A year ago, my life took a turn that I never could have imagined. My husband, a man devoted to his import and export business, was often away in India. Upon his return, sex was the last thing on his mind, leaving my pussy aching and neglected. I wasn’t always a sex freak, but the constant neglect had awakened a hunger within me that I couldn’t ignore.
It all began when Arun, my husband’s friend, invited us to his birthday party. My husband was away on business, so I attended alone. I arrived at the party in a traditional saree, but quickly realized that I was overdressed. The other women were dressed in revealing Western attire, their deep cleavages and short dresses captivating the attention of every man in the room. I felt out of place, but also intrigued by the blatant sexuality on display.
The next day, I found myself at the mall, buying sexy, cleavage-baring dresses that I would never have considered before. I felt a thrill as I purchased them, imagining the looks I would get from men when I wore them.
Two days later, Arun invited me on a trip with some of his friends. There were five of us in total: me, Arun, Vikas and his wife, and Manish, the oldest of the group. At the resort, I initially wore a modest kurta pajama, playing the part of the dutiful, sanskari wife. But as the others prepared for a night out at the local market, I slipped into one of my new dresses.
The deep V-neck accentuated my full, round boobs, pushing them up and together, creating a tantalizing display of cleavage. The short skirt showed off my long, toned legs, and I felt a rush of excitement and nervousness as I stepped out of my room.
Vikas and his wife were nonchalant, as was Manish. But Arun… his eyes widened, and his gaze fixed on my cleavage. He made no attempt to hide his stare, his eyes roaming over my body like a hungry tiger.
“Waah Bhauju, looking sexy,” he complimented, a wicked grin spreading across his face. I smiled back, feeling a thrill at his approving look.
Throughout our adventure in the market, Arun’s eyes remained glued to my boobs. He made no effort to hide his lust, and I found myself enjoying the attention. My pussy throbbed with each stolen glance, hungry for something more.
Back at the resort, Arun suggested a swim in the pool. I changed into a bikini that I had bought on a whim, feeling a rush of excitement and nervousness as I stepped out of my room. Arun’s jaw dropped as he took in my nearly naked body, his shorts tenting with a growing boner.
In the pool, Arun played with me, splashing water, teasing me, and “accidentally” brushing against my body. My pussy throbbed, hungry for his cock. He saw the lust in my eyes, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before something happened.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, there was a soft knock on my door. I opened it, feigning sleepy surprise. Before I could speak, Arun’s lips crashed onto mine, his strong hands gripping my back, pulling me close. He pushed me inside, locking the door behind him.
“Arun, what are you doing?” I whispered, my heart pounding with excitement and guilt. “What about your friend? My husband?”
“Shh, Bhauju. You know you want this,” he murmured, his hands sliding under my top, cupping my bare boobs. I gasped as his thumbs circled my hardening nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my pussy.
He quickly undressed me, leaving me naked and exposed. His eyes roamed over my body, lingering on my shaved pussy. He grinned, “You’re a naughty one, aren’t you, bhauju? Such a smooth, inviting pussy. You want to be fucked, don’t you?”
I should have felt shame or guilt, but all I felt was raw, primal lust. I wanted to be his slut, to be used and fucked and filled with his cock.
Arun pulled out his thick, hard cock, stroking it slowly as he looked at my naked body. I dropped to my knees, looking up at him as I took his dick into my mouth. He groaned, grabbing a fistful of my hair as I sucked him deep.
“Fuck, bhauju, you’re a natural cocksucker,” he grunted, his hips thrusting as he fucked my mouth. I gagged slightly, my eyes watering as his cock hit the back of my throat. But I loved it. I loved the dirty, used feeling, the taste of his precum on my tongue.
He pulled his cock from my mouth, slapping my face lightly with it. I moaned, sticking out my tongue, trying to lick his dick as it hit my cheek. He grinned down at me, his eyes filled with lust and approval.
Arun pulled me to my feet, spinning me around and bending me over the bed. He grabbed my ass, squeezing and kneading it before spreading my cheeks wide. I felt his hot breath on my pussy, then his tongue, licking and probing my wet folds.
“Oh god, Arun!” I moaned, gripping the sheets as his tongue flicked against my clit. He ate my pussy like a starving man, his tongue and lips working me into a frenzy. I pushed back against his face, grinding my pussy against his mouth, chasing my orgasm.
Just as I was about to come, Arun pulled away, leaving me empty and aching. I looked back at him, begging for more. He grinned, his face wet with my juices, and slammed his cock into my dripping pussy.
I cried out, gripping the sheets as he filled me completely. His cock was thick and long, stretching my pussy, hitting spots that I never knew existed.
“Fuck, bhauju, you’re such a tight slut,” he grunted, his hips slapping against my ass as he pounded into me. His balls slapped against my clit, sending waves of pleasure through my body.
He fucked me hard, like he hated me, like he wanted to punish me. And I loved it. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, begging for more.
“Yes, Arun, fuck me! Use me like your slut!” I moaned, my pussy clenching around his cock.
He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back as he fucked me. His other hand gripped my hip, his fingers digging into my soft flesh. I felt owned, possessed, completely at his mercy. And I fucking loved it.
Arun flipped me onto my back, spreading my legs wide. His cock plunged deep into my pussy, his pubic bone grinding against my clit. I screamed, my body convulsing as an intense orgasm ripped through me.
“Oh fuck, Arun, I’m coming!” I screamed, my pussy pulsing around his cock.
He groaned, his cock pulsing as he shot his hot cum deep into my fertile pussy. He collapsed on top of me, both of us panting and sweaty. But he wasn’t done with me yet.
Arun’s cock stayed hard, still buried deep inside my pussy. He started to move again, his hips thrusting slowly as he fucked me gently. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting every inch of his cock.
He kissed me, his tongue exploring my mouth as his cock explored my pussy. I moaned, my body responding to his touch, my pussy getting wetter and wetter.
Arun rolled us over, pulling me on top of him. I sat up, his cock still buried deep inside me. I started to ride him, my hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. His hands gripped my boobs, squeezing and kneading them as I fucked him.
“That’s it, bhauju, ride my cock,” he groaned, his hips thrusting up to meet mine. “Show me what a good little slut you are.”
I moaned, my pussy clenching around his cock as I rode him faster and harder. His hands moved to my hips, guiding me, controlling my movements. I was his fucktoy, his slut, his to use and enjoy.
Arun sat up, wrapping his arms around me, his cock still buried deep inside my pussy. He kissed me, his tongue exploring my mouth as he started to fuck me again. His hips moved in a fast, hard rhythm, his cock pounding into me.
I moaned, my body bouncing on his cock, my boobs pressing against his chest. He fucked me like that for what felt like hours, his cock never softening, his body never tiring.
Finally, with a loud groan, he came again, his cock pulsing as he filled my pussy with his hot cum. I collapsed on top of him, both of us panting and sweaty and completely spent.
We fucked for over an hour before finally falling asleep, naked and entwined in each other’s arms. The next morning, Arun woke early and went to the reception area, waiting for the others to wake up. He acted like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just fucked his friend’s wife, his bhauju, like a dirty slut.
But I knew better. I knew that this was just the beginning, that Arun and I would fuck again. And again. And we did. Over the following months, Arun and I fucked more than eight times, each encounter more intense and explicit than the last.
He treated me like his personal fucktoy, using me for his pleasure, and I reveled in it. I embraced my inner slut, loving the dirty, used feeling that came with being fucked like a whore. Arun’s cock became an addiction, a drug that I couldn’t get enough of. And I knew that I would do anything, be anything, for another taste of his thick, hard dick.
read more how Arun introduced me to his friends and make me their slut too.
My husband’s friends fucked me hard part 2- nepali sex stories
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