My name’s Sanjeev Shukla, 24 years old, and for the past three years, I’ve been a call boy tearing it up in Delhi. This gig’s my fucking lifeline, paying for my flashy lifestyle. I plaster my ads in newspapers and online, offering my cock to horny women in swanky hotels, their private bedrooms, or at those wild, rich-bitch parties where they’re desperate for a hard pounding. Whether it’s one slutty housewife craving my dick or a room full of elite whores needing their pussies wrecked, I make sure they’re left screaming and dripping.
Today, I’m spilling the tea on a filthy, cock-throbbing experience from two years ago in November. It was a night so wild, it still gets me rock-hard just thinking about it.
It was a chilly afternoon, around 2:30 PM, when my phone buzzed. The guy on the line had a deep, calculated voice, like he was choosing his words to hide his nerves. He said his name was Ranjan, 35 years old, and asked, “Do you fuck housewives too?”
“Hell yeah,” I shot back, my voice dripping with swagger. “I’ll fuck any woman who’s got the cash and a wet pussy.” He didn’t flinch. “Can you come to their place?” I said, “No fucking problem.” Then he got to the point: “How much for a full night?” I told him, “1500 bucks to keep my cock busy all night.”
Ranjan said, “Alright, I’ll pay, but your dick better be worth it.” I smirked, “Ranjan ji, my cock’s a fucking guarantee. You’ll have no complaints. But who’s getting this pounding?” His answer hit like a sledgehammer: “My wife.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “Your wife? You shitting me?” He let out a dirty chuckle. “No bullshit, Sanjeev. I get off watching my wife get her pussy slammed by another man’s cock. And she fucking loves strangers stretching her tight cunt.”
My head was spinning. I’d seen some kinky shit, but this was next-level. After a beat, I said, “Alright, I’m game. Give me the details.” He laid it out: “It’s Saturday. Just me and my wife, Seema, at home. No one else. Be at Lajpat Nagar bus stop at 6 PM. I’ll pick you up in my silver Swift, number plate XXXX.” I told him I’d be in a pink shirt and cream pants so he’d spot me.
At 6 PM sharp, I was at Lajpat Nagar, the cold November air nipping at my skin. The streets were alive with Delhi’s evening chaos, and I was buzzing with nerves and excitement. About 15 minutes later, a silver Swift rolled up. The window slid down, and a guy waved me over. I strode up, and he asked, “Sanjeev?” I nodded. He rolled up the window, opened the door, and I hopped in. “You Ranjan?” I asked. He grinned, “Yup, that’s me.”
Ten minutes later, we pulled up to his fancy-ass bungalow. The place was straight-up bougie—huge iron gate, manicured lawn, and a vibe that screamed wealth. Ranjan parked and led me inside. The interior was pure luxury: marble floors, sleek furniture, and a chandelier that probably cost more than my rent. He took me to the living room, where a fucking bombshell was sprawled on a sofa. “This is my wife, Seema,” Ranjan said.
Seema, around 30, was a goddamn wet dream. She wore a tight red blouse that hugged her massive, juicy tits and a black saree with a red border that clung to her curvy hips like it was painted on. Her fair skin glowed under the dim lights, her slim waist begging to be grabbed, and her round ass screaming to be spanked. I stuck out my hand and said, “Hey.” She gave a slutty smirk, purring, “Hi,” her soft hand sending a jolt straight to my cock.
Ranjan told Seema, “Get us three glasses of wine, darling.” She sashayed to the kitchen, her hips swinging like she knew every eye was on her. I turned to Ranjan, “I don’t drink.” He shrugged, “No worries, grab a soft drink.” I nodded. Seema came back with three glasses, handing me a cold Coke. Her fingers brushed mine, and my cock twitched like it was ready to bust out of my pants. I couldn’t wrap my head around why a goddess like her needed my dick when she had a husband sitting right there.
We sat, the air thick with tension. Ranjan and Seema downed their wine, their eyes getting glassy with that boozy haze. Seema’s cheeks were flushed, and she kept throwing me these fuck-me looks. Ranjan broke the silence, “So, Sanjeev, what do you think of my Seema?” I hesitated, then said, “She’s fucking stunning. Her beauty’s dripping out of every damn pore.” Ranjan grinned, leaning back. “Whatever you wanna do with her, do it. Don’t be a pussy about it.”
I looked at Seema. She was smirking, her eyes screaming she wanted my cock. Then she glanced at my bulging pants and gave Ranjan a wicked wink. She leaned toward him, her voice dripping with mockery, “Look at Sanjeev’s bulge, Ranjan. Bet it’s bigger than that pathetic thing you call a dick.” Ranjan’s face flushed, but his eyes lit up with twisted excitement. He said, “Show her your cock, Sanjeev. Prove you’re a real man, not like me.”
I wasn’t about to play shy. I unzipped my pants, reached in, and pulled out my throbbing, rock-hard cock. The red tip was glistening, begging to be sucked. Seema’s eyes locked onto it, wide and hungry. “Fuck, Ranjan, look at that monster,” she taunted, licking her lips. “This is what a real man’s cock looks like. Not your tiny little prick.” Ranjan squirmed, his face red, but his hard-on was obvious through his pants. I gave my cock a slow, teasing stroke, making Seema’s eyes go slutty and wild.
Seema leaned closer to Ranjan, her voice low and cruel. “You think you can satisfy me? That’s why I need Sanjeev’s big dick to stretch my pussy.” Ranjan’s breath hitched, his humiliation turning him on even more. I took charge, moving behind Seema. My hands slid around her tiny waist, feeling the heat of her skin through her saree. She pressed her ass against my cock, grinding just enough to make me groan. I kissed her neck, my lips trailing over her soft, warm skin, nibbling her earlobe. She moaned, loud and slutty, tilting her head back. “See, Ranjan?” she sneered. “This is how a real man touches me.”
Ranjan was glued to his seat, his eyes burning with a mix of shame and lust. My hands moved up, cupping her massive tits over her blouse. Her nipples were hard as fuck, poking through the fabric. I squeezed them, and she gasped, her breathing heavy. “Oh, Sanjeev, you know how to handle my tits,” she purred, then turned to Ranjan. “Unlike you, you useless fuck.” I unbuttoned her blouse, slow and deliberate, revealing her creamy cleavage. When it fell away, her tits were barely contained in a lacy black bra. I unhooked it, letting those perfect, round boobs bounce free, her pink nipples begging for my mouth.
Seema grabbed my cock, stroking it hard, her hand sliding up and down the shaft. “Look at this, Ranjan,” she mocked. “This cock’s gonna fuck me senseless, something you could never do.” I whispered in her ear, “I showed you my big dick, baby. Where’s that tight pussy it’s gonna ruin?” She kissed me, her tongue sloppy and hungry, and said, “You pulled out that monster, now find my cunt and fuck it.”
In front of Ranjan, I stood her up and yanked the knot of her petticoat. It slid to the floor, revealing her lacy panties. I hooked my fingers in them and pulled them down, exposing her shaved, dripping pussy. She was stark naked, her body glistening with sweat. “Look at my pussy, Ranjan,” she taunted. “It’s wet for a real man’s cock, not your sorry excuse.” Ranjan’s face was beet red, but his hand was rubbing his crotch.
I pushed Seema onto the sofa, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was soaked, the lips swollen and ready. I slid two fingers inside, feeling her tight, wet walls grip me. She moaned, her hips bucking. “Fuck, Sanjeev, finger my pussy,” she gasped, then turned to Ranjan. “See how he makes me feel? You never could.” I leaned down, my tongue diving into her cunt, licking her clit and sucking her juices. Every time I nibbled her clit, she screamed, her body shaking. Ranjan was practically panting, jerking himself off as his wife humiliated him.
I pulled a condom from my pocket and tossed it to Seema. “Put it on my cock, slut,” I said. She knelt in front of Ranjan, rolling the condom over my throbbing dick, her fingers teasing the tip. “This is a real cock, Ranjan,” she sneered. “Not that limp noodle you’ve got.” I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the bedroom, throwing her on the bed. I climbed on top, rubbing my cock against her wet pussy lips. She moaned, begging, “Fuck me, Sanjeev.” Ranjan sat on a chair nearby, his eyes glued to us. “Don’t make her wait,” he said, his voice shaky. Seema laughed, “Yeah, fuck me, Sanjeev. Show my pathetic husband how it’s done.”
I kissed her deep, my tongue fucking her mouth, then pulled back and slammed my cock into her tight cunt. She screamed, her pussy clenching around me like a vice. “Oh fuck, yes!” she yelled, then turned to Ranjan. “This is what a real dick feels like, you loser.” I pounded her hard, my cock stretching her with every thrust. Her big tits bounced wildly, and she wrapped her arms around me, her nails clawing my back. “Harder, Sanjeev! Fuck my pussy raw!” she screamed.
I grabbed her tits, sucking her nipples while I rammed her deeper. Ranjan was jerking off furiously now, his face a mix of shame and arousal. “You like watching your wife get fucked, don’t you, you pathetic cuck?” Seema taunted, her voice dripping with venom. I lifted her legs over my shoulders, driving my cock balls-deep into her cunt. She was screaming, “Chodo mujhe! Aur zor se!” Her pussy was so tight, it felt like it was sucking my cock dry.
We fucked for over an hour, sweat pouring off us. Her pussy clenched harder with every thrust, and she came twice, her body shaking as she screamed my name. “See, Ranjan?” she gasped between moans. “This is what a real man does to my pussy.” I kept pounding, my balls slapping her ass, until I felt my load building. With one final, brutal thrust, I exploded, filling the condom as she came again, her pussy pulsing around me. We collapsed, panting, our lips locked in a messy, sloppy kiss, ignoring Ranjan completely.
That night, I fucked Seema three times. Each round was filthier than the last. The second time, I bent her over the bed, slamming her pussy from behind while she moaned like a whore. “Look at this, Ranjan,” she sneered, her ass jiggling with every thrust. “Your wife’s getting fucked like you never could.” The third time, she rode my cock, her tits bouncing in my face as she screamed, “This cock’s ruining my pussy, you useless fuck!” Her cunt was so wet, it soaked the sheets. Ranjan watched every second, his hand never leaving his pathetic dick.
By morning, we were spent. Seema brought me a glass of milk and some sweets, her body still glowing from the night’s fucking. She handed me 1700 bucks and said, “1500 for that monster cock, 200 for fucking me better than my sorry-ass husband ever could.” She took my number, winking as she said, “I’ll call you when I need a real man again.” I grinned and walked out, my body sore but my mind replaying every second of that dirty, humiliating night.
That night with Seema and Ranjan was fucking unforgettable. Her tight, dripping pussy, her cruel taunts tearing Ranjan apart, and the way we fucked like animals while he watched—it’s a memory that still makes my cock throb.