My name is Kalyani, a 33-year-old mother of two, living in Delhi. This story is from four years ago when I was 29. My husband, Rakesh, 35, hails from Kanpur, Uttar Pradesh, and works as a manager in a private company. I’m a Delhi girl, born and raised, with my dad in a government job. We lived in a rented two-story house—us on the ground floor, another couple upstairs. My kids, an 8-year-old son and a 5-year-old daughter, were in school.
This isn’t some made-up tale. I’m spilling my heart out because sometimes you’ve got to listen to your desires. I’ll say it loud and clear—I fucked other men. I got hooked on the thrill of sex with strangers. My husband never gave me the pleasure my body craved. Today, I’ll lay it all bare, step by step, how I ended up on this path. You might think I’m a slut, that I shouldn’t have fucked around. I used to think that too. But then I wondered, is my life just meant to be wasted? Shouldn’t I get what my body burns for? My kids are from my husband, sure, but with him, sex was just about making babies. Never about pleasure. I was always left aching, unsatisfied.
When Rakesh fucked me, I’d go wild, wanting him to grab me, crush my tits, suck my lips, lick my pussy till I screamed. I wanted my body to tremble, my moans to echo— “aah, ooh!” My figure was killer back then—36-28-38, my big, firm tits practically bursting out of my blouse. When I walked, my hips swayed so much that guys on the street couldn’t take their eyes off me. My face, my sharp eyes, my smile—they could drive anyone crazy. But my husband? A total bore, a limp-dick type. When I’d pull him close, wrap my arms around him, he’d say, “Kalyani, slow down, I’m doing it, na.” God, it pissed me off! I was drowning in lust, and he was fucking me like some slow-ass handpump, barely moving. I wanted him to pound my pussy hard, make my tits bounce like crazy, make me scream “fuck me!” with every thrust. But no, he’d just go slow, leaving me frustrated, my pussy throbbing for more.
Then I started watching porn online. Those videos showed the kind of fucking I dreamed of—guys pinning women down, squeezing their tits, eating their pussies, and banging them hard. I thought, fuck, I need a man like that to satisfy me. Rakesh could never do it. So, I started looking around. Upstairs lived a couple, Raj and Neha. Raj, 32, was from Haryana, a gym trainer with a ripped, muscular body and a rugged, sexy vibe that could melt any woman. He’d married Neha after eloping. They got close to us—Raj called Rakesh “bhaiya” and me “bhabhi.” In winters, the four of us would huddle under one blanket, munching peanuts, laughing late into the night.
That’s where it all started. Under the blanket, Raj would brush his foot against mine, and I’d tease him back, rubbing his leg. It was a game that got hotter with time. Then, Neha went to her parents’ place—she was pregnant. Around the same time, Rakesh got sent to Ahmedabad for a new company branch. I stayed back in Delhi because of the kids’ school. Now, it was just me and Raj, alone in our homes. One day, I told him, “Raj, come eat dinner at my place. Why cook alone? Your bhaiya’s not here either.” He grinned and said, “Bhabhi, dinner’s fine, but without my wife, where’s the real fun? A wife’s got that special taste.” I shot back, “Oh yeah? Tell me, what’s missing in this bhabhi that your wife has? Maybe I can give you even more fun.” I knew what I was doing—I needed a man to fuck me right, to put out the fire in my pussy. And Raj? He was a proper man, the kind who doesn’t miss a woman’s signal. I gave him the green light, and he jumped right in.
He said, “Bhabhi, I can’t hold back. I’m a Jat stud, full power.” I laughed and said, “Good, I need a stud like you. Don’t underestimate me—I’ll make you pant.” Then I added, “Alright, let’s see tonight.” Raj’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “For real?” he asked. “Damn right,” I replied.
My parents lived just a kilometer away. I called them, saying the kids wanted to stay over. Mom said, “Come along too.” I made an excuse, “No, Mom, I’ve got to finish Dad’s sweater tonight. The neck part’s tricky, so Rishabh’s mom from next door offered to help.” They agreed, and that evening, they took the kids. Now, the house was mine.
Around 9 PM, Raj showed up. He’d had a few drinks already and brought half a bottle of whiskey and some fried chicken. I’d tried booze a couple of times before, so I knew the buzz. No need to cook—Raj had it all covered. Our building had just two floors—me on the ground, him upstairs. Just the two of us, alone.
Raj came close, pulled me into his arms. His deodorant hit me like a drug, making my head spin. I unbuttoned his shirt, running my hands over his hairy, chiseled chest. His armpits had this raw, manly scent that drove me wild. I started kissing his neck, my lips sliding over his skin. “Fuck…” I moaned softly. He grabbed my face with his strong hands and kissed me hard, sucking my lips like he wanted to drink me dry. “Aah…” I let out a gasp. He yanked off my salwar-kameez, unhooked my bra, and my heavy tits sprang free, bouncing like they’d been caged too long.
Raj grabbed my tits, squeezing them hard with his rough hands. Each squeeze sent a jolt through my body. “Ohh… Raj… harder…” I moaned, my voice shaking. He threw me on the bed, pulled off my salwar and panties in one go. My pussy was already dripping wet. When his tongue touched my pussy lips, it was like electricity shot through me. “Aah… fuck… Raj…” I screamed. He licked my pussy, his tongue teasing my clit, then diving deep inside. I bucked my hips, grabbing his head, pushing it harder against my pussy. “Ohh… lick it… more…” My breaths were ragged, my body trembling.
Then he flipped me over, his hands roaming over my ass. His fingers brushed my asshole, and then—fuck—he started licking it. “Ohh… Raj… what the fuck…” I gasped, my body shivering with pleasure. His tongue worked my asshole, teasing the sensitive skin, making me wetter than ever. My pussy was leaking, begging for more.
Raj stood up, dropped his pants, and his thick, black, 8-inch cock stood hard in front of me. I grabbed it, feeling its heat in my hand. “Fuck, Raj… it’s huge…” I said, a mix of fear and excitement in my voice. He smirked, “Bhabhi, a Jat’s cock ain’t small.” He pushed me back on the bed, spread my legs wide, and rubbed his cock against my pussy lips. “Slow… Raj…” I whispered, my body tense but burning with need. He didn’t listen—just slammed his cock deep inside me with one hard thrust. “Aaahh… fuck!” I screamed, pain mixing with pleasure. His cock filled me, stretching my pussy. “Thap… thap… thap…” The sound of his cock pounding my wet pussy filled the room. My tits bounced wildly with every thrust. “Ohh… Raj… fuck me harder… tear my pussy…” I begged, my voice hoarse.
He grabbed my tits, pinching my nipples, sucking them hard. “Kalyani… your pussy’s so fucking tight…” he growled. I was lost in lust. “Aah… fuck me, Raj… harder…” I pulled his face to mine, kissing him wildly. Each thrust felt like it was hitting my core. “Thap… thap… thap…” The room echoed with the sound of our fucking. He fucked me for 20 minutes straight, switching positions—me on top, riding his cock, then him behind me, pounding my pussy doggy-style. My pussy was soaked, and I came over and over, screaming, “Ohh… fuck… I’m cumming…” Finally, he groaned, and his hot cum filled my pussy. We collapsed, panting, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Half an hour later, we got up, downed a couple of whiskey shots, and ate the chicken. It was past midnight. We went to the bathroom, showered naked together. Raj soaped up my body, his hands sliding over my tits, my pussy, my ass. “Fuck, Raj… you’re such a bastard…” I laughed. He fucked me again in the shower, pinning me against the wall, lifting one leg, and slamming his cock into my pussy. “Thap… thap…” The sound of his cock in my wet pussy mixed with the water. “Aah… Raj… fuck… don’t stop…” I screamed. That night, he fucked me four times, each round more intense than the last.
For three months, until Neha came back, Raj fucked me every night. I’d put the kids to sleep and sneak to his room. He’d fuck me on the bed, the sofa, even in the kitchen. My body felt alive, my pussy satisfied like never before. Then Raj and Neha moved to Punjab, and it broke my heart, but my hunger didn’t stop.
After that, two new tenants moved in—Vikram and Rahul, both 22-23, college students, fit and full of energy. I fucked them both, sometimes together. Vikram’s cock was 7 inches, Rahul’s 6, but both were wild. They’d fuck me in every position, squeezing my tits, eating my pussy, making me scream. “Aah… ooh… fuck me harder…” My moans filled the room as they pounded me.
My husband never satisfied me, but these men did. I’m happy—I got to fuck different cocks, and I loved every second of it.
What did you think of my story? Ever felt this kind of hunger or got a similar experience? Drop a comment below and share!