transport is like in Delhi? So we tried in vain to hail a taxi and with no luck ended up halting a three-wheeler. Unlike many other of his tribe, this three-wheeler driver was very friendly. He even helped me get my wife, whom we shall call Shalini for name’s sake, into the vehicle. We live in the southern part of Delhi, I know even if I give you the name of the residential area you wont be able to trace us but I am a bit scared goat if you know what I mean! And from CP it is quite some distance traveling by rickshaw. Anyway, the cool night breeze and the loud rickshaw noise soon had us on the verge to dozing off and I just didn’t realize how we ended up on the long lonely
stretch outside Buddha Jayanti Park.
Shalini’s head was in my lap and she had almost blacked out to my horror. But in any case nothing untoward happened and we reached our home soon. When I asked him how much the fare was, the driver showed his true colours and asked for an unheard for price. Rs 400 for a bumpy ride? Anyway, I thought better than putting up a fight and decided to pay only to realize
that I had only Rs 150 left in my pocket and my credit card was not going to be any use here. So I decided to go up, deposit my wife home and get some money… It was a struggle to take her up. And much to my dismay, I had to accept the drivers offer to help her go up. We live on the fifth floor and our building lift, no surprises, was “out of order”. Anyway I was quite happy to have some help carry my wife upstairs. She stumbled many times and we had to steady her at each landing but after a grueling 20 minutes, we were
upstairs finally. It was then that I realized that Shalini’s bag was left behind in the rickshaw and the keys were in it. Now I couldn’t have asked the driver
to go and get the bag for obvious reasons. He could just run away with it. And I couldn’t leave my wife alone in a drunken state either. So I asked the driver to stay put while I got the bag. I ran down but while climbing, my drunken head and wobbly legs couldn’t run as fast. When I did reach up,
I was shocked to see that the driver’s hand was inside my wife’s dress and he was, most probably fingering her choot. With one hand he was also mauling her boobs. I stepped down a few steps and made some sound so that he could be normal and when I looked this time it appeared like nothing had happened. But when he got up, I could clearly see that his cock was hard. Perhaps he was wearing the handmade boxer-type underwear but anyone could have seen that his cock was hard and raised a tent in his khakhi trousers. He smiled shamelessly and said, “arre saab, jaldi se paisa de do bahut time barbad kar diya.” I fumbled with the keys and opened the door and even before I could do anything he picked Shalini like a rag doll and followed me. “Kahan pe litaon ise,” he used such crude words for my
wife that for a moment I felt like punching the shit out of him. But then he looked bigger and stronger than me and at any rate much meaner looking.
“Haan, yahan sofe pe hi lita do,” I said but to my own surprise I didn’t offer to help. He was holding her like a father holds his daughter. Head flung across his shoulders and legs dangling down the front. Her boobs were pressing hard against his chest and his hands were holding her tight from just
below her ass. I could see his tented cock pushing against her legs as he moved. Her dress had rode up to her ass and her sheer black panties were clearly visible. He sat down on the sofa and let her flop in his lap and slowly eased himself out. But while doing so he, as if to tease me, massaged both her boobs with his callous hands. And then he pulled her legs really high to make her dress ride up even further up and threw the legs over the sofa arm. Now my wife was lying there, drunk and exposed from the belt below, clad
only in her panties. He stood over her and stared at her like a piece of meat. And then unexpectedly he tugged a few strand of pussy hair visible from the
side of the panties. “Sali ki jhant dhik rahi hai.”
He was addressing my wife in front of me like this and I was listening. He looked at me and smiled, and even though he knew I was looking, he rubbed his crotch vulgarly, lifting one leg up. He leisurely cupped his balls & stroked his fat looking cock over the sweat stained fabric of his trousers.
“Mere paas sirf Rs 150 hai,” I said meekly.
“Aur baki ke paise is randi ko kharidane me laga diye kya,” he growled and I just hung my head in fear and shame and a little excitement. He thought my wife was a whore!
“nahin, ye meri biwi hai.”
“to ye randi jaise kapde kyon pahana rakhe hai ise?” he asked and rubbed one hand over the bare thigh of my wife. When I didn’t react, he continued rubbing her thigh with one hand and his manhood with another.
“Bathroom kahan hai?” he asked and I led him to the bathroom. There, even before I could go out, he removed his trousers and hauled out a meanest,
blackest and dirtiest looking uncut cock I have ever seen and I have seen a lot of them in the porn movies.
“Ja kahan raha hai behanchod, mera lund pakad,” he ordered and I reluctantly held his black cock. My hands are fairly large but even then it was difficult to hold it completely.
“chal, moot ki dhar bana,” he said and I aimed his cock into the toilet bowl where a healthy and strong stream of acrid smelling golden urine filled the
bathroom. He then made me wipe his cock clean with my shirt and we walked out. He naked below his belt and I above the belt. Lifting the head of my wife, he sat down on the sofa and put her head in his lap, his cock nuzzling against her soft mouth. A drop of piss was dangling from his cock and he tentatively wiped it with his finger and fed it to my wife. Unconciously
she licked it clean.
“chal ise nangi kar,” he growled and I found myself slowly undressing my wife in front of this filthy stranger.
While I was undressing her, ( www.indiansexstories1.com ) he slowly started rubbing his cockhead against my wife’s lips and sometimes slipped the purple head inside. Instinctively she
started licking it in her sleep, probably thinking it was my cock. Now she was completely naked.
“Is randi ki choot chat ke mere laude ke liye tayar kar, madarchod.” I complied. By now, honestly, I was rock hard and oozing precum like a galloon. He too was leaking a lot. After ten minutes, he pulled me by my hair to crotch level, his monster cock flexing in front of my face.
“Choos mere gande lund ko. Ye randi to mari padi hai kuch majaa nahi aya. Tu choos mera lund aur ka ise choot marne ke liye tayar. Aja bhosadi ke, randi ki aulad, aja aur choos mera lund.”
I started sucking his cock like I was born to suck cocks. In my mind I knew that it would be very difficult for me to not imagine about a man’s cock
whenever I met a dirty driver from now on but I munched on his cock like my life depended on it. After a short while he pushed me away and got up
advancing towards my naked wife.
“Aja haram ke beej aur apne haath se mera kala mota lund apni biwi ki choot me ghusa de.”I was more than happy to help him fuck my wife’s sweet pussy. I was not even worried what she would say if she did wake up being fucked by such a monster horse cock. He slowly started fucking her [I think even he
didn’t want to wake her up] and soon raised the speed of his thrusts.
“Are bahut tight choot he. Hai meri handi mera lund kha le…” and what not he started saying and soon before long he shot a big load of his sperm inside my
fertile wife’s pussy…when he removed his cock with a loud plop, I could see a trail of sperm leaking out of her fbashed out, swollen looking pussy. I just
couldn’t control myself and lapped up all the sperm of this stranger from my wife’s pussy. Meanwhile, he just laughed put on his clothes and walked out of the house taking my watch and Rs 150…it was then that I noticed our neighbour, a 65-year old widower standing in our doorway, holding his thick
veiny & very hard cock in his hand, he smiled & started walking towards us…