May 24, 2007

Fucking Best Friends Wife

Hi I am Sanjiv living in Delhi. I am 34 has a good height 5.8 well built handsome fair complexion. Best part of my self is i have greenish sexy eyes. I regularly go to gym and i have flat stomach steel hard cheast and a very good solid v shaped body which every girl loves to have.

I am happily married and have two kids. My wife Dimple is also a sex bomb whom I have loved to fuck always. She is 25 with milky white complexion her height is 5.5 and she has perfect pair of melons i.e 37. Nobody can imagine that she is a mother of two kids. We both have been happily fucking since we got married and were dedicated to each other. We had a normal life and no complaints regarding sex to each other. It is not only that we love each other but also that we have responsibility of two kids and above all we are very rich. That is why we don’t want to fall into any problem.

The story is like this that I have a very close friend Amit. We are friends since childhood. Three years back he got married to Mamta. Suddenly after marriage Amit”s Business got down. He made heavy losses which his wife mamta tried to compensate by selling jewellery. Still the amount was large , Amit came to me asking for Loan. Since he was brother like friend to me I gave him money without giving a second thought. Amit promised me that he will return the money soon and requested me not to tell to anybody. I promised him that I will not tell anybody. After that about a month passed Amit and Mamta did not meet us. One day my wife Dimple asked me “what is the matter? Why Amit and Mamta are not meeting us these days? Is everything all right “


I said nothing to her and avoided the further discussion cause I myself was afraid that may be Amit don’t want to return my money and that is why he is avoiding me. I decided myself to go and see them.

In the evening Dimple said her mother is not well so she want to go and stay the night over there with kids. She told me to come along. I said that I will not stay over there but I will drom her with kids to her parents home.

After leaving Dimple I thought of giving a surprise visit to Amit. So with this thought I went to Amit”s home and knocked at his door. Mamta opened the door. She welcomed me inside. I went in and sat on the sofa in the drawingroom. Standing at the door before closing Mamta asked me “ Where is Dimple?” I said that I have come alone. She closed the door, came and sat in front of me. I asked Mamta” where is Amit”. She said that he has gone out of station and will come after a week. I got up and said “ O.k. I will come again when Amit is there”

She said “ok.”

When I was about to leave Mamta asked me that if I could leave her on the way at some friend”s house. I said “fine”


She requested me to wait for ten minutes so that she could get ready. She quickly switched on the T.V and went to her room to get ready. It was quite hot day and lot of power cuts and the light went off. I was sitting in the dark.No light no fan.I was feeling too hot and was sweating. So I took off my shirt . Soon I heard Mamta calling me from the bathroom (which is inside the bedroom) and asking me if I could go to the kitchen and get a candle lying on the slab. I went to kitchen and got the candle.I knocked at the bedroom door and said” Mamta. Take the candle” She said “I am in the bathroom.You come inside the bedroom and keep it there” I said “ Ok I will Keep it there and wait in the drawing room. You get ready and come” I was avoiding myself to go to bedroom cause I did not want to give any wrong impression of mine to my friend”s wife. She said “There is only one candle. How can you sit in the dark. You come inside and sit in the bedroom”

I opened the bedroom door and went inside. I had never entered Amit”s bedroom earlier. I went in and carefully looked where I could sit. It was a nice room and very neat and clean.A nice bed two cosy chairs a sofa and a minibar on which was tv and vcd.. I placed myself in cosy chair and kept candle in the candlestand. A beautiful white silk bedsheet was spread on the bed. In the candlelight i saw something red and shining on the bed. I got up and out of curiosity I went near the bed. What I saw was Mamta”s Bra and Panty of bright red coloured lying on the bed . I picked it up with my shivering hand and starting watching it. It was a strapless bra and very sexy panty of foreign make. I couldnot believe that Mamta had such a beautiful choice. Suddenly I felt stiffness in my pant. I felt my rod gets hard and knocking my zip of pant as if somebody knocking at the front gate. I kept the bra and panty on the bed and sat on the sofa. In the meantime Mamta came out of the bathroom.


I was a surprised to see Mamta was in her blood red colour dressing gown which was short enough so that I could see her milky legs upto thighs. Her wet golden hairs were falling on her back upto her waist and water in the hair was falling on the gown which was sticking to her body exposing her beautiful back. Mamta came to me near sofa and asked if need something to drink. I said I will have a chilled beer. She opened minifridge in the bedroom took out a chilled beer and started pouring in the mug in front of me . As she bent in front of me to pour beer her boobs which must be 36 fell loose and pushed gown hanging down. I could see deep through her low cut of the gown. Now with this I really went mad and decided to fuck Mamta. I moved forwared and held the mug and started drinking beer. Mamta moved towards her cupboard and stopped for a moment near the bed as if she had realized her mistake of leaving her bra and panty on the bed while I was in the bedroom.



She bent on the bed to pick up bra and panty. Suddenly I said to myself “ITS NOW OR NEVER”. I quickly moved and grab her from the back putting my strong grip around her waist and pushed her on the bed and I also fell on the bed. As I hugged her with my naked cheast cause I had taken of my shirt due to hot weather and no light she screamed at me “what are you doing” I said “ You are very sexy and I want to fuck you” She was shocked to hear this. She said “ I am your best friend”s wife. what will Amit think about you and me if he gets to know about this”. I said “Amit will never get to know till you or I don’t tell him” She got up and ran towards bedroom door to go out. I jumped from the bed and held her arm. She tried to bite me on my hand so twisted her arm and held her hair with the other hand and pulled them. She struggled for some time.As I tightened my grip I could see her she was in pain and her tears rolled down from her eyes on the beautiful rosy cheeks. Actually with this I got more horny and her

pain gave me more enjoyment. I moved my lips towards her cheeks and started sucking them. I moved to her sweet lips held them with my teeth and started a long deep kiss. i could feel her breathing very fast and her heart was beating like rock drum. I held her tightly and picked up in my arms. I threw her on the bed and jumped on her. I sat on her beautiful flat stomach held her both hand with my hands opened arms across the bed laid myself upon her. Now she was totally burried under me touching hand with hand arm with arm face with face her breast with my cheast . I started licking her face moved towards her lips and neck. As I started licking her breast with the gown on it she tried to push me aside. I lost control on myself and I slapped her very hard on her milky cheeks twice which printed my hand print on her face and blood drops came out of her lips. She almost fainted and totally gave up struggling to save herself.



Then I started the game. I got up from her and took out a chilled beer from the fridge. I opened it and started pouring on the body of Mamta. All of her gown drenched with beer and stuck with her body.I could see her nipples and breasts. They were fantastic. Mamta was still lying on the bed with her eyes closed. She was totally at my liberty. I moved her gown up her thighs till belly. Wow her clean shaven pussy was looking gorgeous. I held her legs up and parted them. This gave me full view of her two sexy vertical lips parted and her white pussy. Beer started flowing from the top of her stomach on her pussy like a waterfall. I parted both pussy lips with one hand and buried my face deep into the pussy hole. It smell and tasted good with the blend of beer. I was pushing my tongue deep into the hole and simultaneously sucking clitorious. Now I held her both breasts with my hands and start messaging them from the top of the gown. By this time her pussy was hot and wet with juices. I could hear her slowly moan

ing and maybe enjoying also but I was not sure. I was fucking her vagina with my tongue very hard and she was also pushing herself to me by lifting her butts up. My face was completely drenched with pussy juices. I stopped for a moment to give rest rest to my tongue and breath but to my astonishment with lying down on the bed Mamta held my head with her hands and pushed it in her pussy and held it against it tightly. It was a clear signal that she was to cum. As we moved faster and rythem increased her body stiffened and she wrapped her fine legs around my head and made grip tighter. I felt like chocking. She given her body two hard jerks and exploded on my face her pot of sweet nectar. Her body fell down and her grip loosened. I kept on licking the juices till I cleared the last drop out of her and made it dry.


By the time she was recovered. I was also resting on her keeping my head on stomach. Suddenly she kicked me very hard with her both legs and i fell on the floor. It happened so fast I could not understand that what happened. She quickly got up and took out a knife from her cupboard pointing towards me. She said with full of anger “ You have spoilt me. I will take revenge from you. I will teach you a lesson which you will not forget throughout your life”. Mamta held me from my hair and put knife on my neck. She pulled my hair very hard and increased the pressure of knife on my neck so much that blood came out of it. She pushed me on the bed. She took out a tape toll from the side table. She told me to put my hands on the back. I did it and she joined both hands and wrapped sticking tape around it tightly so that both of my hands got locked.

Then she wrapped tape around my legs and feet tightly. My hands and feet were wrapped very tightly and I could not move. She held me from my hair pulled them and made me sit on the bed. I was helpless and scared too.

Mamta held me by my hair and pulled me in to the windowless room beyond the locked door, which was a sexual Never-Never Land, a fantastic reflection in a kinky Looking Glass. While Mamta watched, amused, the key dangling from her finger, I took one step inside, then another — and stopped, staring. My heart was racing, my eyes wide.
I had never seen anything like it before. Two walls were mirrored, from the tiled floor to the black- painted ceiling. An incredible array of whips, restraints, gags, and harnesses hung from the peg strips which circled the room at waist height. Pushed into the near corner was a heavy padded sawhorse; the center of the room was dominated by a wooden X-frame solid as an oak and seven feet tall. Both the horse and the frame were dotted with steel eyebolts, some of which sported dangling chains or cuffs. All of it looked well used. None of it, as far as I could tell, was for show. And in the opposite corner, facing it all like a queen’s throne, was a fan-backed rattan chair with thick ruby-red cushions. A black riding crop rested across the seat. It was a real dungeon, a dominant/submissive playground, tucked into a back room in a perfectly ordinary home. And this surprising wonderland belonged to my friend Mamta — a woman whose dress and appearance wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at a PTL meeting. Whose usual dress and appearance, anyway. I turned back toward Mamta, my mouth suddenly dry. “This is incredible,” I said. What my eyes were saying, I didn’t know. But I was looking at her very differently. My mind flashed on a picture of Mamta in black corset on the fan-back chair, contemplating me bound naked on the X-frame. My cock began to swell at the thought. “You approve, then?” she asked archly, her eyes sparkling. There was a tension between us at that moment of a kind that had never surfaced before.
She was at ease, self-amusedly waiting to see what I would do. I was uncomfortable, and tempted to hide behind a wisecrack. But for some reason I just swallowed, nodded, and said quietly, “Yeah.” Her next question cut to the heart of the tension. “Do you want to try it?” I couldn’t look away from her. “Yes. I — I do.” She looked at me questioningly, as though I had said something wrong. “Yes, Mistress,” I amended, suddenly realizing why she was waiting. She smiled then, a pleased smile. “Then go back to the living room, slave Alan, and take off all your clothes. Kneel in the middle of the floor, and wait there until I come for you. I have a few things to get ready.” # I undressed, heart pounding, still not quite believing what was happening. What was I getting into? How much could I trust her? Though I’d known Mamta for more than two years, we lived in cities five hundred miles apart. We had met at an education conference in Raleigh — she was a testing specialist at a private college, I was a placement counselor at a large university. We ended up spending several hours together that weekend, in lecture sessions and on a mass expedition for Chinese food. She smoothly and firmly squelched my attempts to flirt with her, but even so, I had a wonderful time in her company. When we ran into each other at another conference later that year, it was like finding a friend in a mob of strangers. We had dinner together again (only five at the table this time) and sat up late in the hotel bar on the last night, telling stories and laughing. I wrote her a few letters over the next year, and she called me a few times. But the tone was always friends-keeping-in- touch.
There was no hint or thought of romance. Mamta seemed to be on a different wavelength, as though she didn’t play that game at all. I confess I couldn’t quite figure her out, even though I enjoyed her a great deal. Then came the week-long counseling workshop in her home city, my wonder-if-we-could-get-together call, her invitation to a casual dinner at her house, and the free-ranging conversation that kept coming back to sex. Somehow I had found myself telling her more about my past and my preferences than most of my lovers ever knew, and much more than Mamta was telling me. Eventually I got to my interest in what I knowingly called “D&S,” and how it was a shame that so few women seemed to understand about the exchange of power and how much fun it could be. I was pretending a familiarity I didn’t have, and Mamta must have known it, but she let me blather on for a time before calling my bluff by taking me down the hall. And now here I was, kneeling naked in her living room with a throbbing hard-on, staring my fantasy in the face. I knew what most of the toys hanging in the dungeon were for. But my knowledge was almost entirely academic, drawn from books like Exit to Eden and a sampling of fem-dom porn. The games I’d played with lovers past had been strictly amateur. Mamta was the real article, and that scared me as much as it excited me. Maybe it scared me because it excited me. Or excited me because it scared me. I didn’t know how to tell the difference. # Minutes dragged past, and my knees and ankles began to complain about the position I had assumed. Then I heard a door open, and the click of heels in the hallway. I turned to look, and found my hostess transformed into a stunning Mistress. Her mane of wavy auburn hair was set off now by a studded black choker. Her ample breasts seemed barely confined in a leather halter laced only to the lower curves of her cleavage. She wore fingerless elbow-length gloves and gleaming studded wristlets. In her right hand was the crop, in the left a collar. Her hips were sheathed in a tight leather wrap-skirt which bared her beautiful thighs. Her stockings were black and sheer, her shoes spike-heeled with ankle straps. She was, in a word, gorgeous.
My erection, which had flagged a bit as I waited, stirred to new life. She noted, and smiled wickedly. “Nice,” she said, looking directly at my cock. “I can have fun with that.” I found my voice. “You look fantastic, Mistress Mamta. Incredibly sexy.” “Did I give you permission to look at me, slave?” My breath caught. “No, Mistress,” I said, and lowered my eyes. Mamta laughed. “I want you to look at me. I want you to want me. You can’t have me, of course. But wanting is good.” She ordered me to crawl to her. Then, standing over me, she said in a low voice that chilled me, “I’m going to take you to that place you’ve been wanting to go. I’m going to teach you what your body can feel. I’m going to play with you, and punish you, and use you for my pleasure. I want more than your obedience. I want your surrender. Do you understand?” I said I did, hoping I did. She made me kiss her shoes and her crop, and then placed the plain, heavy collar on my neck and locked it in place. Pulling me up by the collar, she whispered a “safe word” in my ear — which I silently vowed not to use. Then she pushed me back down to hands and knees and led me to her dungeon. # Mamta was in no hurry. She kept me kneeling before her chair, my legs spread wide and my wrists cuffed and locked together behind my back, while she asked me pointed questions about my experience and my fantasies. All the while, she kept touching me, teasingly. She toed my balls with the point of her shoe, tapped my cock with the tip of her crop, scraped and plucked my nipples with her nails. Once she let me suck her middle finger, which I did eagerly. I wanted to make her feel good, and that was the first chance she’d given me. When she’d learned everything she wanted, she rose and led me to the X-frame. My cuffed wrists were unhooked from each other, then fastened high on the wooden crosspieces. Mamta selected a second, larger pair of cuffs from the wall, and soon my legs were spread wide, my ankles locked to the foot of the frame.
I had never felt so sexually vulnerable. I was facing out and leaning back, completely helpless, completely exposed, my cock hard as an eighteen-year-old’s and already dripping from the tip. “I can see I’m going to have to do something about this,” Mamta said, seizing my cock by the root. “You’ve obviously been thinking about fucking me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I told the truth. “Yes, Mistress.” She slapped the head of my cock smartly with her free hand, making me gasp. “Forget it. You’ll be lucky if I fuck you.” Letting go of my cock, she walked to her collection of sexual toys, and returned with a small harness with several straps. “This should keep this greedy little cock under control.” A few moments later, my proud shaft was encased in a tight leather sheath that exposed only the head. One strap went around the root where she had grabbed me. Another went around my scrotum, while a third separated the balls. It felt as though my entire manhood was being squeezed in a fist. My cock throbbed, reddened. Already, I desperately wanted to come. But Mamta had other plans. Her next choice was a length of rope with dozens of spring clothespins clamped to it. She gave me one end of the rope to hold between my teeth, and then began to decorate my body with the wooden clamps. She started with one on either side of each nipple, pinching the skin with her fingers to give the clip a good bite. Then she placed a clothespin directly on my left nipple, and I moaned — and dropped the rope I was holding for her. “I’m going to add to your whipping for that,” she said as she gave me back the end of the rope and resumed her project. The other nipple was next, then the underside of my arms, the inside of my thighs, and, finally, my cock. First, she tugged out enough skin to attach one of the little biting monsters to each side of my already harnessed scrotum. I almost bit through the rope. Then she started on the engorged head of my cock, placing one, two, four, seven clothespins in a semi-circle on the narrow, sensitive ridge. Taking the rope from me, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Look at yourself, in the mirror,” she said. I saw a naked man in complete submission, his limbs spread- eagled and restrained, his throbbing cock tormented. I felt like I was tripping. The tension in my body was incredible. My blood was on fire. It was as though she was touching me in a hundred places at once, and every one of them was making me crazy with desire. My eyes closed, and I slipped down into the sea of sensation, leaving thought behind. Suddenly I jumped, writhing, as an electric jolt coursed through me.
My right nipple was suddenly burning. What was happening? I opened my eyes to find that Mamta had folded the length of rope twice over and was using it to strike the clothespins from my body. Her aim was true, and every time she knocked one free, thousands of nerve endings which had been temporarily overloaded suddenly came back to life shouting protests. The last to go were the seven pins on the head of my cock. By the time the last dropped to the floor, I was quivering and hanging limply in my cuffs. Mamta stepped close and ran her fingertips grazingly over my skin, the touch making me jump. Then her hand closed around my sheathed cock, and her thumb rubbed the wetness oozing from the tip all over the head. “You took that well,” she said softly. “Maybe you’ll get lucky after all. But first, I owe you a whipping.” Mamta released me only long enough to turn me around, toward the frame, so my back and bottom were exposed. I watched in the mirror as she selected a short, many-stranded whip, then moved behind me. She started with light strokes that barely warmed the skin, leather kisses on my thighs and ass. The strokes came faster and harder, until it felt like my skin was glowing. I stopped watching. I stopped thinking. Then Mamta traded the short whip for a long, stiff leather paddle. The first blow from it lifted me off my heels and made me cry out in surprise. She gave me little time to recover, applying the paddle vigorously across both cheeks and the backs of my thighs. The weight of the paddle and the strength of her arm carried the shock of each explosion through my whole body. I moaned, grunted, and fought against my chains. But the incredible thing was that it didn’t hurt. I was past that. It was a wake-up call to my senses, a charge of pure sexual energy. All I was was what I was feeling, and all I was feeling was wave after wave of delicious intensity. I was flying.
After a time I couldn’t measure, Mamta stepped up close behind me, caressed my hot ass and said in a half-whisper, “Now, the punishment I promised you.” There was a long moment to wonder. Then I heard the whistle as it cut the air, and I knew — it was the crop. And when it landed, it felt like I was being sliced open, a line of fire burning into my ass cheeks. My body went rigid, and when the crop fell a second time I couldn’t hold it all in any more, and screamed. Twice more the crop came down, and then Mamta drew close again, her body brushing against me as she traced the scarlet, swollen marks the crop had left. She moved away again, leaving me to hang there on the wooden frame, breathless, shoulders aching, all resistance gone, glowing inside and out. Time dilated, stopped. The next touch was a hand spreading my ass cheeks, and another hand smearing my opening with a slippery gel, pushing a lubricated finger inside me. “Now the reward you’ve been hoping for,” she said softly. I raised my head and looked sideways at the mirror, and saw that Mamta had shed her leather skirt. She was wearing a harness that was like a leather G-string, and jutting out from it was a long black dildo. I watched as she moved in behind me, guided the head to my asshole, and pushed it up inside me. It was blissful, humiliating, erotic. I was impaled, stretched, violated. Mamta was fucking my ass, claiming possession of me, and all I wanted to do was open to her and give her whatever she wanted to take. And then she reached around my waist and loosed the straps on my harness, freeing my cock from its leather prison. She began to masturbate me, stroking my cock in rhythm with her reaming of my ass. With everything that had gone before, I was on the edge, and had been for some time.
Before long, my gasps and moans betrayed my approaching orgasm. Mamta took that cue to bury the dildo deep inside me, tighten her grip, and stroke my cock furiously. After a long few seconds, I went over the edge, crying out and writhing as my cock spurted long jets of come into the air. # Mamta took a Polaroid photo of me before she freed me, and then allowed me to shoot one of her before she changed. I took that photo, my memories, and the four crisscrossing red stripes from the riding crop home with me. I don’t know if I raped my best friends wife or she raped me!!! ????
I’ll ask Amit next time if I live to see him, if he has been through some thing like this! But one thing is certain — I’ll never again think of screwing my best friends wife!