My name is Akanksha, and the story I’m about to tell you is the raw, unfiltered truth of my life. This isn’t some made-up fantasy—it’s a reality that shakes my heart and body every single night. At 22, I’m a hot, sexy woman with high ambitions. I love hanging out with friends, shopping, and splurging on new things. But a storm crashed into my life, flipping everything upside down for me and my family. Today, I’m going to reveal how my husband, who was once my boss, doesn’t just share his bed with me but also with my younger sister and my mother. In the dead of night, when I wake up, I catch him—sometimes in my sister’s room, sometimes in my mother’s—fucking them with a hunger that leaves me speechless. There are moments when I want to storm in and scream, “What the hell are you doing? This is wrong!” But my voice stays trapped. Why I stay silent, I’ll explain as we go deeper into this twisted tale.
Life started out simple for me. I grew up in a poor family where my parents were always at each other’s throats. My father never gave my mother the love or respect she craved from her husband. My younger sister, Riya, and I were raised in that tense, suffocating environment. Home was a constant battlefield, which is why I started working at my boss Rakesh’s house, even on Sundays. Rakesh was 34, my boss, and I handled emails and inquiries for his online business. He was married to a smart, beautiful, and sophisticated woman. They were madly in love, always traveling together, fulfilling each other’s every need. Watching their bond gave me peace—something my own home lacked entirely.
Rakesh and his wife treated me like family. They’d take me on outings, buy me clothes, shoes, and things I could never afford. Slowly, I found myself drawn to Rakesh. Despite the age gap, there was a warmth and raw masculinity in him that pulled me in. I dreamed of a husband like him—loving, caring, and attuned to a woman’s desires, both emotional and physical. But then came the nightmare of the pandemic. It tore everything apart. Rakesh’s wife fell ill and passed away, leaving him shattered. Around the same time, my father abandoned us, dying and leaving our family in ruins. Rakesh was alone, and so were we.
In that dark time, we became each other’s lifeline. Rakesh supported my family financially, while I gave him emotional comfort. But that closeness turned into something more. One night, when I stayed over at his place, our bond crossed into the physical. He pulled me into his arms, his lips crashing against mine, his hands roaming my body like I was his wife. I didn’t resist—I couldn’t. That night, we fucked with a passion that consumed us both. His thick cock slid in and out of my dripping pussy, each thrust drawing moans from deep within me. I melted in his arms, my body trembling with every stroke. I sucked his cock, taking it deep in my throat, and he fucked me like I was his forever, his thrusts so powerful my screams echoed through the room. I wanted to drown in him, to feel him deeper with every thrust.
Those nights became a routine. Every time I went to his house, we’d lose ourselves in each other’s bodies. Rakesh would knead my tits, suck my nipples until they were hard and aching, and lick my pussy until I was soaking wet. I’d worship his cock, sucking and stroking it, feeling it throb in my mouth. When he entered me, my entire body would ignite, electricity shooting through me with every thrust. He’d fuck me hard, my pussy clenching around him, my moans filling the air as I begged for more. But my mother and Riya had no clue about our relationship. They thought I was just working for him. In truth, I was his lover, warming his bed, fulfilling his every desire.
Then came another bombshell—my period was late. A test confirmed I was pregnant. Panic set in. Rakesh was stressed too. In our society, secret affairs stay hidden until a woman’s belly betrays her. He suggested an abortion, but I couldn’t bear the thought of ending the life growing inside me. “I want to be a mother,” I told him. One day, half-joking, I said, “What if my mom agrees to marry you? She’s still young, hot, and has no man in her life now. What would you do?” Rakesh laughed, “If I can convince your mom, I’ll keep both you and her. We’ll all have fun under one roof.” I giggled, playfully warning, “Don’t you dare mention my sister Riya.” But he teased, “Riya’s hotter than both of you.” Laughing, I climbed on top of him, and that day, he fucked me senseless again, his cock pounding my pussy until I was a moaning mess.
That night, we lay naked in each other’s arms. His hands squeezed my tits, his fingers pinching my nipples, while I lazily stroked his half-hard cock. His hot breath grazed my neck, making me wet again. We talked about convincing my mother. I was terrified—what if she found out I was already fucking Rakesh? What would relatives say? Society would tear me apart. But Rakesh reassured me, “I’ll handle it. Don’t worry.”
We made a plan to talk to my mom and Riya openly. When we sat them down, Rakesh laid it all bare—our love, our desire to marry, and the baby growing inside me. Mom and Riya were stunned. Mom’s face flushed with shock, and Riya’s eyes widened in disbelief. But Rakesh’s charm worked its magic. He promised to take care of our family, to give us a life free of want. His confidence won them over, and they agreed.
The wedding happened, and we all moved into Rakesh’s sprawling house. But what came next was beyond my wildest imagination. Rakesh’s hunger didn’t stop with me. One night, half-asleep, I noticed he wasn’t beside me. Curious, I followed strange noises to Riya’s room. Peeking through the slightly open door, my heart stopped. Rakesh was on top of Riya, his cock slamming into her tight pussy. Her moans filled the room, her tits bouncing with every thrust. Riya’s eyes were shut, her nails digging into his shoulders as she lifted her hips, meeting his relentless pace. Her pussy glistened with arousal, and she gasped, “Fuck me harder, Rakesh!” I slipped away quietly, my chest tight with shock and betrayal.
Days later, another night brought another blow. I found Rakesh in my mother’s room. She was naked on the bed, her legs spread wide as Rakesh’s tongue lapped at her pussy. Her moans were desperate, “Oh, Rakesh… don’t stop… lick me more!” He flipped her over, spreading her ass cheeks and sliding his cock into her tight asshole. Mom’s screams of pleasure and pain echoed as he fucked her ass, his hands gripping her hips. Her body shook with every thrust, her moans growing louder as she begged for more. I stood frozen, unable to speak. Anger and jealousy surged through me, but my pussy betrayed me, throbbing and wet at the sight.
Night after night, Rakesh took his pick—me, Riya, or Mom. His insatiable lust turned us into his playthings. He’d fuck me one night, my pussy stretched around his cock as I screamed his name, then sneak into Riya’s room the next, her moans haunting me through the walls. With Mom, he was relentless, fucking her pussy and ass until she collapsed in ecstasy. I wanted to confront him, to demand answers, but my voice failed me. Deep down, a twisted part of me was hooked. When Rakesh fucked me, his cock driving into my pussy, his hands bruising my tits, I forgot everything. My body surrendered to him, my orgasms washing away my anger.
Even now, Rakesh rules our house. He fucks my mother, my sister, and me, moving between our beds like a king claiming his harem. And me? I stay silent. Because somewhere along the way, I’ve drowned in this game of lust, craving his cock just as much as they do.