I’m Ashok, a 48-year-old guy, just an average Joe trying to keep life steady. My wife, Rekha, is 35, a stunning woman with fair skin, a curvy 36-28-38 figure, and eyes that sparkle with mischief. Her ass sways like a tease when she walks, drawing stares from every corner. We’ve been married for a decade, but the 13-year age gap has started to show, especially in the bedroom. I couldn’t keep up with her needs anymore. Every time I tried to get frisky, she’d shut me down with a scowl.
“Look, if your dick can’t get hard, why bother stirring me up? Just go to sleep!” she’d snap. Her words stung, but I swallowed my pride. Days dragged on, and her silent frustration grew. I knew she craved passion, the kind of fire I couldn’t ignite anymore.
One day, my company was expecting a client from South Africa. His name was John, but I nicknamed him Kalu in my head. He was 22, tall, broad, dark as night, and built like a goddamn beast—six feet of pure muscle with eyes that screamed danger. Something clicked in my head. What if I could get Rekha to fuck this guy? Maybe it’d quench her thirst, and I’d get a front-row seat to some live-action porn.
That afternoon, John showed up at our factory around noon. We welcomed him with open arms, and my boss assigned me to work with him. We toiled until 10 p.m., and when it was time to leave, my old bike wouldn’t start. John noticed and asked, “What’s the problem, Ashok?” I brushed it off, “Nothing, just the bike acting up.” He asked for directions to his hotel, but it was late, and he seemed lost. Seizing the chance, I said, “Forget the hotel, John. Crash at my place tonight.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, let’s go.” I had him hop into his car, and we headed home. On the way, I texted Rekha: “Got a special guest coming tonight. Pull out all the stops for him.” She replied, “Okay, don’t worry.” Rekha never half-asses hospitality, so I knew she’d go all out. We stopped at a liquor store, and I asked John what he liked. He named a fancy foreign brand. I grabbed a bottle, and we were off.
When we got home, Rekha opened the door, and fuck, she looked like a wet dream. She wore a sheer, net-like gown that hugged her curves, her black bra and panties visible underneath. Her full tits and round ass were practically begging for attention. John’s eyes locked onto her, lust dripping from his gaze. Rekha sized him up too, and I could tell she was already hooked.
We settled in, and John and I started knocking back drinks. Rekha, never one to shy away from booze, joined us. She brought out hot pakoras, and the vibe got cozy. John offered her a glass, and she took it with a sly smile. I caught him staring at her tits, and she was leaning in just enough to give him a better view. My mind was racing. “This bitch never gives me pussy anymore, but maybe Kalu’s cock will do the trick,” I thought. “At least I’ll get to watch a live fuck show.”
I played drunk, slurring my words. “Babe, I’m wasted. Help me to bed.” Rekha teased, “What, a few drinks and you’re done? Come on, get up.” As she tried to lift me, I grabbed her gown, “accidentally” pulling it down to flash half her tits. John’s eyes nearly popped out. Rekha didn’t care—she just smirked and called out, “John, help me out here!”
John jumped up, and instead of grabbing me, he copped a feel of Rekha’s ass, squeezing it hard. She let out a soft “Mmm” and giggled. They hauled me to bed, and I kept up the drunk act, cracking my eyes open to spy on them.
John pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and blew smoke toward Rekha. She laughed, her eyes locked on his. The tension was thick, but neither made a move yet. John asked, “Where do I sleep?” Rekha winked, “Right here, next to him.” He grinned, “And you?” She purred, “I’ll be right beside you.”
She slid onto the bed, her gown riding up to show her creamy thighs. John stripped off his pants, his cock bulging through his boxers. Rekha’s breath hitched as she stared. He peeled off his shirt, revealing a chiseled, muscular chest. Rekha gasped, “Fuck, you look like a macho man!” In my head, I thought, “Macho? Nah, this bastard’s a motherfucker. He’s gonna wreck your pussy tonight.”
John lay down next to her, still in his boxers. They started chatting, and Rekha was clearly into it. I was dying to see where this went, no way I was sleeping through this. Both pretended to doze off, but Rekha bent her knees, letting her gown slide up to her thighs. Her smooth, fair skin glowed in the dim light.
John peeked at her, saw the green light, and slid his hand onto her thigh, stroking slowly. Rekha didn’t flinch—she spread her legs wider. His hand moved to her pussy, and I could tell she was already wet. Her breathing got heavy as he rubbed her clit, then slipped a finger inside, pumping slowly. Rekha moaned softly, “Ohh… fuck… keep going…”
I noticed she’d loosened her string panties, leaving her pussy bare. John’s finger fucked her, and her moans grew louder, “Ahh… uhh… yes…” She grabbed his hand, pressing it harder against her cunt. The room was heating up, and my dick was twitching just watching.
Rekha gave him a look, signaling she wanted more. John didn’t hesitate. He shifted into a 69 position, burying his face in her pussy. His tongue lapped at her clit, then dove deep, licking every inch of her soaking wet cunt. Rekha’s moans turned to screams, “Ohhh… fuck… yes… lick it… ahh… mmm…” She yanked his boxers down, freeing his cock. Holy shit, it was a monster—11 inches, thick, black, and veiny, like a fucking horse dick. My jaw dropped. This thing was gonna destroy her.
Rekha grabbed his cock, stroking it before taking it in her mouth. John groaned as she sucked, her lips stretching around his massive shaft. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured some over his cock. Rekha slurped it up, the booze mixing with her spit as she deep-throated him. She took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled, and went back to sucking, her head bobbing furiously. After ten minutes, she was drunk as fuck, her eyes glazed over.
John chugged a shot and kissed her, pouring whiskey into her mouth. Rekha was gone, lost in lust and liquor. She slurred, “Fuck me, John… rip my pussy apart…” He spread her legs wide, still in 69, and positioned his cock at her entrance. With one hard thrust, he shoved half his dick inside. Rekha’s scream was muffled by his mouth on hers. She clenched her teeth, tears welling up from the pain.
After a moment, she lifted her hips, signaling for more. John slammed in again, his cock burying itself to the hilt. Rekha’s muffled cries filled the room, “Ohhh… fuck… I’m dying…” The bed creaked as he pounded her, the wet “slap… slap… slap” of his cock ramming her pussy echoing. Her cunt was dripping, the slickness making his thrusts smoother. Rekha’s pain turned to pleasure, and she started screaming, “Harder… fuck… tear my pussy up… ohhh… your cock’s so fucking big!”
John fucked her like a bull, each thrust shaking her body. Rekha’s ass bounced as she met his thrusts, moaning, “Fuck… you bastard… make my cunt your bitch…” John didn’t understand her dirty talk, but it only made him fuck her harder. Her pussy was stretched wide, taking every inch of his monster cock. After 40 minutes of relentless pounding, Rekha was spent, begging him to stop. He pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices.
He wasn’t done. “Get on your knees,” he growled. Rekha got into doggy style, and John pressed his cock against her asshole. She gasped as he pushed in, her screams muffled by his hand. “Ohhh… fuck… you’re splitting my ass…” she cried, but he kept going, thrusting deeper. Her ass took a beating, and after 30 minutes, he came hard, filling her hole with cum. He collapsed, panting like a dog, while Rekha whimpered in pain.
Half an hour later, they were at it again. They fucked all night, passing out naked on the bed. In the morning, I checked Rekha’s pussy—it was a wrecked, gaping mess. I chuckled and went back to sleep. At 9 a.m., they woke up, thinking I was still out. Rekha led John to the bathroom, and they showered together, naked, groping each other under the water.
Rekha slipped into another sheer gown and made tea. Over tea, they started again. John pulled her onto his lap, kissing her neck and squeezing her tits. Rekha asked, “You staying today?” He shook his head, “Got a flight.” She pouted, “Fuck my pussy one more time before you go.” He handed her his cock, and she stroked it, getting him hard. They went back to 69, Rekha sucking his dick while he ate her pussy. After an hour of fucking, they collapsed, exhausted but satisfied.
When John left, I told Rekha, “I brought him here for you, to give you what I couldn’t.” She hugged me tight, whispering, “You’re the best.”
So, folks, what did you think of my wild wife-fucking tale? Drop your thoughts below!