The days blurred into a haze of tortured anticipation for Meera Kapoor. Each morning, the Mumbai monsoon rains drummed relentlessly against the windows of their modest flat, mirroring the storm raging inside her—guilt soaking her thoughts like the humid air clinging to her skin, while forbidden heat throbbed persistently between her thighs. Vikram remained oblivious, buried in his grading papers, his cold touches at night mechanical and brief, leaving her aching and unfulfilled. But Rohan's messages pinged her phone relentlessly: teasing photos of her cum-leaking pussy from the classroom—snapped secretly as she lay bent over the desk—accompanied by demands. "Wear no panties today, teacher. Let that married cunt drip for me all day." Meera obeyed, hating herself for it, her shaved pink folds rubbing slickly together under her sarees, leaking creamy nectar down her thick thighs during lessons, the sharp musk of her arousal faint but constant, making her shift restlessly in the staff room chair.
By Friday, Vikram announced a late-night staff conference out of town—returning only tomorrow. Meera's heart pounded with dread and shameful excitement when Rohan's text arrived: "Tutoring session at your place tonight. 8 PM. Tell your husband it's for my 'improvement.' Or the photos go viral." She complied, voice trembling on the phone to Vikram, who grunted approval without suspicion.
The clock ticked agonizingly toward evening, the flat's air thick with the scent of raining earth filtering through open windows and the spicy remnants of Meera's nervous cooking—aloo gobi simmering forgotten on the stove. She showered twice, hot water sluicing over her curvaceous body, fingers lingering traitorously on her swollen pussy lips as she soaped them, circling her engorged clit until near-climax, only to stop in self-loathing tears. Dressed in a simple red saree that hugged her massive breasts and wide hips, no bra or panties as implicitly demanded, her dark nipples poked stiffly through the thin blouse, stiffening further in the cool draft.
The doorbell rang at 8 sharp. Rohan stood there in casual jeans and a tight t-shirt clinging to his broad chest, raindrops glistening on his tousled hair, a backpack slung over one shoulder hiding who-knew-what. His piercing eyes devoured her instantly, smirking at the flush creeping up her neck. "Evening, teacher," he purred, stepping inside without invitation, the door clicking shut like a trap. The flat felt smaller with him in it—his masculine cologne overwhelming the homey spices, his presence charging the air with raw tension.
"You got what you wanted twice," Meera whispered harshly, backing toward the living room, massive tits heaving. "This ends tonight."
Rohan laughed low, dropping his bag and crowding her against the wall—his hard body pressing close, the bulge in his jeans grinding against her mound through the saree. "Ends when I say, slut. Your pussy's been clenching all week thinking of my cock breeding you." He yanked her pallu down roughly, exposing her blouse-straining breasts, dark nipples diamond-hard as he pinched them through the fabric, twisting until she gasped, fresh nectar gushing down her bare thighs.
He dragged her to the bedroom—the marital bed where Vikram slept oblivious—pushing her onto the crisp white sheets that still smelled faintly of her husband's aftershave. Rohan stripped slowly, teasing, his thick, veiny cock springing free—rock-hard, swollen head leaking precum in shiny beads, balls heavy and full. Meera's breath hitched, pussy throbbing emptily as he crawled over her, hiking her saree and petticoat up to her waist, exposing her dripping pink cunt—lips swollen and parted, inner folds glistening with thick arousal, clit peeking engorged and pulsing.
"No foreplay tonight," he growled, rubbing his slick cockhead along her sopping slit—coating himself in her creamy juices with lewd, squelching teases that made her hips buck involuntarily. The room filled with the wet sounds and her whimpering moans, rain pattering harder outside like applause.
"Please... condom," Meera begged weakly, but Rohan slammed in bare and brutal—one savage thrust burying balls-deep, stretching her tight married walls to their limit, his ridge battering her cervix as her pussy clenched greedily around his girth. "Fuck! So deep... ahh ahh too big!" she cried, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, heels digging into his back as he pounded immediately—hard, punishing rhythm from the start, wet fleshy slaps echoing off the walls, his heavy balls smacking her ass and clit relentlessly with every drive.
Sweat slicked their skin in the humid heat, beads tracing down her cleavage and his toned chest as he mauled her massive tits—ripping the blouse open, buttons flying, sucking her stiff nipples hard enough to bruise, teeth grazing as she arched with slutty screams: "Oh god... harder... breed me... ahh fuck my cheating pussy!" The bed creaked rhythmically, headboard thumping the wall, her creamy juices frothing around his shaft in obscene bubbles, splattering their thighs and soaking the sheets in dark patches.
Rohan flipped her onto all fours—big ass high, saree bunched around her waist like a whore's—and reentered from behind, gripping her hips bruisingly as he railed deeper, cockhead pounding her g-spot until stars burst behind her eyes. The air thickened with the sharp tang of sweat, pussy nectar, and raw sex, rain muffling her escalating moans as tension coiled unbearably—her walls fluttering wildly, clit throbbing from his swinging balls.
They shattered simultaneously after endless minutes of savage rutting: Meera's cunt spasming in violent, milking waves, squirting hot jets backward that soaked his abs and the bed in forceful gushes; Rohan's cock pulsing thick, scalding ropes deep into her womb, flooding her married depths with potent student seed until it overflowed in creamy waterfalls, leaking in pearly globs down her thighs and puddling on the sheets.
He pulled out slowly, watching the gush from her gaping pink hole—red and ruined—then flipped her over for a final claim: straddling her chest, feeding his cum-slick cock into her mouth for a sloppy cleaning, her tongue lapping their mixed fluids greedily as aftershocks trembled through her.
"Clean sheets for your husband tomorrow," Rohan smirked, dressing as Meera lay spent and leaking on the defiled marital bed, body glowing in humiliated bliss. "But next week... I want more. Maybe introduce me to that cold husband of yours."
He left with a parting grope of her ass, the door clicking shut. Meera curled into the wet sheets, fingers drifting to her throbbing, cum-filled pussy—dipping into the creamy mess as forbidden cravings won again. The blackmail was evolving into addiction, and she was drowning in it.