Please only genuine females reply – no catfishing

For weeks Mummy and Papa had been fighting non-stop. Screaming matches, cold silences, doors slamming. Today was their 22nd wedding anniversary. Mummy thought tonight would fix everything. She spent the whole evening getting ready like a new bride: Papa’s favourite red silk saree, red bangles, sindoor fresh.

Papa came home at 11 p.m. half-drunk, eyes red. Reeking of whiskey and some cheap slutty intern’s perfume. He didn’t even look at the candles or the saree. Just kicked the door shut, sat on the corner of the bed and barked: “Zip khol aur chusna shuru kar, jaldi!” Mummy’s face fell, but she swallowed her tears, knelt between his legs like an obedient wife. The moment she took his hairy, sweaty, filthy-smelling lund in her mouth, he grabbed her hair bun viciously and started ramming her throat. “Gluk-gluk-gluk-gluk!”Mummy gagged, tears ruining her kajal, saliva dripping on her blouse, pleading, “Ruko ji… please… ek minute…”But he only shoved deeper.

I was in my room scrolling reels when I heard the wet choking sounds. I crept to their door—there was a perfect gap—and froze. Papa had thrown Mummy on the bed, torn her blouse open, saree and petticoat already on ground. He flipped her into reverse cowgirl facing the door (he never wanted to see her face when he hate fucked her). Mummy completely naked except mangalsutra swinging between her heavy dripping boobs, red bangles clinking, gaand bouncing like a desperate whore as she took his lund to the root again and again. Phach-phach-phach-phach! Creamy white foam coating his shaft, her shaved chut making obscene squelching sounds, room stinking of whiskey, sweat, and Mummy’s leaking juices.

Then her teary eyes found me in the gap.I was already stroking hard. Instead of shame, something wild flashed in Mummy’s eyes. You didn’t stop. You didn’t cover yourself.You just locked eyes with me, bit your lower lip, and started riding him harder, faster, like you were fucking me through him. Every time you sank down you held my stare, rolling your hips in that filthy circle you do when you’re about to cum, whispering “haan… aur andar…” loud enough for only me to hear who it was really for…She bit her swollen lip, spread her knees wider on purpose, and started slamming down with full force—gaand rippling, boobs flying, staring straight at me while moaning just loud enough for my ears: I could read her lips “Haan beta… dekh na… teri randi Mummy ki chut dekh… kitna pani nikal raha hai tere liye…. “. cream dripping down his balls, her gaand-hole winking shamelessly. She came screaming for me—back arched like a bitch in heat, chut gushing in thick spurts all over Papa’s crotch, body convulsing. Even Papa groaned in shock at how violently her chut milked him. I exploded in my shorts, thick ropes soaking through, watching my own mother choose her son’s eyes over her husband on their anniversary night.

Next morning she served me chai with shaking hands, sindoor still perfect, but eyes down—blushing like a newly-fucked dulhan who knows her real pati is sitting across the table. Papa left for Dubai two days later for 5 months.

WE CAN START FROM HERE AND DRIVE THE PLAY MUTUALLY BELOW IS JUST A EXAMPLE…..

The “sanskari mummy” mask lasted exactly four days then it was impossible to restrain herself. Then the games went nuclear:

• ⁠You started “forgetting” to take your used panties to the washing machine, leaving the black lace ones with the creamy crotch right on top so I’d find them warm.

• ⁠You started wearing those thin cotton maxies with no bra, nipples poking through every time you bent to give me food

• ⁠“Accidentally” dropping the pallu and taking ten full seconds to cover while staring at my bulge

• ⁠You started bathing with the bathroom door half-open, letting me watch you soap your breasts, fingers lingering between your legs longer than needed

• ⁠I also started rubbing myself on your gaand whenever I have a chance

• ⁠Watching steamy movies with you while getting hard and all

Last night the power outage at 2 a.m. You were on your bed, legs spread wide to the useless fan, maxi bunched at your waist, fingers buried deep, moaning: “.mmmmm… haan… thoda aur…” I heard you... came and stood in the doorway stroking slow. You looked right at me, spread yourself open with two dripping fingers, showed me the mess inside, then licked them clean while your hips bucked. We came together without touching—just staring. On the other hand calls from papa became colder, meaner.He stopped pretending he cared for you. Today was the worst yet. This morning papa called from Dubai. You put him on speaker while making chai. He didn’t even ask how you are. Just said he’s stressed, told you to be ready tonight for a quick video call, “bas nangi hoke baith jana... aur mere pas jyada time nahi hai to natak mat karna” You said “ji” in a small voice, hung up, and your eyes met mine across the kitchen. 11 p.m.You actually wanted to ignite the spark again and tried... Lit a candle, wore the red satin nighty he once liked, even put on lipstick.As soon as the call connected he started barking: “Saali, kitni baar bola nangi baithna?Mere paas time nahi hai teri ye nautanki dekhne ka.Kapde utaar jaldi, tange khol, Then he stopped for a second and questioned: "aur mein waha nahi hu to saali ye chut kiske liye shave karti hai??.Sara mood kharab kar diya, rehene de. Koi aur dhund lunga aaj raat ke liye.”

You sat frozen for five seconds. Then the tears came—silent. You walked straight to my room barefoot, nighty straps fallen, face wet. I opened my arms. You crashed into them and cried like someone had died. I held you tight, felt your whole body burning, your nipples hard against my chest, your thighs trembling.

Reference pic: https://i.redgifs.com/i/spiffyupbeatmountaincat.jpg

Let’s keep the heat going—Hindi, English, or both, your call. We’ll stretch it across sessions, scene by scene.
Hit me up on Telegram(ysg11y)/Discord/Insta(yoda3po) to dive in.

PLEASE STATE YOUR KINKS AND LIMIT, Any changes you want to make in the plot, from where you want to start the Play?

Please only genuine females reply – no catfishing

For 20 months Ananya (29) has been living in a completely dead bedroom. Amit doesn’t even look at Ananya properly. His mother calls every Sunday and cries, “Beta, humein ek pota de do na… tum log Bangalore mein kya karte rehte ho?” Ananya just smiles and says “bas thodi si problem hai doctor ke paas ja rahe hain” while her ovaries scream every month.. I have stopped counting the nights I cried myself to sleep with my legs clenched.

Yesterday my bestie told me to try one last time: shave completely clean, drop a Viagra in his brandi, wear the red honeymoon nighty That night as soon as Amit reached home she gave him a drink and pushed him on bed Ananya knelt between his legs on the bed, pulled his pajama down, and his limp lund flopped out, soft, smelling of the day’s sweat... rolled the foreskin back slowly, exposing the shiny pink head already leaking a single clear drop. She looked up at him and flicked her tongue across the slit, tasting the salty pre-cum, moaning like a cheap whore the second it touched her tongue.

The Viagra kicked in hard. His lund swelled inside her mouth, growing thick and rigid against her tongue. Amit groaned, finally waking up, grabbed a fistful of her silky hair and shoved her head down till her nose pressed into his pubic hair... “Chus randi… poora andar le…” Glug-glug-glug-glug, her throat opened up, spit pouring down his balls, mascara already running. She gagged, choked, tears streaming, but kept sucking like her life depended on it. He suddenly yanked her off by the hair, strings of saliva hanging from her swollen lips to his shining cock. Pushed her flat on her back, climbed on top, no foreplay, no warning. She spread her legs wide, nighty bunched at her waist, shaved chut glistening. He lined up and slammed in dry. It burned. She screamed into the pillow, nails digging into his back, legs locking around him anyway. He started pounding, angry, mechanical, bed creaking like it would break. Phach-phach-phach-phach! Her juices splashing with every thrust, white cream coating his shaft, dripping down her gaand. She was finally getting fucked after 20 months and it still wasn’t enough; she rolled her hips up desperately, trying to rub her clit against him, begging in broken whispers: “Aur zor se… please… fuck me like you used to… mujhe Randi ki tarah chodo…” He lasted maybe another ten seconds after that. Groaned, buried deep, and spilled thin, watery ropes inside her, barely enough to feel. Then collapsed, rolled off, already snoring within a minute. Ananya stayed on her back, legs still spread, nighty twisted, his useless cum leaking out of her swollen chut, mixing with her own thick cream on the sheets.

Next morning – total chaos. Amit suddenly shouts, “Ananya flight to village is TODAY 6 p.m.! I completely forgot because of the project release.” They stuffed random cotton sarees, no time to think, reached the airport sweating. I reached the village airstrip in the old white Alto. Touched both bhaiya and bhabhi's feet. Then stepped close, let my fingers slide two inches inside her low-waist saree, and lifted your bag.“Bhabhi, bhaiya, Jaldi chalo sad wait kar rahe hai” Since the moment they entered the house I have been shameless:

• Every time I pass behind her in the narrow corridor my knuckles “accidentally” graze her naked waist and stay there one second too long
• At night I send her reels of devar-bhabhi jokes with captions like “ye wala scene kab shoot kar rahe hain”
• When she bends to serve food I sit exactly opposite and stare openly at her pallu slipping, nipples hard against the thin blouse because she forgot to pack proper bras

Yesterday during power cut she escaped to the terrace in just petticoat-blouse. I followed, pressed my hard-on against her ass from behind for five full seconds, growled “sorry bhabhi… garmi mein control nahi hota” and walked away. She stood there shaking, thighs clenched. Now mummyji has declared war on the childless situation. Every single day Ananya has to visit the local “Ved” who apparently “cures” infertility with oils and mantras. Amit is always on “important client calls”. So guess who became the official driver? Me. Every afternoon I take her, every evening I bring her back. 40 minutes each way on empty roads lined with mango orchards and sugarcane fields. Windows rolled up because of dust, heat unbearable, her cotton saree turning transparent with sweat, pallu refusing to stay in place.

Reference pic: https://i.redgifs.com/i/mealyimpressionableprairiedog.jpg 

Let’s keep the heat going—Hindi, English, or both, your call. We’ll stretch it across sessions, scene by scene.
Hit me up on Telegram(ysg11y)/Discord/Insta(yoda3po) to dive in.

PLEASE STATE YOUR KINKS AND LIMIT, Any changes you want to make in the plot, from where you want to start the Play?

I joined the Gurgaon office today as an intern in Rohit sir’s team. Fresh from college in UP, still getting used to the insane rents. During induction Rohit(35, married, always buried in work and deadlines) asked where I’m staying. I said temporary hotel till I find a flat. He denied “No need for that expense. We have a 3BHK in Sector 57, spare room empty. Stay with us for a few weeks till you settle. Swati won’t mind.” I felt awkward staying with a couple, but he insisted it’s practical—better commute, saves money—so after some hesitation I said okay.

You(Swati, 31, fair-skinned, naturally beautiful, quiet, loyal) have been feeling the distance for over a year. Rohit comes home late, tired, barely speaks, then crashes. Sex has become rare,maybe once every two months, quick and oassionless. Your periods arrived again this month; another quiet reminder that there’s no baby and barely any closeness anymore. The ache making you restless at nights.

This morning you felt low and called your friend. She listened, then said : “One proper try. Wax properly, wear that black satin slip he liked years ago, light a couple of jasmine candles, put on that perfume, keep the lights low, Start with a shoulder massage when he comes, and atlast no matter what take what you want tonight.” You were doubtful but agreed. You did everything, body already warm and ready.

Evening: Team party after a big release. Rohit drank more than usual (celebratory mood), I stayed sober and helped get him back in an Uber. We reached home around 11:45. I rang the bell. Door opened, you in the black satin slip, hair down. Your eyes widened seeing us both. Rohit slurred happily, “Swati… this is new intern… staying with us few weeks.” Your face flushed hard—embarrassment, irritation, disappointment all at once. You shut the door quickly, changed into a simple kurti-salwar, reopened with a tight polite smile, showed me the guest room without much talk, then disappeared into your room.

Rohit collapsed on the couch and started snoring almost instantly.

Around 1 AM I couldn’t settle as it was a new place. Got up quietly for water. Passed your bedroom door.Noticed very soft rhythmic movement, muffled breathing, the tiniest wet sounds. I paused, then saw through the narrow gap in door, you on your back half covered, hand between your thighs under the blanket, moving slowly... you waited all day, wet for him, now touching yourself to ease the utge. Small whimpers, “mm… just a little…” hips grinding, nighty bunched at your waist.

The floor creaked under my foot as I backed away. Your eyes flicked open, caught the shadow moving. You exhaled in anger at being seen, feeling humiliation of it. You pulled the blanket higher, turned on your side, face hot, breathing uneven, tried to sleep.

The next few days events(just examples we can discuss and change):

- We keep conversation short at breakfast, eyes mostly down, but sometimes we see each other and remember that night and again try to ignore each other.

- After your shower you leave your underwear in bathroom and I get wild imaginations looking at them.

- Gurgaon heat is brutal; you switch to camisole at home, dupatta slipping while doing daily chres, nothing deliberate, but I notice your milky fair cleavage.

- Rohit’s schedule stays brutal—early out, late back. slowly we bond as there is no one else to talk and we sometimes bitch about rohit what we dont like about him.

- In every couple of nights your hand slips between your legs trying your best to be quite,but the thin walls carry soft sounds. You bite your lip harder, hating that part of you wonders if I’m awake and listening.

You’re still very much loyal in your mind, still angry at the situation, still telling yourself nothing will cross the line, but the months of neglect have left you urging, and having a young guy in the house every day, quietly changing you.

Reference pic: https://i.redgifs.com/i/exhaustedgloomymartin.jpg

Let’s keep the heat going—Hindi, English, or both, your call. We’ll stretch it across sessions, scene by scene.

Hit me up on Telegram(ysg11y)/Discord/Insta(yoda3po) to dive in.

PLEASE STATE YOUR KINKS AND LIMIT, Any changes you want to make in the plot, from where you want to start the Play?