I never put much stock in those indian wife sex stories people share till the night my whole world flipped open like a cheap blouse. Name is Deepak, thirty four, run machines at a textile godown on the edge of Surat. Wife Kavita is twenty nine, soft hips, heavy breasts that always strained her cotton nighties, and a mouth that used to stay quiet in bed. My younger brother Rakesh, twenty seven, had been crashing at our two room flat for three weeks after his factory job went bust. I worked nights mostly so the two of them were alone a lot. That should have warned me.
Shift got cancelled halfway because the boiler packed up. I took the shared auto home around eleven, feet hurting, just wanting leftover dal and sleep. Gate was unlocked. Lights were dim inside. I heard it before I saw anything. That wet slapping sound and Kavita making these low animal groans she never made with me. I left my chappals by the door and moved like a thief.
Hiding Behind The Old Almirah Door
Our bedroom door was half open. I slid behind the tall wooden almirah we keep clothes in and peeked through the crack. There she was on all fours in the middle of our marriage bed, nighty shoved up over her waist, saree petticoat tangled around one ankle. Rakesh was behind her totally naked, thin but with a thick dark cock splitting her cunt open. He held her hips hard enough to leave marks and kept slamming in. Every thrust made her ass cheeks shake and her hanging breasts swing under her.
She was saying bhaiya aur zor se maar na, bilkul andar tak ghusaa, don’t stop even if I cry. Her voice was broken and hungry. Rakesh laughed low and spit on her hole then pushed deeper. I could see her juices coating his shaft and dripping onto the sheet we bought last Diwali. My own cock went rock hard against my pants even while my stomach turned. I rubbed myself through the cloth without thinking.
He pulled out sudden and flipped her onto her back like she weighed nothing. Kavita spread her thighs wide right away, fingers already digging into her own juicy folds. Rakesh climbed over and shoved back in with one long stroke. The wet sound was so filthy. She locked her legs around his waist and begged him to wreck her married chut properly. He started pounding like a piston, bed frame knocking the wall, her tits bouncing left and right. I watched his heavy balls slap against her ass again and again.
She Begged For Places I Never Touched
Rakesh slowed and pulled his shiny cock free. It stood rigid, veins thick, tip leaking. He dragged it up to her tight rear hole. Kavita’s eyes went wide but she did not stop him. She said do it devar, I have been thinking about your lund in my gaand since you moved in, just go slow first. He spat again and pushed the head against that puckered ring. She hissed and grabbed the pillow but pushed her hips back to take more. Inch by inch that fat cock disappeared into her ass. I almost came in my pants watching my wife’s face twist between pain and dirty pleasure.
Once he bottomed out he started fucking her backside steady. Kavita rubbed her clit hard and loud, juices squirting a little onto his stomach. She kept moaning rakesh bhaiya fill your bhabhi’s dirty gaand, use me like the randi I am when Deepak is gone. Every word hit me like a slap but my hand was already inside my trousers pumping. He reached forward and stuffed three fingers into her open mouth. She sucked them messy while he hammered her ass deeper and deeper.
After a long stretch he pulled out of her stretched hole and shoved straight back into her cunt without wiping. The mix of spit and her cream made an even nastier squelch. Kavita came hard first, whole body shaking, thighs clamping him, a long broken wail leaving her throat. Her pussy visibly clenched and pushed out clear fluid around his cock. Rakesh did not ease up. He kept drilling through her orgasm till she was babbling nonsense mixed with gaaliyan.
The Load He Dumpmed Inside Her
He flipped her again so she straddled him reverse. She sank down on that greased pole and rode like she had been starving for years. Her round ass slapped his thighs, brown skin shiny with sweat. From my angle I saw everything, the way her stretched lips gripped him on every rise and fall, the way her asshole winked still open from the earlier fucking. She reached back and spread her cheeks for him while bouncing harder. Rakesh gripped her waist and thrust up to meet her, balls tight.
He growled he was close. Kavita slammed down and held still, grinding her clit on his base, and told him to pump every drop into her sabhya housewife womb. He roared low and I watched his cock pulse as he flooded her. Thick white cum started leaking out around the seal almost immediately, running down his shaft and pooling on his balls. She stayed seated and milked him with little squeezes till he finished twitching. Only then she lifted off slow. A heavy glob of his seed plopped onto the sheet right where I used to sleep.
They collapsed side by side breathing hard. Kavita idly played with the mess between her legs, scooping some onto her fingers and tasting it. She said next time you do me in the kitchen when he is on night duty, I want it rougher. Rakesh laughed and slapped her sticky thigh. I backed away from the almirah silent, cock throbbing so bad it hurt. I slipped out to the balcony and finished myself in four strokes, shooting over the railing into the dark colony below while their low voices still murmured inside.
I waited twenty more minutes then made loud noises coming in again like the auto had just dropped me. They scrambled, lights flicked brighter, Kavita rushed to the bathroom. Rakesh sat on the sofa pretending to watch the muted TV. I ate the cold roti she heated without saying much. That night I fucked her myself after Rakesh went to the other mattress. Her cunt was loose and slippery with his cum still inside. I said nothing and just used the sloppy hole till I added my own load on top of his. She came again quiet, eyes closed, maybe still thinking of him.
Since then it keeps happening. Some nights I leave for work and double back to watch. She takes him longer now, lets him finish on her face or over her heavy breasts. Once I saw him make her lick her own cream off his cock while she fingered herself on the floor. I still climb on her after and never mention the thick cream I find already painted inside her. Part of me hates it. Bigger part of me stays hard all day remembering how my decent wife turned into this moaning needy thing for my own brother. I jack off in the godown toilet to the memory of her ass taking him and her dirty Hindi begging. Whatever we had before is gone. What is left is wetter and dirtier and I am not stopping it.
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