Fucking My Next Door Best Friend Indian Wife While Husband Away

The sun hung low in the dusk sky as Ashok returned home from work. Tired after a long day, he unlocked the door to his sudhern Indian home and stepped inside. Kicking off his sandals, he called out, “Jyoti? I’m home.”

There was no answer. Strange, he thought, considering Jyoti was usually more attentive when he got back. Making his way to the bedroom, he stopped short at the door, astonished by the scene before him.

There, bent over the bed and naked from the waist down, was his wife Jyoti. And behind her, bushes of bushy black pubic hair flying, was their neighbor and Ashok’s best friend Ravi. He was slamming his thick cock into Jyoti’s eager quim, her ample breasts bouncing with each thrust.

Ashok stood frozen, hands gripping the doorframe in shock. Jyoti, panting and face flushed, suddenly glanced over and spotted her astonished husband. Rather than showing any alarm, she locked eyes with Ashok and bit her lip. “Mmm baby, you like what you see?” she asked breathily.

Ravi turned, still pounding into Jyoti hard. “Oh, you’d better believe he does! Finally got your naughty wifey to spread those luscious legs,” he grunted.

Ashok found himself rock hard, arousal surging. This was so wrong…and yet, the taboo thrill was irresistible. Dropping his briefcase, he crossed the room and reached out to cup Jyoti’s heavy breasts. She moaned, arching into his touch.

“Mmm, you jealous, baby?” she purred, glistening folds clenching around Ravi’s pistoning shaft. “Mmph, I was so bored while you were gone, needed some cock so bad! Don’t be mad, please…”

“Shh, shh,” Ashok soothed, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “So long as you’re still mine after this. Fuck her, Ravi, pound that dirty whore cunt!”

Ravi gleamed with wicked delight, his chocolate skin sheened with sweat. “Your wish is my command, my brothers!” Gripping her hips, he redoubled his efforts, rutting into Jyoti like a man possessed.

“Yes, yesss, ruin her, ruin me!” Jyoti cried, lost to the pleasure. Ashok could see her plump pussy lips stretched obscenely around Ravi’s girthy hose. The bed creaked under the force of their coupling.

Watching intently, Ashok undressed with shaking fingers. His wife’s cries of ecstasy were unlike anything he’d ever heard from her. When Ravi reached around to frig Jyoti’s engorged clit, she practically convulsed, honeyed nectar gushing to bathe his driving cock.

“Ohhhh fuuuuuck!” Ravi roared as he hilted himself inside her and exploded, seed spurting deep. Jyoti wailed, organism crashing through her. The room filled with the wet squelch of Ravi’s cum being churned under his hips.

Spent, Ravi withdrew, his softening member popping free with a gush of mingled juices. Jyoti collapsed face first onto the bed, moaning weakly. Pheromones thick with sex hung heavy in the air.

Ashok moved forward, stroking his achingly rigid member. He fisted a hand in Jyoti’s hair and yanked her head back, slapping the swollen head against her pretty face. “Lick it clean,” he commanded hoarsely. “Taste your cheating slut cunt, slut.”

Gasping with delight, Jyoti obeyed, lapping and slurping greedily at his cock, moaning at the tang of Ravi’s cum and her own arousal. “Mmmm… delicious,” she purred, licking her lips. “Feeds my hungry holes, so fucking good… Give me your cock, please! Want you in my other hole, need it so bad!”

Panting, Ashok obliged, dropping his pants and mounting her furled derriere in one fierce thrust. Jyoti shrieked, pushing back to meet his furious strokes. He hammered into her, bucking wildly, chasing his spend.

“So good, fuck me, ruin me, wreck my cheating holes!” Jyoti howled. The lewd slap of Ashok’s skin against hers rang out. Over Jyoti’s shoulder he could see Ravi, spent but still rock hard, rolling his shaft lewdly. At his dark wince, Jyoti crooked a finger, and he moved in.

“You want your husband to fill you? Or make you a creampied cumdump?” Ravi purred. “Spit roast you on our cock towers? Pump you full of every decadent drop?”

Three voices raised in off-key, slurred carnal threnody, extolling shocking delights, taboo yearnings unfettered. They entwined in desperate copulative communion, the good Indian wife debased and elated, stretching to accommodate their crude requirements…

Ravi and Ashok sampled her in every lewd configuration they could imagine – bending her over backwards to suck their poles like she was a piece of meat, passing his wilting cock between Jyoti’s teeth to discountenance him; Ashok haunted the ethnographic museums and gay bars for women to fuck and men to sucking like he was Alfred Kinsey with a tire iron; Ravi became a financial trader, married a blonde anesthesiologist, and brought her over to fuck the three of them, while Ashok bent a surprised Jyoti over the toilet for a good blasting…

Ashok came, chlorophyll smelling, fisting his palms in Jyoti’s lush hair, groaning, pushing himself into their wife’s waiting eggs as Ravi came like a geyser into her fist, splattering her pretty Indian face like the Minotaur’s prize after the Burning Bulls…

Her erstwhile-husband’s starchy love juice plunged deep into Jyoti’s petulating womb, clotting it, and in that instant all the sordid particulars of their sordid new life together resolved themselves, blushed sweet, divining the porniest path forward, novelist in every way possible that all the academic books and cultural theory said everyone was really subconsciously interested in!

She was pregnant with Ashok’s weird trader baby; madly in love with Clancy’s exotic diabetic wife; thinking of the Melvillian desires at work in the adulterous anti-lice campaign in Homs; daydreaming of breaking out her racy Bollywood-style outfit to cut a rug at the Sadh jagrated Krishna rave in the big muddy; thinking of buying Piperfest tickets for a spring getaway, and wondering if mail-order wedding dresses were real no telling what they might get up to next…