u/HornyHindustani

So I recently reconnected with an old online friend of mine. She’s 27F from Mumbai, I’m 25M from Delhi. We originally met years ago in a WhatsApp photography community, but eventually lost touch. A few months back we somehow started talking again.

As we got closer, I ended up telling her about my Reddit life and all the weird/confession/kinky side of me. Surprisingly, she opened up too and started sharing her own experiences.

Now come to today "Mother’s Day."

She had posted an Instagram story saying:

“If you’ve ever seen my tits, I expect a Mother’s Day gift this Sunday.”

I didn’t reply to the story directly. Just liked it and texted her normally.

We started talking in the morning and she mentioned she had been awake all night. So naturally I asked, “What were you even doing?”

She goes:

“Drinking, vibing to music, eating ice cream, skincare, clicking pictures…”

Me being me, I asked: “What kind of pictures?”

And she casually replied: “Nudes and semi nudes.”

So yeah… that’s the story of how one of my old online friends sent me her tits on Mother’s Day, and I ended up wishing mommy a Happy Mother’s Day like promised.

So I recently reconnected with an old online friend of mine. She’s 27F from Mumbai, I’m 25M from Delhi. We originally met years ago in a WhatsApp photography community, but eventually lost touch. A few months back we somehow started talking again.

As we got closer, I ended up telling her about my Reddit life and all the weird/confession/kinky side of me. Surprisingly, she opened up too and started sharing her own experiences.

Now come to today "Mother’s Day."

She had posted an Instagram story saying:

“If you’ve ever seen my tits, I expect a Mother’s Day gift this Sunday.”

I didn’t reply to the story directly. Just liked it and texted her normally.

We started talking in the morning and she mentioned she had been awake all night. So naturally I asked, “What were you even doing?”

She goes:

“Drinking, vibing to music, eating ice cream, skincare, clicking pictures…”

Me being me, I asked: “What kind of pictures?”

And she casually replied: “Nudes and semi nudes.”

So yeah… that’s the story of how one of my old online friends sent me her tits on Mother’s Day, and I ended up wishing mommy a Happy Mother’s Day like promised.

​

We’re all at home in the living room late at night. The lights are dim, TV is on playing some random show. Mom is sitting in the middle of the couch wearing a loose nighty. I’m on her left, my older brother is on her right.

We’ve been secretly playing for a few weeks now, stealing touches whenever we can. Tonight the risk feels extra high.

The three of us are sitting on the couch watching TV. Mom is in the middle, wearing that soft cotton nighty that rides up her thighs easily. I’m on her left side, my older brother on the right, completely focused on the screen.

While the show is playing, I slowly slide my hand under mom’s nighty, my fingers gently rubbing her pussy over her panties. She’s already a little wet. I feel her thighs tense but she doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at the TV like nothing is happening.

After a few minutes, my brother yawns and says, “I’m getting some water,” then stands up and walks to the kitchen.

The moment he disappears around the corner, I turn to mom, grab her face softly, and pull her into a deep, hungry kiss. She moans quietly into my mouth. My hand slips inside her panties, fingers rubbing her clit faster.

She breaks the kiss for a second, breathing heavily, and whispers, “Baby… he’ll come back any second…”

But instead of stopping, she quickly pulls the top of her nighty down, letting her heavy tits spill out. She looks at me with those needy eyes and whispers:

“Quick… suck on them before he comes back.”

Then she slides down a little, opens my pants, and takes my cock into her warm, wet mouth , sucking me sloppily while trying to stay quiet.

We can hear my brother moving around in the kitchen, opening the fridge…

My kinks are-seduction,communication between sex,rough anal,wild/sloppy kissing,name calling, dirty talking,public sex, face sitting, face fucking, cumming on face / body, punishment, choking, tying up, biting, licking, pleasure, compliments, risk of getting caught,unconventional places of sex(eg. car,airplane, wedding etc.),slapping,cum play flirting,foreplaying and teasing.

Limits - blasphemy, piss, poop, gore, puke,

PS: Boring "Hi/Hey/Hello" messages won’t get a reply, Rather tell me your thoughts and ideas for the RP in detail!

(I am 18+ and all participants and characters must be 18+)

Looking forward for a lusty, kinky, naughty and dirty role-player for a long term association.

Same as the title!

​

That moment where you were fully aware… no confusion, no accident… and still chose to go ahead.

Did you hesitate at all… or did you already know you weren’t stopping?

And after, did it hit you what you’d done, or did a part of you not regret it at all?

​

That moment where you were fully aware… no confusion, no accident… and still chose to go ahead.

Did you hesitate at all… or did you already know you weren’t stopping?

And after, did it hit you what you’d done, or did a part of you not regret it at all?

​

What’s that one thing you’ve done that even here, you’d hesitate before typing out?

Not something small… the kind you’d instantly deny if anyone got close.

Did it just happen… or did you choose it?

And does it still sit in your head sometimes?

​

What’s that one thing you’ve done that even here, you’d hesitate before typing out?

Not something small… the kind you’d instantly deny if anyone got close.

Did it just happen… or did you choose it?

And does it still sit in your head sometimes?

Same as title!

​

I’ve recently developed a very specific craving. I don't just want to take a man's wife; I want to take her on the one day he’s supposed to feel like she’s completely his. I want to shatter his ego on his wedding anniversary.

The Setup (The Professional Disrespect):

Your husband (40) is a wealthy corporate VP, but physically, he’s soft. For your 10th anniversary, he wants to show off his "trophy," so he hires me (25) for a high-end, cinematic portrait shoot at your massive South Delhi house.

He thinks he’s the man in charge because he’s signing the cheque. But the second I walk into your living room with my gear, the dynamic shifts. I’m lean, vascular, and I carry myself with a quiet, dominant weight that your husband completely lacks.

During the shoot, your husband is a disaster. He’s stiff, constantly checking his phone, and touching you like you’re a fragile prop. Eventually, I lower my camera. "Sir, aap frame se bahar aaiye," I tell him politely. "Let me get some solo shots of Ma'am. The chemistry isn't working."

He actually agrees. He steps back and watches while I take complete control.

I step into your personal space to "adjust" your poses. My rough, calloused hands gripping your bare waist, tracing the edge of your heavy silk saree, tilting your chin up. I murmur instructions in your ear, my voice low and dark, forcing you to hold my gaze through the lens. You are trembling. You are getting wet. And your husband is standing ten feet away, clapping and saying, "Great shot, Amaan!" completely oblivious that I am visually undressing his wife.

The Starter (The Reality Check):

The shoot is over. It’s 7 PM. Your anniversary party starts downstairs in an hour. Your husband excuses himself to go yell at the caterers, leaving us alone in your master bedroom so I can "pack up my lenses."

You are standing in front of your vanity mirror, breathing heavily, trying to unpin the heavy jewelry from your hair. Your backless blouse is exposing the goosebumps on your skin.

I zip my camera bag shut. The room is dead quiet. I don't walk toward the door. I walk straight up behind you, my eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. You freeze, your hands dropping from your hair.

I don't say a word. I just reach around you, my large hand wrapping firmly around your throat, not choking you, just holding you in place while my other hand slides down to grip your hip, pulling your soft curves flush against my hard jeans.

"Pura shoot," I murmur, my voice dropping the polite photographer act completely. "Poore do ghante se tum camera ke aage aise aahain bhar rahi ho jaise abhi yahin bed pe lita dunga tumhe. Aur tumhara fattu pati wahan khada taaliyan baja raha tha."

I lean down, pressing a hot, wet kiss to the crook of your neck, feeling your pulse racing against my lips.

"Neeche party shuru hone wali hai, Bhabhi ji," I whisper roughly in your ear, my thumb lightly brushing your jaw. "Lekin tumhara asli anniversary gift yahan upar hai. Chup-chaap apne ghutno par baitho, aur mujhe dikhao ek shareef biwi apna muh kaise chalati hai."

My Kinks:

Seduction, communication during sex, wild/sloppy kissing, name-calling, dirty talking (Raw Hinglish), face sitting, face fucking, cumming on face/body, punishment, choking, tying up, biting, heavy psychological degradation (cuckolding), risk of getting caught, slapping, cum play, flirting, and deep teasing.

Limits: Blasphemy, piss, poop, gore, puke.

PS: Boring "Hi/Hey/Hello" messages won’t get a reply. Tell me exactly what saree you're wearing in that mirror, and how pathetic your husband looked trying to pose with you!

(I am 18+ and all participants and characters must be 18+)

Looking forward to a lusty, kinky, naughty, and dirty role-player for a long-term association.

​

Be honest…

What’s that one thing you’ve done that even here, you’d hesitate before typing out?

Not something small… the kind you’d instantly deny if anyone got close.

Did it just happen… or did you choose it?

And does it still sit in your head sometimes?

---

​

Be honest…

What’s that one thing you’ve done that even here, you’d hesitate before typing out?

Not something small… the kind you’d instantly deny if anyone got close.

Did it just happen… or did you choose it?

And does it still sit in your head sometimes?

​

I’ve recently developed a very specific craving. I don't just want to take a man's wife; I want to take her on the one day he’s supposed to feel like she’s completely his. I want to shatter his ego on his wedding anniversary.

The Setup (The Professional Disrespect):

Your husband (40) is a wealthy corporate VP, but physically, he’s soft. For your 10th anniversary, he wants to show off his "trophy," so he hires me (25) for a high-end, cinematic portrait shoot at your massive South Delhi house.

He thinks he’s the man in charge because he’s signing the cheque. But the second I walk into your living room with my gear, the dynamic shifts. I’m lean, vascular, and I carry myself with a quiet, dominant weight that your husband completely lacks.

During the shoot, your husband is a disaster. He’s stiff, constantly checking his phone, and touching you like you’re a fragile prop. Eventually, I lower my camera. "Sir, aap frame se bahar aaiye," I tell him politely. "Let me get some solo shots of Ma'am. The chemistry isn't working."

He actually agrees. He steps back and watches while I take complete control.

I step into your personal space to "adjust" your poses. My rough, calloused hands gripping your bare waist, tracing the edge of your heavy silk saree, tilting your chin up. I murmur instructions in your ear, my voice low and dark, forcing you to hold my gaze through the lens. You are trembling. You are getting wet. And your husband is standing ten feet away, clapping and saying, "Great shot, Amaan!" completely oblivious that I am visually undressing his wife.

The Starter (The Reality Check):

The shoot is over. It’s 7 PM. Your anniversary party starts downstairs in an hour. Your husband excuses himself to go yell at the caterers, leaving us alone in your master bedroom so I can "pack up my lenses."

You are standing in front of your vanity mirror, breathing heavily, trying to unpin the heavy jewelry from your hair. Your backless blouse is exposing the goosebumps on your skin.

I zip my camera bag shut. The room is dead quiet. I don't walk toward the door. I walk straight up behind you, my eyes locking onto yours in the mirror. You freeze, your hands dropping from your hair.

I don't say a word. I just reach around you, my large hand wrapping firmly around your throat, not choking you, just holding you in place while my other hand slides down to grip your hip, pulling your soft curves flush against my hard jeans.

"Pura shoot," I murmur, my voice dropping the polite photographer act completely. "Poore do ghante se tum camera ke aage aise aahain bhar rahi ho jaise abhi yahin bed pe lita dunga tumhe. Aur tumhara fattu pati wahan khada taaliyan baja raha tha."

I lean down, pressing a hot, wet kiss to the crook of your neck, feeling your pulse racing against my lips.

"Neeche party shuru hone wali hai, Bhabhi ji," I whisper roughly in your ear, my thumb lightly brushing your jaw. "Lekin tumhara asli anniversary gift yahan upar hai. Chup-chaap apne ghutno par baitho, aur mujhe dikhao ek shareef biwi apna muh kaise chalati hai."

My Kinks:

Seduction, communication during sex, wild/sloppy kissing, name-calling, dirty talking (Raw Hinglish), face sitting, face fucking, cumming on face/body, punishment, choking, tying up, biting, heavy psychological degradation (cuckolding), risk of getting caught, slapping, cum play, flirting, and deep teasing.

Limits: Blasphemy, piss, poop, gore, puke.

PS: Boring "Hi/Hey/Hello" messages won’t get a reply. Tell me exactly what saree you're wearing in that mirror, and how pathetic your husband looked trying to pose with you!

(I am 18+ and all participants and characters must be 18+)

Looking forward to a lusty, kinky, naughty, and dirty role-player for a long-term association.

​

what’s that one thing you’ve done that no one in your real life would ever expect from you?

The kind where if it ever came out, people would look at you completely differently.

Did it just happen… or did you go along with it?

And do you ever think about it now?

​

What’s that one moment where the second it happened… you just knew this is never leaving you?

Not something small, the kind you’d deny instantly if anyone even got close.

Did it just happen… or you let it happen?

And do you still think about it?

​

What’s that one moment where the second it happened… you just knew this is never leaving you?

Not something small, the kind you’d deny instantly if anyone even got close.

Did it just happen… or you let it happen?

And do you still think about it?