My name is Kajal, a 30-year-old woman from Punjab. I’ve been married for seven years, but motherhood has eluded me. My husband is a disappointment in bed—five to seven minutes, and he’s done, leaving me aching with unfulfilled desire. My body, though, is still a head-turner: a curvy 34-32-36 figure, fair skin, and a face that makes men stare. I’m a bank manager, and so is my husband. We both leave home early for our respective banks and return late, exhausted but never satisfied.
At my bank, I catch the hungry eyes of male staff, their gazes lingering on my curves, always looking for a chance to chat. I keep my distance, staying professional, focused on my work. But one evening, work kept me late. The bank was empty except for me and Rajan, the peon. I was buried in files when I realized Rajan was nowhere to be found. I searched the premises, calling his name, but he didn’t respond. Finally, I pushed open the door to the ladies’ bathroom—and froze.
There was Rajan, engrossed in a porn clip on his phone, stroking his thick, hard cock. It was massive—longer and girthier than my husband’s, veins bulging, glistening with precum. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. My pussy throbbed, wetness pooling between my thighs as I watched him jerk off, oblivious to my presence. I forgot where I was, lost in the sight of his pulsing dick.
Before I could snap out of it, Rajan noticed me. He stood, his cock still rock-hard, and walked over. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and placed it on his shaft. My fingers wrapped around its heat, and I was too shocked to pull away. He guided my hand, stroking himself with it, and I felt his cock throb under my touch. My breath hitched, my pussy dripping now.
“Madam,” he said softly, “I know your husband doesn’t satisfy you. I know you’re desperate for a baby.” His words hit hard, exposing my deepest frustrations. My body screamed for release, but my mind screamed this was wrong. I yanked my hand away and stormed out of the bathroom.
Rajan followed, apologizing. “I’m sorry if I offended you, madam.” I didn’t respond, my heart pounding. Then he added, “Please, just help me finish.” His voice was pleading, and something in me softened. I nodded slightly, and he took my hand again, guiding it back to his cock. This time, I didn’t resist. I stroked him, feeling his thickness, his hardness. He groaned, “Madam, your hands are magic. It’s been so long since I’ve been this hard.”
Moments later, his cock erupted, hot cum spilling over my hand. I pulled away, rushing to the bathroom to wash it off—but not before I secretly licked a drop. The salty taste sent a shiver through me, my pussy aching for more. I cleaned up, left the bathroom, and told Rajan, “Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll lose your job.” I ran my hand over his head and left the bank. At home, I showered, but Rajan’s cock haunted my thoughts. I fingered myself, imagining it inside me, and fell asleep exhausted.
The next day, I skipped panties, my pussy already wet with anticipation. At the bank, I caught Rajan’s eye and gave him a sly smile. He grinned back. In my cabin, he brought me water and apologized again. I stood, walked to him, and whispered, “Rajan, your cock is magic.” I grabbed his bulge through his pants, feeling it harden instantly. He stood still, letting me stroke him. Footsteps outside broke the moment—I sat down, and he left. My pussy was screaming for him, my focus shattered.
By 4:30 PM, the bank was empty. Rajan slipped into my cabin and knelt by my feet, his hands sliding up my legs. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice shaky. He grinned, “You saw my cock yesterday, madam. Now let me see your pussy.” I protested, but he untied my salwar, pulling it down. My bare, glistening pussy was exposed—no panties to hide it. “Someone might see,” I whispered. He pushed my chair back, crawled under the desk, and pulled me close. “No one will know,” he said.
His tongue hit my pussy, and I gasped, my body trembling. He licked my clit, sucking gently, his tongue diving into my wet folds. My husband had never eaten me out, but Rajan devoured me like a starving man. My hand gripped his hair, pushing his face deeper into my cunt. I spread my legs wider, moaning as he sucked my clit, his fingers teasing my entrance. My pussy gushed, and he lapped up every drop, drinking my juices like nectar.
He emerged, his face wet with my cum. I was still panting when he locked the bank door and stripped naked. His cock stood proud, begging for attention. I opened my mouth, and he slid it in, fucking my face slowly. I sucked hungrily, gagging as he pushed deeper, my saliva coating his shaft. I stripped too, my tits bouncing free. Rajan attacked them, sucking my nipples, squeezing my breasts until they ached.
He laid me on the floor, spread my legs, and rubbed his cock against my pussy lips. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside me. I screamed, pain mixing with pleasure as his thick cock stretched my tight cunt. He kissed me, muffling my cries, and fucked me hard, his balls slapping against me. “Your pussy’s so tight, madam,” he growled. “Doesn’t your husband fuck you?” I moaned, “If he did, I’d be a mother by now.” Rajan grinned, “I’ll make you a mother.”
He lifted my legs higher, pounding my pussy relentlessly. I came twice, my juices soaking the floor, but he didn’t stop. Finally, he groaned, his cock pulsing as he filled my pussy with his hot cum. I felt it flood me, warm and thick, and my body relaxed in bliss. We lay there briefly before I cleaned up in the bathroom. Rajan was still naked, sprawled on the floor. “Get up, lock the bank, and go home,” I said, kissing his cock before leaving.
From then on, we fucked whenever we could. In my cabin, the bathroom, the storeroom—anywhere we got a chance. Rajan’s cock satisfied my craving pussy like never before. Months later, I found out I was pregnant. Rajan’s baby was growing inside me. I was overjoyed, though my husband thought it was his. He was thrilled, clueless about the truth.
During a three-day bank holiday, I couldn’t wait to tell Rajan. I lied to my husband about visiting a friend and drove to Rajan’s house. He was shocked to see me. “Madam, here? You could’ve called me!” I locked his door, pulled him close, and kissed him deeply. We made out like teenagers, our hands roaming. I whispered, “I’m pregnant with your baby.” His face lit up, and he kissed me harder.
I yanked off his lungi, his cock springing free. I stroked it, feeling it harden in my hand. He tore off my top, sucking my tits through my bra before ripping it off. My nipples hardened under his tongue. He untied my salwar, exposing my dripping pussy. He lifted me onto his bed and buried his face between my legs, eating me out until I came, my juices flooding his mouth. I sucked his cock in return, swallowing his cum as he fucked my mouth.
He asked, “I gave you this happiness. What will you give me?” I replied, “Anything you want.” He smirked, “I’ve always wanted your ass.” I hesitated but agreed. He positioned me on all fours, grabbing oil from the kitchen. He slicked my asshole, easing a finger inside. It hurt, but I stayed quiet. He oiled his cock and pressed it against my tight hole. With a hard thrust, he entered my ass. I screamed, but he covered my mouth, slowly fucking my virgin ass. The pain faded, replaced by a strange pleasure. He grabbed my hair, pounding my ass until he came, filling it with his hot load.
I collapsed, exhausted. He cleaned my ass gently, and we fell asleep. The next morning, I returned home, limping slightly. My husband noticed and massaged my feet, thinking I’d sprained something. I let him pamper me, hiding the truth.
My son is seven months old now. My husband adores him, unaware he’s Rajan’s. I miss Rajan’s cock, though. When my husband left for a three-day training, I took my son and went to Rajan’s. He welcomed me with a hungry kiss. I handed him our son, saying, “Meet your boy.” He played with him lovingly. I cooked dinner and fed our son. As I breastfed, Rajan said, “I want milk too.” He lifted my top, unhooked my bra, and sucked my nipple, drinking my milk alongside our son.
Once our son slept, I pulled Rajan onto me. We stripped, and I sucked his cock, savoring its taste. He ate my pussy, and we sixty-nined, cumming in each other’s mouths. He fucked my pussy slow and deep, my legs wrapped around him. I begged, “Fuck my thirsty pussy hard.” He pounded me, my tits bouncing, until we both came, his cum filling me again.
That night, he fucked my ass again, this time slower, letting me adjust. Our son woke mid-fuck, and I nursed him while Rajan gently fucked my ass. We switched to my pussy, and he came in my mouth at my request. We fucked all night, insatiable. By morning, I returned home, my body sore but satisfied. Rajan gave me everything my husband never could—a child and a fire that still burns.