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Malini From 4B Rode Me Raw While Her Husband Kept Calling

Malini From 4B Rode Me Raw While Her Husband Kept Calling

7 min readDesi Sex Stories

The gas flame was still hissing under the kadhai when Malini yanked my hand straight between her thighs. People dig desi neighbour sex stories online but none of them know what actually went down in my block. Thick wetness already soaked the cotton of her petticoat. She did not ask soft. She shoved my fingers harder and spat that if I stopped she would scream loud enough for the whole gallery to come running.

Rented flats in Jaipur are paper thin. I knew that. Still did not pull out my fingers. Her cunt gripped like she had been waiting hours for this exact dirty mess. Sweat stuck her blouse to her back. Onion smell mixed with her cunt smell and my cock jumped so hard it hurt against the zip.

Do it properly na gande bande she growled near my mouth. Not like those soft boys. Ruin it. Make it hurt so I walk crooked when he comes back.

Kitchen Door Half Open And Her Legs Already Shaking

Husband gate meeting she had told me earlier by the water tank, voice casual, eyes anything but. Kid at coaching till six. That window sat in my head like a damn bomb. Risk made me nastier. Pushed her over the sink edge without warning. Petticoat hauled up to her waist. No panty. Just dark hair and swollen lips shiny enough to slap.

Stink of her hit me first. Sharp, unwashed afternoon lust. Dropped to a crouch and dragged my tongue through that slit because filthy felt right. She jerked and nearly cracked her hip on the stainless steel. Bol na she ordered low. Bol you love eating next door aunty just to spit it down later.

Told her I loved it. Told her she tasted like every dirty secret a married cunt should hide. She laughed mean and pushed her ass back into my face till my nose crushed against her hole. Breath got loud. Mine. Hers. Both of us animals for those seconds.

Legs started shaking weird while I sucked her clit dry. She kept cursing me in half Hinglish half pure low filth. Call me randi properly. Call me the cheap neighbour whore who spreads when tiffin burns. Say you will dump load so deep my husband smells it under my perfume tonight.

Said every word. Cock leaking down my thigh like a teenager again. When I stood and freed it she looked over her shoulder and hissed that it looked bigger than the last time I rubbed it against her sari in the lift. Last time I almost came just from fabric friction. This time no fabric stopping anything.

How Loud She Got When I Split Her Open

Shoved in raw because both of us wanted the burn. No condom talk. No soft prep. Just thick head forcing her open and her mouth dropping open silent at first then loud enough I clapped my palm over it. Salty skin under my hand. She licked between my fingers while I bottomed out.

Tight. Hot. Greedy. Walls fluttered like she wanted to milk me dry on the first strokes. Started fucking her against the sink hard enough steel rattled. Ladle clattered into the wash. Somewhere outside a scooter horn blared and panic shot through me mixed with the need to pound deeper.

Harder you bastard she mumbled under my hand. Break the married pussy. Treat it like free dump. Your picture comes when I close eyes next his bed I swear.

Did harder. Hip bones slamming her soft butt. Sweat flew. My balls slapped wet. She reached back clawing my thigh leaving nail tracks. Position stayed ugly and real. One of her sandals kicked off. Floor sticky under my foot. Too much spit and fucking juice dripping down both our legs.

Pulled out suddenly just to watch her hole try to stay open. Pink. Abused. Pushed back in slower so she felt every ridge. She bit my palm hard enough to almost skin it and told me she would suck the pain better later if I filled her till it leaked into her walking.

Phone started buzzing on the slab. His name flashed. She saw it reflected in the steel plate near the soap. Did not make me stop. Instead she reached, rejected the call with shaking fingers, and smirked ugly. He can wait. You first. Empty those balls raand ke. Use me before I remember I should feel shame.

Slammed into her until she gasped without sound. Kept calling her everything low and wrong. Neighbour slut. Building masseuse without the rate card. The woman who opens kitchen for cock while dal sticks to the kadhai. She nodded wrecked and pushed back wilder, like praise was the beatings she paid for.

Almost Caught And Still Begging Dirtier

Second call came. Then a WhatsApp tone. She twisted, put the phone on speaker without telling me first, and mouthed finish or I die. His voice flat across the line asking why she rejected. Did the gas go off or what.

She answered sweet and cracked at the same time while I kept grinding deep slow so the slap noise faded. Said sorry jaan. Hand wet. Cutting sabzi. Will call in ten. Meanwhile my cock sat buried to the root and her walls milked me in panic pulses. He bought it. Hung up after some waste talk about coming late.

The second the call died she went feral. Spun facing me, hopped half on the counter awkward as hell, and pulled me by the base with her own fist. Put it back. Now you do not pull out. Cum where a proper husband should not allow. Look at my face while you dirty me full.

Looked. Eyes glassy. Smear of kajal. Mouth swollen from my palm. Face of a woman throwing her whole respect into the drain for one ugly afternoon. Stroked into her standing position messy, one foot braced on a low stool so the angle punched that spongy bit she kept yelping about. Sweat ran into my eyes. Tasted salt and her earlier juice still on my upper lip.

She started babbling worse. Called herself his respected wife in the colony kitty and my cheap hole in the same breath. Begged me to talk about her like meat. So I did. Told her her breasts looked heavier hanging out the blouse than they ever did at festival fluff. Told her her cunt took me greedier than any unmarried girl past my twenties. Told her I jerked thinking of her asking for sheet pan leftovers while hiding drips under her sari pallu.

She came first, sudden, whole body locking then jerking like power cut returned. No pretty moan. Just a choked dirty sob and a rush of more wet around my cock. Legs went useless so I held her thighs open and kept punching through the aftershocks until mine ripped up from the spine.

Dumped hard. Rope after rope. Felt myself painting her inside and still grinding to push it deeper like a fool who wants evidence. She gritted teeth and demanded every drop stay. Wanted it messy walking. Wanted the sneaky proof when she sat with neighbours later smiling civil.

Pulled out slow. Watch. Thick white slid immediately down toward her thigh and she scooped some with two fingers and stuffed it back in laughing vicious. Then wiped the rest on the inside of her blouse cup like a secret receipt.

Cleaned almost nothing. Both of us still breathing like stairs. She fixed petticoat terrible, left the blouse half buttoned wrong, and shoved the forgotten spatula under a running tap as if that made the room innocent again. Smelled like sex thick enough to choke. Windows open would have sentenced us.

Before she slipped out she gripped my jaw and said next time you knock after ten only if you bring that same animal. If my husband sleeps light you climb from the back grill like a thief. I will keep the latch half done on purpose. And if you ever get soft on me I will tell the whole gallery you forced me just so the humiliation burns longer.

Door clicked. Corridor quiet. My knees would not lock straight for a full minute. Cock still twitching sticky. In the sink a single bead of us slowly rolling toward the drain.

Later that evening her husband laughed with me by the parking about traffic and late meetings. Stood there nodding while her husband smelled nothing. My own fingers still had the faint ghost of her under the nails. Could not wash it full away. Did not want to.

Night stretched long. Walls thin enough I heard her television faint. Heard nothing else. Still lay there replaying every ugly word she forced me to say and every dumber risk we took with the door barely pushed closed. Fucking married neighbour becomes a sickness after one afternoon like that. Tomorrow the lift ride will already feel twined with a hard-on and worse ideas. And she knows it. That smirk sticking means she plans the next mess longer and dirtier while dal burns again on purpose.

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