Indian wife is held hostage and ravaged by the CEO

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I waited for some time, and then I heard a door open. It must have been the washroom, and my wife was emerging. I heard a wolf whistle — Mr. Sarun’s — admiring the sight of my now must-be-naked wife. I could imagine Vidya marching, somewhat haughtily, somewhat self-consciously, trying to cup her boobs in one hand and cover her lady parts down there with the other. Her hair must be falling lusciously to her shoulders as she walked to the bed.

“Look at you, saali!” I heard him exclaim. “You fill out properly in the nice places, babe!”

I heard a couple of smacks to her bum again, and then … silence.

“Damn!” I heard him say. He must have been groping Vidya now, first squeezing her tits, then probably asking her to turn around so he can examine her butt. He was likely patting her butt, and then rubbing his hands all over her tummy, before pinching a nipple.

“Are these real?” I could hear him ask that to my wife, who would just nod and grin as Mr. Sarun continued to suck on her areole.

“What size are they again, Vidya?”

“Um … 28DD I think, Sirjee?”

“Damn! They are much larger than 28DD, Vidya. DD is cup size, which is essentially how round the breasts are, 38 is what they measure with a tape around the chest. 28 is tiny. You are much, much, much larger, Vidya. What fucking breasts you have — they are giant melons!”

“Er, thank you Sirjee.”

“Your husband is one lucky bastard, babe. Too bad he’s such a pussy. You need a real cock in your choot.”

“Er … yes, Sirjee.”

Then there was more silence which I could only image was them both kissing. Vidya was a great kisser, no doubt flicking her tongue expertly at my boss’s mouth, and I could hear her moans and ahhs and oohs come through the door.

“You have a big ass too, Vidya. Let’s see your gaand, stand up, now crouch down. Good. I like a raandi who knows how to listen and obey her master.”

I could hear some smacks and more oohs and aahs as Mr. Sarun was no doubt groping (and spanking) her buttocks. He would have her twerk, and as her butt cheeks jiggled as she twirled, he would kiss and squeeze Vidya there, followed by a spank. I myself was never allowed to spank Vidya, but everyone from Gaurav to Ramu to Wasim to Balachandra to Feroz (and now Mr. Sarun) had spanked her. I felt a huge sense of shame and inadequacy. Here was my beloved wife being spanked on her buttocks by another man on the other side of the door, and all I could do was try to listen in, and try not to get caught in the act.

“Why don’t you bend over the bed?” I heard Mr. Sarun order her. Vidya complied, I am sure, spreading her arms and lying face down on the edge of the bed, her ass hanging out. Mr. Sarun — like all of Vidya’s lovers — seemed to be fascinated with her ass. I heard a pop — which I understood was the sound of a bottle cap opening. I later found out this was baby oil — Mr. Sarun had her spread her legs so he could oil her buttocks. Vidya continued to shake her bum as Mr. Sarun oiled, smacked, groped, pinched and kissed her butt.

Soon enough, the bed squeaked in jumble as they stepped in it. Vidya let out a deep sigh and before long I was listening to her moan every two or three minutes. I knew my boss was now likely fingering her between her thighs. He definitely knew how to pleasure a woman. Soon I heard a sound which I only knew was the sound Vidya made when she started to have an orgasm.

“Oh yes! Sirjee! Oh, you are too good! OH YES!”

Mr. Sarun hadn’t even put his cock to use, and already Vidya had an orgasm.

“Every woman,” I heard Mr. Sarun say, “loves the touch of a man other than their husband.”

After about a few minutes of silence, they moved around some more and in no time I heard my boss let out an “ahhhhh.” Vidya must have just enveloped his manhood with her fingers, perhaps taken his penis into her mouth. Not for the first time in my life I felt the electric mix of shock, jealousy, humiliation and, most importantly, arousal as I pictured my wife sucking the cock of yet another lover. I realized I had subconsciously put my hands into my pants and was now stroking myself. I was picturing my wife’s breasts and hair flipping back and forth as she continued to suck Mr. Sarun. Finally he let a sharp cry.

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