stark contrast to the lustful environment. Javed's eyes devoured her, and I felt a twinge of jealousy mixed with arousal as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

He leaned in and kissed her, his hand sliding down her waist to rest on her hip. The way she melted into him was both infuriating and exhilarating. I knew I had lost her long time back but it was I who started this. It was I who allowed this. It was I who wanted to watch.

"Ahmed is going to go mad when he sees you," Javed murmured against her lips, his hand sliding up to caress her cheek.

Bidisha's pulse quickened, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the heat of his breath on her skin. When she opened them again, she found him watching her, his dark eyes gleaming with desire.

"Where is Ahmed?" she whispered, her voice a tremor in the quiet room.

Javed's smile grew, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned closer. "He's just outside, fetching some... supplies," he murmured, his hand sliding down to rest on the small of her back. "But before he joins us, I want to make sure we're both prepared."

Bidisha's eyes searched his, the anticipation building within her. She licked her lips, her heart racing as she nodded. "I understand," she whispered, her voice a soft tremor of excitement.

Javed stepped back, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turned to me. "Vikram, why don't you go to the kitchen and start cooking the chicken drumsticks ?" he suggested, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Bidisha's eyes met mine, and I knew what she was asking. With trembling hands, I pulled the condom pack from my pocket and handed it to her. She took it with a nod of understanding, her eyes never leaving mine.

I went to the kitchen.As I started looking for the chicken drumsticks, my mind drifted back to the day she went on fher first date with Javed.

Bidisha had been nervous, her hands shaking as she slipped into the short, tight dress I had bought for her. It was a stark contrast to her usual modest attire—a crim*** number that left little to the imagination. She had protested, saying it was too revealing, but I had insisted, knowing the effect it would have on Javed. And as she had looked at herself in the mirror, I could see the doubt in her eyes, the fear of the unknown.

"You look stunning," I had told her, trying to keep the excitement from my voice. "Javed will go crazy for you."

Her cheeks had flushed a deep red, and she'd offered me a shy smile. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes darting to the dress. "But it's just a bit too much."

"That's the point," I had said, my voice firm. "You're going to drive him wild."

Bidisha said - "It seems you enjoy teasing men more than me these days, Vikram," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

I felt a twinge of guilt, but I couldn't deny the thrill that shot through me at the thought of her dressed so provocatively for Javed. "It's not about teasing," I protested, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's about showing how beautiful you are"

Bidisha rolled her eyes, but I could see the hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You're just enjoying this too much," she accused, her voice teasing.

"Maybe I am," I admitted with a chuckle, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "But it's for a good rea***."

Bidisha rolled her eyes, but I could see the spark of excitement in them. "What's the plan?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"You're going to wear that dress tomorrow night," I told her, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "It's date night, after all."

Bidisha- " what i am going to tell to your ************ asked me to drop him after college tomorrow and she said Javed will pick me up from home later in the evening."

I told her "Just tell him that you are going to a friend's house for dinner. He won't suspect anything."

Bidisha nodded reluctantly, the reality of what we were about to do sinking in. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the lie. "Okay," she murmured. "But what if he asks about you?"

"Just tell him what you have told Rubina," I said, my voice calm despite the tumult of emotions within me. "Tell him I've had to go on a last-minute business trip."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes searching my face for any sign of doubt. "Okay," she murmured, her voice shaky.

The next morning, I packed my bag with a mix of excitement and trepidation, acting out the charade of a business trip for our ***. He was still young and wouldn't understand the complexities of our arrangement. He looked up at me with wide, innocent eyes as I explained that I had to go away for a few days.

"But why, Daddy?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion.

"It's just something work-related, buddy," I said, ruffling his hair. "I'll be back before you know it."

I watched him skip off to college, the weight of our secret pressing down on me. When I returned home, Bidisha was waiting for me, her eyes filled with doubt. "Vikram," she began, her voice trembling, "are we really doing the right thing?"

"You're going to have fun," I assured her, my voice filled with a confidence I wasn't sure I felt. "Remember, it's just a date."

Bidisha nodded, but the fear in her eyes remained. "What if he tries to make me... impure?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

I took her hands in mine, my eyes searching hers. "You're my wife," I said firmly. "You're always pure in my eyes."

Bidisha nodded, the fear slowly giving way to a spark of excitement. "Okay," she whispered. "But promise me, if things go too far..you will be there to stop it."

Bidisha left for work. She took half a day off and I took a full day leave in the office . The whole day I imagined how my wife's date with Javed would go. When she came back from dropping our *** at Javed's home, she walked into our bedroom, her eyes avoiding mine. I asked her whether Javed was at home. She smiled and said -"No...Rubina told me Javed has gone to the parlour"

I asked - "Is this for the date?"

Bidisha smiled back. One hour before the pickup time, Bidisha began to get dressed. I could see the excitement in her eyes, the anticipation of the night ahead, and the nerves that came with it.

As she slipped into the dress, her body transformed before me. The tight fabric hugged every curve, emphasizing the swell of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. The dress was so short that it barely covered her ass, and I could see the tops of her stockings. My heart raced as I took in the sight of her, my cock thickening in my pants. She looked like a sex goddess, and knowing that she was doing this for me, for us, made it all the more erotic.

Her lips were glossy, a deep shade of red that made her look even more tempting. She had applied eyeliner with a heavy hand, making her eyes look big and sexy, and I couldn't help but wonder if she had done it for Javed or if it was for me, a silent message that she was still mine, even as she was about to leave with another man.

"I'm ready," she murmured, turning to face me.

I nodded, my heart racing as I took in the sight of her. The crim*** dress clung to her like a second skin, and the scent of her perfume filled the air. She looked absolutely stunning.

Javed called her phone, and Bidisha's eyes widened with tension as she glanced at the screen. She picked up the call, her voice tight. "Yes?" she said, her eyes darting to me for a brief moment. I heard her saying to Javed that she is coming outside.

"Javed's here...I need to go" she murmured, her voice a mix of fear and excitement. She glanced at the clock. It was half an hour before the time they had agreed upon, and she was visibly nervous.

I nodded, my heart racing. "You look... absolutely stunning," I managed to croak out, my throat dry with anticipation.

Bidisha looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement. She took a deep breath and leaned in, her soft, plump lips pressing against mine in a wet, sloppy kiss that left me trembling. Her tongue darted into my mouth, tasting of mint and a hint of nerves. As we kissed, my hand slid down to cup her ass, feeling the firm flesh beneath the thin fabric of her dress.

"Vikram," she whispered against my lips, her voice shaky. "Remember, I'm your wife."

I nodded, my heart racing. "I know," I murmured, the reality of the situation setting in.

Bidisha looked at me with a mix of fear and determination. "Stay close," she whispered. "If anything goes wrong, you're there for me."

I nodded, my heart racing. "I will," I assured her. "As soon as his car leaves, I'll follow."

The moment she stepped out of the house, the door clicking shut behind her, the tension in the air was palpable. I waited, my heart thundering in my chest, watching through the window as Javed's car pulled into our driveway. Bidisha looked back at me one last time before climbing into the passenger seat, her eyes filled with a mix of excitement and fear. As the car pulled away, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me.

I waited for what felt like an eternity, pacing the living room, my mind racing with thoughts of what might happen between Bidisha and Javed. The anticipation was unbearable, a cocktail of fear, jealousy, and arousal coursing through my veins. I knew that this was a critical moment in our relationship, one that could either push us apart or bring us closer than ever before.

Finally, the time came to follow them. I walked out to the garage, my hand shaking slightly as I reached for the car keys. But when I turned the ignition, the car sputtered and died. I swore under my breath, my heart sinking. This couldn't be happening now. I tried again, pumping the gas pedal, but the engine only whined in .

I grabbed my phone and typed out a message to Bidisha, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "Car won't start. I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't panic." I hit send, watching the screen as the message bubble turned from gray to blue, indicating it had been delivered.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an incoming message from Bidisha. I read it, feeling a knot form in my stomach. She was cursing me, calling me a fool for not making sure my car was in good condition before sending her off with Javed. The words stung, but I knew she was just scared, lashing out at me in her moment of fear. But the message didn't stop there. She went on to tell me the name of the restaurant where Javed was taking her—some place called "Al-Khaleej." It was a middle eastern restaurant, one I had heard of before, known for its romantic ambiance and exotic flavors. The thought of them dining together, sharing food and laughs, while I sat at home with a broken-down car, was almost too much to bear.

Panic set in, and I knew I had to get there somehow. I booked a taxi and gave the driver the address of the restaurant. The ride was agonizingly slow, my mind racing with images of Bidisha and Javed's date. Would he kiss her in public? Would he touch her? The thought of her with him was driving me crazy with a mix of excitement and desire. I had to get there, and had to see for myself what was happening.

As the taxi pulled up outside "Al-Khaleej," I took a deep breath and stepped out, the cold night air hitting me like a slap in the face. The restaurant was dimly lit, the windows tinted to offer privacy to its patrons. The sound of sizzling meat and spices filled the air, mingling with the faint murmur of conversation and laughter from inside.

My heart raced as I approached the entrance, the anticipation of what I was about to see almost unbearable. I asked for a single seat at the bar, my eyes scanning the room for any sign of Bidisha and Javed. The server nodded and led me to a stool, placing a menu in front of me. But I couldn't focus on the food. All I could think about was my wife and the man I had allowed to take her out on a date.

As I glanced around the dimly lit restaurant, my eyes fell upon them—Bidisha and Javed sitting in a far corner, their heads close together as they whispered and laughed. She looked breathtakingly beautiful, the crim*** dress highlighting the deep brown of her skin. My gaze lingered on her, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched them interact.

Javed was dressed impeccably, his tight shirt showcasing his well-defined biceps and muscular chest. It looked like he had perfectly got himself prepared for the night, his beard was properly trimmed and he had an exotic hair cut. He was a stark contrast to my more conservative attire, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of inadequacy as I took in his powerful physique. His confidence was palpable, and the way he touched her arm, the ease with which he leaned in to whisper something in her ear, it was all too clear that she was comfortable with him.

Bidisha's eyes met mine briefly as I took my seat at the bar, and the message was clear. She was nervous, but she was also enjoying the attention. The sight of her with him, in such an intimate setting, was a punch to the gut. Yet, deep inside, I couldn't deny the burning desire to see him claim her, to watch him give her the pleasure that she has never imagined.

Javed's hand was on her thigh, his thumb moving in lazy circles beneath the fabric of her dress. She tensed slightly, and I watched as she took a sip of her *****, her eyes never leaving mine. It was a silent challenge, a question of whether I was really ready for what we had agreed upon.

I ordered my food. My food was served at the same time when they just completed their dinner.

As the server cleared their plates, Javed excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Bidisha alone at the table. She glanced over at me, her eyes flashing with irritation. I felt a twinge of guilt for invading her space, but the thrill of the moment was too intense to ignore. She reached for her phone, typing out a message with a look that could have melted ice.

Her message popped up on my screen, a stark contrast to the warm, comforting food in front of me. "Vikram, stop eating. Book a taxi now. Javed is taking me to The Blue Lotus," it read. My heart skipped a beat as I read the words, the excitement and fear mingling like a potent cocktail.

Javed returned from the bathroom, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Bidisha. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her cheeks flush. She nodded, and the server brought over the bill. Javed paid with a flourish, his hand lingering on Bidisha's shoulder as he did so. The way he claimed her, so publicly, so confidently, sent a shiver down my spine.

They stood up, and I watched as Javed offered her his hand, helping her out of the chair. Her hand looked so small and delicate in his, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the ease with which he handled her. The sight of them together was like watching a movie I had no control over, and the anticipation of what was to come was both thrilling and terrifying.

As they left, I took a deep breath and turned to the server, trying to keep my voice steady. "Could I have the bill, please?"

The server took an eternity to bring my bill over to me, his eyes lingering on me with a smile. It was as if he could see the turmoil raging within me. I felt exposed, as if everyone in the restaurant knew my dirty little secret. The moment the bill was in my hand, I practically bolted out of the restaurant, my heart racing as I fumbled with my phone to book a taxi.

I saw a message popping up from bidisha asking me where I am. She informed me that they have almost reached the blue lotus. I send her a message- "I am still waiting for taxi "

Bidisha started typing and I could make out the anger in her words as she called me 'dumb' for not being there yet. The message sent a jolt through me, a mix of irritation and arousal. The taxi was taking forever, and I could feel the tension building up inside me as I waited, imagining her with Javed at 'The Blue Lotus'. The name itself was like a siren's call, luring me with the promise of the forbidden.

Finally, the taxi arrived, and I practically fell into the back seat, the leather cool against my sweat-dampened skin. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, a knowing smile playing on his lips. I glared back, the urge to punch something overwhelming. I sent Bidisha another message as the taxi pulled away from the curb, informing her that I was en route. The silence from her end was deafening, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was already lost in Javed's arms, forgetting all about me.

The journey to 'The Blue Lotus' was a blur, the city lights flashing by in a kaleidoscope of color and shadow. My thoughts raced, conjuring images of Bidisha and Javed together, her dressed in that damn red dress that had driven me to the brink of madness. Was she touching him now? Was he touching her? The thought was like a knife twisting in my gut, a mix of curiosity and desire that left me panting.

When I finally reached the club, the bouncer, a hulk of a man with a shaved head and a neck tattoo, blocked my way. "I'm sorry, sir, but we can't let you in," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're not on the guest list, and we don't allow single patrons."

Panic gripped me, and I felt the ***** drain from my face. "My wife," I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. "She's in there with someone. I need to get to her."

The bouncer's expression remained unchanged, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Not without the right credentials, you don't," he said, his arms folded across his broad chest.

I knew I had to act fast. "Look," I said, my voice shaking with urgency, "my wife is in there with someone she shouldn't be. I need to get to her before things go too far."

The bouncer's expression remained stoic, but I could see a flicker of something in his eyes—either disbelief or amusement. "I'm sorry, but this isn't the place for marital issues," he replied, his tone firm. "You'll have to sort this out at home."

Desperation clawed at me, and I knew I had to play my trump card. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, peeling off a few crisp bills. "Please," I said, my voice low and urgent. "I'll make it worth your while. I just need to get in there."

The bouncer's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered down to the money in my hand. "The name of your wife?" he asked, his voice still unyielding.

"Bidisha," I replied, my voice shaking slightly. "And the man she's with is named Javed."

The bouncer's expression remained stoic, but his eyes narrowed slightly. "Ah, yes. Mr. Javed," he said, nodding. "He's a valued customer here. He's reserved the VIP suite."

"But she's my wife!" I insisted, the desperation in my voice growing stronger. "I need to get in there, please."

The bouncer looked at me with a hint of pity in his eyes, his expression unwavering. "I understand, sir, but Mr. Javed has requested privacy for the evening. We can't allow any interruptions."

I slammed the cash into his hand, my voice desperate. "Please," I begged, "I need to know she's okay."

The bouncer's gaze flickered from the money to my pleading eyes before he sighed, his expression softening slightly. "Look, I get it," he said, his voice low. "But if I let you in, I could lose my job."

"Please," I begged, my voice desperate. "Just tell me she's okay. I'll pay you whatever you want."

The bouncer's eyes widened at the mention of money, and for a moment, I thought I had him. But then his gaze hardened. "I can't take that risk," he said firmly. "If Mr. Javed finds out, I'll be out on my ass. And if your wife is with him willingly..." He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

But my desperation had reached a peak, and I was not about to be deterred. I peeled off a few more bills, my hand shaking with the effort of keeping my cool. "Please," I repeated, my voice thick with need. "I'll make it worth your while."

The bouncer looked at me, his expression a mix of greed and hesitation. He knew he was holding the power in this situation, and I knew he was weighing his options. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he nodded. "Okay," he murmured. "But i need some cash...I can take this risk if you pay me enough."

I felt a flicker of hope, but before I could respond, he pointed out the lack of funds in my hand. "You got more?" he asked, his eyes on the money I had offered.

I nodded, trying to keep the desperation from my voice. "I can get more," I said quickly. "There's an ATM nearby, right?"

The bouncer's eyes lit up at the mention of more money, and he jerked his chin towards the left. "There's one down the street," he said, his voice gruff. "But you'd better make it fast if you want to see your wife tonight."

I nodded, the desperation in my voice now a distant memory as adrenaline took over. I practically sprinted down the sidewalk, the cold wind biting at my skin. The ATM was a beacon of light in the darkness, and as I approached, I saw a small queue of people waiting their turn. My heart sank as I realized that this could take forever.

But I had no choice. I took out my card and waited, my eyes never leaving the entrance of 'The Blue Lotus'. Each passing second felt like an eternity, each beat of my heart a taunting reminder that Bidisha was in there with Javed. I messaged her, my thumbs flying over the screen, but the message remained unsent. My heart raced, the silence from her end echoing like a scream in my mind. I called her, the ringtone cutting through the night like a knife. But she didn't answer, the line going straight to voicemail. Panic set in, a cold sweat breaking out on my brow.

Finally, the ATM whirred to life, spitting out the cash I so desperately needed. I grabbed it, shoving it into my pocket, and sprinted back to the club. The bouncer was still there, his expression unchanged. I handed him the additional cash, my hands shaking. He took it without a word and gestured for me to follow him.

The dance floor was a writhing sea of bodies, the pulsing lights casting eerie shadows across the room. The music was a thunderous bass that vibrated through my chest, the scent of sweat and perfume thick in the air. I scanned the crowd frantically, searching for any sign of Bidisha and Javed. And then, in the far corner, I saw them—their bodies moving in a sensual dance that left no room for doubt.

Bidisha was dressed in a scandalously short dress that hugged her curves like a second skin, the deep red fabric almost black in the dim light. Javed had his hands all over her, his fingers tracing the outline of her hips, her waist, her breasts. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, a look of pure ecstasy etched on her face. She was lost in the music, lost in the moment, lost in him.

Her body moved with a sensual grace that made my mouth water, her hips swaying to the beat as if they were controlled by an unseen *****. Each time she spun, the skirt of her dress fluttered up, revealing the smooth, bare flesh of her thighs. I watched, transfixed, as her movements grew more and more provocative, her hands sliding up Javed's chest to loop around his neck. His own eyes were dark with lust as he stared down at her, a possessive smile playing on his lips.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed her. A deep, passionate kiss that seemed to last an eternity. The room around me faded into the background, my vision narrowing to focus solely on the two of them. Bidisha's hands tightened around Javed's neck, her body pressing against his as if trying to merge with him. Heat surged through me, a mix of anger and arousal that left me light-headed.

The bouncer's hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality. "Sir," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, "you should go home now."

"But..." I began to protest, the desperation in my voice clear. "What if she needs me?"

The bouncer's hand remained firm on my shoulder. "Look," he said, his voice a mix of pity and annoyance. "Your wife is fine. She's with Mr. Javed, and he knows how to take care of his girl. If she's in trouble, she'll let us know. But right now, she looks pretty happy to me."

I nodded, my throat tight, and allowed him to guide me back to the bar. My heart was racing, a mix of anger and lust coursing through my veins as I watched Bidisha's sensual dance with Javed. She looked so alive, so free, in a way I had never seen her before. It was intoxicating and infuriating all at once.

The bouncer nodded to the bartender, a burly man with a thick beard and a knowing smile. "Get the poor guy a ***** on the house," he said, his voice a low rumble. "He looks like he needs it."

The bouncer left me in the bar.The bartender poured me a whiskey, his eyes flicking over to the dance floor where Bidisha and Javed were still locked in their passionate embrace.

Bartender- "Tonight that dog got a hot one, isn't it?" He spoke casually as he slid the whiskey in front of me. The way his eyes gleamed as he said it made my ***** boil. It was as if he knew the torment I was in, as if he was enjoying my pain.

Me- "What do you mean by that?" I tried to keep my cool, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

Bartender leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "He is Javed sheikh...he is a bit of a regular here. Knows the owner, Mr. Ahmed. They go way back. He brings in the most exquisite women, and they always leave happy."

I nodded, the whiskey burning a trail down my throat as I absorbed his words. The thought of Bidisha being just another notch on Javed's bedpost made me sick. I had to find out more. "How does she compare to the others?" I asked, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

The bartender leaned in closer, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, let's just say she's the hottest one he's brought in here in a while. That man has a taste for the exotic, but she's got something special." His eyes lingered on her as he spoke, his gaze hungry.

It was all I could do not to punch him. But I knew that wouldn't help. Instead, I took another sip of my whiskey, the fire of it burning a path through my anger. On the dance floor, Bidisha's arms were now wrapped around Javed's neck, her body melded to his. They were kissing openly, not caring who watched. The sight was both arousing and infuriating. I felt like a caged ******, unable to get to her, to claim what was rightfully mine.

The bartender said 'the aphrodisiac is working well on the bitch'. I asked the bartender - " what you mean by that"

Bartender leaned back with a smug smile. "Ah, you see, Mr. Javed and the owner of this club Mr. Ahmed, they're old pals," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. "They've got a little arrangement here. Whenever Mr. Javed brings in a new... 'guest', Mr. Ahmed sends over a special concoction."

"What's in it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my anger.

The bartender leaned in closer, a knowing glint in his eye. "It's a house special," he said, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "A blend of herbs and other... enhancements that keep a woman's engine running all night. Keeps them eager and ready for whatever comes their way."

My stomach churned at the thought of Bidisha under the influence of such a potent aphrodisiac. "What's in it?" I asked, the words barely leaving my mouth.

The bartender's smile grew wider. "It's a secret blend," he said, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement at my distress. "But let's just say it's the reason Mr. Javed's guests always leave satisfied. It loosens inhibitions, makes them... more open to new experiences."

My mind raced as I watched Javed lead Bidisha away from the dance floor, her hand in his. The way she looked at him, her eyes wide and filled with something that could only be described as awe, was like a knife twisting in my gut. They moved through the crowded room, heading towards the velvet rope that separated the VIP section from the rest of the club.

"Javed must be taking her to the VIP room," the bartender said, his voice thick with amusement. "It's where the real fun starts."

My heart raced as they disappeared through the velvet curtains. I had to know what was going to happen. "What goes on in the VIP room?" I asked, my voice low and urgent.

The bartender's smile grew even more smug. "It's where Mr. Javed entertains his... special guests," he said, his eyes sliding over to where they had gone. "Very exclusive. Not just anyone can get in there."

"But I have to," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

The bartender's smirk grew wider. "Look, man," he said, his voice low, "you don't have the kind of access Mr. Javed does. That VIP room is reserved for special people."

Ignoring his words, I downed my whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass on the bar. "I need to go there," I said, my voice a low growl. "Now."

The bartender chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. "Only the VIPs get to pass that velvet curtain," he said, wiping the counter with a cloth. "And unless you've got the golden ticket, you're not getting past that bouncer."

Without another word, I pushed away from the bar and stumbled through the pulsing crowd, my eyes fixed on the velvet rope that guarded the VIP entrance. The bouncer there was even larger than the one outside, his arms folded across his chest like a human barricade. My heart raced as I approached, my mind racing with thoughts of what might be happening to Bidisha beyond that velvet veil.

I tried to keep my voice calm as I spoke to him. "I need to go in there," I said firmly. "My wife is with Mr. Javed."

The bouncer's eyes narrowed, his hand landing heavily on the velvet rope. "Not without an invitation, you don't," he said, his voice a low rumble.

I knew I had to act fast. "Look," I began, reaching into my pocket. "I'll pay you. Whatever it takes, just let me in."

The bouncer's expression didn't change. "Money won't buy you what you want tonight," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Mr. Javed's parties are strictly private."

I pulled out my wallet, desperation making my voice shake. "How much?" I asked, willing to pay any price to get to Bidisha.

The bouncer's gaze dropped to the cash in my hand, and for a moment, I thought I had him. But then he shook his head, a sadistic smile playing on his lips. "Not even if you had the queen's treasure," he said, his voice a low growl. "Now, unless you want to end up like the last guy who tried to crash the party, I'd suggest you leave."

The crowd had thinned around us, the music pulsing like a living creature, feeding off the tension in the air. I could feel the eyes of the other patrons on me, curious, amused, and even a few pitying. But I didn't care. All I cared about was getting to Bidisha.

"Look, I'm telling you, she's my wife!" I yelled, my voice echoing over the music. "I need to see her!"

Hope to read more rupakpolo

Cuando vemos el final?

The bouncer's grip tightened on the velvet rope, his eyes boring into mine. "Not going to happen," he said, his tone final.

I was desperate, my hand shaking as I pulled out my wallet and shoved a wad of cash at him. "Take it," I pleaded, my voice hoarse. "Please, just let me in."

But the bouncer was unmoved. He took the cash, crumpled it in his massive fist, and tossed it over his shoulder without looking. "Not enough," he said, his eyes cold and unyielding.

Panic surged through me, and I lunged at him, my fists balled and ready to fight. But he was too fast, too strong. With a single, ****** punch, he sent me sprawling onto the sticky floor, the room spinning around me. The crowd gasped, the music seeming to fade into the background.

But before the bouncer could deliver another blow, a voice cut through the chaos. "That's enough," it said, firm and commanding. The room grew still, the music dying down as if on cue. I looked up, my vision swimming, to see a man standing in the entrance of the VIP section.

He was tall, with a lean, muscular build and a close-cropped beard. His eyes were dark and piercing, and there was an air of authority about him that made it clear he was not someone to be trifled with. "Mr Ahmed," the bouncer said, his tone deferential. "We have a situation here."

Ahmed's gaze flicked over to me, and his expression grew stern. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, his voice smooth and cultured, "but you're not on the list. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Please," I begged, struggling to my feet. "You don't understand. My wife is in there with someone , and she's not herself. She's been *******."

Ahmed asked me the name of the man my wife had gone inside with, and when I said Javed, his expression shifted from one of calm authority to surprise. His eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, I could see the wheels turning in his head. "Javed?" he repeated, his tone no longer as smooth as before. "That complicates things."

He nodded to the bouncer, who took a step back, allowing Ahmed to lead me through the velvet curtains into the VIP section. The room was dimly lit, with plush couches and a bar stocked with bottles that glinted in the soft light. The music was quieter here, a muted bass thumping in the background.

Ahmed's office was a stark contrast to the decadence of the club. It was clean, almost sterile, with a large desk dominating the space. He gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite him, his expression thoughtful as he took his place behind the desk. "You're telling me that your wife is in here with Javed?" he said, his voice measured.

I nodded, the pain in my chest like a physical *****. "Yes," I said, my voice trembling. "I think he's ******* her."

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "And what makes you think that?"

"I saw her," I managed to croak out, the fear and desperation clear in my voice. "They were dancing, and she looked...different."

Ahmed's expression grew more serious. "And you think she is under any influence "

"Yes," I replied, my voice thick with fear and anger. "The bartender said something about a 'special concoction'. I have to get her out of here."

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he studied me. "I see," he said slowly. "Javed did mention you would be out of town on business."

I nodded, the betrayal stinging like acid. "Yes," I said, my voice tight. "How did you know that?"

Ahmed smiled back hearing my question and leaned forward, his eyes piercing into mine. "I understand your concern," he said, his voice low and soothing. "But believe me, there's nothing you can do tonight. Javed is a... persistent man. He's had his eye on your wife for a long time. He's not one to let a chance like this slip by."

I recollect I was told by the bartender a few minutes back that the club owner Mr Ahmed and Javed are good friends. I understood his involvement in this. I had been a fool to think I could control the situation. "But she's not herself," I protested weakly. "Please, you have to help me."

Ahmed's expression softened, but there was a steely resolve in his eyes. "I'm afraid it's too late for that," he said, his voice almost kind. "Javed has been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. And your wife...she's a very good doctor."

The implication hit me like a ton of bricks. "You were her patient?" I ****** out, the betrayal cutting deep.

Ahmed nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "And let's just say she's quite... thorough in her care."

The room spun around me as the implication sank in. "What are you saying?" I demanded, my voice shaking with rage.

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of amusement and pity. "Javed is a good friend of mine, " he said, his voice calm. "And I had certain desires regarding your wife. But I'm a man of honor. I would never act without other consent. However, it seems that Javed has decided to take matters into his own hands."

"What do you mean?" I demanded, my voice shaking with fear and confusion.

Ahmed's smile grew wider, a knowing look in his eyes. "You've been following her, haven't you?" he said, his voice smooth as silk. "You've been watching her, waiting for a sign that she's been unfaithful. Why did you lie about your work and trip"

I sat there, feeling the weight of his gaze on me, his words cutting through the fog of my anger and fear. "I... I don't know," I stammered, my heart racing. "I just had a feeling."

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, his expression one of understanding. "Feelings can be deceiving," he said, his voice calm and measured. "But actions... actions speak louder than words. If your wife was truly faithful, why would she agree to go on a date with another man?"

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. "I... I don't know," I lied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I found out about it from a chat message on her phone."

Ahmed's smile grew thinner. "A man who snoops is a man who already knows the truth," he said, his voice a low purr. "But let's not dance around the issue. Your wife is in there with Javed because she wants to be."

"No," I whispered, my voice hoarse with pain. "That's not true."

Ahmed's smile never wavered. "It's better this way," he said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "You get to see the truth, and she gets to explore her desires without the guilt of betrayal."

My mind raced, trying to process his words. "But she's been *******," I protested, my voice shaking.

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Javed is a persuasive man," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But he's not a ******. He is just making it easier for her. If your wife didn't want this, she wouldn't have come here first place"

I couldn't tell Ahmed I was the person who convinced Bidisha to go on a date with Javed, so I went with the concern angle. "Look," I said, my voice strained, "I just want to make sure she's okay. That she's not being hurt."

Ahmed's expression was unreadable, but his voice was calm and measured when he responded. "I understand your concern," he said, "but let me assure you, she is in good hands. However, if it will ease your mind, I can arrange for you to...observe."

My heart raced at the offer. "How?" I managed to ask, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Ahmed leaned back in his chair, his gaze unyielding. "We have... arrangements in place for such situations," he said. "Cameras. Discreet ones. For the safety of our guests."

"You mean...you're spying on them?" The words barely left my lips before I realized how naive I sounded. Of course, they had cameras. A place like this, where the rich and powerful came to indulge in their darkest desires, had to have some form of insurance.

Ahmed's smile grew colder. "It's for everyone's protection," he said, his voice a low rumble. "And it so happens that the camera feed is accessible from the security room."

My stomach twisted at the thought of watching Bidisha with Javed, but the need to know was stronger. "Take me there," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ahmed nodded, his smile never faltering. "Very well," he said, standing up from behind his desk. "Let's go."

He led me down a narrow hallway, the pulsing bass of the music growing fainter with every step. The air was cooler here, the walls painted a soothing shade of blue. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the club outside, the beating heart of 'The Blue Lotus'. We reached a door at the end of the hallway, and Ahmed paused, his hand on the knob. "This is it," he said, his voice low. "The security room."

The room was small and cramped, filled with screens flickering with images from various parts of the club. A young woman with short, dark hair sat in front of the monitors, her eyes flicking up to meet mine as we entered. "Ahmed," she said, her voice cool and professional. "What can I do for you?"

Ahmed gestured to me. "This is Mr. Vikram," he said. "He's here to...observe."

The woman, Laila (written on her badge), nodded without looking away from the screens. Her eyes remained fixed on the monitors, her fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced ease. She was dressed in all black, blending into the shadows of the room, a stark contrast to the vibrant lights and colors of the club outside. She had a no-nonsense air about her, and I felt a strange comfort in her presence.

Ahmed turned to me, his eyes cold and calculating. "Laila will show you the feed," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Remember, this is for your own good. To see the truth for yourself."

The woman named Laila didn't look up from her monitors as she nodded. "Follow me," she said curtly, her voice devoid of emotion. She led me through the maze of screens and cables, her movements precise and efficient. She stopped in front of one of the screens, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. The image changed, and suddenly, there they were: Bidisha and Javed, in a dimly lit room that looked more like a luxurious boudoir than a club VIP section.

My heart was in my throat as I watched them, Javed's hands all over my wife's body, her eyes closed in ecstasy. The sight was both terrifying and exhilarating. Laila turned to me, her expression unreadable. "Would you like the sound on?" she asked, her voice neutral.

I nodded, unable to speak, and she flipped a switch. Bidisha's moans filled the room, deep and raw, like nothing I had ever heard from her before. Her voice was filled with a desperation that made my ***** run cold. "Oh, god," she was saying, "please stop, please, Javed. I can't take anymore." But the moan that followed belied the words, a long, drawn-out sound of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

My eyes were glued to the screen, watching in horror as Javed's dark head moved between my wife's legs, his tongue lapping at her in a way that was both intimate and obscene. Bidisha's hands were tangled in the sheets, her body arching up off the big sofa as if she was trying to get closer to his mouth. I felt like I was going to be sick, but I couldn't tear my gaze away.

Suddenly, Laila voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. "Is this your first time watching?" she asked, her voice devoid of any judgment.

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond.

"I thought so," Laila said, her voice a low purr. "You have the look of a man who's about to discover a new side of himself."

My eyes were still glued to the screen, watching as Javed's hands roamed over Bidisha's body, his mouth working on her with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. "Javed has a taste for beautiful, married couples like you two," she continued, her voice matter-of-fact. "It's not just your wife he enjoys. It's the thrill of the chase, the thrill of watching someone else's life unfold in front of him."

I ignore her words. I asked her how can i zoom in.

Laila's fingers flew over the keyboard, the image on the screen zooming in on Javed's face, his dark eyes closed in pleasure as he feasted on my wife's pussy. I felt a strange mix of anger and arousal, watching him do to her what I had never dared. "Good enough?" she asked, her voice a soft purr.

"Yes," I croaked, unable to look away from the screen. The quality of the camera was indeed excellent, capturing every detail, every bead of sweat on Javed's brow, every quiver of pleasure that passed over Bidisha's face. "Show me how to move the camera and change the zoom."

With a knowing smile, Laila showed me the controls, her fingers brushing against mine as she demonstrated. "It's all very simple," she said, her voice a seductive whisper. "You just have to get used to it."

The words echoed in my mind as she guided me through the motions. "Good boy," she murmured, her eyes never leaving the screen. "You will become a good obedient cuckold for Javed and Ahmed."

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, and for a brief moment, I considered leaving, calling the whole thing off. But the sight of Bidisha's body, writhing and arching under Javed's ministrations, held me in place.

Laila's eyes flicked to the screen, and she leaned closer. "You see, Mr. Vikram," she said, her voice a seductive purr, "your wife is not herself right now. The aphrodisiac Javed uses...it makes women very...compliant."

A very good story, we'll want it to be true?
what's next rupakpolo my cuckold friend ?

In the abyss of perversion-

Part-8

"Bidisha," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in closer. "Look at me."

Her eyes snapped to his, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that she had never seen before.

Javed leaned closer, his finger tracing the curve of her lower lip. "Such sweet lips," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "It would be a crime not to taste them again."

Bidisha's eyes widened in panic, and she tried to pull away. "No," she begged, her voice barely a whisper. "No more kisses."

But Javed's mouth was on hers before she could protest further, his tongue pushing past her lips, invading her mouth with a fiery passion that seemed to consume her. Her hand, which had been stroking his cock, now gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as she attempted to push him away. His kiss was deep, wet, and desperate, a stark contrast to the gentle kisses she had shared with him earlier in the night.

Their kiss grew more intense, their tongues dancing together in a frenzied mating dance. I watched, my heart racing, as Bidisha's body seemed to melt into his, her resolve crumbling like sandcastles before the relentless tide of his desire. Her hand, which had been tentatively exploring the length of his cock, now gripped him firmly, her palm sliding over the slickness of his pre-cum as she stroked him in time with the rhythm of their kiss.

When Javed finally pulled away, his breath ragged and his eyes wild, he whispered the words that sent a cold shiver down my spine. "I'm going to fuck you now, Bidisha."

Bidisha's eyes went wide with panic, and she began to struggle again. "No," she begged, her voice trembling. "I can't, I can't do this."

But Javed was inexorable, his gaze never leaving hers as he spread her legs wider and positioned himself between them. His cock, now slick with his precum, hovered at her entrance, a silent threat and a promise of untold pleasure.

Bidisha's eyes filled with fear and arousal as she felt the tip of his cock nudge against her. She tried to close her legs, to push him away, but his strength was overwhelming. "No," she whimpered, her voice trembling with need.

But it was too late. With one swift, powerful thrust, Javed entered her, burying himself to the hilt. Bidisha's cry of pain echoed through the room, a sound that was both haunting and erotic.

Her eyes went wide with shock and pain as she felt him stretching her, filling her in a way she never had before. Her body was trembling, a mix of fear and unbridled arousal as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Please," she begged, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm married. You can't do this to me."

Javed's smile was predatory as he caught a fistful of her hair, gently but firmly ******* her to look at him. "Married women are women after all...it will be a secret between us" he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "And trust me you're going to love every minute of it."

Bidisha's eyes filled with tears as she felt the full weight of his body press down on her. The pain was intense, a burning sensation that seemed to consume her whole being. But amidst the pain, there was something else, a thrill of the forbidden that made her heart race even faster. She tried to push him away, but his strength was too much for her, his cock impaling her with each push that sent a shockwave of pleasure and pain through her body.

Javed leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "Look at yourself, Bidisha. Look how beautiful you are, taking me in." He gently tugged at her hair, ******* her to look down at their joined bodies. She saw the thick, dark head of his cock disappearing into her pink, married pussy, the stark contrast of their skin tones highlighting the intimate connection they shared.

Bidisha's eyes widened as she stared at the sight, a tear slipping down her cheek as she felt the pressure building inside her. "It's too much," she whimpered, her voice tight with pain. "It's too big."

Javed's smile was one of pure, unadulterated triumph. "Just the head," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. "Now, I'll give you more." He began to move his hips, the thickness of his cock pushing further into her tight, unyielding pussy.

Bidisha's eyes widened in horror and she gasped, her nails digging into the sofa cushions. "No," she whimpered, her voice tight with pain. "It's too much, please."

Javed leaned down, his eyes dark with desire as he whispered against her ear, "I'll be gentle, my sweet. Just relax." His voice was like a siren's call, the promise of pleasure in his tone making her body shiver.

But as he pushed deeper, the pain grew unbearable, and she couldn't hold back the scream that tore from her throat. On the screen, her body was a study in contrasts—the softness of her skin against the hardness of his, the fear in her eyes and the betrayal on her face.

Ahmed's voice echoed in the room, a cruel laugh following my every breath. "Look at her, Vikram," he said, his voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "Isn't she a sight to behold?"

The phone was still pressed to my ear, and I realized that throughout this whole ordeal, I had been gripping it so tightly that my knuckles were white. The sound of Bidisha's whimpers filled the air, mingling with the harsh grunts of Javed's exertion as he claimed her, inch by agonizing inch. I felt a strange mix of emotions—shame, anger, and an undeniable arousal that seemed to pulse through my veins.

Ahmed's laugh was like a knife to my soul, the sound of his amusement cutting through the silence of the security room. "Look at her, Vikram," he taunted, his voice like a serpent's hiss. "You can't save her, can you? She's in the hands of a real man now."

On the screen, Javed's powerful hips thrust into my wife, her body writhing beneath his. The sight of Bidisha's pain and pleasure twisted within me, a cocktail of emotions that made me feel both pathetic and powerless. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Ahmed's voice was smug, filled with the kind of triumph that comes from watching someone's world crumble before their eyes. "I can hear it in your breathing. You're so hard for her, even though you know you can't compare."

"Shut up," I snarled, my eyes never leaving the screen. But deep down, I knew he was right. Bidisha's beauty had always been a source of pride for me, but now it felt like a taunt. How could I ever satisfy her after this?

Ahmed's laugh grew louder. "You're pathetic," he sneered. "A man like you, with a woman like that. You never deserved her." His words stung, hitting a nerve that I hadn't even realized was there. A part of me had always known that Bidisha was out of my league, that she deserved someone more confident, more powerful. Someone who could give her everything she craved.

On the screen, Javed was relentless, his hips pumping into her with a rhythm that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. Bidisha's screams had turned into moans, her body moving with his as if it were a dance that she had been born to perform. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth gritted in a mix of pain and ecstasy.

Javed's voice was a low growl as he leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear. "Your pussy is so tight, Bidisha," he murmured, his words thick with pleasure. "It's like a glove made just for me."

Bidisha's eyes snapped open, and she looked up at him, her own eyes glazed with a mix of pain and arousal. "Does it feel good?" she panted, her voice shaky.

Javed's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "You have no idea," he murmured, his hips moving in a steady, punishing rhythm. "But tell me, has your husband ever made you feel like this?"

Bidisha's eyes snapped to his, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. She bit her lip, unable to answer, as her body responded to his every thrust. Her pussy was stretched to its limits, the pain giving way to a white-hot pleasure that seemed to consume her.

Javed leaned down, capturing her mouth in another bruising kiss, his tongue invading her, tasting her fear and her desire. His hand found its way to her breast, cupping it, his thumb brushing against the tight peak of her nipple. She gasped into his mouth, arching her back, offering herself to him.

Ahmed's voice was like a whisper in my ear, "What do you believe now, Vikram?" His words were a taunt, a challenge. I wanted to scream, to throw the phone across the room, but I couldn't. I was trapped in this twisted reality, a silent witness to my own emasculation.

"Look at her," Ahmed's voice grew softer, almost a caress. "Look at how much she's enjoying this. Tell me, do you think she'll ever want to go back to your small cock after feeling the power of a real man inside her?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "What do you want?" I managed to ***** out, my eyes never leaving the screen where Bidisha's body was being claimed by Javed's. "What's the endgame here?"

Ahmed's chuckle was cold and calculated. "Ownership," he replied. "Javed and I both wish to make her our mistress. To share her, to use her, to make her scream our names instead of yours."

On the screen, Javed pulled out of his mouth from Bidisha's mouth, leaving her gasping for breath. He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a dark hunger. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. "So perfect."

Bidisha's eyes widened as she felt his cock sliding back inside her, the sensation of fullness overwhelming. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, her eyes fixed on his face. He was so much larger than anything she had ever felt before, and the pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced. But there was something else there, something that had her hips bucking up to meet his, a desperate need that was building within her.

Javed's eyes bore into hers, and she could see the victory in his gaze. He knew he had her, that she was his now. And with every stroke, every inch he claimed of her, she felt herself slipping further and further into the depths of his control. "Look at me," he growled, his hips pistoning into her with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very air around them. "Look at how much I own you."

Bidisha's eyes snapped to his, filled with a mix of fear and amazement. She had never felt so...used before. So utterly and completely filled by another man. Javed's cock was like a beast inside her, stretching her to her limits and beyond. With every thrust, she felt herself opening up to him, her body betraying her by responding with a desperate need she had never known.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she whispered, "I...I've never felt like this before."

Javed's eyes gleamed with triumph as he leaned down, his mouth hovering over hers. "Good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "That means I'm doing something right."

Bidisha's body was a maelstrom of sensation, her pussy clenching around his cock with every stroke. She had never felt so alive, so full, so...desired. Her orgasm was building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter her. "Don't stop," she begged, her voice a needy whimper. "I'm...I'm going to cum."

Javed's smile grew feral as he heard her words, his eyes never leaving hers as he increased his pace, his cock pounding into her with a relentless rhythm that seemed to echo the very beat of her heart. "That's it, my sweet," he murmured, his hand moving to caress her clit with expert precision. "Give in to it. Give in to me."

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with an intensity that left her breathless. Her body spasmed around him, her pussy clenching down on his cock as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her. But even as she reached the peak, Javed did not stop, his hips driving into her with a ***** that seemed to split her in two. The pain was exquisite, a sharp counterpoint to the pleasure that had her toes curling.

As the last tremors of her climax subsided, Bidisha looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Please, I need to rest."

But Javed was insatiable, his eyes dark with lust. He ignored her pleas, his cock still buried deep inside her, his hips continuing their relentless rhythm. "Not yet, my love," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "I've only just begun."

Bidisha's eyes filled with a mix of desperation and arousal. She felt her body responding to him, despite her exhaustion. Her pussy was still quivering around his shaft, and she couldn't help the soft moan that escaped her lips as he touched her clit again. "Javed, please," she begged, her voice trembling. "I can't take it anymore."

But Javed was lost in the throes of his own desire, his eyes glazed with a fierce hunger that seemed to consume him. He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers once more as he whispered, "I'm not like your husband, Bidisha. I won't cum in a few measly minutes. I will use your pussy thoroughly. I'll make you scream my name all night long."

Bidisha's eyes searched for any sign of mercy, but she found none. Instead, she was met with a feral grin that sent a shiver down her spine. He was right. She had never felt so filled, so used, so alive. And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn't want him to stop. Her body had become a traitor, begging for more even as her mind reeled from the reality of what was happening.

With a wicked glint in his eye, Javed leaned in closer, his tongue tracing the swollen curve of her lower lip. "You taste so sweet," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Like a ripe fruit, just waiting to be plucked."

Bidisha's eyes searched his, a desperate mix of pleasure and pain. "Vikram," she whispered, her voice a soft, ******** sound. "I wish he had your cock..."

Javed chuckled, the sound low and dark. "But he doesn't," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction as he pulled out and plunged back into her, making her cry out again. "You're mine now, Bidisha and this cock belong to you "

He leaned down, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth before delving inside. His kiss was possessive, claiming, as if to erase any memory she had of my touch. And as he kissed her, his cock continued to pound into her, each stroke a declaration of his dominance.

Bidisha's eyes searched his, a desperate plea for this to be a nightmare she could wake from. But as his tongue danced with hers, she could taste the bitterness of reality—this was no dream. Her breaths were shallow, her heart racing as she whispered against his mouth, "Vikram..."

Javed's chuckle was deep and knowing, his cock still buried deep within her. He broke the kiss, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "Vikram can't give you what you truly need, my sweet," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. "But I can."

Without waiting for a response, he lowered his head to her breasts, his tongue flicking over her nipples, teasing and tormenting her until she was gasping for air. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that had her writhing beneath him. "Javed," she moaned, her body arching up to meet his mouth.

"Look at her," Ahmed's voice was a low murmur in the background. "She's lost to Javed now, Vikram. She's ours to use, to enjoy."

Javed's tongue traced a fiery path along Bidisha's neck, her skin flushed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice a seductive caress that sent shivers down her spine. "So perfect."

Her eyes searched his, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling in their depths. "Javed," she whispered, her voice a mix of desire and despair. "What have you done to me?"

He pulled back, a smug smile playing across his lips. "I've just given you what you've always craved, Bidisha. The kind of pleasure your husband could never provide." He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You see, when I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. That you were the kind of woman who would never be satisfied with a mere mortal's touch."

Javed's words were like a dagger to my heart, twisting in the very core of my being. I felt a strange mix of anger, jealousy, and arousal as I watched him claim my wife, her body responding to his every command. His cock, thick and powerful, was a stark contrast to my own, a constant reminder of my inadequacies.

On the screen, Bidisha's eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth clenched as she tried to deal with the pain and pleasure that were now one and the same. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, her nipples dark and erect, begging for attention. Her cries grew louder, filling the room, a symphony of despair and ecstasy that had me on edge.

Javed's strong hands gripped her hips tightly as he pulled her down onto him, ******* her to take his entire length. Her walls stretched around him, the sound of their union echoing through the room. "You're so tight," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So tight and so wet."

Bidisha's eyes snapped open, the shock and pain written clearly on her face. "No," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. "You're tearing me apart."

Javed's grip on her hips tightened as he pulled her down onto his cock, the thickness of him stretching her to her limits. "That's the point," he murmured, a smug smile playing across his lips. "To show you what a real man feels like."

Javed was sitting on the sofa now and he successfully pulled Bidisha onto his lap, his cock still deep inside her. She was sobbing softly, her body trembling with a mix of fear and the overwhelming sensation of his thickness. He held her hips firmly, his hands like shackles around her waist, guiding her movements as she straddled him. His eyes were dark with lust, his smile a cruel twist that sent a shiver down my spine.

Bidisha whole body was trembling as she continued crying as Javed sat her down on his cock. He held her hips firmly, his grip like iron bars that she couldn't escape. She looked down at him with a mix of fear and betrayal in her eyes, but his gaze was unyielding, filled with a dark excitement that sent a shiver down her spine.

Javed leaned back, his cock still buried deep inside her, and took a handful of her hair, using it to guide her movements. "Ride me," he growled, his voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

Bidisha's eyes were wide with a mix of fear and arousal as she tentatively began to move her hips, rising and falling on his thick shaft. With each movement, she could feel herself stretching, her body adapting to the unfamiliar fullness. It was a strange, intoxicating feeling, one that made her feel both powerful and powerless.

Javed's hand remained in her hair, guiding her, his grip tightening with every movement she made. His other hand cupped her cheek, turning her face towards him. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice low and demanding. "Look at the man who's going to change you."

The effect of the aphrodisiac was unmistakable. Bidisha's eyes were glazed over, her pupils dilated. She looked like a marionette with Javed pulling the strings, her body moving to his will. Her small, delicate hands gripped the armrests of the sofa, knuckles white with the effort of supporting herself as she bobbed up and down on his cock.

Ahmed's voice in my ear grew softer, more intimate. "Look at her," he said, his voice thick with desire. "She looks like a goddess, doesn't she? A fucking goddess." I could hear the envy in his tone, the way he wished it was him in Javed's place.

And as I watched, I realized that in that moment, I had failed to protect my wife. She was being claimed by another man, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The powerlessness was a heavy weight in my gut, a knot that tightened with every one of Javed's deep, possessive strokes.

Javed's eyes bore into hers, a dark hunger that seemed to devour every ounce of resistance she had left. Her mouth was open, a silent scream of pain and pleasure, her eyes brimming with unshed tears that glistened like diamonds in the dim light of the room. She looked so fragile, so delicate, as she sat impaled on his cock, her body trembling with the effort to take him fully.

Ahmed continued teasing me. - "Look at Javed. He's never felt so alive. So powerful. He's in heaven, feeling your wife's tight cunt wrapped around his cock."

Javed's eyes were locked onto Bidisha's, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that he was the one in charge. He grunted, his hips bucking upward to meet hers, driving into her with a ferocity that was almost ***********. "I'm going to cum," he growled, his voice a mix of pleasure and challenge. "I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine."

Bidisha's eyes grew wide with panic. "No," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Please, Javed, don't cum inside me."

Javed's smile grew even more predatory as he heard her plea. "Why not, my love?" he taunted, his voice low and gruff with his own building release. "You want to feel me fill you up, don't you?"

Bidisha's eyes widened in horror as she realized the truth of his words. "Protection," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, Javed, you're not wearing any..."

Javed's smile grew even more smug as he looked up at her. "It's too late for that, my love," he said, his eyes glinting with a dark amusement. "But don't worry. I'm sure you can handle a little bit of me inside you."

Bidisha's eyes widened with horror as she felt the first spurt of his hot cum fill her. "No," she whimpered, her voice a broken whisper. "Please, no."

But Javed was too far gone, his body convulsing with the ***** of his orgasm. He held her hips down, his cock pulsing inside her as he emptied himself, filling her with his seed. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she sobbed as she felt the warmth of his cum spreading within her, the reality of what had just happened crashing down on her.

Ahmed's chuckle grew louder, a twisted echo of the horror playing out on the screen. "Look at her," he taunted. "Sobbing like a little girl...give her some pill later to take care of the mess, yeah?"

On the screen, Javed leaned back against the sofa, his chest heaving with the aftermath of his climax. He looked down at Bidisha with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his cock still buried inside her. "You're so beautiful. It doesn't look good to see a beautiful woman like you cry," he murmured, stroking her cheek with a tenderness that seemed unusual compared to the way how he was treating her till now.

Bidisha's hand moved to her pussy, her fingers trembling as she tried to pull out the thick ropes of cum that filled her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her body shaking with sobs that racked her frame. "What have I done?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Javed, his chest heaving with his own release, reached up and gently tugged on her hair, ******* her to look at him. His eyes were filled with a mix of triumph and something...softer. Something that made me feel even more like a cuckolded fool. He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers in a wet, sloppy kiss . His tongue delved deep, tasting her mouth again.

He pulled away, a smug smile playing across his lips, and slapped her cheek, hard enough to make her head snap to the side. "You should have kept a condom with you," he said, his voice a low, dark chuckle. "Now look at you, a doctor, a good wife with another man's cum inside you."

Bidisha's eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her trembling hand, still coated in their combined juices. She whispered, "We need to leave."

Javed's grip on her hips didn't loosen as he smirked. "Not before you clean me up," he said, his voice a low command that sent a shiver down her spine.

Bidisha looked at him with a mix of confusion and horror. "What?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Javed's smirk grew as he reached for her hand, guiding it back down to his cock. "You heard me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Clean me up."

Bidisha's eyes widened as she stared at her hand, still trembling with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. She couldn't believe what he was asking, what she had allowed to happen. But something deep within her, something primal and dark, responded to his demand. She felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as she tentatively wrapped her hand around his still-hard shaft.

"Use your mouth," Javed snapped, his tone sharp with anger. "You're not too naive to know what to do, are you?"

Bidisha's eyes grew wide with shock and fear as she felt Javed's hand wrap around her neck, his grip firm but not quite painful. He squeezed gently, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he pushed her face down towards his still-throbbing cock. Her heart was racing, her mind reeling from the reality of what she had just done, and what he was now asking her to do.

With a tremble in her voice, she whispered, "Javed, no, please."

But Javed was relentless. "Do it," he demanded, his grip on her neck tightening slightly.

With a sob, Bidisha leaned down, her trembling lips parting to take the tip of his cock into her mouth. She tasted the bitter saltiness of their combined juices, and she couldn't help the small whine that escaped her. Javed watched her with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his eyes never leaving hers as she began to clean him. His hand remained on her neck, guiding her movements, making sure she took every inch of him into her mouth.

"Look at her," Ahmed's voice was thick with lust as he watched the scene unfold before us. "So obedient. So hungry for it."

I felt a surge of anger and protest rising within me, but the words caught in my throat. Javed's hand was still wrapped around Bidisha's neck, his cock glistening with their combined fluids as it hovered just above her trembling mouth. "Javed is ******* her, she doesn't want to do this...this need to stop" I ****** out, my voice barely a whisper.

Ahmed's laugh was cold, mocking. "You think she's in pain?" He continued "Look at her, Vikram. Look how her eyes sparkle with desire. She's begging for it, whether she admits it or not."

On the screen, Javed's hand tightened in Bidisha's hair, ******* her head back as she struggled to get away from his cock. "I said, clean me," he barked, his voice a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down my spine.

Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear and *********** as she stared up at him, her mouth a silent 'O' of protest. "I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I hate this. I never did it in past".

But Javed wasn't listening. With a cruel twist of his hand, he ****** her head back down, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his shaft. "There's always a first time," he said, his voice a dark chuckle. "And this is yours."

Bidisha's eyes were filled with tears as she tried to pull away, her resistance only making Javed's grip on her hair tighten. She was like a trapped ******, desperately trying to escape the clutches of a predator. But Javed was relentless, slapping her cheeks with the flat of his hand until she opened her mouth and took his cock back in, her sobs muffled by his thickness.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a sickening blend of praise and satisfaction. "Now, tell me, have you ever taken your husband's cock in this sweet little mouth of yours?"

Bidisha's eyes flicked to the side, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. She nodded her head, the barest of movements, her mouth still full of his cock.

Javed's laugh was like thunder in the room, echoing in my ears as I watched, horrified. "Never?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "What a waste of a beautiful mouth."

Bidisha's eyes darted to the side, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She tried to pull away, but Javed's grip was too strong. He held her firm, his cock still deep in her mouth as he chuckled. "It's okay, baby," he soothed, his voice mocking. "You don't have to feel sad about him. He doesn't deserve the pleasure of your mouth."

Javed's eyes never left hers, watching her every move with a dark, possessive glint. He began to rock his hips, pushing his cock further into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as she struggled to accommodate his thickness. His hand was wrapped around her throat now, guiding her, making sure she didn't miss a beat.

Her small hands clutched at his thighs, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to push him away. But Javed was unyielding, his grip on her neck tightening slightly, his hips bucking as he pushed deeper. "Take it," he growled, his voice a low, feral rumble. "Take all of me."

AI image of Bidisha sucking Javed Cock-

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This is an excellent story. The best I have read on this site so far. Eagerly awaiting the next chapter!

Her eyes watered, her throat working to accommodate his thickness as he pushed deeper still. I could hear her gagging, the sound of her ******* a harsh contrast to the soft moans of pleasure she had made moments before. She was fighting him, trying to pull away, but his hand was like a vice, keeping her in place.

Bidisha's panic grew as she realized she couldn't breathe, her nose pressed into his pelvis as his cock filled her throat. Javed's eyes were hooded with lust as he watched her struggle, his smirk growing as she desperately tried to push him away. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a dark whisper of encouragement. "You are doing good, baby."

And then, just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, allowing her to gasp for air. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her mouth slack and bruised from his use. "You are a born cock sucker , Bidisha" Javed instructed, his voice still low and commanding. "Tell your impotent husband what you have learned tonight."

Bidisha's eyes were haunted as she looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "Please, Javed," she begged, her voice thick with the tears that still streamed down her face. "I just want to go home."

But Javed was far from finished with her. He smacked his cock against her cheeks, leaving a sticky trail of their combined fluids. "Open your mouth," he ordered, his voice like gravel. "Take me again, my sweet."

Bidisha's eyes were wet with tears, her mascara running down her face as she looked up at him with a mix of fear and desperation. She knew she had no choice. With trembling hands, she reached out and took his cock in her mouth again, her eyes never leaving his.

On the screen, Javed's smile grew even more sadistic as he watched her struggle. He began to rock his hips again, fucking her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes. She ****** and gagged, her eyes watering as she took him deeper, her throat working around his thickness.

"Look at her," Ahmed voice from phone whispered in my ear, his voice thick with excitement. "She's a natural."

But Javed wasn't satisfied. He pulled out of Bidisha's mouth with a wet pop and leaned back, his cock glistening with her spit and his own cum. "You have a nice cock sucking face," he said, his voice a lazy drawl. "But with proper training, you could be so much more."

Bidisha's eyes were wide with horror and ***********, her mouth still open in a silent scream of protest. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "No more."

Javed leaned back, his cock glistening in the dim light of the room. He took a moment to appreciate her tear-stained face, the bruises already forming on her neck from his grip. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low, mocking purr. "I'll train you well. You'll be the best cocksucker in all of Manchester."

Bidisha's eyes widened with horror at the thought, her mouth still slick with his cum. She tried to shake her head, to protest, but the words wouldn't come out. Javed's hand was still wrapped around her throat, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her pulse point, reminding her of her vulnerability. "You're going to love it," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're going to crave it."

Ahmed's voice grew more intense in my ear, his words a dark whisper that seemed to echo the tumult of my own thoughts. "You're going to watch her become a whore," he said. "You're going to watch her become Javed's personal slut."

On the screen, Javed's eyes never left Bidisha's as he leaned back, his cock still hard and glistening with their combined juices. "Do you remember the first time I saw you?" he asked, his voice a low purr that seemed to fill the room. "In the mall, standing beside your impotent husband ?"

Bidisha nodded, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. "I knew," he continued, "that one day, I would have you like this. I couldn't stop thinking about that sweet mouth of yours, begging for my cock."

The memory of that day at the mall played in Javed's eyes, a smoldering desire that had only grown stronger with time. He had seen her with me, a beautiful woman with a man who didn't deserve her. He had watched us, studied us, and knew that he wanted her. And now, here she was, her mouth ****** by his cock, her eyes wide with fear and betrayal.

"Mm, you taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Do you remember that day, Bidisha? The way you looked at me? You didn't even know what you were doing to me." He pushed his cock again inside her mouth, going deeper inside her, watching as she ****** and gagged. "But now, you're going to know. You're going to feel every inch of me, every time I want you."

Her eyes were watering, her throat raw as she took him in, her body trembling with fear and a strange, twisted desire. Javed's hand on the back of her head guided her movements, pushing her down harder, ******* her to take him deeper. She could feel the muscles in her throat clenching around his length, the way he swelled with every moan she couldn't hold back.

He started to fuck her mouth in earnest, his hips rising to meet her with every bob of her head. He was relentless, his cock plunging into her, her eyes locked on his. His grip on her neck was firm, controlling her airflow, making her gag and sputter around him. But she kept going, driven by a need she didn't understand, a need that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Bidisha's eyes were wide with shock and fear, but there was something else in there too. A flicker of arousal that grew with every stroke, every gag. Javed could see it, and it only made him harder. He reached down and grabbed her chin, tilting her head back to look into her eyes. "Look at me," he whispered. "Look at the man who's going to own you."

Her eyes were glassy with tears, but she met his gaze, her pupils dilated with fear and lust. "You're going to be my slut," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "My little whore, spreading those legs for me whenever I want." He thrust into her mouth again, watching as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Her cheeks were hollowed out with the effort of taking him in, her saliva mixing with his cum to coat his cock in a glossy sheen. Each time he pulled out, a string of spit connected them, snapping back as he plunged back in. The room was filled with the wet sounds of her gagging, the smack of skin on skin, and the low, *********** noises coming from both of them.

Javed's eyes were on fire with lust as he watched her, his hand never leaving her neck, keeping her in place, keeping her under his control. It was a power play, a demonstration of his dominance over her, and she was powerless to resist.

With a cruel smile, he leaned over and spat in her mouth. "You're a dirty little slut," he sneered. "A whore who can't get enough of cock."

Bidisha's eyes snapped to his, a mix of anger and *********** burning in them. But she was too scared to fight back, too overwhelmed by what was happening. Tears streamed down her face as she swallowed his saliva, the taste of him mixing with the bitterness of her own fear and despair.

"Please," she ****** out around his cock, her voice a broken whisper. "My jaw hurts."

Javed's eyes lit up with excitement. "You're going to have to get used to that," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're going to be sucking my cock a lot from now on."

Bidisha's eyes widened in horror as she realized what he was saying. She tried to pull away, her hand flying to her mouth to cover it, but Javed was too fast. He slapped her hand away and pushed her back down. "Don't you dare," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "You will do what I say"

Her eyes searched the room frantically, looking for an escape, for anything that could save her from this nightmare. But the room was spinning, the aphrodisiac still clouding her judgment. She felt like she was drowning, the weight of his cock in her mouth like a stone, pulling her down into a dark abyss.

With a final, desperate effort, she pulled away, gasping for air. "Please, Javed," she ****** out, her voice hoarse from his *****. "Please, stop."

Javed's smirk grew as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dark taunt. "No one is there to stop me"

Bidisha's eyes searched the room desperately, the reality of her situation sinking in. She was trapped, a pawn in a game she didn't understand. "Vikram," she ****** out around his cock, her voice a desperate plea. "He knows. He sent me for this date. I did not want it."

Javed pulled out of her mouth, his eyes narrowed. "Why are you lying?" he growled, his hand tightening around her throat. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Bidisha's eyes were wild with fear, but she managed to shake her head, the words spilling out of her like a confession. "I didn't mean for it to go this far," she ****** out. "When my husband talked about it, I got excited, but I didn't want this. I didn't want to betray him."

Javed's smile was cold, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "You're lying," he said, his voice a dangerous rumble. "You came here for this."

Bidisha's eyes were wide with fear and desperation as she struggled to form the words. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I didn't know it would be like this. I didn't want it to go this far."

Javed's smile grew colder, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're a liar," he said, his voice a low growl. "You liked it. I could see it in your eyes."

Bidisha's eyes darted to the mirror in the room, and she gasped at her reflection. Her mascara was smeared, her lipstick a mess, and her neck was already bruised from his grip. She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly used, and the sight of it sent a fresh wave of horror and *********** through her. "Please," she begged, her voice shaking. "Let me go. I don't want my husband to see me like this."

Javed's smile was cold, his eyes never leaving hers. "You think you're going to leave this room without finishing what we started?" He grabbed her chin, ******* her to look at him. "You've already crossed that line, Bidisha. You can't escape ."

Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with fear and desperation. "Please, I don't want him to know." She looked over at the mirror, her eyes widening at the sight of her bruised and tear-stained face. "Please, Javed, let me go."

Javed's smile grew even more wicked. "You think your husband is going to believe nothing happened between us?" He picked up his phone from the bedside table and began to dial my number. "He's probably sitting at home right now, jerking off to the thought of you with another man."

Ahmed's voice grew louder in my ear. "It's getting exciting, isn't it, Vikram?" His words sent a cold shiver down my spine. "You can't wait to see what happens next."

Javed held the phone to his ear, watching Bidisha with a predatory gaze as she cried, her hands gripping his legs. "Don't," she sobbed, her voice desperate. "Please, Javed, don't call him."

His smile was cruel, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Take it back," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Take it back in your mouth, and I won't call."

Bidisha's eyes flickered to the phone, and she knew she had no choice. With trembling hands, she reached out and took his cock again, her eyes never leaving his.

Her movements were slower this time, more deliberate, as if she was trying to delay the inevitable. But Javed was having none of it. His hand was back on her neck, his grip firm as he began to fuck her mouth again, his cock sliding in and out with a wet, sloppy sound that filled the room.

Bidisha's eyes were glazed over with a mix of fear and arousal, her body trembling with every thrust. She knew she was lost, that she had no control over what was happening to her.

But I realized that I had the power to end this nightmare. My hand trembled as I reached for my phone, my thumb hovering over Bidisha's number. I could call her and distract Javed.

With a deep breath, I dialed, the ringtone echoing in my ears like a lifeline. Javed's eyes flicked to the phone on the table where he had kept a few moments back, and his smirk grew even more twisted. He watched her, his grip on her neck tightening as the ringing grew louder.

Bidisha's eyes went wide, and she started to struggle again, her muffled cries for help barely audible around his cock. She was desperate, her body begging for release from the torment he was putting her through.

I watched in horror, the phone pressed to my ear, the dial tone ringing through my head. "Bidisha," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Bidisha, pick up."

But she couldn't. Javed's hand was still around her throat, his cock still in her mouth, and her eyes were squeezed shut as she tried to muffle her cries. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and the powerlessness I felt was crushing me. The phone in my hand vibrated with the unanswered call, a silent scream of despair.

"Look at me," Javed said, his voice a low, dark command. He pulled his cock out of her mouth, the head glistening with spit and precum. "Pick up the call and tell him you can't come now."

Bidisha's eyes were filled with silent pleas as she reached for the phone, her hand shaking uncontrollably. She managed to get it to her ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "Vikram," she ****** out, her voice thick with fear and desperation.

"What's wrong, baby?...where are you now? I was not allowed to enter the club...I am waiting for you" -I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. I could hear the sounds of Javed's amusement in the background, and it only made my stomach churn more.

Bidisha's voice was strained, barely a whisper. "I... I'm fine, Vikram." A muffled sob slipped out, and I knew she was lying. "I'm just... I'm at the club. I can't talk now, Javed is here."

I felt my heart plummet to my stomach. "Bidisha, what's happening?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "Where are you? What's going on?"

Nice story so far.

But before she could respond, the line went dead. Javed had snatched the phone away from her, his smug smile growing wider. He tossed the device aside and leaned back, stroking his cock with a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Good girl," he said, his eyes on her. "Now, get back to work."

With a heavy sigh, Bidisha leaned forward again, her eyes on his cock. But Javed wasn't satisfied. He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, tilting her head back. "You missed a spot," he said, his voice a low growl. "Lick my balls."

The disgust was clear on Bidisha's face as she opened her mouth and took his testicles in. Her eyes watered, and she gagged at the taste and smell of him, but she didn't dare protest. She knew what would happen if she did. Javed's hand tightened in her hair, guiding her movements as she licked and sucked his balls, her tongue moving over the sensitive skin with a mix of revulsion and fear.

On the screen, Ahmed watched with a smirk, his eyes never leaving me. "Isn't she doing a good job?" he whispered, his voice mocking. "You should be proud of her."

"She's not enjoying this," I spat out, my voice thick with anger. "I can see it in her eyes."

Ahmed chuckled darkly. "That's because she's not used to it yet," he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "But trust me, Vikram, with the right training, she'll come to crave it. Just like all the others."

On the screen, Javed leaned back, his eyes closed in pleasure as Bidisha's tongue flicked over his balls. His hand was still in her hair, guiding her movements, keeping her in check. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a low groan of pleasure. "Take it all in."

After a few agonizing minutes, he opened his eyes and looked down at her, his smile cruel. "You're doing such a good job," he said, his eyes gleaming. "But we're not done yet." He reached down and grabbed her by the throat, pulling her away from his crotch.

With a firm hand, he pushed her down onto the floor, her body trembling with fear and arousal. "Assume the position," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. "Doggy style. I want to see that sweet ass in the air."

Bidisha's legs wobbled as she tried to comply, her eyes never leaving the floor. She felt a strange mix of dread and excitement coursing through her as she bent over, her hands and knees digging into the plush carpet. Her cheek was wet with tears, her heart racing.

With a cruel smack, Javed's hand met her ass, the sound echoing through the room. She gasped, the pain sending a jolt of electricity through her body, straight to her pussy. She had never felt anything like it before, and despite herself, she found her body responding, growing wetter and more aroused.

Javed's cock nudged against her entrance, and she tensed, her breath hitching in her throat. He didn't bother with any preamble, simply pushing himself inside her with one ****** thrust. Bidisha screamed, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt, and she felt her body stretch to accommodate his size. Her eyes squeezed shut as she bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

Javed's hands were on her hips, holding her in place as he started to move, his strokes deep and punishing. She could feel every inch of him as he claimed her, her body trembling with each thrust. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a rhythm that seemed to crescendo with every passing second.

He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "Why are you so wet for me?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper. "You said you didn't want this. You said you didn't want me." His words were like a knife, twisting in her gut, mixing the fear and arousal that was already there.

Bidisha whimpered, her body shaking with every thrust. She couldn't answer, couldn't form the words. She was trapped in a cycle of pleasure and pain, her body betraying her with every moan she couldn't hold back.

Javed's grip on her hips grew tighter, his movements becoming more erratic. "Tell me, slut," he demanded, his breath hot and ragged. "Do you want me to stop?"

Bidisha's eyes squeezed shut as she felt the head of his cock nudge against her G-spot with each thrust. She knew she should say yes, should beg for it to end, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she moaned, her body betraying her.

Javed's hand found her right breast, squeezing it roughly before giving it a twist. She cried out in pain, but her pussy clenched around him, her body responding to the mix of sensations. "I'm not going to stop until you admit it," he growled, his hips slamming into her with increasing ferocity.

Bidisha felt the beginnings of a climax building within her, her body a traitor to her mind. "I don't want it to end," she managed to gasp out, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop them. "Please, Javed, don't hurt me. Just make love to me."

Javed's grip on her hips loosened slightly, his strokes growing more tender. "You want to be loved by me?" he whispered in her ear, his voice a seductive purr. "You want me to make you feel good?"

Bidisha's breath hitched, her body trembling with the intensity of the emotions coursing through her. "Yes," she whimpered, the word slipping out like a confession.

"Why should I treat a slut like you with anything but contempt?" Javed's voice was cold, his grip on her hips tightening as he pulled out and slammed back into her. "You're nothing but a whore, a dirty, used-up whore."

Bidisha's eyes snapped open, her body shaking with the impact of his words. "No," she ****** out, her voice hoarse with pain and emotion. "I'm not a slut. I never wanted this."

But Javed just laughed, his grip on her hips tightening as he fucked her harder. "You're enjoying it, aren't you?" he taunted, his cock plunging into her with a ferocity that made her cry out. "You're loving every minute of it."

Bidisha looked back at him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. "Yes," she spat out, her voice thick with emotion. "But it's not because of you. It's because of what you're doing to me."

Javed's smile grew even wider at her words, his hips never stopping their punishing rhythm. "That's the spirit," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "You're going to be a great little whore."

Bidisha's eyes flashed with anger, her voice filled with defiance. "I'm not a whore," she ground out, her body shaking with every thrust. "I'm your... I'm your... I don't know what I am."

Javed leaned over her, his eyes boring into hers as he slowed his pace, his cock still buried deep inside her. "What is the name of our relationship?...or you just a fucking street slut who fucks anyone"

Bidisha- "shut up...Javed...don't call me that"

Javed- "what you want me to call you then?"

Bidisha gasped - "We can be friends in need"

Javed laughed- "What that means?...Do you want to be my girlfriend?" he asked, his voice mocking. "You think that will change anything?"

Bidisha's eyes were filled with a mix of anger and desperation as she looked up at him. "I just want to be treated like a human being," she said, her voice shaking. "Not like some...some...object for you to use."

Javed's smile grew cold, his eyes dark with challenge. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice a low purr. "You want to be treated with respect?"

Bidisha's eyes flashed with anger. "Yes," she said, her voice firm. "I'm not some toy for you to use and throw away."

Javed chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "A real girlfriend, huh?" He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. "What does a real girlfriend do for her man?"

Bidisha's voice was strained with emotion, but she didn't back down. "A real girlfriend respects him, loves him, and is there for him."

Javed's smile grew, a glint of challenge in his eye. "Is that all?" He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "What if I want more than that?"

Bidisha felt a shiver run down her spine, but she held his gaze, her voice firm. "I don't know what you mean," she replied, her heart racing.

Javed's smile grew, his eyes dark and intense. "I'm saying that if you want to be my girlfriend," he said, his voice a low rumble, "you have to be serious about it. You have to make me your priority. Above your husband, above your work, above everything else."

Bidisha felt a strange thrill at his words, a sense of power she hadn't felt before. She knew it was wrong, that she was playing with fire, but she couldn't help herself. She looked him straight in the eye and nodded, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Okay," she said, her voice a seductive purr. "Fuck me now, and we'll talk later."

Javed's grin grew even more wicked, and he began to thrust into her again, but this time, it was different. His strokes were slower, deeper, as if he were savoring every inch of her. Each time he pushed into her, Bidisha felt a wave of pleasure mixed with pain, and she couldn't help but push back against him, her body begging for more.

"Tell me," he said, his voice a low growl, "tell me that you want me to keep fucking you like this."

Bidisha's voice was barely a whisper. "Yes," she gasped, she looked back at Javed, her eyes never leaving his. "Keep fucking me like this, Javed. Please."

Javed's grin grew wider, and he grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. "Good girl," he said, his voice a low growl of approval. "Now, tell me, will you tell your husband that you had a nice moment with me?"

Bidisha's eyes met his in the front mirror of the room, a mix of fear, arousal, and defiance. "Yes," she whispered, the word coming out as a moan as he pushed deeper into her. "I'll tell him."

Javed's strokes grew slower, more deliberate, as he watched her in the mirror. "Good," he said, his eyes dark with satisfaction. "You're going to tell him everything. How I made you feel things you've never felt before."

Bidisha's eyes never left the mirror, her cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and arousal. "Yes," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "I'll tell him how deep you went inside me."

Javed's smile was smug as he watched her, his strokes growing more deliberate. "Tell me," he demanded, his grip on her hair tightening. "Has your husband ever made you feel this way?"

Bidisha's eyes glanced up to the mirror, and she saw the pleasure on her own face. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't deny it. She took a deep breath, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. "No," she whispered, the word slipping out despite herself. "He's never been so... deep inside me."

Javed's eyes gleamed with triumph, and he picked up his pace, his strokes growing more powerful. "That's what I thought," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, cum for me, slut."

Bidisha's body was on fire, her orgasm building with every thrust. She felt her pussy tighten around his cock, her walls clenching as she approached the edge. Her nails dug into the carpet, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she fought to hold back.

Javed could feel her getting close, his own release building. "Cum for me," he said, his voice a low growl. "Let it all go, baby."

Bidisha's eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth clenched. "I've been holding it in for so long," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure. "I... I'm going to... I'm going to cum."

Javed's smile grew even more smug, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low murmur. "Let it go, baby. Show me how much you want this."

Bidisha's breath hitched as she felt her orgasm building, her body tightening around his cock. "I... I want to cum with you," she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut. "Please, Javed."

Javed's smile grew even more wicked at her words. He leaned down, his mouth close to her ear. "Beg for it," he whispered, his voice a seductive growl. "Beg me to cum with you."

Bidisha's body was a tight coil of pleasure, her orgasm just out of reach. She whimpered, her voice a needy plea. "Please, Javed," she breathed. "Cum with me."

Javed's eyes darkened with lust at her words, his strokes becoming more urgent. "You've been a good slut," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Your wish deserved to be fulfilled ."

Bidisha's body was on the edge, her pussy pulsing around his cock. She felt the beginnings of her climax, the pressure building like a dam about to burst. "Promise me Javed...You will not call me slut ever ," she cried back, her voice strained. "Oh God...I have never felt like this...I wish I had someone like you before."

Javed leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. "You have me now" he whispered. "I will be your boyfriend and you will be my girlfriend"

Bidisha's eyes fluttered open, meeting his in the mirror. She knew it was wrong, that she was betraying her husband, but the power he had over her was too much to resist. "Yes," she gasped, her voice a desperate whine. "I want to be your girlfriend."

Javed laughed- "We are now young lovers. Promise me you will forget about your marriage going forward"

Bidisha- "Oh Javed...wish we had met before"

Javed -"It is never too late. You know Bidisha, I will be a demanding boyfriend. You'll have to satisfy me whenever I want, however I want. Are you willing to be that kind of girlfriend?" His voice was low, a dark promise of what was to come.

Bidisha's eyes were glazed with a mix of lust and fear, but she nodded frantically, desperate for relief. "Yes," she gasped, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I'll do anything. I can't hold it anymore."

With a triumphant grin, Javed began to fuck her harder, his hips slapping against her ass with a wet sound that seemed to echo through the room. Bidisha's pussy was tight around him, pulsing with every stroke. She felt a rush of wetness as her orgasm grew closer, her love juices soaking his cock and dripping onto the carpet beneath her.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, her body shaking with the effort of holding back the scream that was building in her chest. She knew that when she came, she would be giving Javed exactly what he wanted: a display of her **********, a declaration of her new role as his slut.

But the pleasure was too intense, too all-consuming. With a keening wail, Bidisha's orgasm crashed over her, her pussy clenching around Javed's thick cock like a vice. He grunted in pleasure at the sensation, feeling her juices spilling out around him and soaking the plush carpet beneath them. The sight of her body, writhing in ecstasy and despair, was a powerful aphrodisiac, and he couldn't hold back any longer.
AI image of Bidisha fucked in doggy
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Which would you rather be, Vikram or Javed?

Am checking this thread every day in order to read the next part!

Looking forward to the next instalment!

With a roar, Javed reached his own climax, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot cum. Bidisha felt the warmth flood her, mixing with the pain and pleasure that already consumed her. Her body was a live wire, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of her first-ever encounter with a man other than her husband.

As Javed pulled out, his cock glistening with their combined juices, Bidisha's pussy clenched around him, not wanting to let go of the feeling of fullness. She watched in the mirror as his cum spilled out of her, down her thighs, leaving a trail of sticky evidence of her betrayal. The sight of her own body, used and ******, was both terrifying and exhilarating, a stark reminder of the new reality she had just embraced.

Her knees buckled, and she fell forward onto the floor, her cheek pressed against the plush carpet. Javed followed, his weight on top of her, his chest heaving with the effort of his climax. For a moment, they lay there, their eyes locked in the mirror, both of them lost in the aftermath of the intense experience they had just shared. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sounds of their ragged breaths.

Bidisha felt a strange mix of emotions: the intense pleasure of her orgasm still echoing through her body, the fear of what she had just done, and the cold reality of her new position beneath this dominating man. Javed's eyes searched hers, a smug satisfaction in their depths that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned down, his cock still hard and glistening with their combined juices, and whispered in her ear, "You're mine now."

With those words, Bidisha felt a spark of something inside her, a dark excitement that she didn't fully understand. She turned her face up to Javed, her eyes filled with a strange, desperate need. His gaze was dark and intense as he claimed her mouth in a deep, wet kiss, their tongues dueling as their bodies remained entwined. The taste of him, musky and male, filled her mouth, and she found herself responding with a passion she hadn't felt in years.

Ahmed's mocking laughter grew louder, a harsh contrast to the intimate scene unfolding between Javed and Bidisha. "Looks like you got what you wanted," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "A real man to fuck your tight little cunt."

I felt a surge of anger, but it was quickly overshadowed by a strange sense of arousal. I knew I should have been disgusted and I should have been fighting to get Bidisha out of there, but instead, I found myself watching, my own cock growing hard at the sight of her with another man. It was a betrayal, but it was also the darkest, most intense turn-on I had ever experienced.

"Always dreamt of a boyfriend with a big dick, huh?" Javed said with a smirk, pulling away from her kiss. Bidisha smiled back, her cheeks flushed with the heat of their passionate exchange. "Well, you've got it now," he added, giving her a smack on the ass.

Ahmed's laughter grew more obnoxious, a clear attempt to cut through the intimate moment. "Looks like she's found what she's been missing," he jeered - " you should go home now vikram. My friend will drop her back home."

Bidisha looked up at Javed, her eyes pleading. "I need to go," she whispered, her voice filled with a strange mix of fear and excitement. "Vikram is waiting for me."

Javed's smile grew even more wicked as he nodded. "Of course," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "But first, I want you to call him." He handed her the phone.

Bidisha took the phone with trembling hands, her eyes never leaving Javed's. She knew what he was asking of her, and the thought of it sent a thrill of fear and arousal through her. She dialed my number, her heart racing as she waited for me to answer.

"Hello?" I said, my voice filled with a mix of concern and hope.

"Vikram, it's me," Bidisha's voice was shaky, and I could hear the fear in her tone. "The call dropped earlier because of the network. I have just left the club."

My heart was racing, and my grip on the phone tightened. "Where are you now?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm despite the tumult of emotions churning inside me.

"I'm in Javed's car," she replied, her voice low and husky. "He went to a store to grab some stuff. It's just around the corner."

I watched in the monitor Javed leaned down and took her nipple into his mouth, biting down gently. Bidisha gasped, her eyes closing with pleasure. "How was your date?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor from my voice as I saw Javed's teeth graze the sensitive flesh.

"It was... interesting," she replied, her voice tight with the effort to keep her composure. "Javed is... different from what I expected."

My heart was racing, my cock straining against my pants as I watched Javed's dark hand cup her breast, his thumb teasing her erect nipple. "Different in what way?" I managed to ask, my voice thick with a mix of anger and arousal.

Bidisha's eyes remained closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as Javed's other hand slid down her body to tease her clit. "He... he's more... assertive than I thought he would be," she replied, her voice a breathless whisper.

I felt a knot form in my stomach, my mind racing with the implications of her words. "What do you mean by 'assertive'?" I asked, my voice tight with tension.

Bidisha's eyes snapped open, and she stared at the phone as if she could see me through it. "What are you asking, Vikram?" she said, her voice a mix of confusion and challenge. "Do you want me to admit that I cheated on you?"

Javed's finger was still tracing circles around her navel, and she shivered at his touch. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and knowing. "Let him hear it," he murmured, his voice a low command.

Bidisha took a deep breath, her voice steady. "Javed's right here...I told Javed you have pushed me to go on a date with him," she said into the phone.

I asked her - "What is his response?"

Bidisha paused for a moment- "He thinks you are a loser for sending his own wife to go on a date with another man"

I watched in the monitor as Javed's smile grew even more wicked, his thumb now toying with her clit. "Is it really?" I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Bidisha nodded, her eyes glazed with passion. "Yes," she breathed. "But It's just a bit of fun for me. I never went on a date. "

I asked her- "Did you get intimate with him?"

Bidisha- "No...What kind of question is that...Don't you trust me?...Let me ask you onething...Do you really wanted that to happen?"

I responded- "Don't get mad ...my love...I was just asking"

Javed leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "Tell him the truth"

Bidisha immediately muted the call on her side and with shock in her eyes, she whispered urgently to Javed, "Please don't do this. You're ruining my marriage." But Javed's smile only grew more smug, and he leaned down to kiss her again, his tongue claiming her mouth as if to seal the deal. She tasted the hint of victory on his lips, and her body responded with an involuntary shiver.

When she unmuted the call, she heard my voice, filled with a strange calmness. "Bidisha, I know you had a lovely moment with Javed," I said, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. "I trust you. Since you have shared everything to Javed...Can I speak with him?"

Bidisha responded- "Why?"

I asked - "What is the problem speaking with him?"

Bidisha responded- "He just left the store and is coming near the car"

Bidisha muted the call and started speaking to Javed - "Please Javed...don't tell anything to him about us"

Javed again kissed Bidisha on her lips and told her - "Don't worry darling"

Bidisha unmuted the call and told me - "Javed is here"

I asked - "Javed , Are you there? Did you enjoy going on a date with my wife?"

Javed's eyes gleamed with triumph as he took the phone from Bidisha's trembling hand. "Oh, it was fantastic," he said, his voice thick with mocking pleasure. "Your wife is quite the catch, Vikram. You're a lucky man."

"Thank you," I replied, my voice eerily calm. "I'm sure she enjoyed herself. Now, can I trust you to make sure they both get home safely?"

Javed's smile was a mix of amusement and challenge. "Oh, absolutely," he said, his thumb started running over her wet curvy lips. "I'll make sure she gets home in one piece."

I disconnected the call, my mind racing. Bidisha looked at Javed with a mix of anger and confusion, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I don't want Vikram to find anything happened between us!...You have to promise me this will be our secret"

Javed's laugh was cold, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Why are you so worried about your pathetic husband?" he sneered. "He's too dumb to even figure out what's going on."

Ahmed's voice crackled over the phone, his tone mocking. "You are enjoying this...isn't it Vikram? ... or you are just a coward ... afraid to confront your wife on this...What are you going to do now, Vikram?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Your wife is a slut now. Are you going to accept her in same way?"

My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest. I knew he was baiting me, but the images of Bidisha with Javed were burned into my brain, and I couldn't ignore the truth in his words. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "You're right," I said, my voice shaking with anger. "But remember Javed has used an aphrodisiac to control her."

Ahmed's laugh was cold, the kind that sent a shiver down my spine. "Oh, so what?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think that makes a difference? She's had a taste of a real man now. She'll be begging for more."

I could feel the rage building inside me, but I ****** myself to stay calm. "You're wrong," I said, my voice tight. "It was the aphrodisiac. That's all it was."

Ahmed's laughter grew even more obnoxious. "Keep telling yourself that," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But you and I both know that once a bitch like her tastes the forbidden fruit, she'll always come back for more."

Bidisha's eyes snapped to Javed, her fear and anger warring with the passion that still lingered in her gaze. "I can feel your cum deep inside me," she hissed, her voice a mix of defiance and desperation. "What if I get pregnant?"

Javed's smile was cold and calculated as he met her eyes in the mirror. "Don't worry about that, baby," he said, his thumb still toying with her sensitive flesh. "I have pregnancy prevention pill in my home. I don't want you to get pregnant so soon."

Ahmed's laugh grew even more obnoxious. "Looks like Javed has everything planned out," he said, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "Vikram, your wife is safe, go home. when she reach home, don't forget to check her pussy for the proof of her infidelity." He hung up.

The room was spinning as I left the security room, my mind racing with the events that had just unfolded. I left the room. The sounds of the club grew louder as I approached the dance floor, the bass pounding in my chest like a war drum. I know Bidisha and Javed are still in the private room, but the sight of the dancers in a trance-like state made me feel like I was in a different reality.

I went back to bar where the same bartender asked me about the *****. I ordered a whisky.

My hand was still trembling when I reached for the ***** the bartender had slid over to me. I took a deep gulp, the whiskey burning down my throat, but it didn't help to dull the pain. The bartender looked at me with a knowing smirk. "It's your wife, isn't it?" he shouted over the music. "The one who went with Mr. Javed in the vip room?"

I nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks. "How did you know?"

The bartender leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "It's my job to know what's going on around here, and I've seen that look before. Plenty of times." He smirked, pouring me another *****. "Your wife is a gorgeous woman, but I always say not to marry such a beauty. They're bound to stray. Are you able to stop her?"

I took the fresh whiskey, the liquid fire burning a path through my veins. "It's not that simple," I said through gritted teeth. "But I'm going to find a way to deal with it. For now, I need to keep my head clear. That's why I'm *****ing here."

The bartender nodded, his eyes flicking down to my shaking hand. "I understand," he said, his voice low and soothing. "But let me tell you something, man to man. You can't keep a woman like that on a leash. They're like wildflowers; they need to bloom where they're planted, but sometimes they find a better garden."

He handed me the fresh whiskey, the clink of the glass echoing through the chaos of the club. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my hand as I brought the amber liquid to my lips. The burn was welcome, a temporary distraction from the searing pain in my chest.

The bartender nodded, his eyes flicking to the VIP section before returning to me. "You know, sometimes it's better not to know," he said, his voice a gentle rumble over the music. "Ignorance is bliss, they say."

I stared into my whiskey, the ice clinking against the glass. "But I do know," I replied, my voice tight. "And I can't just ignore it."

The bartender shrugged, turning to attend to other patrons. The club's lights danced across the ****** bottles, casting a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to mock my turmoil. I took a deep pull from my *****, letting the fiery liquid warm me from the inside out. The burn was a comforting distraction from the horror show playing in my head: Bidisha, my Bidisha, under Javed's control.

As the minutes dragged on, the whiskey dulled the edges of my anger and despair. The music grew louder, the beat pulsing in time with the throb in my temples. And then, as if summoned by my darkest thoughts, I saw them. Bidisha and Javed emerged from the VIP section, their eyes locked in a silent conversation that sent a bolt of pure rage through me.

My heart skipped a beat as I took in the sight of my wife, dressed in the same dress that clung to every curve of her body. Her hair was a wild tangle around her flushed face, and her lips were swollen from his kisses. Javed had his hand on her hip, guiding her through the crowd with an ease that spoke of ownership. They moved together, in sync, as if they had been lovers for years.

The bartender leaned in again, his voice a low murmur in my ear. "Looks like they have a beautiful moment in the room," he said with a knowing wink.

I glanced back at the dance floor, my eyes drawn to the sight of Bidisha. She was moving with a grace that seemed almost alien to me now, her hips swaying in time with the music as Javed's hands roamed her body. She looked like a different person, a creature of pure desire that had been unleashed from its cage. The sight of them together was like a knife twisting in my gut, but I couldn't look away.

Their kiss was deep and passionate. Javed's hand was possessive on her hip, pulling her closer to him as if afraid she might slip away. Bidisha's hands were tangled in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp as if she needed the anchor of his touch to keep herself from floating away on a cloud of lust.

AI image of Bidisha and Javed in intimate position-

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GREAT STORY. GREAT ART

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As the music swelled around them, their bodies moved in a dance that was both erotic and ***********. The crowd parted for them, their eyes locked in a silent challenge that seemed to say, 'We dare you to look away'. And I couldn't. I was transfixed by the sight of my wife, lost in the arms of another man.

But as the whiskey-induced fog lifted, reality crashed down on me. I had to get out of there. I stumbled through the club, the lights spinning like a carnival ride from hell. The cold night air slapped me in the face as I stumbled out onto the sidewalk, gasping for breath.

I fumbled with my phone, calling for a taxi, desperation making my hands shake. "Thirty minutes," the operator said, the words echoing in my head like a death knell. Thirty minutes until I could escape this twisted playground of betrayal.

As I waited, I couldn't help but watch the entrance to 'The Blue Lotus', my eyes drawn like a moth to a flame. And there they were, emerging from the shadows. Bidisha, my beautiful, intelligent, loving wife, wrapped in the arms of the monster who had just claimed her. Javed's dark eyes scanned the street, a smug smile playing on his lips as he held her close.

The sight of them together was like a punch to the gut. Bidisha looked up at him with a mix of fear, excitement, and something else I couldn't quite place. It was as if she had been reborn into a new, twisted reality where her desires were no longer her own. I tried to console myself believing everything Bidisha is doing is under the influence of the aphrodisiac that Javed had given to her.

I watched as they approached Javed car, Javed's hand sliding down to cup her ass possessively. He opened the door for her, and she slid in, her legs spreading slightly to accommodate his hand as he pushed her further into the seat. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and then slammed the door shut with a finality. After that, Javed entered the car from the other side.

The tinted windows of the car didn't offer much of a view, but as I squinted into the dark, I could make out the silhouettes of their bodies moving together. Javed's hand was on the back of her head, guiding her as their shadows melded into one on the leather seats. My stomach churned as the car rocked slightly with their passion. I knew what was happening, could almost feel the heat of their bodies through the glass.

The phone in my hand buzzed to life, the vibration jolting me out of my sickening trance. It was the driver, his voice tight and strained. "Sir, I have arrived at the destination," he said, his words cutting through the fog of anger,arousal and despair.

Javed and Bidisha were lost to their own world, the car windows fogging up with the heat of their passion. They didn't seem to hear the phone's ring, or if they did, they didn't care. I watched, horrified, as their silhouettes continued to grind against each other, the car's rocking becoming more pronounced with each passing moment.

With a trembling hand, I dragged my gaze away from the car and stumbled down the street. The cold night air did little to sober me up, the whiskey's warmth still clinging to my chest like a toxic embrace. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the empty alley, the neon lights from the club's sign the only thing cutting through the darkness.

Finally, the taxi came into view, the yellow beacon of its light a stark contrast to the blackness of the night. I practically fell into the backseat, the door slamming shut with a finality that mirrored the closing of a coffin. "Take me home," I ****** out, my voice thick with unshed tears. I shared my home address with the driver, my mind racing with images of Bidisha and Javed's twisted dance of lust.

As I reached home, my phone buzzed with a message from Bidisha. "We're at Javed's," she had written. "I'll be home soon. Our *** is ********, so it might take a bit longer." I knew she was lying, her words a desperate attempt to maintain the facade. The taste of bile rose in my throat as I read the text, the reality of her betrayal sinking in like a cold, leaden weight.

When she finally arrived, the quietness of the house was a stark contrast to the chaos in my heart. She walked into our bedroom, her eyes avoiding mine as she gently set our ******** *** into his bed. Her movements were stiff, mechanical, as if she were performing a dance she had been ****** to learn.

"Why did you tell him?" I demanded, my voice low and tightly controlled. "Why did you say to him that I pushed you into it?"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a mix of fear and defiance. "I had to," she said, her voice a mere whisper. "I didn't want him to think I am a willing participant."

I didn't want my wife to know that I am aware of everything.

Bidisha avoided my gaze, her eyes flicking to the floor, the walls, anywhere but my face. I knew she was hiding something. The way she moved, the way she held herself, it all screamed of secrets and guilt.

"Look at me," I ordered, my voice low and firm. She raised her eyes to meet mine, her pupils wide with fear. "I can tell," I said, taking a step closer. "Your eyes, your cheeks, your mouth... everything about you is screaming that you are hiding something from me."

Bidisha's breath hitched in her throat. "Vikram, I swear, it was just a kiss," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You said it was okay."

I stepped closer to her, my hand cupping her cheek as I leaned in. "Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth," I said softly, my thumb brushing against her full, kiss-swollen lips. "How many times did he kiss you?"

Her eyes searched mine, looking for a way out, but she knew she couldn't lie to me anymore. With a sigh, she parted her lips, and my finger slipped inside, tasting the faint hint of Javed's kiss. "Multiple times," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

"And what else?" I demanded, my voice tight. "Has he touched you anywhere else?"

Her eyes searched mine, the fear and arousal from the club still lingering in her gaze. "No," she said quickly, her voice a lie. "It was just a kiss."

"Take off your blouse," I said, my voice a mix of anger and desperation. "Let me see your breasts."

Bidisha's eyes widened in shock, and she took a step back. "Vikram, what are you doing?" she whispered, her hand protectively covering her chest.

"You said it was just a kiss," I reminded her, my voice low and menacing. "If that's true, then there's nothing to hide, right?"

Her eyes darted to the side, avoiding mine, and she began to unbutton her blouse with trembling hands. I watched as the fabric slipped away, revealing the swell of her breasts, the tops already pebbled with arousal. "Show me," I demanded, my voice cold.

Her face was a mask of fear and guilt as she revealed the truth. Two red, angry bite marks marred the soft skin of her left breast, the clear imprint of Javed's teeth. "What are those?" I whispered, my voice dangerously calm.

Her eyes filled with tears as she met my gaze, her voice shaking. "It was your idea," she repeated, the words a desperate mantra. "You wanted me to go on this date with him. You wanted this.You are not even there, you are supposed to be there"

"I know," I said, my voice tight with pain and excitement . "But I need to know if you enjoyed it."

Bidisha looked at me with a mix of anger and desperation. "How can you even ask me that?" she spat, her eyes flashing. "I'm your wife. I'm supposed to be faithful to you."

I took a deep breath, trying to control the storm of emotions raging inside me. "I just need to know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you enjoy it?"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine, a tempest of emotions swirling in their depths. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice ******* with tears. "I didn't mean for it to go this far."

I took a deep breath, willing the rage and jealousy to subside. "Look at me," I said softly, taking her trembling hands in mine. "I love you. No matter what had happened tonight, that doesn't change."

Her eyes searched mine, and for a brief moment, I saw the love she had for me, the love that had been buried under layers of lust and manipulation. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice cracking.

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her secret. But I couldn't tell her that I knew the truth, that I had watched every intimate moment she had shared with Javed. The sight of her **********, the sounds of her pleasure, it was all burned into my mind, a twisted testament to the depth of her betrayal.

"Bidisha," I began, my voice thick with excitement . "I know you didn't mean for this to happen. But we have to talk about it."

Bidisha- "I am very tired Vikram, can we talk tomorrow?"

The next day morning, Bidisha was already up when I woke up, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sound of the news on the TV wafting into the bedroom. I could feel the heaviness in the air, a palpable tension that was a stark contrast to the mundane routine of our usual weekend mornings. She looked at me with a mix of apology and resignation, her eyes avoiding the question that hung between us like a noose.

"Vikram," she began, her voice shaky. "Last night..." She trailed off, her eyes filling with tears. "I shouldn't have agreed to your proposal. It's all my fault. I'm sorry."

Her eyes searched my face, looking for any hint of anger or accusation. But all I felt was a strange mix of arousal and pain. "Bidisha," I said, taking her hand in mine. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was all part of the plan. Somehow the plan didn't work out as expected"

She nodded, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "But I want to forget about it," she whispered. "Please, let's just move on."

Inside, a dark thrill coursed through me. I knew I couldn't tell her that I had watched her fall apart in Javed's arms. That I had seen every moment of her degradation and **********. It was a secret that would eat away at me, a festering wound that I would carry with me forever.

But for now, I had to play the part of the clueless husband, the man who had no idea of the depths his wife had sunk to. So, I nodded, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise. "Okay," I said, my voice deceptively calm. "We'll forget about it."

I watched as relief flooded Bidisha's face, the tension in her shoulders easing as she took a deep breath. She leaned into me, her breasts pressing against my chest, and for a brief moment, I could almost believe that we could go back to the way things were, but I was wrong.
The sight of the bite marks, the memory of her moans still continued echoing through my mind.

The day passed in a blur of ****** smiles and hollow laughs. Our intimacy had ground to a halt, and every touch felt like a lie. I was the one who started avoiding her, retreating to the cold comfort of the guest room each night. It wasn't that I hated her; it was the sting of my bruised ego that I couldn't bear. The thought that she needed a 'stronger' partner, one that could give her the kind of pleasure I never could, began to gnaw away at me.

Bidisha noticed the change, her eyes sad and questioning. She tried to bridge the gap, reaching out to me in moments of tenderness, but my body was a statue, unyielding to her touch. Her gentle whispers of love fell on deaf ears, the sound of her voice a taunting reminder of the night she had spent with Javed.

One evening, as I sat in the living room, lost in my thoughts, she approached me, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. "Vikram," she said tentatively, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. "What's wrong? Why are you avoiding me?"

I turned to her, the weight of my secret making it difficult to maintain eye contact. "It's nothing," I lied, my voice strained. "I've just had a lot on my mind with work."

Bidisha's eyes searched my face, the doubt clear in her gaze. "Is everything okay?" she pressed, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"No, it's not," I finally admitted, my voice cracking with the weight of the lie. "But it's not what you think."

Our conversation ended after that. Days passed by. Then one day, as I sat in my office, the mobile phone began to vibrate with Javed number. I picked up the phone and went on a private place.

"Hello," I said, trying to keep my voice calm despite the turmoil in my chest.

"Vikram," Javed's smooth voice greeted me, as if we were old friends catching up over tea. "How are you and your lovely family?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. "We're all well, thank you," I replied, my tone even despite the anger boiling in my veins. "How about you?"

"Ah, the usual," Javed said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "Missing the sight of your lovely wife at my restaurant. You know, we don't see you as often as we'd like."

My heart skipped a beat. "Yes, well, work's been hectic," I replied, trying to keep my voice casual. "How's the food business?"

"Thriving, as always," Javed said, his voice like a velvet trap. "But tell me, how's your family? Little Aarav? And, of course, the lovely Bidisha?"

I ****** a chuckle. "They're all fine, thanks for asking."

"Good, good," Javed said, his tone turning darker. "And how is Bidisha? Is she still craving the kind of attention she received at 'The Blue Lotus'?"

My stomach twisted into a knot. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"Oh, don't play coy," Javed chuckled, his voice as smooth as a serpent's. "Ahmed filled me in on everything. How you watched us, how much you enjoyed it."

I felt the ***** drain from my face. "What are you talking about?" I managed to croak out, trying to maintain the facade of ignorance.

Javed's chuckle was low and sinister. "Ah, so you haven't told her yet," he mused. "How delightful. Let me paint a picture for you, shall I? Picture your sweet Bidisha, spread out on my bed, her legs trembling as she begs for more. And what does she call me?" He paused for dramatic effect. "Her boyfriend, of course. Because let's face it, Vikram, your tiny little cock can't give her what she really needs, can it?"

My fists clenched, my knuckles white with rage. "I asked him whether she really was meeting him," I ground out, my voice tight with restrained fury. "Tell me the truth."

There was a pause, and then Javed's voice grew softer, a smug satisfaction coating his words. "Well, well, well," he murmured. "So you're finally ready to accept reality, are you?"

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the truth of his words stinging like a thousand needles. "What reality?" I growled, trying to keep the tremble from my voice.

"The reality," Javed said, his voice like a whip cracking through the silence, "That your wife is a whore who craves the kind of pleasure that only a real man can give her. And that real man isn't you."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer, shattering the last shred of my dignity. "You're lying," I whispered, my voice hoarse with curiosity.

Javed's laugh was cold, the sound of victory in every syllable. "Why would I lie?" he challenged. "You know what she is. You saw it with your own eyes."

I told Javed - "She will never get involved into this. It was me who pushed her that night to go on a date with you. She didn't want it. She is a good wife and ****** and will always be faithful to me. She just had a moment of weakness that night, you just took advantage of it."

Javed's chuckle was like nails on a chalkboard. "Ah, the sweet naivety," he said, his voice oozing with amusement. "Let me set you straight, Vikram. After that night, Bidisha had quite the emotional breakdown. She was torn, you see. Between her duty to you and the burning desire that had been unlocked inside her. I can give you a chance to witness her ********** to me for second time. Now tell me cuck, will you stop your wife if she crave for me again?"

My cock, traitorously, grew hard at the thought. The idea of my beautiful, obedient wife begging for another man's touch, for his cock, filled me with a mix of anger and arousal that I couldn't ignore. "Bidisha loves me," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "She'll never do that again."

"Is that so?" Javed's voice was smug, his confidence unshaken. "Then why don't we make a little bet, Vikram? If she resists me, I'll leave her alone. But if she comes to me willingly, if she spreads her legs for me again, promise me you will not stop us"

I felt the ***** rush to my cock at the thought. "You're on," I said, my voice tight with a mix of anger and excitement. "But I'm telling you, she won't."

Javed's laughter echoed in my ear. "We'll see about that," he said before hanging up.

AI image of Javed and Bidisha in the nightclub private room

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And then what? I presume he lost the bet?

That night, after our *** Aarav had been tucked into bed, I approached Bidisha with the question that had been gnawing at me. She was sitting on the couch, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the TV, lost in thought.

"Bidisha," I began, my voice tentative. "Has Javed ever called you after that night at 'The Blue Lotus'?"

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. "What?" she asked, her hand clutching at her chest. "Why would you ask me that?"

"I just wanted to check," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. "He might be trying to get closer to you again."

Bidisha's eyes widened, the color draining from her cheeks. "Why you want to know about that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I just wanted to check," I replied, trying to keep my tone casual. "You know how some men can be."

Bidisha's eyes searched my face, and for a moment, I thought she was going to crack. But she composed herself quickly, her expression shuttering. "Javed hasn't called me," she said firmly. "And even if he did, I wouldn't entertain his advances. You know that."

I nodded, trying to keep the doubt from my face. "I know," I said. "I just wanted to make sure."

Bidisha studied me for a moment, her eyes searching for any signs of anger or accusation. "Why do you ask?" she said, her voice quiet.

"I just wanted to check," I said, my voice devoid of any emotion. "You know how persistent some people can be."

Bidisha nodded, her eyes flicking to the floor, avoiding my gaze. I could see the cogs in her mind turning, trying to figure out if I knew more than I was letting on. "He hasn't," she said, her voice firm. But there was something in the way she said it, a slight tremor that betrayed her.

I reached for her, my hand sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. She stiffened at first but then melted into my embrace, her head resting against my chest. The warmth of her body was a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled in my heart. "I just want you to be happy," I murmured, my voice a lie. "And if you ever need anything, anything at all, you know you can tell me."

Bidisha pulled back, her eyes searching my face. "What's going on, Vikram?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Why are you acting like this?"

I kissed her forehead, my hand stroking her hair. "I just want everything to be back to normal" I said, my voice thick with an emotion that was a blend of love and spite. "I want us to be close again. I want our old life back"

Bidisha's eyes searched mine for a moment before she nodded, a sad smile playing on her lips. "Okay, i am not in a right mood tonight" she said, her voice soft. "We'll talk tomorrow."

That night, as she retreated to the bedroom, claiming exhaustion, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something. The darkness of the room seemed to swallow her up, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the sickening thrill of unknown. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the past images of Javed's hands on her body started playing on a loop in my mind.

As the hours ticked by, the tension grew unbearable. I waited until the sound of her even breathing filled the room, indicating that she had finally succumbed to *****. With the stealth of a predator, I slid out of bed and tiptoed over to her side of the nightstand. Her phone lay there, a silent testament to the secrets it held.

My hand trembled as I picked it up, the weight of my suspicion heavier than the device itself. I unlocked it with trembling fingers, my heart racing as I navigated to the chat history with Rubina. It was empty. A cold dread seeped into my bones. Had she deleted it? Did she really want to hide something?

I scrolled through the recent messages, searching for any trace of communication with Javed. The absence of his name was a mocking silence. But there, in her search history, was a string of words that sent a jolt through me: "How to handle a partner with a big penis."

My heart raced as I put the phone down, the cold reality slapping me in the face. Javed was right. Bidisha was preparing herself for him, eager to be filled by his dominance once again. I panicked for a moment fearing my past wrong decision is going to have a long term damage on our marriage. But as time went by, a perverse excitement grew in me, a twisted mirror of the love and desire that had once been the bedrock of our marriage. I knew I should be disgusted but instead, I was hard, my cock straining against the fabric of my boxers.

I did not waste my time and send a message to Javed at midnight, my fingers hovering over the screen as I typed out the words that would seal my fate. "I want to watch," I wrote, the message a silent declaration of my masochistic desire. "I need to see her with you again."

The next day, Bidisha was lost in thought, her eyes distant and unfocused. She barely acknowledged me as I sipped my coffee, the weight of her secrets hanging heavy between us. I couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking of him or may be she want to experience the pleasure that she had found in his arms on that night in the club. I watched her closely, my own mind racing with thoughts of what she might be planning.

After taking Aarav to school, I headed to the office, my thoughts consumed by the message I had sent to Javed in the late night. The drive was a blur as I replayed the conversation in my mind, my heart pounding in anticipation of his response. But when I checked my phone again, the screen remained frustratingly silent.

As I buried myself in work, my mind kept wandering back to the club, to the sight of Bidisha's bare breasts marred by Javed's possessive marks. The image of her in his arms was a constant taunt, a reminder of my impotence in the face of his dominance. And yet, the thought of her with him again, the idea of her willingly surrendering to his desires, filled me with a dark excitement that I couldn't shake.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, jolting me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat as I saw it was a message from Javed. My trembling fingers unlocked the device, and my stomach dropped as the image loaded. It was a picture of my own bedroom, the bed rumpled and unmade, and there he sat, naked as the day he was born, a smug smile on his face as he held up a single finger.

"Your lovely wife is just getting ready for me," the accompanying text read. "She's wearing the little outfit I picked out especially for her. Can't wait to see her in it"

My stomach lurched as I stared at the image, the stark reality of Bidisha's infidelity slapping me like a cold hand. "Where is she?" I texted back, my thumbs trembling with fear and excitement.

"Ah, she's just taking a little detour," Javed's message read with a wink emoji. "In the bathroom, getting dressed for me."

My mind racing with images of my wife preparing herself for another man. I typed back with trembling hands, " Javed, this need to stop. She is my wife"

Javed's response was almost instantaneous. "Oh, but that's the whole point of our little bet, isn't it?" he wrote, his confidence grating. "If she comes to me willingly, you have to watch and do nothing. Remember? and you message me last night...you wanted to watch...is not it?"

The memory of my midnight confession to Javed flooded back, a sick feeling twisting in my stomach. I had told him of my masochistic urge to watch Bidisha with him again, the thrill of her betrayal strangely melding with the love I still had for her. And now, it seemed, the opportunity had presented itself.

As I sat in my office chair, my thoughts were a tangled web of anger, lust, and despair. How could she do this to me? Yet, the image of her, dressed in whatever slutty outfit Javed had picked out, was a powerful aphrodisiac. I knew that I should be enraged, demanding answers and justice, but instead, I found myself eagerly awaiting the next update.

My work was forgotten, the screens in front of me a blur of unimportant numbers and words. The air in the office felt suffocating, thick with the weight of my secrets. I couldn't focus, my mind consumed by the thought of what was happening in my own bedroom. My cock was hard, straining against my pants, and every time someone walked by my door, I felt a flash of panic that they could see the evidence of my depravity.

Finally, unable to take it any longer, I stood up abruptly, knocking over a half-empty coffee cup. My colleagues glanced over, but I ignored them, my mind racing with the need to escape. "I'm not feeling well," I mumbled to my boss, the lie rolling off my tongue with surprising ease. "I need to go home."

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed my keys and practically sprinted to the elevator. The ride down was an eternity, my mind a whirlwind of emotions - anger, fear, and a disturbing arousal that I couldn't shake. When the doors finally opened, I dashed to my car, my heart racing as I slammed the door shut and peeled out of the parking lot.

As I am about to drive, my phone buzzed with a new message from Javed. My hand trembled as I clicked on the notification. A video played, the image of my beautiful wife, Bidisha, dressed in a skimpy babydoll outfit that barely contained her ample curves. She was standing in our bedroom, looking shyly into the camera, her cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. Javed's voice was a low murmur, his words making my ***** boil. "Rubina wanted to see how my little slut looked," he taunted. "Spin around for us, let us see that ass."

Obliging, Bidisha slowly turned, the fabric of the lingerie barely covering her. The sight of her wearing red lipstick and fake eyelashes, looking like a seductress out of a porn film, was almost too much to bear. Javed's voice grew louder, his hands tracing over her skin as he praised her, calling her every vile name under the sun. I watched in horror and fascination as she responded to his touch, her eyes glazed with desire.

My cock was straining against my pants, a traitor to my own dignity. I should have been outraged, but instead, I was captivated by the transformation before me. Bidisha had never looked so alive, so hungry for pleasure. And it was all for him, not me.

Her skin looked flawless in the soft light of our bedroom, the red lipstick accentuating the fullness of her lips. The fake eyelashes gave her a sultry, mysterious look that seemed to scream for attention. Javed's voice grew more demanding, his praise for her body and beauty a twisted form of affection that I could never give her. He knew just what to say to make her quiver with anticipation, and it was driving me insane.

"Now," Javed murmured, his hand sliding down to her neck, "tell her what you think of her husband."

Bidisha looked into the camera, her eyes glazed with lust. "I'm so lucky to have a man like you, Javed," she said, her voice thick with desire. "Rubina is so lucky to have you."

Jaded chuckled darkly, his hand sliding from her neck to cup her cheek. "And what about your husband, Bidisha?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. "What do you think of him?"

Bidisha's gaze dropped to the floor, a look of guilt and shame flitting across her features. "I...I don't know," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "He's a good man. But he can't...he can't give me what I need."

I understand this video is not for Rubina but for me. Javed constantly reminding me of my inadequacies. I watched as Javed's hand moved from her cheek to her throat, his thumb tracing a slow, teasing path along her jawline.

"Now, tell me, Bidisha," he whispered, his voice a seductive caress. "Is your husband as good as me?"

Bidisha's eyes flickered with fear and excitement as she sucked his finger, her tongue swirling around it like it was the most delicious treat she had ever tasted. "N-no," she stuttered, her voice a soft moan. "Nobody is as good as you, Javed."

The camera zoomed in closer, capturing the intimate moment as their lips met in a passionate kiss. The heat between them was palpable, even through the screen. Javed's hand tightened around her throat, his grip firm but not painful, a silent reminder of his dominance. I watched as she melted into his touch, her body arching towards him like a moth to a flame.

"Now tell her how much you love me," Javed murmured against her mouth, his eyes never leaving hers.

Bidisha's gaze flicked to the camera, and for a moment, I thought she might resist. But then she leaned closer, her lips brushing against Javed's ear. "I love you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Javed's smile was smug, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he pulled away. "I know," he murmured, his camera focused on his fingers that was playing with the strings of her lingerie. "But tell me, does your husband know how much you need me?"

Bidisha's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as she nodded, unable to break eye contact. "I've tried to resist," she whispered, her voice shaky with desire. "But I can't. I need you just as much as I need him."

Javed's smile grew wider, his eyes darkening with triumph. He leaned in and claimed her lips in a kiss that was both possessive and tender, his hand sliding down to cup her breast. Bidisha's moan was muffled against his mouth, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

As they broke apart, Bidisha's hand reached up to turn off the camera, her eyes pleading with Javed. "Please," she whispered. "Not anymore."

Javed chuckled, his hand still on the camera. "Oh, but you know the rules," he said, his voice a dark tease. "You can't just stop when you're about to get to the good part."

Bidisha looked into the camera, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But Rubina," she murmured, her voice a silky purr, "are you sure you can handle watching a woman more beautiful than you making love to your husband?"

I sat in the car, the engine idling, unable to tear my gaze away from the screen. The video was a twisted game of cat and mouse, and I was the helpless prey caught in Javed's sadistic web.

"What do you want to watch, Rubina?" Bidisha purred into the camera, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She looked like a siren, a seductress who knew she had power over me. "Should we show you how much more attentive I am to your husband's needs than you could ever be?"

Javed's chuckle was like a knife twisting in my gut. "Oh, she'll love that," he murmured, his hand sliding down to Bidisha's waist. "But first, let's make sure she's ready for the main event."

Bidisha's eyes widened with surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer, her hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. "Javed, please," she whispered, her voice desperate and needy. "Fuck me now. I want you to be the one who breaks me."

Javed chuckled, his hand sliding down to grasp her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh. "As you wish," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. He turned the camera slightly, capturing the moment as he pushed her back onto the bed, her legs parting eagerly for him.

Bidisha's eyes remained locked on the lens, a strange mix of fear and excitement in their depths. She didn't understand that this performance was not for Rubina, but for me. The thought of my wife, the woman I had loved and cherished for a decade, being so willing to be used and degraded for another man's amusement was like a fist tightening around my heart. Yet, I couldn't look away.

Javed's hand guided hers to the strings of her lingerie, his eyes never leaving hers. "Show her how much you want me," he instructed, his voice a ******** command. Bidisha's trembling fingers obeyed, the fabric parting to reveal her swollen, wet pussy. I could see the evidence of her arousal, her desire for him, and it was a punch to the gut.

Her eyes never left the camera as she spread her legs wider, a silent invitation to the world to see her most intimate moments. The sight of her bare skin, her soft folds glistening with need, was like watching a car crash in slow motion. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the horror of it, the perverse excitement growing in me.

"Hold it," Javed ordered, his voice thick with lust. "I want her to see how eager her husband is to taste you."

With trembling hands, Bidisha took the phone from him. She held it at the perfect angle, the camera capturing her swollen pussy in all its glory. Javed leaned in, his dark eyes never leaving hers, and took a long, slow lick from her clit to her entrance. Bidisha's eyes rolled back in her head, a silent scream of pleasure tearing from her lips. I watched, frozen in horror and arousal, as he devoured her like a starving man.

Her moans grew louder, each one a declaration of her desire for him. "Oh, Rubina," she whispered into the camera, her voice a desperate whine. "You have no idea how good he is to me." Her fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him deeper into her, urging him to consume her entirely.

Javed's eyes never left the camera, the look of triumph and challenge in them unmistakable. He knew I would watch this, that I would be driven to madness by the sight of my wife, my Bidisha, begging for his touch. His tongue danced over her clit, teasing and tormenting, as she writhed beneath him.

AI images of Bidisha spreading her legs for Javed-

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Why cuckolds are always so limp and weak. And don't answer because they love their wives/whores: dignity is priceless.
More, Vikram could try to have his revenge showing the video to Rubina and convincing her to have sex with him to punish Javed.

No Leone, on the contrary, I believe Vikram will become incapable of giving pleasure to a woman; he only wants to be a voyeuristic cuckold.

dilatateur
This is your personal thought. I instead think that this is not cuckolding but cheating: although Vikram become horny (but angst too) watching his wife being fucked by another guy, he didn't give green light to Bedisha to fuck with Javed, especially the second (for what we know) time.
This is my thought.

For me cuckolding is when it's agreed upon the couple, otherwise it's cheating.

The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!
The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!

Bidisha's hand holding the phone began to shake with her own arousal, the camera wobbling as she struggled to keep it focused on his face. "Look at him, Rubina" she said, her voice thick with desire. "Such a dirty man."

Javed's eyes remained locked on the camera, his tongue lazily flicking over her sensitive flesh. My silly wife did not know Javed was making her capture those intimate videos only to humiliate me. He knew that every second of this video was a knife in my heart, a twisted form of payment for my own weakness.

Bidisha's breathing grew ragged, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Suck it, you dirty man. Show me how much you love my taste." She giggled, a dark, throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine. The sound of his mouth on her, the wet, obscene noises, filled the car, and I found myself leaning in, my hand moving to stroke my own traitorous erection.

The camera remained focused on Javed's face, his eyes gleaming with malevolent pleasure as he devoured my wife. His tongue danced over her clit, flicking and swirling in a way that made her hips buck. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on her, and Bidisha's whimpers grew louder, more desperate. I watched, ********** by the sight, unable to tear my eyes away from the screen as my own hand moved faster and faster.

Suddenly, Bidisha's grip on the phone loosened, and the camera fell to the side. The video cut off abruptly, leaving me panting and desperate for more. The silence in the car was deafening, the only sound the frantic beating of my heart. I had never felt so humiliated, so used, so...excited. The realization of what was happening to me was a punch to the gut, but the need to see more was overwhelming.

With shaking hands, I started the engine and merged into the thick stream of traffic that separated me from home. Each red light felt like an eternity, my mind racing with thoughts of what was happening in our bedroom. Would they hear me come in? Would she even care?

The drive seemed to take an eternity, the heavy traffic a cruel taunt as I inched closer to the truth. And then rain came. The rain outside mirrored the chaos in my heart, droplets racing down the windshield in a blur. My mind replayed the video, the sound of their passion echoing in my ears. How could she be so brazen, so shameless? Yet, the image of her, lost in pleasure, was burned into my mind, a siren's call I couldn't resist.

Finally, I pulled into the driveway, the headlights cutting through the darkness. The house was silent, the curtains drawn, hiding the secrets within. I saw Javed car parked outside my home. I turned off the engine and took a deep breath, the quiet amplifying my racing heart. The key turned with a soft click in the lock, the door swinging open to the familiar scent of home. I moved through the house like a ghost.

Creeping up the staircase, I felt the floorboards groan beneath me, the house seeming to hold its breath. As I reached the top, the unmistakable sound of muffled cries drifted through the hallway. My ***** turned to ice, each step heavier than the last. Was she okay? Was it pleasure or pain that made her whimper? I didn't dare to make any noise, I just didn't want them to know that I was at home.

The door to our bedroom was ajar, the light spilling out in a soft glow that illuminated the hallway. I peered through the crack, my heart in my throat. There she was, my beautiful Bidisha, straddling Javed's hips, his large, dotted condom-covered cock sliding in and out of her with an ease that spoke of familiarity. Her eyes were closed, her face a picture of bliss, as she rode him with a passion that was both terrifying and mesmerizing. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples hard and pink from his earlier ministrations.

Her babydoll outfit was around her hips, the fabric pushed aside to reveal the smooth, fair skin of her waist. The sight of her bare flesh, the way she moved with such wanton abandon, was like a knife to my soul. Yet, I couldn't look away. Javed's hands were on her hips, guiding her, his own eyes closed as he lost himself in her rhythm.

"Keep going," he murmured, his voice a command. "Just like that. Don't stop, or you'll regret it."

I watched from the shadows, my breath hitching in my throat as Bidisha threw her head back, her eyes closed in ecstasy. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, each thrust punctuating the silence like a declaration of war. The sight of them together, so intimate, so raw, was like watching a train wreck - I couldn't look away.

"You make me feel alive," she moaned, her voice a sweet agony. "I never knew sex could be this...this...addictive. I don't think I can hold my orgasm anymore, Javed."

He looked at her, his eyes dark and demanding. "You will," he said, his voice a firm command. "You're not allowed to cum until I say so."

Bidisha's eyes widened in shock, but she nodded, her desire for him overriding any sense of self-preservation. She bit her lower lip, her hips moving faster, trying to reach that elusive peak that he held just out of reach. The room was filled with the sound of their bodies slapping together, the slick wetness of their union echoing through the quiet.

"Why?" she gasped, her voice strained. "Why are you making me do this?"

Javed's eyes snapped open, meeting hers. "Your questioning only makes it sweeter, my little slut," he said, his voice a low growl. He reached up, his thumb brushing over her clit, the touch a delicate torment. "I'm pushing your limits, making you stronger. You're going to need that stamina for when I really let you have it."

Her eyes searched his, a mix of confusion and lust swirling in their depths. "But why?" she asked again, her voice trembling. "What do you get from this?"

Javed's smile was a dark promise. "Everything," he murmured, his thumb pressing harder against her clit. "Your pleasure, your pain, your very soul."

And with those words, Bidisha's control shattered. Her body convulsed, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado, leaving her trembling and gasping for breath. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body arching as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She threw her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream, and I watched, transfixed, as she came harder than I had ever seen her with me.

The sight of my wife, writhing in pleasure under another man's touch, was like a brand on my soul. Yet, I couldn't deny the dark thrill that shot through me, the twisted sense of excitement that made my own cock throb painfully in my pants. It was as if Javed had flipped a switch inside me, turning me from her devoted husband into a voyeur, eager for more of her degradation.

As Bidisha's orgasm subsided, she collapsed onto Javed's chest, her breathing ragged and her eyes glazed. But he wasn't done with her. He rolled her onto her back, the condom still in place, and repositioned himself between her legs. His movements were swift and precise, his hips pumping into her without a moment's hesitation. The sound of their skin slapping together was a stark reminder of the reality playing out before me.

Javed's muscular body hovered over hers, his eyes boring into hers as he claimed her in the most primal of ways. He was like a beast, a conqueror claiming his prize, and she was the willing prey, spread out for his taking. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper inside her. I watched as he leaned down, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs flicking at her sensitive nipples. She moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head, lost in the sensation.

"Ruin me," she begged, the words a whispered plea that sent a cold shiver down my spine. "Make me yours completely."

Javed's grip tightened on her hips, his teeth flashing in a predatory smile as he increased his pace. "You're already mine," he grunted, each thrust punctuating his words with a ****** finality. "I'll make sure you never forget it."

The bed frame creaked under their vigorous movements, the headboard slammed against the wall in a steady rhythm. The sight was carnally mesmerizing, a stark contrast to the muted whispers of our past lovemaking. Bidisha's eyes remained locked on his, her breaths coming in sharp gasps as he filled her completely. "Please," she moaned, her voice a desperate plea. "I need...I need more."

Javed chuckled darkly, his thrusts growing more ********. "You want more?" he asked, his tone mocking. "You should have thought of that when you were with your little husband. You wasted your youth on a man who couldn't satisfy you."

Bidisha's eyes widened, the realization of his words hitting her like a slap. She had never admitted it, not even to herself, but there was truth in his taunts. With Javed, she felt a fullness, a completeness she had never known with me. His cock was like an invasion, exploring every untouched inch of her, filling her in a way she had never been before.

"You're so tight," he grunted, his eyes never leaving hers. "So unused. It's a crime to have wasted your youth on a man who couldn't even fathom the depth of your desires."

Her eyes widened in a mix of pleasure and pain, her body responding to the unyielding pressure of his thick cock. Each thrust hit a spot deep within her that she had never felt before, a spot that had lain dormant, waiting to be awakened by a man like him. "Y-yes," she stuttered, her voice strained with pleasure. "More...please, Javed."

Javed's grin grew wider as he watched her unravel beneath him. He knew he had her, that she was utterly lost to him. With a final, ****** thrust, he reached his peak, his orgasm ripping through him like a lightning bolt. He pulled out, the condom glistening with their combined juices.

With a sense of victory, he ripped it off, the latex stretching and snapping. He held it up, the warm, sticky fluid inside it a symbol of his conquest. Bidisha lay there, panting and exhausted, her eyes glazed over with lust and **********. Without a word, he smeared his seed inside the condom over her face, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose.

Her breathing grew erratic as she stared up at him, the *********** of the act only fueling her desire. The room was thick with the scent of their passion, a cloying, musky scent that seemed to cling to the walls and ********* me.

Javed rose from the bed, tossed the condom into the trash bin without a second glance, his movements filled with an easy confidence that only a man who knows he has complete power over a woman can possess. Bidisha lay there, her face a canvas of his dominance, his cum streaking her cheeks like war paint. "Go," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Wash your face. You're a mess."

Her legs wobbly, Bidisha slid off the bed, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax. She stumbled towards the bathroom, her mind racing with a cocktail of emotions - guilt, pleasure, and a desperate need for more. Each step was a silent confession of her **********, a testament to the power Javed held over her.

As the bathroom door clicked shut, Javed reached for his phone, a smug smile playing on his lips. He typed away for a moment before tossing it onto the bed. My own phone, hidden in my pocket, buzzed with a new message. I pulled it out, my heart racing. The screen revealed a simple text from Javed: 'Where are you, cuck? I have already completed round 1" It was a taunt, a declaration of victory, and a demand for my acknowledgment of the new reality.

Javed had heard the buzz sound of the message that i have received from him. He laughed out loud saying he didn't know that I had arrived and was watching them from outside. He called out to me, "Vikram, show yourself, don't be shy now. You're already part of the show."

With a trembling hand, I pushed the door open wider. Bidisha emerged from the bathroom, her eyes wide with shock and horror. She was stark naked, her skin still glistening from their encounter. She looked at me, her mouth open, but no words came out.

Javed, completely unfazed by my presence, stood up from the bed, his cock still hard. He sauntered over to her, his naked body moving with the confidence of a man who owned the room, owned her. "Look who's here," he said, a smug grin spreading across his face as he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Your loving husband, come to watch his wife become a whore."

Bidisha's eyes widened, and she gasped, the reality of the situation slapping her across the face like a cold wet towel. Her body went rigid with fear and embarrassment, the tears in her eyes spilling over onto her cheeks. "Vikram," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I can explain."

But Javed was already shaking his head, his grip on her waist tightening. "You don't need to explain anything to him," he said, his voice cold and dismissive. "You're here with me now. He's just a spectator in the grand theater of your life." He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "A pathetic little man who can't satisfy you. A cuckold."

The word hung in the air, heavy with its meaning. Bidisha's eyes snapped to mine, the fear in them mirroring my own horror. "No," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "It's not like that."

But Javed wasn't about to let her speak. He grabbed a fistful of her long, black hair, yanking her head back sharply. "You don't speak unless I tell you to," he snarled, his grip unforgiving. She yelped in pain, her eyes watering as he ****** her to her knees.

He stepped closer to me, his semi-erect cock bobbing in the air. "Show your husband how much you love sucking cock," he demanded, pushing it towards her face. "Show him how eager you are to please me."

Bidisha's eyes darted to mine, a silent plea for mercy, but I was frozen, unable to move or speak. The rage and *********** inside me were a storm, but I was the eye of the hurricane, eerily calm. She whimpered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, but Javed had no intention of letting her escape. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged, hard. "Open your mouth," he ordered, his voice cold and unyielding.

Her eyes squeezed shut, she obeyed, and Javed's cock, still slick from their encounter, was pushed between her lips. He held her head in place, his hand a vice around her hair as he began to face-fuck her, his hips thrusting in a punishing rhythm. Each time he pulled out, he smacked her cheeks with the head of his cock, leaving a trail of pre-cum that glistened on her skin. She gagged and ******, her eyes watering, but she didn't fight back. The fear and ********** on her face was a twisted mirror of the desire I had seen earlier, and it was more arousing than I ever could have imagined.

He looked over at me, a smug grin playing on his lips. "Look at her," he said, his voice taunting. "Look at those beautiful lips, so eager to take me in." He grabbed her chin, ******* her to look up at me. Her eyes were wide and pleading, but she didn't resist. Instead, she took a deep breath and swallowed, her throat working around his thick shaft.

"See, Vikram?" Javed said, his grip on her hair tightening. "You love watching me use your wife like this. It's what you were born for." He waved his cock in front of her face, the head glistening with her saliva. "Such a good little cocksucker."

Her eyes widened further as she took in the sight of my erection, the betrayal stark in her gaze. But the spark of defiance in her eyes was gone, replaced by a mix of fear and something else. Something darker. Something that whispered of the power he had over her. "Look at him," Javed demanded, his voice like a whip cracking through the air. "Look how much he's enjoying watching you like this."

Bidisha's eyes darted to my hand, watching as I slowly unbuckled my pants and pulled out my cock. It was thick and hard, a silent testament to the perverse thrill that was coursing through my body. Her eyes were filled with a mix of horror and fascination, and as she watched me begin to stroke myself, she took him back into her mouth with renewed vigor. Her cheeks hollowed out, her throat working around him, her eyes never leaving my hand. There was shock in her face, but also a strange sort of excitement.

Javed's eyes never left mine as he continued to fuck her mouth. He was enjoying the power he had over us both, the control he wielded like a weapon. His hand tightened in her hair, and he began to fuck her face harder, his cock plunging deep into her throat before withdrawing with a wet pop. "Look at me," he growled, and she obeyed, her eyes watering as she stared up at him. Her mouth was a mess, slick with saliva and pre-cum, her lips bruised and swollen.

The sight of her like this, so utterly debased and submissive, was like a punch to the gut. But I couldn't tear my eyes away. Each time she gagged, each time she coughed, each time she struggled to breathe, it only made my cock throb more. The room was silent except for the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth, the occasional whine of pain escaping her. She was his, completely and utterly, and the knowledge was a twisted thrill that coiled in my stomach.

"Please," she gasped around his shaft, her eyes watering. "My throat hurts."

Javed's response was swift and cruel. His hand flew to the side of her face, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. "You're not here to talk," he snarled, his eyes blazing with anger. "You're here to serve."

Bidisha's eyes watered from the impact, her cheek reddening, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth wider, her eyes never leaving mine. She was a vision of pain and **********, her mouth a wet, willing receptacle for his cock. Each time she took him in, she chocked around him, the vibrations sending a shiver down my spine.

Javed's eyes narrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his hand releasing her hair. He spit a thick glob into her open mouth, watching as it landed on her tongue. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, but she knew better than to protest. With a quick nod of his head, she swallowed it, her eyes never leaving his. It was a silent testament to her **********, a declaration of her new role in our twisted love triangle.