My name is Amara, and I’m 24 years old. What I’m about to read is no made-up tale—it’s the raw, unfiltered truth of my life, a story that burns my soul every night. This isn’t just any sex story; it’s the reality of how my husband, who was once my boss, not only fucks me but also my younger sister and my mother. In the dead of night, when I wake up, I catch him sneaking into my sister’s room or my mother’s, pounding them with the same lust he shows me. Sometimes, I want to storm in and scream, “What the hell are you doing? This is wrong!” But my lips stay sealed. Why? I’ll get to that later, and trust me, it’s a twisted reason that keeps me silent.
I’m a hot, sexy woman with big dreams and bigger desires. I love hanging out with friends, shopping till I drop, and splurging on the latest trends. Growing up in a poor family, I craved a life beyond the constant fights between my parents. My father never gave my mother the love or respect she deserved, and my younger sister, Riya, and I grew up in that toxic mess. That’s why I jumped at the chance to work for Rakesh, my boss, whose online business kept me busy managing emails and inquiries at his house. Rakesh was 34, married to a smart, stunning woman who was his equal in every way. They were the picture of love—always traveling, laughing, and fulfilling each other’s needs. Seeing them together was like a breath of fresh air compared to the chaos at my home. I envied their bond, and it made me dream of a man who’d love me like that.
Rakesh and his wife treated me like family. On Sundays, when they went out, they’d take me along, buying me clothes, shoes, and anything I fancied. It was a world I’d never known, and I soaked it up. Slowly, I started feeling drawn to Rakesh. Sure, he was older, but his charm, confidence, and raw masculinity pulled me in. I fantasized about a husband like him—someone who’d fuck me senseless and still take care of me. Then came the pandemic, a dark cloud that changed everything. Rakesh’s wife fell ill and passed away, leaving him shattered. Around the same time, my father died, plunging my family into despair. In that grief, Rakesh and I became each other’s lifeline.
He supported my family financially, and I gave him emotional solace. But one night, when I stayed over at his place, our closeness turned physical. He pulled me into his arms, his lips crashing against mine, his hands roaming my body like he owned it. I didn’t resist. That night, we fucked like animals. His thick cock stretched my pussy, thrusting deep as I moaned and clawed at his back. He gripped my tits, sucking my nipples until they were raw, and I screamed his name as he pounded me into the mattress. It was raw, dirty, and fucking incredible. From then on, whenever I went to his house, we’d end up in bed. He’d eat my pussy like a starving man, his tongue flicking my clit until I came all over his face. I’d suck his cock, taking it deep in my throat, loving the way he groaned when I swirled my tongue around the tip. Every thrust, every moan, every orgasm drew me deeper into his world.
My mother and Riya had no clue about us. To them, I was just working for Rakesh. But in his bed, I was his wife, his slut, his everything. Then, my world flipped again—I missed my period. The test confirmed I was pregnant. Panic hit me like a truck. Rakesh was stressed too. In our society, secret affairs are fine until a baby comes along. He suggested an abortion, but I couldn’t kill the life growing inside me. One day, half-joking, I said, “What if my mom tells you to marry her instead? She’s still young, hot, and has no man.” Rakesh grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “If I convince your mom, I’ll keep you both. One house, two pussies to fuck.” I laughed, swatting him. “Don’t you dare mention Riya!” He smirked, “Riya’s hotter than both of you.” I climbed on top of him, playful but pissed, and he fucked me hard, his cock slamming into me as I rode him, my tits bouncing with every thrust.
Lying naked in his arms afterward, his fingers teasing my nipples, I stroked his semi-hard cock as we talked about how to break the news to my mom. I was terrified she’d judge me for fucking a man so much older, especially my boss. What would our relatives say? The shame would kill me. But Rakesh promised he’d handle it. Deep down, I feared he might ditch me, leaving me pregnant and alone. But I trusted him. I’d had boyfriends before—some wanted love, others just pussy. I knew Rakesh was different. Plus, I wanted this marriage to secure a better life for my family, who’d suffered in poverty for too long.
We decided to face my mom and Riya together. Sitting them down, Rakesh laid it all bare—our love, our plan to marry, and my pregnancy. Mom’s face went pale, and Riya’s jaw dropped. But Rakesh’s charm worked its magic. He promised to take care of us all, offering a life of comfort and security. Slowly, they agreed. The wedding happened, and we moved into Rakesh’s sprawling house. I thought my fairy tale had begun. But what followed was something I never imagined.
One night, I woke up to find Rakesh’s side of the bed empty. Curious, I tiptoed to Riya’s room and heard moans. Peeking through the door, I saw Rakesh fucking my sister. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her small tits jiggling as he rammed his cock into her tight pussy. Riya’s moans filled the room, her nails digging into his back as she begged, “Harder, Rakesh, fuck me harder!” My heart sank, but my pussy betrayed me, throbbing at the sight. I slipped away, my mind racing.
Days later, I caught him in my mother’s room. Mom was on her back, legs spread wide, as Rakesh licked her pussy, his tongue lapping at her clit. She moaned, “Oh, Rakesh, don’t stop!” He flipped her over, spreading her ass cheeks and sliding his cock into her tight hole. Mom screamed in pleasure, her body shaking as he fucked her ass relentlessly. I stood frozen, torn between rage and arousal. My pussy was wet, my nipples hard, but my heart was breaking.
Now, every night, Rakesh takes his pick—me, Riya, or Mom. He fucks us all, his cock insatiable, his lust unending. When he’s with me, he makes me forget everything. He bends me over, spanking my ass as he pounds my pussy, his fingers rubbing my clit until I squirt. I suck his cock, gagging as he fucks my throat, and when he cums, I swallow every drop. But when I see him with Riya or Mom, jealousy burns through me. Yet, I stay silent. Why? Because deep down, I’m addicted to this fucked-up game. His cock owns me, and I can’t let go.
Rakesh rules our house, fucking my mother, my sister, and me, turning us into his personal sluts. And I’m too lost in this web of lust to stop him.