Tag: reluctant

I tried to sleep, but it was tough, knowing what was happening the room next door. Even around 3 in the morning, when my eyes suddenly opened, and I listened in, I heard another person come in to my wife's room.I heard a zipper being pulled down.SLAP!"Be a good girl and open your mouth."I heard my wife whimper, but she did as she was told.A week had gone by and true to his word, Bheem had released Poonam back to the crew. This time, the crew did not do any taking of turns with her. They had all mutually decided, behind their captain's back, that Poonam was now going to be a free for all.The next couple of days were days of pure torture for Poonam.The men had their way with her all day and all night during their "breaks". Every other hour, they would come in, either alone or in pairs, and do as their heart pleased with my wife. I wasn't available in my room to hear the details, but I would know it later. Throughout the day, my wife was fucked hard, made to suck their dicks, her boobs

Two days later, around the evening time, I was scrubbing one of the railings on the second deck, when I heard a commotion coming from the deck below -- the main deck. Altaf was with me and craned his neck to look. It was just about half an hour to sunset and a cool breeze was blowing from the Indian Ocean.It was my wife Poonam.She was naked, of course. Poonam was on her knees on the floor of the deck, her hair tied up in the back and held in a firm grip by Bheem. His dhoti was on the ground at his feet, and she had his cock in her mouth. My wife was giving him a blowjob.And surrounding them were the rest of the crew. All of them were relaxing on deck chairs, watching the show. I saw Lalan, Suraj, Vivek and Sunny. I didn't see Madhavan -- he must have been on the bridge. And Altaf was watching with me from the upper deck.Bheem held Poonam's hair in his fist, pulling her head up and down on his erection."Yeah, that's good, raandi. Keep that up, just like that, you hot little slut. I'm

I looked around. I was in a storeroom. It was a half filled with all sort of boxes. In the other half of the space, they had put a small comforter in one corner. That was to be my bedding, and I was given one sheet to cover myself as well. In the other corner there was a bucket. That was, I was told, for me to pee in the night if I wanted to, since the door was being locked from the outside.What were in those boxes? I pried one of them open. There were lots of newspapers. Old newspapers, for some reason. And buried beneath the newspapers was a lot of wooden blocks. Now what were these men doing with boxes full of wooden blocks, or these old newspapers, I had no idea.A small vent in the wall above the boxes let some air come in and circulate, so I could breathe. There was a light bulb hanging from the ceiling with a switch. Another small circular window, probably no bigger than a couple of feet with the glasses locked, let me look outside at the dark sea. This was to be my home for the

We never saw the terrorists' boat coming. I wasn't even paying much attention. We thought at first it was a fishing trawler. It certainly looked like one of the many we had passed. Suddenly, it passed very close to us. It dwarfed our little yacht completely. As we watched, a few men climbed down a rope ladder from the side of the trawler and got into a little dinghy and rowed towards us. We didn't think much of it, until they were right on top of us, and in a trice began to climb into our little yacht, and before drawing their guns on us.There were three of us on the yacht. There was me, a thirty-year-old whose daytime job is a freelance reporter. I was also a pretty good soccer player, playing for the second division team of Bombay's famous football team The Colonials Mumbai FC. There was a chance that next year I might make it to the premier division. Not bad for a hobby.The others were my twenty-two-year-old sexy and gorgeous tall, big breasted wife Poonam, the love of my life, and

After the regular domestic chores of cooking sweeping and washing, as usual, I took a long bath and put on a fresh saree. It was a warm sunny day of November and I felt very lively and lightheaded. It was midday and my plan was to take a long nap after pleasuring myself.My private parts were very tingly and warm, it was time to take care of her, my little nether world. Lately that was my only option to relive myself and I had a grudge for my thick husband. Then I saw a cute boy opening the wicket gate and coming in. He seemed to have no confusion, apparently, he knew the place.The ruddy little boy was my son's classmate, he had been introduced to me by my son Tomy at school on one occasion, as his best friend. From the first look itself, I liked him. I had held his hand and looked deep into his large innocent eyes. He looked so innocent and cute, and I had an urge to hold him close to my chest. On a PTA meeting I had met his mother also. She was a striking beauty, a personification of

Prameela was buying vegetables at the farmer's market when she felt someone staring at her intently. She glanced around, trying to figure out who it was.Her suspicion was right--a boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was gazing at her like he wanted to devour her.His stare made her uncomfortable. After all, her own son was around the same age. That thought sparked a flicker of doubt in her mind. "If this boy was staring at me like this, could my son be doing the same to some other woman?"And then, another thought crept in. At home, she was often careless with her saree pallu. Her breasts were full and heavy--try as she might to conceal them, they always seemed ready to spill out of her blouse. What if, God forbid, her own son looked at her the way this boy did...?She was lost in these spiraling thoughts when--"What's wrong? You're lost in some deep thinking!" came the voice of her friend Kavitha, who had joined her at the market.Prameela subtly pointed at the boy with her eyes and

8.1: The Husband's ReturnSunday morning broke over Hyderabad with a lazy, golden haze, the sun spilling through the curtains of Madhuri's sprawling two-story home, casting long shadows across the marble floor.The front door creaked open, and her heart jolted--Ramesh shuffled in, his suitcase dragging behind him, his tired frame slouched in a crumpled blazer. At 42, he was still handsome--sharp jaw, salt-and-pepper hair--but his eyes carried a weariness that matched his limp spirit."Home finally," he said, voice hoarse from jetlag, dropping his bag by the sofa. She straightened, smoothing her saree--her navel peeked out, a reflex--and forced a smile, her volcano simmering beneath the mask of a dutiful wife. "How was the trip, Ramesh? Wasn't expecting you this early." she asked, stepping closer, her scent--jasmine and sweat--wafting toward him.He nodded, sinking into the couch, his gaze flickering over her curves, but it dulled fast--no spark, no hunger. "Thought of giving you a

4.1: The Shame's EchoMonday morning broke over Hyderabad like a heavy shroud, the air thick with humidity and the weight of Madhuri's unraveling. She sat hunched on her bed, still nude from last night's video call, the purple scarf crumpled beside her, her alt phone--ShyVelvet--a silent accuser on the sheets. DevilzMask's reveal--"I've known all along, Madhuri"--echoed in her skull, leaving a bitter memory tainted by shock and embarrassment.Her body still trembled, her pussy faintly pulsing from the near climax, but her mind was a storm of regret, shame flooding every corner of her being."This better be a nightmare" she whispered, her voice hoarse, tears streaking her face as she replayed the call--his voice, his cock, her surrender, and that final, devastating blow: her name on his lips.She grabbed her phones, hands shaking, and opened ShyVelvet--nudes, voice notes, videos of her fingering herself, all sent to him, all seen by a stranger who knew her."What have I done!?" she sobbed,

The mirror in Madhuri's bedroom was her silent confidant. One fine morning, she stood before it, adjusting the pleats of her emerald-green saree, the silk hugging her thick, curvy figure like a lover's embrace.At 5'7", she towered over most women in her luxury Banjara Hills neighborhood, her 36D breasts straining against her blouse, a sight that made her husband Ramesh's colleagues stutter during dinner parties.Her long, straight nose flared slightly as she dabbed rose-scented perfume on her neck, her plump lips--juicy as petals--curving into a proud smile. She knew she was beautiful."I'm a living poem, aren't I?" she murmured to her reflection, her brown eyes glinting with a mix of arrogance and longing.Beauty was her armor, her shield against the whispers of a society that demanded she be nothing more than a devoted wife and mother.Every man who stared too long, every jealous glance from a friend's husband--it fueled her.Ramesh might not satisfy her anymore, his 5-inch efforts

என்னால் இருந்த இடத்தை விட்டு அசையக்கூட முடியலை. மிக அசிங்கமா இருந்தது. மீனாட்சி என்னை உலுக்கிவிட்டு எழுந்திருக்கச் சொன்னாள். குண்டிக்கு நடுவில் மடிந்திருந்த புடவையை இழுத்து விட்டுவிட்டு நின்று கொண்டிருந்தநான்கு பேரையும் பார்த்தேன். எல்லாருக்கும் சுன்னி கிளம்பியிருக்கும். வேட்டியோடு சேர்த்துத் தடவிக் கொண்டிருந்தார்கள். குள்ளன் ஒரு படி மேலே போய், வேட்டிக்குள்ள