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Section 1

I am from India, from the city of Kolkata. I am employed in a pvt sector hospitality chain of repute as a Personal Assistant (PA) to the regional head. As on date I am 37, mother to three kids and wife to a man who maintains a record of consistently providing me with some of the most intense toe-curling, voice-choking, gasping, nails-digging-into-his-back, white-hot, spasmodical, ‘mini-death’ orgasms…ok, I may have gone a bit overboard there, but I guess you get the picture.

Before I got married I had my fair share of male attention and being subjected to pleasure by them. My husband is my soul mate but I realized that my internal circuitry is not built to be what’s called a one-man woman. My husband, well, he is a man and appreciates women in his own way, but would never probably offer to be my stag and get me new bulls. When I was discussing this on tumblr, a gentleman there requested me to write a small narrative of how I happened to meet my stag and be possessed by him for his personal use and use by the bulls he would identify and share me with to pleasure.

Keeping his request in mind i have started jotting down my thoughts. I would like to share my experience as I could remember with the experienced audience here. As I mentioned above although I am a shared-wife, I am not a hot-wife in its truest sense. In other words, it’s not my own husband that shares me with others. I am married for about 7 years now to this really wonderful gentleman who makes love not just to my body, but to my soul. Mine is an arranged marriage, a concept more popular in the orient than in the occident, whereby I met my husband for the first time when he came to meet his prospective bride, my best friend.

Due to a turn of events which really isn’t part of this discussion, he went back determined to marry me, long story short, we got married and it was love at first sight for both of us…yes, it happens.

Not only is his integrity above question, but also he knew how to make love to my soul while simultaneously fucking my body loose. He is extremely generous in giving me some of the best soul-crunching orgasms; orgasms that keep me shuddering so hard that he needs to hold me still and pin me under his wide chest to stabilize me. In short, he is my personal Lord Kaamdev (Hindu god of love and sex). His name started with the letter A, and I told him on my wedding night that I would call him my Adonis.

He looked as handsome as that and had an equally attractive physique to further support his title of Adonis. We both came clean to each other at the very first, even before we were married (we had to wait for almost about ten months to get a wedding venue of our choice; yes, it happens in India), that neither of us were virgins. I admitted that I have indulged in threesome with my ex-s and their friends and he came clean that he has had his share of sex with his ex-s. In other words, out trust level with each other was full and we had nothing to hide from our previous life.

We were both matured enough to understand the human need for physical pleasure, and since neither of us were saints, we were no exceptions to that need.

He is any woman’s dream man and I am the fortunate one who he proclaimed to the world as being husband to. After we got married, my love life was (and still is) at its height and so is my sex life. I did however discover that no matter who comes to my life, I still will crave physical proximity of other attractive men. This is something I could not get myself to admit to my husband, but I knew that it won’t be long before I would need another man to use my body…just my body, not my soul. My soul already belonged to my husband. It was this need that prompted me to agree to threesomes with my ex-s and their close friends. I never had any inhibitions about my physical presence and felt good to flaunt myself to my men within the boundaries of decency…at least till we had not decided to copulate.

The Party And The Morning After

It was probably around the second year of my marriage, and I hadn’t strayed one bit. Actually my husband was more than I could handle and he is very active to pleasure me physically. My husband informed me that the annual dinner in his office was convened. Spouses were allowed. The year before this, we had both been travelling and so we couldn’t attend. We both were eager to be there, to get to meet other people to socialize with and for him, to kind of show me off as well.

Although India is currently very widely influenced by the western dressing and in fact all the western dresses are very popular here as well, personally, I was always since attaining my youth have dressed myself in saree, a traditional Indian dress. For those in the west who are reading this, you may please Google for Saree. I have during my college had worn westerns like jeans and skirts and shirts and trousers, but have always felt that I look my best in a saree and could carry myself in it.

So, for this evening-party I dressed myself in a brown saree with deep-red sleeveless blouse and matching lingerie. It was a party, so a slightly plunged neckline and a more-than-normal low-cut on the back on my blouse were not inappropriate. Since I am of medium complexion, umm, maybe slightly on the duskier side, the darker shades look better on me.

It was organized in one of the large banquet halls, overlooking a sprawling green lawn, in a five star hotel. Some guests had already arrived that he got me introduced to. They were really nice people. I won’t deny that it felt good when some of them complimented me on my dress and I could see I was getting my share of male attention. Having said that, it would be wrong to not point out at this stage, that the male attention that I referred to above was the very decent kind where men appreciated me for how I looked but all within the limits of social decency.

There were drinks that were served and both I and my husband indulged. A jovial mood prevailed over the party.

It was quite late in the evening by that time when my husband said that he would like me to meet one of his long time colleagues who was till now posted abroad and have very recently returned to India. Rumours were that my husband could be considered next to fill up that position abroad. Both were at the same rank within the organization. His colleague was in the lawn and we were in the hall. So my husband showed me around to meet him.

Now, I am positive that all of you have heard the phrase ‘sparks flying’, as did I. But it was the first time when I was escorted to him and I got to look at his eyes and he shook my hand, that I literally felt hit by a thunderbolt. He was nothing extraordinary to look at. Neither handsome, nor bad, couple of inches taller to me (I am 5’8” myself, which is considered tall for Indian women), very well dressed in a black suit, possessed what looked like through the layers of his suit, a really swollen and large belly, dark-skinned, clean shaven. Even his shirt failed to trap tufts of dense black hair on his chest which popped out at the top.

As he shook my hand and made small talk while my husband introduced me, I could feel my heart would burst out from the rib cage. I could hear not a word that he said because of the sound of my own heartbeat that deafened me. I felt people around me could also probably hear it from how they sounded to me. I maintained my polite smile while he continued to hold and shake my hand while introducing himself. It went to a point when I finally managed to stammer, “I am sorry but I really didn’t catch your name in the loud music. Could you please tell me again?”

His name, for the purpose of this public document shall be R, which is the first letter of the name. We kept talking and in a while another colleague of my husband came up to inform that the boss wanted to speak to my husband. I was standing there in the lawn with R. There were quite a lot of other people who were also present around us, but in my mind I felt myself to be completely isolated with just R in that lawn.

Section 2

As I watched my husband go out of sight, R said, “for some reason you appear to be known to me from very long”. I said even I feel that way though I am pretty sure this is the first time that we are meeting. He asked me to take a seat at a table on the slightly thinner part of the crowd. Instead of sitting across me, he pulled his chair next to mine. He said, “I feel very familiar to you, would you mind if I feel your thigh?” I kind of screamed “yesssss” but it wasn’t heard, for it was only in my mind; outwardly I just smiled and mentioned, “I am sure there will be a time for that”. He smiled knowingly and I felt butterflies in my stomach.

He took out his mobile phone and asked me for my number. Something in me prompted me to narrate it effortlessly. He said, “good girl, save mine, will call you tomorrow once your husband reaches office”. I kind of mumbled off, “ok, will await your call”. There was a moment of awkward silence and he asked again, “just brush your leg against mine. The table cloth will prevent you to be seen by anyone”. I was extremely nervous but managed to align my leg with his and brushed against it. It kind of gave me an electric shock to touch him although both our legs were covered under layers of fabric.

He kept his legs pressed against mine and while our upper torso, visible to the public, was decently placed, I could feel him bushing his thigh against mine. We saw my husband returning to us and we separated our lower bodies to maintain a decent distance. I have heard this term called animal magnetism. This was the first time in my life when I was experiencing the same. Here I am with a man who I am meeting for the first time and yet every cell on my body screamed ‘possess me’ to him. And surprisingly it wasn’t one sided. He was equally charged up to lay his claim on me. If this isn’t animal magnetism, what is?

Once I reached home that night and was changing my dress to retire for the night, I felt the stretch on my leg that was brushed by R a few hours ago. It tingled still. My husband, who has a very strong libido, was in an amorous mood. I tried reciprocating his advances as much as possible, but eventually after a while I was just lying flat on the bed, spread out in missionary position with my legs flying in the sky in a wide V, while my husband continued to fuck me actively. Once he ejaculated and dismounted from top of me to take rest, the thoughts of R asking me if he could feel my thigh kept buzzing in my ears and I silently kept telling myself, “yes, touch me”.

The next morning, like all other mornings, my husband was in mood again and having rested in the night, was full of vigour. I enjoyed while he fucked me missionary style, but the vision of R’s tufts of black hair popping out from under his shirt, kept haunting me and I kept visualizing how densely hairy his chest and belly must be.

My husband left for work in a while…and from the moment he was putting his shoes on, I don’t know, I kind of kept praying, please don’t go today. Somewhere I felt I would be converted to an unfaithful wife once he went to office and my conscience kept praying that he stays at home. The next couple of hours were extremely tense for me. I held the mobile tightly in my hand as if my life depended on it. It was not before two hours that my mobile rang and I saw R’s number flash on the screen. There it was, the call that I had been waiting for since last evening, and now that the phone flashes his name, I was feeling terrified answering it.

After what appeared to me like eternity while the phone rang, I mustered sufficient courage to accept the call. “What took you this long to answer the call?” he asked. I mumbled something about I was in the other room and took me time to find my phone. “I missed you last night. ‘A’ is one lucky bastard. How did a good-boy like him land a super-fuck like you”? he asked. ‘A’ is my husband’s name’s initial letter and for the sake of privacy I will refer to him when required as A.

I smiled over the phone and said, “good-boys deserve good fucks”. “Yeah, and good-fucks deserve a good side-fuck, and that’s where I come to their rescue” he said. “So that tells me you are experienced in being a good side-fuck. How many conquests before me?” I asked. For a moment he seemed to be embarrassed to answer such a direct question. He then said, “Did you feel even for a minute yesterday that I was even trying to go for a conquest”?

I answered, “well, not really, I think I felt automatically drawn to you”. “Exactly, look I’ll be honest, you aren’t the first ‘wife’ I have undressed with, and probably you won’t be my last either, but it’s true I have never felt this strong a need to own a wife like I am feeling for you right now. Like you said, I feel a natural instinct to mate with you, to have my seeds inside you and probably you also felt that” he said. I admitted that it was indeed the case. He felt that probably he had been a too much extra direct and to put me at ease started talking to me on general topics of since when married, bf-s before marriage etc. I guess we talked for close to an hour over the phone that day. He hung up with a promise to call me the next day.


Since then we stared having our calls daily after my husband will leave for office. Over a period of time our discussions on a daily basis migrated from general topics to sexual preferences, sharing previous experiences of each other, what we liked, what we didn’t etc. He started asking me out for dates. I knew I wanted to go with him, but I still had to fight the biggest enemy whose presence was unknown here-before, my conscience. It isn’t the first time that I am asked out by a man, not the first time that I will be undressed by a man who I have just met, but what made the difference was that all my previous experiences were when I was still unmarried.

Now I am married and it would put the label of a cheater on me if I indulged with a man other than my husband. I was yet to learn the principle of separating pleasure for my body from pleasure to my heart. I realized it won’t be easy. It’s one thing to feel attracted to a man and to know he is equally, if not more, willing to reciprocate the need for sex, but quite another when it came to execute the idea. I found it extremely difficult to reconcile myself, and whenever R would approach with a ‘plan’ to make it happen, I would chicken out making some excuse about being busy etc.

Pretty soon, our calls continued in the evening or in the nights when my husband would be working late in office and R would tell me to help him masturbate while he talked to me. He would ask me to feel inside my panties to check how wet I am, and I would be surprised to see that my panties have been soaked talking to him.

Almost a month had passed and we would have talked on almost all weekdays. He kept planning, “meet me at the hotel”, and I would respond, “no, I could be seen there by others”; or he would say, “come over to my house, I stay alone”, and I would say, “R, I am extremely scared to go to anyone’s house, I am a married woman and our society may not take it kindly and start wagging their gossip tongues”; he would suggest, “let me know when I can come over to your house”, and I would respond, “no no, not here, what if A returns all of a sudden and finds you fucking me”…i think you got the drift.

In short, I inevitably came up with an excuse to not make it happen because although I really wanted to have sex with R, but my conscience held me back even tighter. I could sense that this was upsetting R also and he was getting increasingly desperate. And now I felt not only frustrated at not being able to get myself fucked by R because with every passing day my desire to get myself done by him increased, and now I was feeling guilty also that I was denying a man, R, his right to enjoy a woman, me.

Section 3

Announcement & Orders

It was close to two months that R talked to me on almost every single weekday, he masturbated talking to me and I certified to him that my panties started getting wet even at the anticipation of his call and that I needed to change them by the time the call would be over. It was winter and the annual office picnic was announced at my husband’s office.

R called me the day after my husband told me of the event. “I have been trying to meet you ever since I met you at the party and you have been denying me, although I know how much you yourself also want to. I have gone through all your excuses and I find the common thread of ‘being discovered and caught’ as the central theme of your apprehensions. Your primary fear is that being a married woman, what if anyone finds out that you are allowing another man to enter inside you”, he said. I said, yes.

He said, “what if I can eliminate the ‘getting caught’ part completely from the story? Will you spread your thighs open before me in that case”? I had no idea of what he was talking about, but I reasoned that if my security is not breached and I am not ‘exposed’ I really didn’t have any problem of meeting R and complying with his desires. I said, yes.

R said, “fine, I will tell you where and how of everything. In return I want your 100% obedience and compliance to whatever…whatever I demand and recommend, ok”? I was clueless about what compliance he was referring to but in any case I was desperate too to have him inside me and as long as he takes care of me not being exposed, I am more than willing to open my thighs before him. I said “yes”. “Good girl, I will guide you on every possible eventuality, just cooperate with me”, he said.

I was trembling in anticipation that hopefully now he will come up with something that will actually enable me to shed my worries and be with him. I said, “ok, will do whatever you would suggest”. “And remember, you made me wait for such a long time. As a reward I demand to enter inside you and deposit my semen there before I pull out. I am not going to indulge your need for a condom” he decreed. “Anything you say”, is what I replied.

The picnic was scheduled in about three weeks. My husband informed me that the venue is a distance away from the city, sort of an island connected to the main land by a single motorable road, has a nice river coastline all around it with a dense forest in the middle. My calls with R continued every day. My husband would energize me with his seeds in the night and the morning, and once he would go to work, R would start telling me how much desperate he is to do it. He would ask me to describe exactly what my husband did the previous night or in the morning when we woke up. I realized I was getting increasingly comfortable in describing my sex with my husband to R.

He would ask, “so he just groped you or did he pull the nipples too?” or “just sucked on your nipples? Be ready to get marked by my teeth there the day I get my mouth to touch your breasts”. Of even, “So ‘A’ penetrated you in the morning without foreplay?” and I would tell him, “well, yes, he really needed a release, and as his woman, I am the first one to reassure and pleasure him, so I love it when he considers me his own and takes his liberties with me”. “So how long was he hard?” he would ask, and I would reply, “long enough to pleasure his woman to ensure she looks forward to being asked to spread herself out in front of him whenever he demands”.

“You are saying that only to make me feel jealous, right? You know how badly I need to fuck your smoking pussy and you still haven’t given me as much a glimpse of it, let alone touching it. I will punish you for doing this to me”.

I would laugh and so would he.

As the days crept closer he would try reassuring me more and more and ensuring that I cooperate this time. I told him I will do anything he said as long as he ensures that my husband doesn’t know and neither does anyone else who knows me. He confirmed he has my need in his mind. I felt reassured and yet confused. It’s a bloody small island with a dense forest in the middle and coastline all around…there are going to be at least a hundred people there, forget everything else, my own husband will be present there, and how the fuck does he plan to screw me in the middle of all that and with zero privacy?

What I was yet to know was the planning ingenuity of R when it came to fucking the woman he wanted to. He would ask me to visualize how sex with him will be, and I joked that with a belly of his size I am doubtful how he would even manage the penetration. He would boast of some of his previous catches and would tell me how the women moaned and groaned. The conversation with him was very free and he did manage to get my inhibitions to be overcome gradually. I kept asking him for the plan, and I voiced my apprehensions of the presence of my own husband in the venue. He asked me to leave the thinking to him and in return just to follow the instructions without any deviation. I promised I will do that. He said he was a member of the organizing committee and was present at the time of site selection, he has found the perfect spot where he can do it with me.

Two days before the picnic he called me when my husband was in office, and sounded very serious. He said there are three things that I must unfailingly do. I was feeling nervous but said ok. He asked, “do you wear trousers or jeans?” I said no. “Can’t you wear it for a day?”; I said no, I haven’t worn it in ages and if I put it on it will attract immediate questioning. He said, “ok, saree can be quite cumbersome to take off and put on quickly. So you need to have a saree on which will be completely crease-less and a material that will allow quick tying or untying of the knots”.

I said “I have sarees made of chiffon. They would be crease-less and the soft material can be easy to put on and off. Also you don’t worry about the speed of putting a saree on. This is my second skin and I know how to be efficient and quick about putting it back on”. He said, “yes, then put the chiffon saree on…also have only sleeveless blouses on you, they are easier to manipulate”. I said ok. “And yes, no panties please, in any case one wouldn’t be able to know whether you have one on or not from under the layers of your petticoat and saree. It will make my job easier too”.

I said “it will feel extremely funny and ‘empty’ underneath if I don’t have the panties on. But if you will tell me when you intend to do that, I can probably get into the washroom and take it off so that your job becomes easier”. He agreed to that. I asked what the other two things are because you mentioned three”? He said he will tell that to me the next day.

After the call ended, I started feeling a strange sense of euphoria. I started going through my wardrobe to find out the saree with the matching blouse and the associated lingerie. That night, when my husband wanted to have sex with me, I was really longing it from him because the tension had vanished and I really was into my husband during the sex. He exclaimed and said, “honey I feel like I am dipping myself into molten warm butter”.

I smiled at him and said, “when lord Kaamdev has owned me and has personally prepared his Rati for pleasure, what did you expect Rati to feel other than this”? We smiled, he leaned forward and kissed, and we enjoyed a really close and intense lovemaking, twice that night in rapid succession.

The picnic was just a day away now. My husband left for work as usual in the morning. I clung to my phone expecting the call from R any moment. He called, after the usual enquiry about how sex was last night with my husband and if I orgasmed or not, he said, “listen to these instructions extremely carefully. You must follow them like a robot. No questions asked, no doubts and no self-decision, ok”? His statement probably made me even more jumpy. “ok”, I said. “Good. So, chiffon saree and sleeveless blouse…panties to be removed at the opportune moment, understood”? I said yes.

Section 4

“Choose a colour that won’t make the presence of mud or dirt easily on it”. “Mud and dirt? Why? What is your plan? You haven’t told me anything, at least tell me what and how you plan to do it”, I pleaded. “No questions to be asked, you just accepted that. Trust me, I am on your side and trying my best to ensure that nobody would suspect a single thing, just cooperate” he said. “But my husband will be there and…”, before I could complete my sentence, he said, “i know he will be there and that’s why I am making extra efforts for tomorrow. Just play with me without deviating”. “Ok”, I replied.

“Now, my second instruction, from the moment that the games and entertainments are announced at the picnic, I want you to nominate yourself for each and every event, whether you like it or not, is that clear”? “But I don’t play sports…i mean I swim and run, but that’s it” I mumbled. “Doesnt matter. I still want you to be a very active participant in all the games, ok”? Completely in the dark, but trusting his plans, I accepted. “My last instruction, I know it may be difficult, but try to eat as less as possible. I want you in full vigour and active when I finally fuck you. Besides you must also be prepared to run in case it becomes necessary. So don’t overeat, have enough to not faint, that’s all, ok”?

Run if necessary? What the hell was that? Run to where, from who? What am I getting into? My silence probably conveyed my state of anxiety to him, so he added, “trust me, I would do nothing to risk your reputation. I can play with mine, I won’t mind that, but I would never play with your reputation”. The sincerity in his voice convinced me and I said yes. “Oh yes, I hope you remember, as a reward for my waiting this long to finally have you laid under me, I demand to have my flesh touch your flesh and my seeds secured in your vagina, even if you wash them away later”, he added. I said, “do whatever you want, just don’t get me pregnant please”. “Will decide that later. Remember the minimal the fabric, the easier it will be for us to mark our mission successful and start a new ongoing physical life together”. I said yes.


Those who had their vehicles drove to the spot, others availed of the bus services that were arranged. I could barely catch any sleep the night before. Kept repeating the instructions in my head, “crease-free quick-access dress, participation, light-lunch”. I was feeling extremely nervous and woke up earlier than usual to dress. To my surprise I was feeling moist already. I guess my nervousness appeared on my appearance and my husband asked why I was feeling so. I said, “this is the first time I am attending such a large get together of your office. So many new people to meet, maybe that’s why”.

He reassured me. I got dressed in the brown chiffon saree with sleeveless black blouse. I had my black bra, brown petticoat and bottle-green panties on. I remembered he asked me to get rid of the panties at the earliest possible after reaching the venue. I packed in a spare set of lingerie in my handbag, just in case.

Because of the distance involved we hired a driver for the day. My husband and I drove in our car to the spot. The cool air on the highways leading to the spot helped me soothe a bit. The spot was beautiful. A large piece of land surrounded by the river and connected to the main land by a narrow stretch of road about a kilometre long; lovely shoreline all along and a reasonably dense forest in the middle. There were some other groups also who had accumulated there for their own get-together.

Quite a few of the buses had already reached and the spot as we parked the car and approached the assembly area where all the guests were sitting, I saw R running towards us along with another lady next to him. My heart skipped a beat about what was to happen, as he never really told me the plan. He paid no attention to me whatsoever and told my husband, “how come you are so late? We are all missing you. Come right away. Forget your wife. Meghna (name changed) would get her settled”.

With that R practically whisked my husband away into a spot slightly away from the crowd. The lady who was still standing with me smiled and said, “Men! He just took him to the drinking pad in the picnic. Hi, I am Meghna. You must be Shefaali. R told me about you. Please come with me, I will get you introduced to the others and I am sure you would love meeting them”. I smiled and accompanied her.

It was around late in the morning when the breakfast was over and the games announced. My husband was nowhere to be seen. R, being one of the organizers were announcing the games. I remembered my orders. “Participation”, I told myself and would go forward and nominate myself for the various races and competitions. I couldn’t but appreciate the planning details of R, as within a very short time, the entire picnic crowd came to know of me as the ‘sporting lady who is very outgoing and participates in all events’. That exactly was the impression that R wanted to create of me.

In due course lunch was served. I hardly ate anything to retain my agility. The final event of the day was announced after lunch, the treasure hunt. It’s a game for the couples. There is a condition though, no husband and wife could be part of the same group. Pretty soon we had participants and since I participated while my husband didn’t, I was the odd one out, left without a man-partner. All the participants pitied me because they all knew me as a very sporting lady.

It was at this point that R, strictly in order to allow me to participate and save my day, volunteered to be my man-partner. I was completely stumped by the brilliance of his planning with which he ensured that everybody knows that R is with me and yet nobody suspects a single thing.

There would be three rounds and each round was an elimination round. Time allotted to the first two rounds was thirty minutes each. The third round had two hours allotted to it being the most difficult round. Almost twelve mixed-couples’ participated. R being one of the organizers ensured that we always get promoted to the next rounds. The first round was an easy one. The ‘treasure’ would be inside the forest area.

As soon as the whistle sounded to commence the first round, we rushed inside the forest. R knew exactly where to find his clue and pulled me away from the other couples, we managed to shield ourselves against a large tree and he kissed me like crazy while his hands squeezed my breasts above all the fabric. “Crease-free clothes”, I remembered. R asked me to get rid of my panties and to hand them over to him for his souvenir. I obeyed him. In order to look natural, we were the first couple that emerged from the woods with our prize. About eight couples qualified for the second round.

The second round was no different. We went out of sight, he touched my breasts, we kissed. I asked him “this is such a short window of time”. He said, “wait for the third one”. Once again we were the first couple to emerge from the woods to qualify for the final round.

Only three couples qualified for this round. The whistle blew and off we went. R pulled me so hard through the forest that I couldn’t even feel the bushes and the thorns below. We kept running through the forest. For one moment I was surprised as to where he intended to take me before undressing. We kept running to a point when I felt the forest was actually thinning out and the shoreline was visible. I realized we have diametrically cut through the island to reach the completely opposite coast of where the picnic spot is.

Section 5

As we emerged out of the woods, I found the shoreline completely empty except for a big country boat anchored to the shore and the oarsman or “majhi” as it’s known as in Bangla sitting on it. R waved to him and he waved him back. This boat, like all the other country boats in India had a huge hemispherical shed on top of it. It’s called a “Chhoi” in Bangla. For those of you are not familiar, you may google for the images using the search “boats on hooghly”.

Ours was a boat like this one, except slightly bigger. It seemed that the majhi was expecting us. R dragged me to the boat and the majhi helped me get on it. R asked me to get inside the Chhoi immediately. I did, R followed me. The majhi lifted the anchor and soon we were cruising by the side of the shoreline, comfortably away from our sounds being heard or we being discovered. There was not much space inside the chhoi. The majhi draped two semi transparent bedsheets on the two open ends of the hemispherical Chhoi to make it our private room.

This isn’t a porn write up and so I will not go into describing how his long erection penetrated me. You would know what would have happened inside the chhoi. We were both completely in nude. The chiffon being a flexible fabric bore no traces of all the creases it was subjected to in that tiny chhoi. He was a dark man, the immensely hairy chest looked squarely at my face, his huge belly puffing out and his erection needed no further stimulation. He climbed on top of me.

Despite having a really big belly he possessed me in missionary position. His belly was soft and spilled over my sides. While I got myself fucked by him, I clasped on to his sweaty back to stabilize him. The first session was a really quick one. His guttural grunts told me he was in the process of ejaculating right inside my vagina. He slumped down on top of me and we rested a while. One of my breasts was marked in red because of his squeezes.

He got into the mood to do it again. He was thrusting so forcefully that the boat rocked and the majhi had to cry out from outside to him to slow things down to prevent the boat from capsizing. We both had a good laugh about that. It was a good thing that we sailed away from the coast as he was quite noisy and grunted a lot and his forceful thrusts made me moan out loudly as well. The majhi was quite cool with it and it was apparent that we are not the first couple to seek peace and pleasure inside the chhoi of his boat. Within the time that we spent inside the boat, he satisfied himself thrice.

I didn’t orgasm, but it wasn’t necessary either. All I wanted was for him to take possession over me. I knew I will get my orgasm in due course, but that day was for him to claim me. There I was, a wife who was so conscious of her conscience that she never allowed the bull to come close to her all this while, and yet most willingly spread her thighs open and laid flat wooden platform of the boat while her bull mounted her and deposited his semen inside her.


We returned to the shore well within time, having found our treasure, having lost my virginity to my bull, the first bull after my marriage, the bull that in due course graduated on to be my stag to let myself out to other suitable bulls. The spare panties that I carried came to my rescue as even while we were driving back home, with my husband quite tipsy next to me, I could feel R’s sperms spilling out from inside me and I had to keep rubbing my thighs together to prevent them from sliding down my legs. I left home that morning, a virgin for my bull, I returned with my bull successful in placing his seeds inside me and adding a whole new horizon to my world. I came back possessed.


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