Kashif had been living in USA for a long time. We were old friends, together since the 6th grade. He left to study in Dallas back in 1994, got married to an African American woman and settled down there. Later they divorced (no kids) and after some 18 years of living abroad, Kashif had this longing to return to his homeland again. So he sent me an email that he would be coming back and staying with us. Kashif’s own parents were dead long before he left for USA and for as long as I had known him, he had lived with his Aunt and Uncle. He had always had problems with his uncle and on returning, would rather have stayed in a hotel than in his house. Naturally, he would visit his aunt often but for around a month’s stay in Pakistan, he wanted to live in my house, where the three of us: I, my wife and kid (a son aged 6) were living. Of course, I was only too glad to be able to play host to my best buddy.
I had got married to Yasmin back in 1997; a love marriage. Yasmin is now 37, the same age as I am. She is what you might call a very sensuous woman. While eye catching when young, it seems age has actually accentuated her sexuality. She was slim to the extent of being thin when I married her: a mere 101 pounds on a 5 ft 4 inch frame, pleasant features, beautiful complexion heightened by the presence of two black moles almost artistically placed, one on her chin and the other on the neckline, just above her cleavage (she still makes me crazy when she wears a shirt with a low neckline). Now, after some 12 years of marriage and childbirth, she seems to have put on weight on just the right spots. Her 130 pounds now include ample flesh on her once flat ass, her 36 size boobs look much heavier thanks to the additional flesh round her bosom, and just a bit of fat on the once flat tummy (which she just detests but I find even that to be sexy in its own way). She also thinks her hips jut out too much but I just love the way they appear especially when she wears a jeans and makes men stare at her ass. Yes, I think I’ve always been a bit of a voyeur and though it initially made me feel guilty, I really feel horny when I see other men check out my wife’s ample figure. But that was as far as it went, and I never actually had fantasies involving my wife with other men. Not until, of course, what happened after Kashif came to stay with us for a month.
The incident I am recounting happened in 2008. It is only now that I’ve finally managed to convince myself fully (at a conscious level) that what occurred during those 30 days actually transpired and was not just a fragment of my imagination, a dream from my wildest fantasies; that “normal” people like me, Yasmin and Kashif can actually be involved in something as wild and irresponsible as this.
First, let me tell you a bit more about my relationship with Kashif, as well as Yasmin, because I think that will help you a long way in understanding how the events took shape as they did. Kashif and I were always the closest of buddies. The kind who grow up going to college together and doing all the boys’ stuff, like discussing sex and watching porn. While I was shy as a kid, Kashif was always outgoing, talkative and open to the point of being shocking to people at times, a trait that used to get him into trouble when he was a kid. We are also very different in physical features: I’m of average height and slender frame with soft good looks, while he is tall, broad and not quite good looking in the traditional, movie star sense, but quite manly.
Kashif helped break my reserve in a lot of ways. When we were big enough to be allowed our privacy, the first night he stayed at my house, we watched porn on a rented VCR (as was the trend those days). Once the hot scenes started he surprised me by taking off the shorts he had borrowed from me for the night (the only piece of clothing he had on), and starting to masturbate right in front of me. As I looked incredulously at him lying naked right beside me, he asked me, “will you just keep staring at my cock or do something with your own too?” A little embarrassed I laughed and lowered down my shalwar (loose trousers) to access my own erect cock.
“Don’t behavelike a shy bride at her first night” he scolded me, “take it right off, and the vest as well; you’re wearing too many clothes for watching porn.”
He had me naked in less than a minute. While a little shy, I also felt very excited getting naked so close to another person for the first time in my life, even if he was another guy. When I adjusted myself back on my pillow and reached out for my cock again he took my hand and placed it firmly on his own cock, then with his other hand, grabbed hold of my cock and started pumping it slowly. To this day I cannot remember having experienced anything more pleasurable than that hand job he gave me. It was the first time a hand other than my own had given me such pleasure.
After that we did it to each other a number of times. Sometimes while watching porn, on other occasions, just because we would be feeling horny. I don’t know if that makes us bisexual. I don’t think so as we never indulged in anything more like kissing or fucking each other. Though we did try a 69 once but found we had no talent for it as both could feel each others’ teeth rubbing on the delicate skin of our cocks. Yes, Kashif did suggest once that I let him fuck me in the ass but I was much too afraid of the pain it might cause; also, to be honest, I was more than a little wary of the fact that it would give him a psychological advantage over me and he would tease me later by calling me a gandoo (a subordinate gay). I was at that age where this kind of thing could mean a lot between peers. Though later on, I used to fantasize about that possibility a lot of times. I don’t know about others guys but I have sometimes wondered what it would feel like to have a cock inside your guts, moving in and out of your asshole. Perhaps that makes me a latent bisexual according to the psychologists.
After he settled down in USA and got married to a black American girl, some 5 years his senior, he used to send me pictures of his wife: first, ordinary pictures, fully dressed up; then a few in bikini, at the beach, in the company of some other friends, and then finally, one with her wearing only a G-string and nothing else. A few days after sending that picture, he sent me a mail again asking, “Did you masturbate?”
That is the kind of person Kashif is. Now for my wife, Yasmin. Apart from the occasional tiffs, we have had a very satisfying married life in all respects including sex. Once she got over her initial inhibitions concerning sex, we started having a great time in bed, and even experimented a little like trying different positions (I particularly love the “doggie style”), though her favorite is still the traditional one: she lies on her back and I’m on top. We watched porn together during the first two years and tried oral sex, and even anal fucking, but only once. Once I had greased her ass hole with glycerin and penetrated half way thru, she asked me to pull out saying it felt too big. I think she was just afraid some permanent damage might occur to the tissues or something like that. Anyway, like a good husband I accepted her right not to indulge in an activity she didn’t feel comfortable with.
While she was always of a fairly liberal disposition all along, she opened up further under my encouragement in terms of her dressing. In summers she started wearing sleeveless shirts much more frequently; also, her shirts assumed a much tighter fit giving a beautiful outline of her figure; her necklines also became more daring; she developed a taste for short trousers and even half trousers on occasions when the context was suitable for that kind of thing, like a really high class, posh restaurant. She occasionally wears saris on weddings, but most of all, she looks really sexy when she wears tight, hip-hugging jeans with t-shirts. As I’ve already mentioned, I do get some kind of a kick when I see other men noticing my wife and paying close attention to her boobs, hips and bare ankles.
Kashif returned to his country after almost 14 years looking a lot older, having put on a lot more weight that looked good on him, and a receding hair line but far from being bald. Overall, I would say he looked quite handsome. As was his style, he took little time in getting on with Yasmin and by the time we sat down for dinner that evening. I noticed clearly that he was observing Yasmin closely from head to toe. That being the month of August, still quite hot in Karachi, she was wearing a sleeveless white, printed shirt with matching trousers that finished just above the ankles. The fabric was very light and one didn’t have to try hard to notice the white bra she had on underneath (I wanted her to wear a black one but she said it would be a bit too noticeable); it was quite visible from the straps to the pointed cups that jutted out proudly beneath the shirt.
Our son had his own room by now. Beside our room there was a spare bedroom in the house which was just used more or less as a store room. We had cleaned and prepared it for Kashif. Our own bedroom, larger of the two, is towards one end of the house. Linked to it by a side door is a small room which belongs to our son. It also has a front door that opens, like our own room, into the lounge. As one walks thru the lounge the kitchen falls to the left after which, still to the left, comes the room where Kashif was staying. On the right falls a guest room, not commonly used, and then a small verandah (a little more than a balcony), looking down on to the street (ours is the first floor). On hot summer nights that verandah becomes our favorite place where Yasmin & I – once our son has gone to sleep, usually like to spend quality time together before retiring for bed, mostly having tea or occasionally a cup of coffee when its not too hot. This explanation of the structure is import to help you visualize what transpired later on.
Even after over 10 years of marriage, one of the most erotic sights for me is to see Yasmin wear sexy lingerie. Guess I’ve always had a fetish for lingerie. Over the years I’ve bought her a number of night gowns, slips, negligees, bra and panty sets, and G-strings etc. Late in the night when we have our cup of tea on the verandah, Yasmin always puts on something sexy. We recline on our chairs on the verandah, lights turned off so no one from the street or another house could see what Yasmin is wearing, and gently sip our tea. Since the verandah opens towards the back street and also because its dark, there’s hardly any chance of someone observing Yasmin in her sexy underwear. Our son’s asleep and even if he wakes up, Yasmin always keeps a gown ready to put on hurriedly if he does. Still, when it’s a moonlit night, someone watching very intently from the window of a nearby house, or someone passing down the street and looking up, could make out more than just a silhouette of Yasmin. He could probably make out that this woman is not fully dressed: a probability which, howsoever remote, does evoke the voyeur instinct in me and makes me excited. Sometimes, Initially I went so far as to dare her to take off her bra altogether and sit there, drinking tea with me, topless. She agreed after some hesitation and, after a while, began to enjoy the thrill herself. As a next step, she went as far to sit there just in her panties, that gown ready at hand to be put on lest our son would awaken. Once I almost spilled a cup of hot tea on myself trying to get a feel of her breasts! But she was enjoying the whole “adventure “ as much as I did, because I could feel her nipples hardening as she would sit there, all but naked beside her husband on a potentially visible place. Sometimes she would place her feet on my lap and gently rub my hard cock inside my pj’s or shorts.
Later, we started experimenting further. I would sit on the verandah, ask her to take off her night gown and bra (if she were wearing one that is), and tell her to go to the kitchen and make tea for both of us. It just felt so good seeing her move around with her tits bouncing in front, wearing nothing but her panties. The final thrill was to convince her to even take off that last garment and move to and fro the kitchen butt naked. This she had agreed to and started doing just a week or two before Kashif’s arrival. Initially she would always take her gown with her to cover herself in case of any eventuality, but the last couple of times, after quite a bit of persuasion, I had managed to convince her not to take it with her as she went to the kitchen. “After all,” I reasoned with her, “even if he (our son) wakes up, he is big enough to go to the bathroom himself (which is an attached bath in his room), and if he wants a glass of water or something, there is a mini refrigerator in his room. Besides, from the angle I’m sitting, I can clearly make out if he switches on the light of his own room or our bedroom, and if he comes out into the lounge I’ll move quickly and intercept him before he could reach the kitchen.”
That was all well and good. But now, on the night that Kashif arrived to stay with us, the question I was trying to answer was: “will we have to stop our little game till the time Kashif stayed with us?”
The first night Kashif retired to bed quite late. It was a Saturday anyway and none of us were in a hurry to go to sleep. Our son had gone to bed long ago and it was around a quarter past one that we went to our favorite spot in the house for our customary cup of tea. Yasmin was wearing a rather conservative night gown made of cotton that covered her well. When we were finally reclining on our chairs and I had put my feet up on the railing, she got up to make a cup of tea.
“Take it off” I said almost lightly.
“What! Are you out of your mind?” she replied, looking quite surprised.
“Why” I said, “what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?! We have a guest in our house, that’s what’s wrong.” She said.
“Who is probably sleeping like a log at this moment, dead tired as he must be after his long flight” I replied, trying to sound quite unconcerned. The truth was, Kashif was probably having a hard time going to sleep, suffering from a change in time zones, and I was far from unconcerned; quite excited actually at the prospect of Yasmin taking her clothes off in the presence of a guest inside the house.
To cut it short, she agreed after some resistance that she would take off the gown (and not the undergarments she was wearing) after she had passed by the room where Kashif was sleeping, and on her way back from the kitchen she would put on the gown again and remove it once she was safely back in the verandah with me. If Kashif were to wake up and make his way to the verandah, we would have sufficient warning as we were so near his room that we couldn’t miss the noise that his door would make while opening – its hinges needed oiling!
That first night passed without incident though Yasmin remained uneasy throughout the time she was sitting in the verandah in her bra and panties. The next day, a Sunday, was spent talking about old times with me and Kashif recounting various incidents and adventures we had together. In between he also mentioned the times when we used to watch porn together. Knowing what a big mouth Kashif could be, my heart skipped a beat as I thought he was about to mention the fact that we used to give each other hand jobs as well, but he didn’t.
The next night followed pretty much the same pattern on the verandah except that towards the end I managed to convince Yasmin to take off her bra as well. The fact that another man was present in the house less than 20 feet from us (even if he was behind a wall) while my wife sat almost naked, was really giving me the kicks. I think it was working on Yasmin too because as we made love that night I noticed how wet she was, though she never said anything to that effect.
The next day I went for work while Kashif, much later, left the house to go and meet some old relatives and acquaintances in the city. He returned late night and said he’d already had his supper. That night the first incident occurred that led to a seemingly uncontrollable chain of events afterwards.
Feeling very horny after a bit of touching and petting on the verandah, I convinced Yasmin to go the kitchen absolutely naked. With no disturbance from Kashif for two consecutive nights she was getting bolder as well. So it was decided that she would take off the night gown she was wearing as well as the under clothes, take the gown in her hand but pass by Kashif’s room in the nude, make the tea and bring it back in the nude again, with the gown hanging on her harm.
I watched her naked butt with delight as she walked out of the verandah and made her way to the kitchen. Hardly a couple of minutes had passed when I heard the door to Kashif’s room opening. My heart jumped at the sound. What was he going to do? There were two possibilities: he was either not able to go to sleep and as a result might just come to the verandah for a while, or he was thirsty and wanted to go the kitchen and get a glass of water from the refrigerator. The first possibility wasn’t too problematic because Yasmin would most probably hear our voices before entering the verandah and put on her gown. But if he was going to the kitchen…….!!? Believe me, fantasizing about something is one thing but coming face to face with a situation where your fantasy could come true, quite another. When the door to the verandah did not open in the next 3-4 seconds I should have got up from my chair and intercepted him before he could reach the kitchen. But I was frozen….., glued to my chair…., not able to move. Did I want it to happen? What did I want…., I didn’t know. All I knew was that my heart was beating with a ferocious intensity and I felt on the verge of being sick. And I had started sweating as if I had just finished doing a sprint. My mind was scanning possibilities at a speed which I never thought it was capable of. Was I about to hear a scream by Yasmin? Would Kashif take advantage of her situation…, grab her…, touch her…, try and kiss her even? Would she be able to hear him coming and slip into her gown in time? All these questions flashed thru my mind in a matter of a few seconds.
For what really happened, I’ll have to rely on Yasmin’s (and later Kashif’s) account, and re-create it as best as possible, since, of course I wasn’t there. As it turned out, Kashif was indeed feeling thirsty and proceeded to the kitchen for a glass of water; the same kitchen where stood my wife, with not a stitch on her. To make things worse for her, going against the plan, she didn’t even carry the gown with her to the kitchen as she thought it was too much of a hassle making tea while trying to manage the gown as well. She did contemplate putting it on inside the kitchen while making the tea, but decided that it would be akin to “cheating” in our little game, because the deal was that she should be in the nude while making the tea. So she just left it on the back of a chair in the lounge, planning to bring it over to the verandah when she returned with the tea. Therefore, when Kashif approached the kitchen, she had practically nothing to cover herself with. She didn’t get to hear his footsteps as he was wearing rubber sole slippers. As he entered the kitchen he was met with an absolutely unexpected sight. Her back was to him as she was busy boiling the water and arranging the cups etc. So Kashif was presented with a mouth watering view of my wife’s ample ass in the dim but adequate enough light of the energy saver we use in the kitchen. According to what he told me later, he might have returned quietly but he was so shocked, so totally overawed by the sight of my beautiful, naked wife that he was frozen, just like I was on the verandah. For a moment, he even thought this wasn’t Yasmin but some other woman, so preposterous was the idea of finding her naked in the kitchen. Before he could come around to his senses and decide what to do, Yasmin turned around.
Yasmin didn’t exactly scream…, well, she did, but not loud enough to be heard in the verandah. The next thing she did was what perhaps would have been the most natural reaction for any woman in her situation: she used her hand which had instinctively gone to her open mouth first in a gesture of shock, to cover her most vital part between her two legs but not before Kashif had seen the beautiful black bush of hair that grows on and around her pussy (she trims her bush but doesn’t shave as that’s the way I like it). With the other arm she covered her tits as best as she could. What a sight it must have been: my naked wife standing in front of my best buddy, trying desperately to cover her nudity with her hands!
Had I been in Kashif’s place I probably would have run out of the kitchen at that moment, considering the difficult situation he was in. But as you may have guessed by now, Kashif is made of some other stuff. He told me later that he did think of doing that but, on second thought, said to himself, “what the heck! Its not as if I’m responsible for this situation. So I may as well enjoy it while I can.”
He stood there and acted as shocked as my wife was. First he tried to apologize but came out sounding pathetic, then he tried to explain that he wanted a glass of water, all the while making sure he got a good look…., that’s the kind of rascal he is! Yasmin, once she realized (all it took was 5-6 seconds) this guy was not going to leave and bring an end to her embarrassment, at last took a decision and asked him to switch off the light. She couldn’t do it herself as he was standing near the switch board. He was decent enough to do that (but not before he had taken one more quick look at the naked spectacle in front of him). It was almost pitch dark once the lights were off. Yasmin, in her hurry to get out of that utterly embarrassing situation, did a mistake. She did not wait for her eyes to adjust to the darkness (I don’t blame her actually) and tried almost to make a dash for her room by saying “excuse me” to Kashif who was standing on the door way. Now, Kashif had also not quite adjusted himself to the dark yet but he did try and move away as much as possible. But Yasmin hadn’t given him (or herself) enough time and in her hurry to pass thru and avoid making contact with Kashif at the same time, struck her foot (she was wearing a light slipper; the only thing she was wearing apart from her earrings and wedding ring!) to one out of the two old but solid wooden chairs we keep there to sometimes have our tea or coffee, mostly in the winters, when we can enjoy the warmth of the kitchen. It was a bad hit that made her cry out in pain, and worse, almost fall over Kashif, which, in a way, was a blessing for her otherwise she would have tripped and fallen on the floor and could have been badly hurt. On the other hand, that actually led her to almost crash into Kashif, naked boobs and all. Kashif was himself only wearing boxer shorts. I can only imagine how he would have felt, receiving my naked wife in his arms, her tits almost crushing onto his chest or arm (he told me it was both: that first he felt her tits brushing against her arm and crushing onto his chest…., the bastard!).
As a perfect excuse to help her, his hands came around on her back to hold her and prevent her from falling, and very deliberately (so he admitted to me) he managed to lay a hand on her butt for a full second.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Yes, yes” Yasmin said, extricating her naked self from this half naked man, and went limping, to her room as quickly as possible. Kashif said he followed her out of the kitchen and as she opened the door to our bedroom, got an enticing glance of her beautiful ass, thanks to the fact that we had kept our bedroom light switched on.
I won’t bore you with the details and dialogues that took place immediately after this (first) incident as it would only be an anticlimax. To keep it short, Kashif found me first on the verandah and just asked me to meet him in his room. I was so unnerved that I couldn’t even ask him why? Yasmin put on a cotton night dress and, to her credit, was still calm enough to bring our tea. She told me what had happened in as matter of fact a manner as possible, but I think she was just sub-consciously trying to reduce her embarrassment. Her breathing wasn’t quite normal and she hardly took a couple of sips from her cup. I told her Kashif wanted to see me and probably wanted to apologize for what happened (though I knew fully well that an apology was the last thing I was going to get from that rascal). She said that there was no need to apologize as it wasn’t his fault. With that she picked up the cups and said she was going to the bedroom. I was really upset. I couldn’t tell if she was mad at me because it was, after all, at my persuasion that she had taken the risk. I felt a strange mixture of emotions: fear, excitement, guilt, embarrassment……!
Once Yasmin had departed for the bedroom I opened the door to Kashif’s room and went inside. He was sitting in his bed, propped up by pillows, reading something. I sat down on the bed with a sheepish smile on my face and, putting the book down, he said, “what are you up to, letting your sexy wife run naked in the house?”
I explained the whole thing about our little games and he gave me a good account of what had just happened inside the kitchen. He spared no detail and was quite frank in describing how Yasmin tried to cover her bush and her tits with her hands, and then how he felt her tits brushing against his arm and then crashing onto his chest. As he described the incident, my cock came to full attention and I fidgeted a little, hoping to hide my erection from him (I was wearing a usual cotton night suit with pajamas and the shirt’s length just barely finished above the crotch). He asked me if Yasmin would be too upset to let him stay in the house after this, and I told him there was no such issue and in fact Yasmin was not even blaming him.
“The best part” he said, smiling “was when I held her and had the chance to hold her buttock. Wow, what a beautiful butt. You’ve got a sexy one there. Hope you fuck her well.”
“You harami (bastard)” I said, mockingly hitting him in the chest with my hand.
“Acha acha (Ok ok), stop acting like you didn’t enjoy the whole thing yourself” he said.
“Shut up” I told him.
“Nonsense. Why would a man let his wife roam naked in the house when he knows a guest is staying if he didn’t enjoy the thrill of her getting caught? Besides,” he said, “we’re even stevens now…, after all, you’ve seen my wife’s boobs.”
“Ex-wife.” I reminded him, “and that too, in a picture only. I never got to touch her butt or feel her boobs.”
“Jealous!” he laughed out loud, then with a more serious face, asked, “by the way, talking of pictures, do you keep dirty pictures of your wife?”
There was no use denying. Of course I did. Ever since mobile cams and digital cameras had come in, I had created quite a collection of Yasmin’s pics in nude and semi-nude poses. He got it out of me and then added, “Ok, show them some time when we get the opportunity” as casually as if he was asking me to show him our wedding pics.
Then he yawned and settling down on his bed, said, “You know what I’ll be thinking of as I jerk off before going to sleep tonight” and patted his crotch with his hand as he looked at me in the eye and smiled.
“Bastard” was the only reply I could give on the face of such blatant frankness.
“Take care of your own cock” he said, pointing at my crotch. “You’re PJ’s are getting wet.”
It was true. Not only I still had that erection, my pajamas had a wet spot in the front from the pre-cum that my cock had been spilling. There was no need to put up any kind of posturing after that!
I went to my bedroom where Yasmin was still awake. I lied to her unashamedly and said that Kashif was so upset by the whole incident that he wanted to leave in the morning but I asked him to stay. She said I did the right thing. Then I apologized to her myself for putting her in that situation, but she was fair enough to share the blame and said she herself had agreed to do it, so there was no need for me to apologize either.
Since sleep seemed to be far away and I didn’t really want to suggest having sex (although I felt really horny) lest she might start suspecting that I actually enjoyed what had just occurred, I started telling her about old times between Kashif and me. I don’t really know if I was just trying to make her feel a little more comfortable with the incident that had just occurred or making it easier for her to face Kashif the next morning, but I ended up telling her almost everything, like the way we used to watch porn together and masturbate each other, and also that we used to take showers together as well whenever the opportunity was there. I didn’t tell her the part where we tried sucking each other’s cocks or that Kashif once actually suggested that he should fuck me, fearing that it might put her off. Slowly but surely, I noticed that she was listening to me with a lot of interest and even asking questions like “how did it use to feel when he gave you a hand job?” Ultimately, she reached for my cock under my pajamas and started stroking it gently while I told her how Kashif had sent a picture of his ex-wife only in a G-string, something I had never mentioned earlier. She feigned a bit of annoyance at me for hiding that from her so far, but I could tell she wasn’t really annoyed. We ended up having sex.
Next morning was the real test. I was wondering how Kashif and Yasmin would behave with each other. I need not have worried. Kashif handled the situation superbly in a style all his own. He treated the whole affair as something of a joke, laughed about it and told a couple of his own stories (all made up, I’m sure) where he got caught in such a situation with his pants down or no clothes at all. I could only marvel at how easily he was able to extricate himself, and also Zeenat, from an otherwise embarrassing situation. Not only that, he had the cheek to actually pay her a compliment by saying that he really envied me for sleeping with such a gorgeous woman every night, which made Yasmin blush.
It turned out that there was parent-teacher meeting at our son’s college that day and Yasmin had to attend. I was supposed to leave for work later in the day. At this point, let me explain something about my work so that the readers would have a better idea about how the later events came to transpire in our house. I am a freelance Marketing Research Consultant working with various firms, therefore, my work timings are quiet flexible and vary from day to day. That particular day I could have gone with Yasmin for that parent-teacher meeting as I was not supposed to leave until almost 12 noon, but she herself suggested that I spend some time with Kashif. That turned out to be one of the turning points in the whole story. Soon as Yasmin had left, Kashif pounced on me to show him Yasmin’s pictures, in connection with what we discussed last night. There was no getting out of it then.
My hand actually shook with excitement as I switched on the computer in our bedroom. There was a voice inside me demanding that I must not show nude pics of my wife to my friend. On the other hand, my heart was thumping with excitement and there was an empty feeling in my stomach despite the fact that I’d just had breakfast. I was too excited to even get an erection; I almost felt sick with excitement.
I started off with normal pictures first, wanting to go slow. Kashif liked it that way. I then moved on to semi-erotic ones in seductive poses: like showing a lot of cleavage with the top two buttons open; then more daring ones with the entire shirt front open, clearly showing the bra inside, and the top button (above the zipper) open on her jeans….., just to give you an idea. By the time I reached the ones where she’s in her lingerie only, both of us had raging hard-on’s and Kashif dispensed with his boxer shorts, the only item of clothing he was wearing since Yasmin had left. It was after a long time I had seen his cock and the sight brought back old memories, and a sudden desire to touch and feel it in my hand. He saw me looking at his cock, smiled and told me to take off my clothes. I quickly got rid of my pajama suit and soon, both of us stood naked, in front of the computer, with a picture of my wife wearing only a black bra and matching panties, smiling mischievously at the camera, totally unaware that eyes other than her husband would ever be seeing her like that.
In the next picture Yasmin had lowered her bra strap from one shoulder and one of her tits was almost slipping out of the bra. My heart thumped as I realized that in the next one the tit would be out completely. Kashif was continuously passing remarks about each pic and his language was getting dirtier by the minute. He was using words and phrases like “kya babbay hain (what boobs!), dil chahta hai dabatey jao (want to keep on squeezing them forever!)” and “abay jaldi nanga kar saali ko” (be quick in getting her naked). His comments were making me feel even hornier. After I had clicked on the next pic, the first of many with Yasmin showing her tits (or one of her tits to be exact), Kashif calmly took my right hand and placed it on his cock, using his own (left) hand to grab mine (he was standing to my right). His hand felt wonderful on my cock and his cock was silky and smooth in my hand. It was just like re-living old times, only on this occasion, the nude girl on the screen wasn’t some porn star but my own wife.
By the time I had moved to the next three pictures, we had given each other a mutually satisfying orgasm, ejaculating on the floor almost at the same time.
Both Kashif and I arrived late home late that evening. I was on work, he had gone to meet a few of our old college fellows, the few who could still be traced. After lunch, over dessert (ice cream) the conversation turned to Kashif’s ex wife, and he admitted quite frankly (as he always is) that he badly misses a woman in his life.
“Sleep sure can be difficult to come when you get used to having a soft, warm body beside you and suddenly its nothing but an empty space or at best, a dirty movie or magazine and a bottle of hand lotion to keep you company.” He concluded. I almost thought Yasmin would choke on her spoonful of ice cream at this tactless mention of masturbation, but she remained as calm as if he had just made a statement about global warming. Kashif’s lack of modesty was, how do I put it….., catching! He’s like someone who takes off all his clothes in front of you and then expects you to do the same, and you find it difficult to refuse taking off at least your trousers if not your underwear altogether. He had that kind of effect.
Soon, the conversation took another turn that was even more unexpected for me. I won’t bore you with the exact dialogue but we were on the topic of mutual masturbation between boys and, no prizes for guessing, on to the point where we were discussing how Kashif and I used to jerk each other off (though, considering the fact that we had done it just that morning, “used to” seemed a rather far fetched expression!). I couldn’t believe we were actually discussing this and Kashif was explaining to Yasmin that it was a very common practice amongst boys and, in no way, meant that one was a homosexual just because of this “harmless little activity”.
“In fact” he smiled and turned to look at me, “I wouldn’t mind if Mir could give me a hand job tonight before sleeping. I had serious problems going to sleep last night after meeting you in the kitchen” this he said to Yasmin who blushed to her ears, and could only reply with a silly giggle.
“Would you allow your husband to do a small favor for a guest and an old friend?” he asked Yasmin who, only then, realized he wasn’t joking.
“I…. guess I don’t have problem…., as long as Mir doesn’t” she looked at me, totally confused on how to respond to such a bizarre request. I could only reply with, “anything by way of hospitality” hoping that my voice wouldn’t give away the excitement I was feeling. My cock was hard again, not with the idea of jerking off Kashif (though that wasn’t too unpleasant a thought either), but with the eroticism of the whole situation if you know what I mean. I had felt pretty guilty about what had happened the night before and especially about this morning, having shown nude pics of my wife to my friend and, worse, jerking off together while doing that. But now, that guilt seemed to have been replaced with a new erotic sensation.
Kashif joined us over a cup of tea on the verandah that night (the first of many such nights to come). Yasmin did not wear a nightgown but chose to remain in her casual shalwar qameez that she normally wears around the house. When she brought in the tea cups Kashif remarked, “Oh, I was so hoping you’d be dressed the same way you were last night.” She just laughed a little to hide her embarrassment but, at the same time, I could see that she was not getting offended by these cracks he kept making about last night’s incident. The guy was actually flirting with my wife right in front of me, and while she wasn’t encouraging him, she wasn’t discouraging him either. When he had finished his cup of tea, he got up and said to me, “I’ll be waiting buddy” and left for his bedroom.
When Yasmin and I returned to our room I was totally nonplussed as to how I should behave. I chose to act as if I wasn’t even thinking about Kashif’s “proposal”, if I may put it that way. It was Yasmin who reminded me:
“Aren’t you going to go to Kashif’s room?” she asked. I turned to look at her, and was startled to see she was actually smiling, a little mischievously. I still didn’t know if she was serious.
“Well…., I, ah….” I tried to think of a suitable response.
“Its alright, I won’t mind.” She surprised me further. “I know you’re thinking I might be offended, but it’s ok. I understand. It’s not as if you’re going to another woman.” She said, and I realized that now she was justifying the entire, preposterous idea to herself more than to me. But why? Because it excited her…., and if I had any doubts they were removed by her next remark:
“But don’t let him relieve you…., because I’ll be waiting for you in that red g-string…., and nothing else.” There was a twinkle in her eye, and the way she said it made me hard once again. And therefore, dear readers, I went to the bedroom, to my best friend and now guest-in-house, to give him a hand job with the full blessing of my wife.
When I entered Kashif’s room he was reclining on the bed, propped against pillows, dressed only in his boxer shorts. He had his laptop switched on. I didn’t mention that after the two of us had jerked each other off watching my wife’s pictures in the morning, Kashif had saved those pictures in a USB device. The only request I made to him as he was saving those pics, was not to put them on a website or something for public viewing, as that could be totally devastating to our social life. He gave his word that he wouldn’t and that was good enough for me. Kashif may be a rascal in many ways, but he can certainly keep his word. So you could well imagine what he was watching on his laptop at that moment. When I told him that I was there to give him a hand job with the full blessing of my wife, he smiled and said, “Ok, bit by bit, we will bring her over.”
“Bring her over to what?” I asked, though maybe I already knew the answer in my heart.
“To making a randi (whore) out of your wife, what else?” he replied calmly and touched the command panel on his laptop which now showed a smiling Yasmin, wearing only her panties, sitting on a stool and holding out her boobs in both hands as if she was offering them for milking. It was one of her sexiest and my favorite picture. The use of the word randi for my wife annoyed me but made me horny at the same time. I wanted to rebuke Kashif for calling her a whore, but how could I when my cock was getting hard again? How I wish I could understand those conflicting emotions! I made a weak attempt at saying something to show that I didn’t like that expression but he just said, “shut up and come here” making place for me beside him. He took off his shorts and soon had me stroking his cock, which was already semi-hard when he removed his shorts.
“Take off your clothes” he said. I told him Yasmin wanted me to be “ready” when I went back to which he said, “don’t worry, I won’t make you ejaculate. But its no fun when you’re all dressed up like this.”
In a matter of a few seconds both of us were lying naked on the bed, our hips and legs touching, the feel of each others’ bodies exciting us as much as Yasmin’s nude pictures on the laptop screen. After I had given a few strokes on his cock, Kashif held my hand to make me stop.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I want you to suck my cock.” He said.
“What?” I was taken aback. “You…., you know it won’t be much fun…, have you forgotten we tried it once…..”
“I recall clearly and I don’t expect you to do a superb job” Kashif replied, patiently. “I just want to feel your lips and your warm, wet mouth on my cock for a while. Its been a while…. Now come on, be quick about it.”
Well, I looked at the piece of meet I was holding in my hand, and it didn’t look all that bad. In fact, now that he had mentioned it, the idea seemed pretty good and I started having an urge to taste his cock again after some 10 years or so. Still holding it in my hand, I leaned over and brought my mouth close to the tip of his cock, but then stopped there as I saw some pre-cum oozing out of it. Kashif was quick to understand my hesitation.
“O you hygiene freak!” This is what he called me when he got irritated by my obsession for hygiene and cleanliness. “Its not poison coming out of my dick.” But having said that, he used his own boxer shorts to wipe the tip of his cock clean. “You won’t make much of a cocksucker with an attitude like this” he rebuked me but I my lips were already around the shaft and I was feeling the strange yet not unpleasant sensation of having a cock in my mouth.
“I’ll imagine it’s Yasmin whose sucking my cock as I look at these pics” he said, and that only made me that even more eager to comply with his lust. While I tried my best to give a good blow job to my friend, he kept playing with me: squeezing my own erect cock, fondling my balls, or even patting my ass as if encouraging me. Meanwhile, he continued making dirty comments on Yasmin’s pictures as he kept moving from one pictue to another on the screen. His comments kept getting dirtier and now he was freely using expressions like, “kya badan hai teri randi ka” (what a figure your whore has!), “babbay to dekh saali kay” (look at her boobs), and “dil chahta hai kutya bana kay chodoon isay” (I want to fuck her like a bitch) etc. I felt humiliated, a bit angry, guilty, disgusted …….yet, call me the biggest pervert ever, because I also found the whole thing intensely erotic, as I sucked on this guy’s cock who was not only looking at my wife’s nude pics, but also passing highly objectionable comments about her!
Soon, I started tasting his juice as thin pre-cum again started leaking from his cock. I was wondering if should take my mouth off his cock, wipe it again or continue sucking (to be honest, now that I had tasted it, I had somewhat lost the repulsion I felt earlier and would have probably continued sucking and swallowing his juice); but after a while, he told me to stop sucking and just made me give him a hand job till he ejaculated. Once he was relieved, he wiped his cock and thighs clean with some tissue paper, shut down the laptop and told me to put on my clothes. I got up, with my cock still hard and yearning for satisfaction. As I was putting on my PJ’s, my back towards him, he patted my ass lightly and said, “You know what, one of these days, I might just fuck both of you….., you and your wife.” I did not reply, but what my mind said was, “one of these days, I might just let you!”
Yasmin and I fucked with great heat that night. She asked me about what happened and I told her, skipping the details of course on my cock-sucking, her nude pics, Kashif’s lewd remarks about her etc. Next morning, things started moving really fast, with a speed and direction over which I seemed to have no control whatsoever.
I was supposed to leave for an important meeting with a client at around 10:00 but received a call early in the morning that it had been postponed due to some problems. It meant that I was pretty much at home all day; all I needed to do was work on collecting and analyzing some data thru the internet, something I could do at home as well. At breakfast, once our son was at college, there was some teasing from Yasmin on my “hospitality” last night, and both Kashif and I took it in good spirit. Kashif, being the devil that he is, went so far as to say that the hospitality would have “felt” even better if the hostess had taken it into her own “hands”, making Yasmin blush.
After breakfast, I was planning to take a bath and was getting up to do so, when Kashif announced that he, too, would like to take a bath. Since there is no attach-bath in the room he was staying, he usually used the bathroom situated in the lounge for use by guests. However, there was some problem with the shower in the bathroom (since it was rarely used for bathing), so I gave him the option of using the one attached to our bed-room and said that he could go first if he liked.
“Why don’t we go together?” he said.
I realized immediately that he was up to his games again, and looked at Yasmin, not sure how to respond.
“O come on, its not as if we’ve never seen each other naked. Come on, let’s do it for old times’ sake.” He said, and before I could understand what was happening, both of us were heading towards the bathroom, Kashif in his boxer shorts and I, wearing only my pajamas. Yasmin treated the entire idea with a “naughty boys are up to their tricks again” kind of attitude, giggling and mocking us all the time.
“Why don’t you join us?” Kashif called to her, making her laugh further.
“I might” she called back, giggling.
Once we were inside the washroom, Kashif whispered to me not to lock the door, in fact, to keep it slightly ajar. I was beginning to realize what he was up to but not quite sure how it would work out. Pretty soon, we were soaping each other’s wet bodies and cocks in particular, causing two hard-on’s in the washroom. There was a knock on the door and Yasmin’s voice rang out,
“Why have you not locked the door?”
I didn’t really have a good answer to that and was wondering what to say when Kashif replied,
“What is there to hide? You must have seen your husband naked hundreds of times.”
“Yes, but not with another man” came Yasmin’s smart reply, to which Kashif said,
“But the other man has seen you.” This was, of course, an open reference to the Kitchen-incident, and Yasmin was quiet for a few seconds. I thought Kashif had finally gone over the board and managed to offend her. But I was wrong. A second later came her reply,
“Well, I think I’d better see that the other man is not up to any naughty tricks with my man” and she pushed the door inside just a centimeter or two as if meaning to take a look inside.
“These empty threats don’t work on us” Kashif said, “if you’re serious, why don’t you open it all the way (himmat hai to darwazah poora kholo).”
Yasmin responded to this “dare you” kind of challenge by pushing the door open further. I think she just meant to push it an inch or so, but she forgot that after a certain angle, if pushed, it goes all the way in right up to the wall. This is exactly what happened and in a second the door to the bathroom was wide open, leaving the two of us standing with soap on our wet, naked bodies, right in front of my wife.
I didn’t see any point in trying to cover up in front of my own wife but Kashif was quick to shield his cock with both hands….., but not quick enough. He just delayed his reaction enough to let Yasmin have a clear glance at his almost erect cock. Yasmin was much too unprepared for this and gave out a little cry of surprise, then a look of utter shock as she saw Kashif’s hard cock, and then, as an immediate reaction she turned her face away from the sight, inhibition taking over her innate curiosity.
“What happened?” Kashif called out, “Darwazah khol kay khud sharma gaeen. Itni hi himmat thi to khulwaya kyun tha? (You opened the door and now you are blushing. If you didn’t have the guts why did you open it?).
At this Yasmin looked in our direction again though making sure she would only be looking at our faces, not between our legs. I could tell that, confused and embarrassed as she was by the whole situation, she wasn’t going to let go the challenge she had unwittingly walked into.
“Embarrassed?” She said, “I’m not the one embarrassed. Who’s hiding himself with his hands?”
“Doing the same thing that you did the other night” was Kashif’s pat reply, and this time she really went red: with anger, embarrassment, or excitement? I’m not sure, but this time she looked at Kashif in the eye and then looked at him all over. As his cock was still erect with the soaping I had given him not a minute ago, he was having to crouch and keep his organ flattened between his legs, pressing it firmly with both hands to keep it down. But he still looked manly and sexy with his 5ft 8 inch frame and strong, muscular body. I was the opposite with my slender frame and soft muscles.
“You want me to take my hands away?” he asked, looking challengingly at Yasmin. This was an open challenge to which Yasmin responded:
“Oh you wouldn’t dare!” and I knew at once she had taken the bait: hook, line and sinker.
Kashif took his hands off his erect cock and stood up normally…., it just took an instant; but there we were: what a spectacle…., my friend standing naked in front of my wife, his body all soapy and wet, his erect cock pointing straight at my wife as if in anticipation of something. Yasmin was so taken aback she uttered a small cry and put her hand on her mouth, as women usually do when they’ve come across something indecent. Her eyes were transfixed on Kashif’s cock and she was totally at a loss (with shock in fact) as how to react. Then she tried to laugh, took her eyes off Kashif’s cock, looked at me, then looked at his cock again, looked towards her left as if suddenly remembering something, and then again at Kashif’s hard, inviting organ. I can say with all certainty that apart from my own, Kashif’s was the only other cock that she may have seen, live, at such close quarters at least.
She just about recovered and said,
“Toba (God forgive us)!” and tried a small laugh again, hoping to make light of the whole affair, but I could see how her face was flushing red. I, myself, felt totally helpless and weak during the entire situation. My friend (and guest), had just exposed his erect male organ to my wife in full view, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it, in fact…., if the truth be told, didn’t want to stop it.
“Baray badmash hain aap (You’re one hell of a rascal)” she said to Kashif, looking at him in the eye again.
“Now we’re equal” he said, “I saw you in the kitchen and you’ve seen me this way.” He had now moved behind me and his cock was out of Yasmin’s sight again. The smile and look on his face suggested as if he had just played a harmless practical joke rather than doing something which, by any social standards, would be considered outrageous, to say the least.
“Accha (Is that right)?” Yasmin said and laughed once more; then added, “You two finish your games, come out and I’ll have coffee ready for both of you” she said, not looking at us, and left immediately.
Kashif decided (he was pretty much in control anyway) that we wouldn’t put on our clothes when we came out of the bathroom but only put on our towels around the waist. This was a very obvious provocation as our cocks were still quite hard with the eroticism implicit in the situation and all. So we came out with towels around our waists, our cocks bulging out in the front. Kashif was in fact wearing the towel so low that one could almost see the upper part of his ass. When Yasmin brought the tea cups she was a little taken aback to see us like that and, glancing at the bulging shape or our cocks, remarked, “I see, you didn’t satisfy yourselves.” I just grinned, a little stupidly, but Kashif replied,
“We could do it now if you want to.” My heart almost jumped up to my throat. Were we about to have a mutual masturbating session in front of my wife!?
“No thanks” Yasmin replied, trying to appear indifferent about the suggestion, and not doing a bad job, but still I could tell that there was deep, dark part of her, which was excited and aroused by the whole bizarre scenario. All three of us sat down on the bed, had our tea and chatted casually as if there was nothing strange about the whole situation: an average, desi housewife sitting on the bed with her husband and his friend, both of them half naked, obviously aroused by her presence……, never in my wildest fantasies had I imagined such a scene. I had no idea what was still to come…..!!!
The rest of the day passed uneventfully but that night Kashif requested Yasmin to join us on the verandah wearing something a little more revealing than her “housewifey” kind of nightgown that she wore in front of Kashif. “After all” was his reasoning, “You’ve seen everything of me; shouldn’t I get something in return?” So there we were, Yasmin wearing a very thin pink, silk gown that clearly showed the black lacy bra and panties she was wearing inside. Just a few days ago it would have been unthinkable for her to wear anything like that in front of anyone but her husband. “What is happening here?” I was wondering, but getting hard nevertheless by Yasmin’s sexy attire and the way Kashif was openly admiring her figure.
I will be cutting a little short on the dialogue from now on. The conversation drifted once again (predictably), to whether I was again going to display my “hospitality” to Kashif or not. It was promptly decided that I would, but more importantly, Kashif managed to convince (not with too much of an effort, I thought) Yasmin to be present in the room while I “relieved him.”
“You’ve already seen what I have….” he said, smiling wickedly “and besides, your presence would make Mir’s job easier.”
“How’s that” Yasmin asked, puzzled.
“I’ll come quicker if you are standing in front.” He replied, calmly.
“You’re absolutely the limit, you know” Yasmin said, flustered. But I could see how she was feeling the excitement, by the look of eager anticipation on her face.
I thought things could not go any more bizarre…, my wife in a thin, almost transparent nightgown, watching as I jerked of my friend!!! Well, I was wrong; things were to go a lot more bizarre than that.
Anyway, all three of us went inside Kashif’s room where he removed his shorts with no signs of modesty or hesitation at all. Yasmin flinched as he laid bare his cock and reclined on the bed in his usual position. I sat down beside him and reached for his cock, feeling like some kind of medieval slave, serving his master.
“God, I really miss a woman in my life!” he exclaimed as I held his cock and felt it stiffening in my hand.
“Why don’t you get married again?” Yasmin asked.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Kashif said, ignoring the question and pointing to the bed. Reluctantly, Yasmin sat down at the foot of the bed, which made her even closer to his cock, hardly 3-4 feet away. She could have leaned forward and grabbed his cock, or started sucking it. The vision of Yasmin sucking Kashif’s cock came to my mind at that instant and the thought made me dizzy. As if on cue, Kashif said:
“Suck it a little, would you?”
I was totally unprepared for this. I didn’t expect him to make this kind of demand in front of Yasmin, and of course it was naïve of me.
I looked at Yasmin who gave me an encouraging smile and said, “Go ahead, I would like to see this.”
I bent down and took his cock, for the second consecutive night, in my mouth and made a lame effort at doing a blow job. After hardly a minute or so, he said, “forget it; it needs a woman’s mouth” making a very obvious reference to Yasmin.
After I had switched to my hand again, he asked Yasmin to take off her gown. When she refused, he asked her to at least slip it down to her shoulders. This time she looked at me and I just shrugged my shoulders as to say, what the heck!
My heart thumped as I watched my wife slip her gown down to the level where her bra started. As it was very silky, within a few seconds it had slipped down further and the top of her bra and upper portion of her tits, the part not covered by her bra cups, was totally visible. She tried to cover it up again but it was no use as it kept coming down no matter how hard she tried.
“May as well leave it” I heard myself saying, my voice hoarse with excitement…, and she did!
I could feel Kashif coming close to the peak, his pre-cum leaking out and wetting my hand, providing a natural lubricant to the strokes I was admitting to his hard tool.
“Please take it off…., just once” Kashif pleaded, breathing hard now. Yasmin looked at me one final time and seeing no disapproval in my eyes, got up from the bed, and let her dress fall to the floor!!
She stood there, simply breathtaking, in just her lacy black bra and panties, looking good enough to eat. At that moment I wouldn’t have objected if Kashif had asked her to remove her remaining articles of dress as well…..; hell, I would have seconded his request. But Kashif was beyond the point where he could ask for anything more….., a few seconds later I felt his naked torso twitch, and he came hard, spraying his cum all over his own thighs, and spilling some of it on the bed covering.
The sex that night was nothing less than steamy, and Yasmin’s cunt was wet and slippery without any foreplay. I came soon, but came long and hard, like Kashif. Next morning I had to leave early. Kashif was still asleep when I left. What happened behind me between my wife and my friend, I have put together mostly from what Kashif – and to some extent Yasmin – told me.
After our son was off to college, leaving Yasmin and Kashif in the house, Kashif told her all about his married life and how he missed a woman in his life (the standard talk); and how much he appreciated what I and particularly Yasmin had done for him last night. He told her that he’s been watching a lot of porn lately and even showed her some of the magazines he had with him. With his uncanny knack for bringing people around to his own attitude, he even convinced her to show him some of her own pictures on the computer – not the really hot ones, but at least those where she was showing some cleavage and wearing sexy dresses. She had no inkling of the fact that Kashif had already seen the entire collection, even the fully nude ones.
I came back late in the afternoon. That evening our son was supposed to go and stay at his uncle’s place (Yasmin’s brother), as he and his cousin (same age) are great friends. Once he was dropped off, the three of us had the house to ourselves and I was wondering what would happen now. I was soon to find out.
It was a hot and humid night in Karachi (we were in the middle of a very hot summer). Yasmin took a late bath and was in her bathing gown as we settled down for our post-dinner cup of tea. Things started off in pretty much the same fashion, the idea being me “relieving” Kashif and all. But this time Kashif asked if we could do it in our room. None of us saw any reason to say no, since our son was not in the house. So we proceeded to our bedroom and soon Kashif was lying on the double-bed where Yasmin and I had had sex countless times. That night he was wearing a nightgown instead of his boxer shorts.
“Let’s both get naked” Kashif said as he opened the sash of his gown and opened it at the front to reveal that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, just as I suspected. I also took off my PJ suit and was soon lying naked beside Kashif.
“Why is it that only two of us are naked?” Kashif said, looking at Yasmin. When she just smiled and said nothing, he said,
“At least take the robe off.”
“I’m not wearing anything underneath.” She replied.
“All the better” he said.
This light-hearted bantering continued for some time, while we stroked and brought each other’s cocks to full attention. Yasmin was watching our cocks, standing like flagpoles between our legs, with a fascination she could barely hide. At last, she agreed to lower the robe to her waist, but said she would cover her tits with her arms and hands. I strained to believe what my ears were listening to: my wife was negotiating with my friend (who was having his cock stroked by her husband) as to how much of her body she was going to reveal! Could things get any more remarkable?
I watched with a thumping heart as my wife first turned her back to us and opened her robe from the front without opening the cord, lowered the top portion down to her waist and brought her arms around in front of her boobs. Once she was satisfied that she was covering herself as much as possible with her hands and arms, she turned back to face us. She almost took my breath away! It was one thing getting to imagine something and quite another to actually experience it. Watching your wife standing topless, covering her substantial boobs only by folding her arms over them, is something I cannot describe no matter how many words I use. She then smiled shyly and said,
“Is it ok now?” as if she was trying on a new dress.
There she stood as we worked on each others’ cocks. After about a couple of minutes of this, Kashif turned to me and said,
“I want you to go to her, hold her in your arms, and kiss her.”
For a minute I looked at him, surprised, then realized that under the circumstances it was hardly an outrageous request. I got up, went to my wife, my cock leading like a sword, held her in my arms and started kissing her deeply and passionately. I started by kissing her on the neck, as I know this gets her aroused very quickly. Soon, I had her moaning with delight, and I whispered in her ear to hold my cock. She glanced at Kashif from the corner of her eye who was just slowly stroking his cock, watching the whole scene intently. I pressed her closer to me and whispered,
“Don’t worry, he can’t see your boobs when they are pressed against my chest like this” and went on kissing her. She let go off her right arm which was covering her left boob, and reached down to find my cock, and gripped it tightly. It felt wonderful.
I shifted my position so that I was now facing Kashif, and Yasmin once again had her back to him. This way she could use her hands to hold me without worrying about covering her breasts. I slid my hands down her back and inside her robe, grabbing and feeling her ass as we continued to kiss and caress. She also tightened her grip on my cock and started twisting and squeezing it, which was a little painful but immensely pleasurable as well. From above her head I saw Kashif motioning me to slide her robe further and expose her butt. I hesitated for a few seconds, knowing this was the moment…., if I did as he wanted me to and expose my wife fully, who knows what would happen next. If I didn’t, I may always rue the lost opportunity!
The look on Kashif’s face said if I didn’t do it soon, he might just do it himself. I started slipping the bathing robe further down my wife’s back, but found that I couldn’t do it beyond an inch or so. Then I remembered that the sash at the front was still tied on. I moved my hands to the front, moving away from her embrace just a little to give myself room to reach the sash. As I reached the sash and tugged at the knot to release it, Yasmin realized what I was doing and held my hand to resist.
“Its alright” I whispered, “You don’t need to turn around” as if showing her naked ass to other men was a routine act for her.
“But….,” she whispered, her resistance weakening a little. At that instant I knew that she wanted to do it, but her lifelong inhibitions were too strong to actually let her do it. In that moment I realized that I will have to push her to take her to the next level. I made a decision…….., it hardly took a second or two. I took hold of the cord tying her robe and pulled it……, an instant later the robe was on the floor, leaving my wife butt naked, in full view of my friend!
As soon as my wife’s ass was exposed, Kashif got up from the bed and still stroking his cock vigorously, walked within touching distance of us. Standing barely a foot behind her he reached out with his hand and touched her bare ass, softly, on the left cheek. Yasmin immediately stiffened in my arms as she felt her ass being touched by Kashif. I further tightened my grip. I knew that this was the moment: if I let her inhibitions take over things will never proceed any further, and there may, in fact be a feeling of guilt on her part later. I wanted to carry her over in the heat of the moment. I don’t think I ever felt more sexually aroused in my life as I felt at that moment. I wanted Kashif and me to carry her over, between the two of us, to the bed, and fuck her strongly and passionately. However, I knew she wasn’t ready for it ……, yet. Strange as it sounds, I loved her very much at that moment, yet wanted to share her with another man.
Kashif never withdrew his hand from Yasmin’s buttock. He just kept it still for a few seconds to gauge her reaction. When he experienced no discouragement, he became bolder and started exploring my wife’s beautiful ass. Between necking and kissing Yasmin, I was watching over her shoulder, and I saw him caress the soft skin of her butt with his hand. After feeling her left cheek all over in two or three circular motions of his hand, he grabbed a bit of flesh and squeezed, firmly, feeling the magnificent softness in his palm. After this, I couldn’t hold Yasmin still further, short of forcing her, something that I had no intention of doing, knowing very well that it would have a negative effect on her attitude towards the entire episode. She drew away from me a little and instinctively laid a hand over Kashif’s hand, cupping the left cheek of her ass, as if to stop him. But I saw that there was no force in that reaction…., nothing like a woman who feels her ass being felt and reacts in shock. No. It was more like a woman reacting half-heartedly to a friendly prank. Kashif, despite being on the verge of an orgasm, sensed enough that it was not the right moment to push her further. He just give squeezed her ass a couple of times again, and let go. An instant later, he came…., sprouting a jet of sperm on the floor.
Some of his sperm sprayed on Yasmin’s hand as well, which she wiped off with a tissue, covered herself with a sheet, and lied down again. With Kashif being “relieved” the next logical thing was for me to fuck Yasmin. But this time, Kashif was in no mood to leave the room. In fact, he insisted that we do it in front of him. Yasmin, despite all that had taken place so far, wasn’t quite ready to open her legs and show her pussy to Kashif. Again, a compromise was reached: I would fuck her on the top (the traditional position) with a sheet covering us, or at least the lower portions of our bodies.
First, I removed Yasmin’s g-string, while she was still under the bed sheet. Then, holding the sheet like a tent around me, I climbed on top and entered her. She was hot as an oven inside and I knew that I wont be able to hold back for long. In this position, as you may be able to imagine, her tits were mostly visible, except when I pressed down on her and hid her body from view with my own. I tried to hoist myself up as often as possible while humping her, to give Kashif as much a view of her tits as possible. She also didn’t try and cover up much. Kashif was barely a foot away, reclining on his right side, watching us fuck in heat. Yasmin was groaning and moaning freely, as she always does when fucked.
“How did his cock feel in your hand?” I whispered in her ear, not caring that Kashif was probably close enough to listen anyway.
“It ….., ahh, it felt good” she replied, panting with each thrust I gave her, “hard!”
“Would it feel as hard inside as mine does?” I asked, almost over the hill now with excitement.
“I….., ahh, ohh, don’t know…. Yes… it would!” she replied, reaching her own climax.
Seconds later, knowing I was about to come, I acted on impulse again. I reached out, took Kashif’s hand in my own – catching him by surprise this time – and placed it firmly over Yasmin’s right breast. Then I pressed down against her body, sandwiching his hand between my wife’s breast and my own chest, gave one final push, and came like I had never come before.
Coming inside my wife while my friend’s hand was placed on her breast seemed to connect the three of us together. As I finished my orgasm and came to senses, Kashif was still grabbing Yasmin’s breast. When I turned over and laid back, he was still holding it. No longer bearing the weight of my body, he was squeezing it himself, just a little, with no visible resistance from Yasmin, who, like me, was still recovering from that amazing climax. By the time she opened her eyes, he was touching and feeling the other breast. She looked, smiled, and gently removed his hand from her breasts, then covered herself again with the sheet.
“Not fair” he murmured. Yasmin just smiled and said nothing.
A fact, nevertheless, was established: that Yasmin wouldn’t really mind being touched by Kashif. Seizing the opportunity, he took it a step further. Hardly a few minutes had passed when he said to Yasmin,
“Listen, can you lie face down for a while……, without the bed sheet, I mean?”
“Why?” she asked, reacting cautiously but not without interest at the suggestion.
“Just wanted to see your delicious ass again before we get up for breakfast” he replied, calmly, as if he had just asked to see some piece of jewelry she owned.
With a bit of pretentious reservation on her side, it was decided that she would do so, after putting on her g-string again, which, of course, was no hindrance as far as the rear view was concerned.
Still under the sheets, she put on that tiny patch of cloth again, to cover her pussy, and turning over, lied down on her face. I removed the sheet, laying bare my wife’s resplendent ass for the full view of my friend. First, he just gazed at and commented on it; praising its shape, its roundness, its fullness etc., telling me how lucky I was to be the owner of such beauty. Yasmin just listened with a smile and a blush on her face. Then he asked Yasmin if he could touch it. With a couple of second’s delay, during which my heart started racing again, she said, “Ok, but just a little.”
Well, “just a little” had its own connotation for Kashif, who, first applied one, then both hands on the full, soft, round buttocks of my wife, feeling, caressing, squeezing both cheeks, almost kneading the flesh in his palms; all the while making small, appreciative comments. He even spotted the mole on her left cheek, just near the ass hole, and remarked how inviting it looked. Yasmin, while obviously enjoying herself, kept her legs closed tightly.
Then he asked, all of a sudden, if I had ever fucked her in the ass. When I replied in the negative he acted as if I had just told him that I’d never tasted fried chicken in my life.
“But why?” he cried, pressing both butt cheeks with his hands; he was literally giving my wife a butt massage now. When told that it hurts, he pooh poohed the idea, saying that we must have tried it without enough lubrication. I noticed that he was actually pushing both cheeks apart with his hands to have as clear a view of her ass hole as possible, and once or twice his fingers almost brushed her ass hole, but Yasmin never objected.
By the time both of them had had enough, Kashif was hard once again. Yasmin just shook her head as she looked at it, as if saying “boys will be boys” or something to the effect, covered her boobs again with her gown, and went into the bathroom to get ready for breakfast. I had an important meeting with the Director of one the leading hotel chains in Pakistan at around 12 noon, so I knew there won’t be much time for fooling around in the morning. That being a Saturday, our son was still at his cousin’s place where he would stay till Sunday evening, so I was looking forward to another evening of excitement.
Kashif insisted that Yasmin wear something sexy at breakfast as well, and his request was granted. Yasmin wore a transparent sky blue wrap (one of my favorites) over bright red bra and matching g-string. During the breakfast, she removed the wrap on Kashif’s insistence. After the butt-massage which she got from Kashif in the morning, a major change had occurred in their behavior. Kashif would routinely put a hand over her naked rump while she stood setting plates on the table, or pat her butt while talking, as if it was the most natural thing in the world; with no objection from Yasmin.
After a relatively late breakfast, I hurriedly took a bath, shaved, changed clothes and rushed for work, mindful of Karachi’s traffic. What happened after that is, again, I can only tell you from what has been told to me by Kashif and Yasmin, in bits and pieces.
Kashif asked Yasmin to take him to see some of the new shopping centers and malls that have come up in the city during the last 10 years or so. Not having much to do, she agreed. To get ready, Kashif took a shower in the bathroom attached to our bedroom, keeping the door wide open – there being no use of such formalities after what had occurred last night. Yasmin glanced inside more than once, giggling a little, even handled him the towel once, but steadfastly refused his invitations for joining him in the shower. He came out naked, semi-hard cock dangling between two muscular thighs. Yasmin didn’t even flinch at this sight anymore. However, when her turn came, she closed the door before taking a shower. Kashif knocked after a while, and when she opened, peeking out, only her wet face and neck visible, he asked for “just a look” at her naked body. She resisted, good naturedly, then finally relented a little, opening the door just for a few seconds, letting him see her delicious boobs, dripping with water, but not her pussy again. It seemed to me they were like two kids playing games with each other.
She came out wrapped in a towel, and on Kashif’s imploring again, agreed to dress in front of him. Though she let him go as far as hook up her bra, but she turned around while putting on the panties, hiding her pussy again.
Once ready, they took a cab and arrived at one of the upscale shopping malls of the city. Inside, Kashif treated her to a shopping spree. Not only did he make her buy a pair of shoes, some clothes, but he took her to a very expensive lingerie shop and had her try out (in the trial room of course) various bras, panties, and particularly g-strings. To the two sales girls present there, they must have appeared like a married couple. In fact, as he kept choosing the most revealing and outrageous articles of lingerie for her, they could barely hide their smiles. They had lunch at a fast food outlet, and overall, had a great time together.
I came back in the evening around 8:00 after a hard day’s work, a little tired but looking forward to a highly prospective night, full of forbidden pleasures. It was arousing, to say the least, to know what my wife and friend had been up to the whole day, particularly after seeing the lingerie he had been buying her. I could see that Kashif was getting very close to Yasmin now, and she was clearly responding to his seduction. That night, I couldn’t wait to go to bed….., none of us could!
Yasmin was wearing the most revealing dress (whatever little there was of it) imaginable; she may have been naked for all it was worth. A navy blue bra that pushed her boobs out in the front and a matching thong – the tiniest bit of patch barely covering her pussy, in fact bits of her pussy hair stuck out from the top and sides of the front patch. Both items were bought by Kashif the same day. Over these, she wore the same transparent wrap she was wearing at breakfast. Even that was removed on Kashif’s insistence once we sat down in the verandah for our customary cup of tea, or rather coffee, as I still remember, that night. Yasmin was sitting in a chair next to me. My PJ’s were down to their knees and she was holding and stroking my erect cock with her left hand; with her right she would occasionally take a sip from her scalding hot coffee. Kashif was sitting in front of us, all but naked, his boxer shorts lying on his feet. Yasmin’s feet were on his lap and, catching hold of his cock between both feet, she was giving him a slow, tantalizing foot job. Yasmin has beautiful feet and she takes good care of them. Now, as her painted toes circled around Kashif’s erect member, it was enough to drive me crazy even in the very dim light of the verandah.
Kashif might have ejaculated in a while had he let Yasmin continue with that foot job. However, I think he was sharp enough to realize that things would not go beyond hand jobs and foot jobs if he didn’t try and move it a notch higher. It was decided that we’ll proceed to the bedroom. Kashif and I removed whatever little bit of clothing we had on and, were led, to the bedroom by Yasmin, who held both our cocks in each hand and led us as if leading two horses to the stable.
The first thing Kashif did once we were inside the room was to remove Yasmin’s bra. He just reached out from behind and in one quick motion, unhooked the bra. Yasmin gave a little cry of surprise and held her bra with her hands in an involuntary protective motion. But she wasn’t going to hide her tits for long. Kashif took hold of one strap, I grabbed the other one, and together, we slipped the bra off her shoulders, ignoring her weak protestations. Once she was topless, we assumed more or less the same positions on the bed. Yasmin lied down on her back, head propped up by a pillow, deliciously juicy boobs swaying with every movement she made; I was sitting to her left, she held my cock in her left hand. Kashif was sitting near the edge of the bed, towards her feet. Once again, she started by giving his cock a foot massage. However, before she could proceed much further, Kashif took hold of her feet and kissed each foot, one by one. Slowly, he proceeded to her ankles, moving down further to her knees and thighs. This got me so excited that I reached out and started squeezing and fondling Yasmin’s boobs.
Kashif kept moving further with his kisses and caresses, and by the time he was kissing and licking Yasmin’s belly button, I was sucking on one of her nipples. Yasmin’s resolve and resistance were getting weaker with every kiss and caress that we gave her, and Kashif was becoming bolder by the second. Soon, he was nibbling on one of Yasmin’s tit, on the base of the mound, most of it being covered under Yasmin’s own hand, who, with her last bits of resistance, was still holding his mouth away from her tit. I saw this from the corner of my eye while still sucking on her other tit. Seeing her resist, I let go off her tit for a second, and whispered in her ear,
“Usay choosnay do na (let him suck)”. After a second’s hesitation, she removed her hand.
Kashif sucked on her tit as if there was no tomorrow. He sucked on one tit while fondling the other with his hand, squeezing the flesh, gently twisting and pinching the nipple. He then switched over, giving alternative treatment to both tits. I watched him for a while, then moving down, went for Yasmin’s thong and yanked it down her hips, rendering her completely nude. I reached out and touched her pussy, moving inside her pussy lips. She was wet. I bent down and tasted her, inhaling her familiar scent, exploring, finding her clitoris. She was almost beyond her senses now, having her tits and pussy sucked and eaten at the same time. Leaving her writhing, I went up again, started sucking on one of her boobs. Kashif was already busy on the other one. Now, she was having both her tits sucked together. Finally, she help my head, pulling me forward. As I reached near her lips, she whispered, fiercely, “fuck me.”
As she begged me to fuck her, I took position, straddling her legs. Kashif saw us getting ready and quietly got out of the way. I entered her dripping wet cunt easily, riding her, fucking her with long, smooth movements, my cock moving in and out with great rhythm. She grabbed me and pressed me against her, like she always does. I continued the strokes a while longer, feeling myself reaching an orgasm, and then stopped abruptly. She thought I had just stopped to regain control and delay the orgasm as I usually do. Instead, I whispered:
“Now, I want you to feel his cock.”
At this, she opened her eyes and looked at me, a little stunned, not expecting that I would be willing to go “all the way”, as one might say.
I nodded at her reassuringly and said, “Let him fuck you. Aaj do lund kay mazay lo (enjoy two cocks tonight)”.
“No…., I mean…, I don’t think so…., its not right” she muttered something.
I gave two or three further strokes before slipping my cock out of her, increasing her desire further. Before getting off her, I gave her a deep, passionate kiss on the lips and whispered in her ear again,
“Its alright…, I want you to do it.”
I knew she wanted Kashif badly. It was there in her eyes and body language right from the time the whole thing started between the three of us, and I knew this was the moment to break down her final inhibition.
As always, Kashif was quick to grab the opportunity. He heard and understood perfectly well what was going on, and no sooner had I alighted, he got on top of her, settled down calmly between her legs, and holding one of her feet, brought it up and placed it on his shoulder, creating the classic position for penetration. Holding his throbbing hard cock in his hand, he knelt forward a little, guiding it towards her itching, burning pussy. Putting the tip of his cock on the opening of her cunt, he hesitated just a second, further improving his position, and entered her in one swift movement.
It was finally happening! I was watching another man fuck my wife right in front of me. Something that I had not even dared fantasize about, was actually happening in my own house, in our own bedroom. My best friend was fucking my wife, and she was loving every minute of it from the look on her face. He gave her a few thrusts in the same position, and once sure of himself, he leaned forward, lying down upon her, crushing her breasts with the weight of his own chest, kissing her shoulder and neck muscles.
At first, Yasmin was passive, letting him fuck her with her hands to her sides, obviously overwhelmed by the situation. However, the pleasure of his cock moving in and out of her, was too much to resist for long. Her hands reached out and were behind his back, grabbing his shoulders. Soon, they were fucking like they’d been doing it for years. He now had his arms behind her back and was holding her tightly against him. He started kissing her face and was soon exploring her lips. I watched as he kissed her on the lips, watched her resist at first, then respond just a little, opening her lips ever so slightly, then a little more…., wider…., wider still, allowing him to insert his tongue inside her mouth. Now they were in a deep French kiss.
I was transfixed by the scene in front of me. Even more than the fact that he was fucking her, it was the manner in which she was responding to him was what fascinated me. They were seemingly oblivious to my presence now. He was kissing her deeply, repeatedly, and she was responding with passion. It was wild, beyond imagination…., a scene right out of a pornographic movie…, simply mind-blowing. I couldn’t believe it was happening in my own house, in front of my own eyes, to my own wife!
I shifted, moving down, getting to an angle where I could actually watch his cock moving in and out of her pussy; his balls slapping against her cunt with every thrust. I felt as if I was not there, left out of the situation, forgotten. It was only the two of them, fucking. It was a strange, yet deeply erotic-voyeuristic feeling, to become a mere audience as in a movie, except that this movie involved my own wife as the leading porno-star.
I thought Kashif wouldn’t last long, given the circumstances and taking into account the fact that this was after a long time that he was actually with a woman. I was wrong. He kept it up beautifully for a good 15-20 minutes, fucking her well and hard, pausing for just a few seconds every now and then, to regain control and prolong the pleasure.
He finished with a strong orgasm, his whole body shuddering as he came inside her. Yasmin and I use a combination of methods for contraception. When she’s finished with her periods fresh, I use a condom. But when she gets near her periods I go bareback, to heighten the pleasure. Occasionally, we would also practice withdrawal. This was towards the time when she was hardly 2-3 days away from her period according to her calendar, so I wasn’t too concerned about Kashif spilling his seed inside her. In fact, it just heightened the eroticism of the whole situation.
He turned over after a minute or so, and lay panting on her side; a look of immense satisfaction on his face; his body glistening with sweat. Yasmin’s eyes were still closed as I mounted her. She just opened her legs, and took me in her arms as I slid inside her, feeling her wet, used pussy, sloppy with Kashif’s cum. My cock almost slipped as I moved it back and forth inside my wife’s pussy, laden with my friend’s freshly spilled cum. I whispered in her ear, asking her how it felt to be fucked by Kashif, how his cock felt inside her, how hard it was…., she kept mumbling and saying it felt good…, very good…, it was so hard….! I couldn’t have lasted long even if I had tried! I came soon, kissing her and telling her how much I loved her.
We slept like that, just the way we were: naked; nobody bothered to get up, wash or clean up; the sex was exhausting yet satisfying. My wife slept with the semen of two men inside her womb. I was woken up by someone gently massaging my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see Yasmin, lying on her side, smiling at me a little shyly, and my friend right behind, propped up on his left elbow, his legs intertwined with hers, his right hand fondling and playing around with my wife’s boobs. I was erect, as much from being aroused as from a full bladder. Turned out they were going for another round of fucking and thought I might like to watch….! How considerate! I looked at the phosphorescent jewels of the wall clock and found it was around quarter past three. I excused myself and went to the toilet first, where I emptied my full bladder. When I came back, Yasmin was lying face down and Kashif was touching and kissing her bare ass. As I came back on the bed, my cock hardening again at the sight, he straddled her legs from behind. Lifting her ass a little in the air with her help, he got into position and entered her pussy that way. Once he had penetrated her fully, he settled down over her, and proceeded to fuck her in that position.
With each passing second his thrusts got stronger, and he held her from the front, grabbing both boobs in his hands, squeezing them tightly as he banged her hard, feeling both the delicious wet inside of her pussy and the creamy, fleshy, round softness of her ass against his own torso. Somehow it was even better than the last time, seeing him use her in that position; and she was enjoying every second of it. I stroked my own throbbing cock, but refrained from bringing myself to a climax as I was waiting for my turn. What a phrase….: waiting for my turn, as if she wasn’t my wife but some street whore whom we had rented for the night, and taking turns fucking her!
Once he finished, my “turn” did come, but Yasmin turned on her back and let me fuck her in the classical position, as she said she was tired from lying face down for so long. For the second time that night I felt my friend’s juice inside my wife’s vagina. It was a “sloppy second” for me, for the second time! We slept soundly after that.
Despite the fact that it was a Sunday, I had an appointment to keep: one of the disadvantages of being a freelancer; you don’t get to follow regular work hours like in a 9-5 job. Kashif persuaded Yasmin to serve breakfast only in her thong. She agreed but wore an apron, which did nothing to cover her boobs, in fact, only highlighted them further, as the straps ran alongside those full, round curves. Seeing her walk around practically in the nude, in broad daylight, pouring cups of tea and frying eggs as if it was a perfectly normal activity, made the whole thing even more erotic. Though we’ve been married for close to 10 years, it was still a sight seeing her exposed boobs juggle and her broad ass wave at us as she kept coming back and forth from the kitchen. Kashif only wore his briefs and I put on a PJ without the top. Though why we even bothered with these items of clothing, beats me.
During the breakfast, Kashif asked Yasmin to sit in his lap for a while, which she did after some brief, fake resistance. I watched with an ache in my loins as she settled down in his lap and he took some jam out of the jar and asked her to spread it over her tits, which she did, laughing the whole while. When he bent down to lick the jam away from her tits, she wasn’t laughing anymore, just gasping with pleasure, as his tongue and lips moved deftly over her stiff nipples. Watching the whole scene, I was again having that feeling of being left out from the whole drama; of being a by-stander or an audience. Strangely enough, it wasn’t a bad feeling. In fact, if any thing, it heightened the eroticism of the whole situation for me. I was realizing just how much of a voyeur I really was…., and a sub too; in fact, I was beginning to wonder, if I may qualify as a cuckold! I had no idea at that time of the kind of humiliation and slavery that I would be subjected to sooner than I could imagine.
Having cleared up the dishes from the table, all three of us were in the kitchen, helping Yasmin with the dishes. While she was still left with a few dishes, Kashif reached up from behind her, grabbing her firmly in his arms, kissing her on the side of her neck. At first she thought it was more playfulness on his part, and just giggled. But he first removed her apron, then he moved his hands down to her thong and in one swift movement, brought it down to her ankles and told her to step out of them. Hesitating just a bit, she did as told while asking him to at least wait till the dishes were over. Now she was standing only in her slippers. Ignoring her pleas for patience, he told her, quite firmly, to take her right foot out of her slipper, and place it on the end of the kitchen sink. As she seemed uncertain how to respond clearly to his instructions, he helped her do that. Once she had assumed the desired position, she was totally spread out – if you can imagine the posture – one leg on the ground, other placed high on the sink, her cunt lips spread open as wide as possible.
Having spread her like this, still holding her, he told me to push down his briefs. Heart racing, knowing what he was about to do, I bent down and slowly pulled his briefs down to his ankles, freeing his hard, erect cock off the fabric. He stepped out of his own slippers just for a second and kicked away his briefs. Still holding Yasmin with one arm, he used his other hand to touch her on her spread-out cunt. She shuddered with pleasure at his touch, now understanding fully well what was to follow – no resistance at all on her part. He dipped his fingers inside her pussy: first one, then two, then three digits; pushing them in and out, fucking her with his fingers. Once he had her groaning with pleasure and suitably wet between the legs, he told me to suck his cock. I knelt down for the second time, like an obedient dog, and taking hold of my friend’s cock, put my lips to it. I was beginning to realize what he was doing: he was going to use my mouth as a lubricant so that he could penetrate my wife’s pussy with ease. I sucked his manhood while he kept finger fucking my wife. When he was suitably wet – or when I was suitably humiliated, or both – he told me to stop sucking. I looked up, in fascination, from the same angle, kneeling on the floor, as he held his cock in his hand, hoisted himself just a little on his toes, and entered my wife’s gaping cunt in one expert movement. She literally cried out with pleasure. I got up from the floor, watching in amazement, as he fucked my wife hard, holding her from behind, cupping her boobs in his hands, occasionally bending forward to kiss her. She responded, in that obscene pose, leg hitched up on the sink, being fucked like a whore in front of her own husband.
After fucking her like that for a few minutes, he relented, probably getting tired due to that peculiar position. Taking his cock out of her, he moved back a little and told her to turn around and face him. When she did, he caught hold of her again, told her to grab hold of the marble slab behind her, just beside the sink, and helped her climb on the slab. With her naked ass firmly placed on the marble, he spread her legs again, as wide as possible, and told her to push outwards a little, so that her gaping pussy was virtually on the edge of the slab. Once she achieved this position with a certain amount of difficulty, he again perched himself up on his toes and, holding his cock – glistening with her pussy juice – he tried to enter her in that position. I knew it would be difficult and it was. Ultimately, like “a good husband”, I had to help him enter my wife in that outrageous position, the likes of which I had only seen in X-rated movies. Once he had her impaled on his cock, he told her to let go of the slab, and put her arms and legs around him, holding him firmly. In that manner, he lifted her up off the slab, holding her suspended in mid-air, his cock firmly jammed inside her pussy.
I watched with awe as he held her in that manner in his strong worked-out arms, muscles straining with the weight. Being of slender physique, I could never have held Yasmin like that. Turning to me, he said:
“You finish the dishes” and so saying, he turned and walked towards our bedroom, carrying my wife in his arms, still impaled on his cock, leaving me standing with an erection bulging out of my pajama front, feeling more like a cuckold than ever.
Obediently finishing the dishes like a slave, I went hurriedly to the bedroom. They had (apparently) just changed positions and he had her on all fours, about to enter her doggie style.
“Just in time” he said, penetrating her once more, as I entered the bedroom. As he proceeded to fuck her in that position he also slapped her – but not too hard – on the ass and asked….., no, ordered her, to tell me how he was fucking her.
She hesitated a little and then replied, not looking at me directly,
“Kutya ki tarah (like a bitch)”. She had obviously been instructed in that regard already because I knew Yasmin could not have thought of that reply herself. But it still amazed – almost frightened me – to see the kind of control he was exercising over her…., well, over both of us to be honest.
“Louder” he said, and slapped her ass, a little more sharply this time. “How are you being fucked?”
“LIKE A BITCH!” She cried out, half in pleasure, half in desperation, as he banged her hard, grabbing hold of her hanging tits and squeezing them tightly.
Although I was getting late for work, I still hung around, mesmerized by what was unfolding before me in my own house. Besides, I badly wanted “my turn.” It was not to be; Kashif had other ideas. Once he had finished, and lay panting on the bed beside my wife, he told me to get dressed and leave.
“For one thing, you’ll surely get late. For another, I WANT you to spend the day yearning for this pussy” he said, laying a hand between Yasmin’s legs and patting her cunt lightly, “AND, thinking about what I will do to her throughout the day, when you’re not around. And” he continued, “you’re not even to satisfy yourself by masturbating.”
You can imagine the hard time I had pulling my underwear and pants over my raging hard cock! He laughed as he saw me struggling with my clothes, came over and patted me on my still bare ass and said, “I’ll keep you updated on whatever happens today.” For the first time in my life, I left the house with my brief case in front to hide an all too visible hard on, creating a tent in my trouser’s front.
I spent the day in a frustrated state of arousal; my mind kept presenting images of Kashif fucking Yasmin in all sorts of perverted ways and positions. Actually, he never fucked her while I was away, saying he wanted to keep his cock “hot and eager” for the night. But he did two things: One, he shaved her pussy! Wiped it clean, free of the last hair, using a razor as she stood, naked, near the sink, one leg over the sink, pussy spread wide open. “That’s the way I like it” he said, smugly, when I saw it later that night as he removed her thong, running his fingers over her smooth cunt. Second, he “trained” her in giving a blow job, saying that she was too unskilled in that way. He even used hardcore pornographic videos and clips from the net to help her learn the technique. Doing so, he made her suck his cock a number of times, eventually having an orgasm in the afternoon and ejaculating all over her boobs. He said he did that to make her reduce her repulsion to having cum on her body, “something” he said, “she should get used to, now that she was to turn into a regular slut!”
Our son was back home because he had to go to college the next day. So dinner was a sordid affair, with no sex and nudity. Once he was asleep, safe and sound, in his bed, our “game” started. Kashif had already announced that he was going to fuck Yasmin up the ass tonight, totally disregarding her weak protestations. Fast-forwarding a little, I’ll take you to the scene in our bedroom that night. It was close to a quarter to one – our son having gone to sleep – but we all knew none of us were going to get any sleep at least for another hour. All three of us were naked and Yasmin was kneeling in front of Kashif, sucking his cock, and what a remarkable job she was doing. I could never recall my wife having sucked my own cock like that. In fact, Yasmin almost always did it more as a minor act in our foreplay, and that too, not very often. Now, seeing her suck Kashif’s cock, it seemed as if I was watching a pro. I could only marvel at how completely Kashif was controlling and dominating my wife, or rather, both of us. I think he just wanted her to suck his cock in front of me to demonstrate his domination, otherwise, having had plenty of it throughout the day, he didn’t really need a blowjob for the sake of it.
After he had fucked her mouth for a few minutes, he asked her lie down on the edge of the bed and open her legs wide. With my wife in this position, he bent down and proceeded to eat her, licking, sucking and even biting (gently) her clean shaven cunt, while I – her husband – could only stand and watch, feeling utterly humiliated and totally aroused at the same time!
Next, he stood up again, called me over to him, told me to get on my knees and suck his cock. “Get it sufficiently hard and lubricated to fuck your wife with” he said, as I put my mouth to the tip of his cock, which was losing its hardness just a little. Using my mouth, he got it hard again, and then, pushing my head back, releasing his cock from my mouth, he asked me to hold it in my hand and inquired:
“Is it hard enough now?” He knew perfectly well that it was but he wanted to hear it from me. When I just nodded, he said, impatiently, “Don’t nod your head. Tell me clearly, is it hard enough for your wife?” I replied,
“Yes, its hard enough.”
“Hard enough for what?”
“For fucking my wife.” I said, meekly.
“Do you want me to fuck her?”
“I want you to fuck her.”
“Fuck my wife.”
“Say the whole thing, loud and clear.” He commanded.
“I want you to fuck my wife with this hard cock.” I said, those lewd words coming out louder than I expected. You may imagine how those words must have sounded in Urdu!
He smiled and said, “that’s like a good husband.”
He entered and fucked her, on top, for a while, but he wasn’t pushing too hard. It was as if he was merely getting her excited for something better by giving her a taste of his cock. After just five minutes or so, as Yasmin was really starting to moan and groan and literally ask for more (aur chodo na mujhey – fuck me more) being her exact words (she sometimes used this dirty language in our own sex sessions too, but never as explicitly as she was doing now); he came out of her and told her to assume the doggie position. Once she was on all fours, her considerable ass raised so invitingly, he asked me to fetch a bottle of oil, “any hair oil would do” was how he instructed me.
Heart racing, knowing what he was about to do, I ran the errand for him, bringing a bottle of coconut oil kept ready in the bathroom. He took his own agonizing time, opening the cap while telling Yasmin to spread her ass cheeks wide by pushing them apart with her hands as much as possible. Then he poured, very steadily and carefully, some oil straight onto my wife’s ass hole. He was so meticulous about the whole act as if a scientist was performing an experiment in a laboratory. After that, he handed the bottle back to me and proceeded to rub the oil, first on to the outer ring of Yasmin’s ass hole, then he used his fingers – first one, then two – to enter her ass and lubricate the inner tissues as much as possible. Once he was sufficiently satisfied with the lubrication, he proceeded to grease his own cock with oil, asking me to pour a little of the liquid on his (now) semi-hard member. Then he asked me to stroke him like I was giving him a hand job, so that I could get him hard again. Once I got him hard, he took me thru the same route, asking me if it was hard enough and what I wanted him to do.
“Meri biwi ki gaand maro (fuck my wife in the ass)” were the words he made me utter, loud and clear, before he would actually penetrate her ass-hole. I couldn’t see Yasmin’s face very clearly, but I could tell by the way her muscles were stretched that she was very tense, even afraid of how her ass was about to be violated. Yet, such was the power of this man over the two of us, that the idea of resisting and/or refusing to submit to his demands never entered our heads. Why? I have no idea. Maybe I’m a sub by nature. He just took that part of my personality out of the closet. But Yasmin? What forbidden boxes of desire and perversion had he opened inside her, I could only wonder. It was as if the man had hypnotic powers; though none of this philosophizing on my part should be taken as an attempt to absolve either myself or my wife from what happened. The choice, ultimately, was ours – she CHOSE to become a slut, and I OPTED to become a cuckold husband.
He penetrated her ass-hole, slowly and gently, taking all the time in the world; millimeter by millimeter. I watched, fascinated, as the outer ring tissues of my wife’s ass were stretched, butt muscles flexing, to accommodate his tool. It wasn’t a very big tool – more or less standard size, but for a virgin ass it was still quite a handful. Using the lubrication provided by the oil, he kept pushing forward, till he was all the way in. I expected Yasmin to cry out in pain, but she never uttered more than a simple groan, or at the most, something like “Ahista (slowly) ….., please!” I think the pain or the fear was more in her head than in her ass. Once he was firmly entrenched in her ass, his shaft disappearing entirely in her rear hole, she was no longer exhibiting any pain, though she sweated a lot from the tension and stress of having her ass-hole violated for the first time ever.
Once he was sure that he had her sufficiently relaxed, he started the strokes; very, very slowly in the beginning. As his cock came out, inch by hard inch all the way to the tip, and went back in again, it seemed like an eternity. Gradually, after the first three agonizingly slow strokes, he increased his pace, while simultaneously manipulating her pussy with his fingers to heighten her pleasure. With his other hand, he would reach out now and then, to grab and fondle her boobs hanging like bags full of cream. After a quick squeeze, he would withdraw his hand and place it back on her firm butt, patting it lightly, almost lovingly, feeling the round smoothness.
He fucked her ass well, and thoroughly enjoyed himself. As for my wife, she almost passed out with the heat and excitement of the moment. Eyes closed, face shining with perspiration, she just responded to his every stroke by moving her hips back and forth to receive his pole inside her bowels. He finished with a shudder followed by a loud groan, almost falling over her arched back, losing control at the last minute. He came inside her bowels; never tried to withdraw and spill his cum out of her. As he withdrew finally giving Yasmin the chance to stand up and give some rest to her much deserved back, his cum – mixed with coconut oil – spilled out of her ass, running across her thighs and dripping on to her ankles and toes. She was too tired to try and clean it up. She just lied down on her back on the bed, legs still stretched wide as if inviting another cock, this time to be fucked in her cunt hole. Not that I needed any invitation, having spent the day in an almost constant state of arousal. I was inside her in a flash, riding her, pumping her hard, whispering to her and asking – repeatedly, how it felt to have her ass-hole fucked.
“Kaisa laga gaand mara kay? (How did it feel to have your ass fucked?” I kept asking, “How did his cock feel inside your ass-hole?”
“Acha laga…., acha laga (It felt good…, it felt good)” she kept replying, eyes closed, feeling every stroke of my hard cock inside her womb, till I exploded, releasing all the tension in my balls, built throughout the day.
Next morning, Yasmin had her period. She announced as much as she came out of the bathroom after finishing her toilet. The normal length of time with her is three days, and I thought there would be no further excitement (at least as compared to the last 2-3 days) in the short term, unless Kashif was so much a pervert as to fuck a woman during her period, though I doubted that Yasmin would agree to that even if he wanted to, no matter how much control he had over her. Luckily, he didn’t want anything like that. But it didn’t dampen his spirits in any way. “Good time to practice your oral skills” he said to Yasmin, meaning that he would be using her mouth a lot during this time. “Even you could practice some” he said, looking at me, his implication clear.
“You see” he said, later in the day, when Yasmin wasn’t around, “I want to make your wife a complete randi (whore) before I go back to USA.” His tone was so serious as if he was discussing completing a business project before going back.
“As part of this venture”, he continued, “We will eat out tonight, but please make some arrangements for junior (referring to our son).”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” He smiled, devilishly.
* * * * * * * *
We had just dropped our son to my Sister-in-Law’s house, making an excuse that we had to go to some very formal, boring kind of party, so he may as well play and enjoy with his cousins while we came back to pick him up. Yasmin was wearing an orange shirt left hanging out over her blue jeans. Matching orange slippers and a bit of jewelry completed the simple, yet charming effect. I’ve seen few women carry off colors as bright as orange the way Yasmin does. She looked very pretty and sexy, and was to look even sexier once we had dropped our son off. Acting on Kashif’s instructions, she opened the top button (just below the collar) of her shirt and folded the collar and front edges outward – making a deep V, giving anyone and everyone a clear view of her beautiful, inviting cleavage. I was worried. It was far more boob show than anything considered normal even in the most outgoing, liberal circles of Pakistan. It was more like something you would find an actress or a model wearing in one of those glossy, glamour magazines rather than a housewife wearing in public. But then, how many housewives were getting their asses banged by their husbands’ best friend, in front of their husbands! I could tell by Yasmin’s face that she was also tense. Despite my worry, I nearly had a hard-on just thinking about all the eyes ogling my wife’s cleavage tonight.
We parked in front of a well-known fast food outlet. I knew the kind of crowd there would be – mixed, a few married couples (almost always young), and a lot of guys with their girlfriends. The area as well as the restaurant we had chosen, was upscale. It was one of those contemporary places with dim lighting, music, and sheesha smoking (modern version of the smoking pipe). My Pakistani readers, especially those from Karachi, will understand easily what kind of places I’m talking about.
Kashif told me that Yasmin would remain by his side primarily, as if they were the couple and I was merely a friend. Couldn’t say I had any problems with that; this being pretty much the way it was happening inside my own house anyway! So in we went, the three of us, Kashif and Yasmin holding hands and walking very close together, I, following them just a step behind. Almost any woman as pretty as Yasmin, even dressed normally, would turn heads; that night, with Yasmin’s skin-show, heads turned…, and stayed turned! I really can’t give you details of each and every pair of eyes that stared at my wife’s cleavage that night. Men, with open lust in their eyes, and even women, with contempt, envy and, who knows, even desire in some of them!
Almost everywhere I looked, I could see people staring at her, nudging each other, men smiling knowingly at one another, and passing comments in whispers. The waiter who served us – a good looking, young guy, had a broad smile on his face that looked to me as if he was conveying what he thought of Yasmin. Some guys made deliberate attempts to pass by our table, slowly, on various excuses, while getting a good look at her juicy boobs.
There was one group of three guys and three girls (in their early twenties probably), obviously on a date, quite near our table. The girls left early but the guys hung around afterwards, taking puffs of tobacco from a sheesha. They were a little restrained till their girlfriends were with them, but once the girls left and the boys were on their own, they really started staring at Yasmin. They were very obviously talking about her, passing lewd comments, snickering and smiling at each other. Once, I got up and passed by their table to go to the men’s room, and I could clearly catch the word “Randi” (whore) uttered by one of them. All of this was making my cock even harder. Yasmin, on her part, was trying to avoid eye contact with most people around, though she was told to fold her shirt front and collar even wider by Kashif, which she did, quietly.
Next, came the real test. She was given a long talk and instructed thoroughly by Kashif on what she was supposed to do while I was in the washroom. When I returned, Kashif told her to go. After the briefest of hesitations, she got up from her seat, her jaw set, face resolved as if she was about to do something against her better judgment. She went towards the women’s washrooms, situated just beside the men’s, taking her handbag with her. She remained there for a while, and while coming back, just in front of the table where those three guys were sitting, she dropped her handbag. The zipper of the bag was open, resultantly, a lot of things, keys, lipstick etc, scattered on the floor. It was well done. When she knelt down to pick her things up, she didn’t do it the way most women, conscious of their boobs, would do i.e. going down on one knee. No, she BENT DOWN, giving all and sundry a most amazing, mouth-watering view of her boobs, clad in a low-cut bra, revealing all but the nipples! And she took her sweet time doing so, in fact, letting some of the objects slip her fingers so that she had to remain bent down, for much longer than necessitated by the occasion. I could actually feel the almost incessant chatter inside the restaurant pause for a while, as my lovely wife collected her things off the floor, giving everyone a tantalizing view of her boobs.
That was to prove the first of many such incidents when Kashif would make Yasmin expose herself partially in public places. After this incident he became bolder and tried the same experiment in different ways: like taking her out shopping in broad daylight and making her wear a very thin, almost transparent shalwar qameez with no dupatta to cover her upper body, and letting all the shopkeepers stare at her clearly visible bra and boobs underneath; or on another day, making her wear very high, knee length capris and than taking her out shopping for shoes and deliberately asking the sales boys to try out different pairs on her feet, letting them feel and watch Yasmin’s well-shaven, smooth legs from such close quarters. He would in fact take it a lot further, but more about that later. For the moment, lets get back to those couple of days when Yasmin underwent her periods and he couldn’t fuck her, except for blowjobs and/or hand jobs, which didn’t seem to satisfy him all that much.
The night we returned from the restaurant, and after Yasmin had put our son to sleep, the three of us gathered in our bedroom once again. I was feeling very horny after the incident in restaurant and looking forward to having some sex. I hadn’t exactly bargained for the kind of sex I was going to get!
Kashif told Yasmin to get naked from the waist up, which she did obediently, revealing her boobs. She kept on her PJ’s as she had to wear a sanitary napkin inside her panties, so there was little sense in getting her completely naked. Kashif first fondled, squeezed and sucked on both her tits, getting her nipples hard, and making her protest a little that it was unfair to her as she couldn’t satisfy herself in that condition. He completely ignored her weak protestations and asked her to get down on her knees, removing his own trousers and briefs and getting fully naked, having already dispensed with his shirt. I watched as my wife took his cock first in her hand, then put her lips around it and started giving my friend a blowjob. I took off my own clothes and started slowly stroking my own hard cock, my balls filling up with tension.
Kashif changed positions and sat down on the bed, opening his legs wide, letting Yasmin easy access to his rod. I watched as my wife knelt in between his legs, sucking his tool, while he used his hands to fondle and squeeze her tits. He glanced at me and saw me stroking my own cock, and called at me to come over. I thought he wanted me to join him on the bed and let Yasmin please both of us, or at least jerk me of himself while my wife sucked him. I should have known better!
He told me to get down on my knees beside Yasmin.
“Help her out man, I could use two mouths you know” he said, gently pushing Yasmin’s mouth away from his cock, as I knelt down between his widespread legs, beside my wife.
“Go on” he ordered, taking his cock out of Yasmin’s mouth. I watched as he shifted just a little, guiding his tool, glistening with my wife’s saliva, in my direction. Well, of course, I had sucked it before, but the humiliation of having to actually kneel in front of him like a bloody slave and sucking it was a new feeling, and one which, to my dismay, I liked!
I held his rod in my hand, feeling the wet, slippery surface, watching the drops of his pre-cum mixed with my wife’s saliva, bent down my head and put my lips around it, only tasting the bulb first. The first taste I felt was a mixture of salt and sweet: his own pre-cum, a bit of sweat (as he had just taken off his briefs on a hot, humid summer night), and my wife’s sweet saliva which I could always recognize having French kissed her thousands of times. I moved my lips further, feeling the rock hard shaft, tasting his manhood with my tongue, taking it in as far as I thought I could, then pulling back and forth again, trying to give him long, slow strokes, as I had watched in porn movies.
He wasn’t quiet satisfied with my amateurish efforts though, and holding my head with both hands, starting moving his cock to and fro with greater urgency, impatiently fucking my mouth, making comments like “abay loddoo, tujhay to lund choosna bhi nahi aata….(O you miserable cocksucker, you don’t even know how to suck a cock…)”, further increasing the humiliation.
He took it out after a few minutes and handed it back to Yasmin, who started sucking it again. He continued making comments like:
“Yeh daikh, teri biwi kaisay choos rahi hai…, aisay choostay hain lund (see how your wife sucks it…, this is how you give a blowjob)”
After that, he started switching quickly, letting Yasmin suck on his rod for a 20-30 seconds and then removing her mouth with me, then back to my wife again, alternating between the two of us, as he continued passing those lewd remarks:
“That’s right…., suck it like a bitch (to Yasmin)……, suck it like a male-whore (to me)…” etc. I could only wonder at the control that he had, not over me because I knew I was a cuckold anyway, but over Yasmin, who, less than a week away, was any ordinary desi housewife, but was now being made to behave like a slut. I could only conclude that she always had it in her, and it needed someone like Kashif to bring out that latent, submissive side of her personality.
Finally, taking it out of my mouth for one last time, he asked Yasmin to hold her boobs in her hands and lift them a little, at the same time making her come closer to him, telling me to move back a little, making for my wife. As she moved closer and held her boobs in her hands, he held his cock in his hand and, a little awkwardly, placed it between her tits, telling her to squeeze them together tightly. I understood that he was going to fuck her tits – what they call a titty-fuck. He gripped her from the shoulders, spreading his own legs around her hips, making a lock of some sort, and proceeded to move his cock between the tightly squeezed flesh of my wife’s boobs, slowly at first, then gaining momentum as both of them got used to this new position.
I thought he would only do this for a couple of minutes, just to try out something new, but he kept on at it, stroking his tool between my wife’s breasts. As his breathing started becoming uneven and he started sweating and groaning, I realized he was going to take it all the way: he was going to come in between my wife’s boobs. I don’t know if Yasmin realized it. Probably didn’t, she was just too caught up looking at that hard rod moving in between her tits to notice that Kashif was reaching the edge. I could see the desire on her face, and knew that she badly wanted that cock between her legs rather than between her tits. Had she knew, she might have protested and tried to back off, though I doubt Kashif would have let her.
He came in a sprout, all of a sudden, the first squirt hitting Yasmin on the chin (because of the angle of his cock), some of it going on to her lips, taking her totally by surprise. She gave a short, loud cry and as a natural reaction, let go of her own tits. Her own hands were immediately replaced by Kashif’s, who held both her boobs together over his cock, increasing the pleasure, as he came, in short jerks, spilling his cum all over her neck and boobs, smothering them with his seed.
Once he had spilled out the last drop, he sat back and relaxed, taking deep breaths. Yasmin stared down at her own cum-lathered boobs, stunned with what had just happened. I told you earlier that she was a bit squeamish about having cum in her mouth or anywhere on her skin, and this was of course way beyond her threshold. For the moment, she couldn’t even decide how to react.
Realizing perfectly well that if she got time to recover from the shock, she would rush to the bathroom to wash herself, Kashif looked at me and said,
“What are you waiting for? Go on, suck her.” I looked at him incredulously…., did he just ask me to suck my wife’s tits covered with his own cum?
“Go on…., suck her tits” he commanded, a little loudly, and I knew he meant it. Sucking his cock was one thing, but tasting…., rather practically licking his cum, off my wife’s tits, quiet another! Was I ready for it? I didn’t give myself time to think….., thinking would have released me from the role of an absolute cuckold that I had so willingly adopted. Without wasting a second, I moved closer to Yasmin, holding her in my arms and proceeded to suck her tits, taking the right one in my mouth first as it contained comparatively lesser amount of Kashif’s cum.
Well, unlike a lot of porn that you might have read, I won’t say that I found his cum in my mouth to be a strange, yet pleasurable sensation. No. It felt filthy and the taste, along with the coppery smell, almost made me puke. Had it not been for the immense sexual desire I felt in my own loins, plus the strong pressure of enacting my role as a complete, subordinate cuckold – my wildest fantasies coming true, I might have refused. But obey I did….., my masochistic, cuckold instincts leading me on, while my better sense cried out in revulsion. I sucked the other tit, the one which contained a heavier amount of his cum, then proceeded to lick it of Yasmin’s throat, moving up to her lips and….., as inspiration hit me, giving her a deep, passionate, lust-filled French-kiss, tasting his cum on her lips.
Kashif watched with satisfaction as licked his cum off my wife’s tits, neck and face, making encouraging comments like “that’s right…. Saara chaat lay…. Shabash (lick if all off…. Good boy)” and even patted me on my head and shoulders, patronizingly.
Once I had “cleaned her”, I took my mouth off, waiting and wondering what will come next. It was so that I bring myself to look at Kashif in the eyes after the way he had just humiliated me: after all, we used to be friends…., equals. Now, he was fucking my wife in front of me and treating me like his slave. A part of me hated him for that, and another, darker, hitherto unknown part of me just loved it!
“You know what” Yasmin finally found her tongue, “you two are disgusting” and having said that, got up to head for the bathroom sink to wash herself. There was some genuine disgust in her voice, but I still could not detect any anger.
After Yasmin had washed off whatever remained of Kashif’s cum on her boobs, neck and mouth, the night’s adventure was practically over but for the fact that I still had a hard-on!
Kashif actually made light out of my condition and told me to go to sleep the way I was. I refused to agree and demanded that I get “some kind of relief” at least. We actually argued about it and I told him not to be so selfish…., for the first time, I was really getting angry: he could fuck and use my wife any way, any time he wanted to, in my own house, but when I demand so much as a hand-job I am told to lump it! He sounded bored and annoyed with my “whining” as he called it, but finally reached out with his hand and took hold of my cock, running his hand delightfully over it. I was so far gone with lust that even the coarseness of his manly hand felt great…., anything to give me climax…., I was desperate.
“Give him a hand-job” he told Yasmin “and leave them out hanging, that’s the way I like’em” he added, as he saw that she was about to put on a t-shirt. Yasmin sighed but didn’t resist. She threw the t-shirt she was planning to wear on the dressing table and came towards me. I moved the other way to face her as Kashif let go off my cock and my wife held it in her soft, beautiful hands. She started stroking it immediately and I could tell by her face and body language that she wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible: it wasn’t as if she’d lost interest…., no, she was just plain frustrated that while we, men, could relieve ourselves in some way or the other, she could not satisfy her desires.
As I let myself loose, giving in to her short, quick strokes, getting ready for the impending climax, I was surprised by a sharp slap on my buttocks. It was sudden, loud and painful. I looked back in surprise and even Yasmin paused for a moment.
“Just a bit attitude adjustment” he said, calmly, and delivered another resounding slap on my butt. This time I actually cried out in pain…., this was no playful slapping, he was really giving it to me. Before I could decide how to react, he told Yasmin to keep jerking me off, and she just shrugged her shoulder as if to say “what the hell!” and resumed stroking me.
Kashif did not give me time to react: the third and the fourth slaps followed each other in split second, just as Yasmin started her strokes again. I was receiving pleasure at the front end while being punished at the rear! I didn’t know how to react. Yasmin’s hand felt so good on my cock, I didn’t want her to stop for a second. But Kashif was really pounding me raw at the other end, and by the time he landed what must have been the seventh or eighth slap, I experienced a strange sensation: the pain and pleasure had started mixing…., meeting each other….., and I liked it! I had read about the pleasures of spanking in erotica literature, but never thought I would actually experience it myself…., or worse…, like it! But there I was, my ass smarting from his blow, but actually wanting…, and dreading…., at the same time – if that’s possible – the next slap. By the time I came, letting go off my sperm on the floor, my cock twitching in Yasmin’s grip, my body almost bent over with pleasure, he must have landed at least 25-30 hard slaps on my butt. As I came, he landed the last one, which, somehow, seemed to actually increase the pleasure of the climax.
Once I had emptied my sacs completely and stood there collecting my breath, my cock limp, my ass burning with the treatment it had received, I felt used…, abused in fact. Kashif patted my butt lightly, and said:
“Good boy. Now go over to that mirror and take a look at your ass.”
I walked over to the large mirror on the dressing table, turned around, craning my head backwards and looked. My ass cheeks were so red they looked like someone had painted them red. And boy, did they burn!
“That’s what comes to ass-holes like you who dare to argue.” Kashif said, sounding satisfied with the punishment he had just meted out.
Without replying, I quietly put on a pair of pajamas, wincing as even the soft fabric hurt as it touched my raw ass, went to the kitchen to fetch myself the ice pad we always keep in the refrigerator to sometimes put over sore or tired eyes. Tonight, that ice pack was going to find itself at a very odd place.
I had finally learnt and accepted my role and place as a cuckold.