Hey folks, sorry for the long gap. December was insane for us with vacation and travel. But the outpour of your emails through this period was an aphrodisiac every time we got intimate (Shweta and Rohan).
I am so glad to know that all of you are enjoying the series and are eager to know how things progressed. So here goes,
“Five minutes more, Promise, I won’t ask for more”
Shweta’s response shocked both. The shy, demure Shweta, who always kept up her modesty, was asking for more time with her husband’s best friend! Rohan shot Aarav a glance, amused. Aarav hesitated. He didn’t want to stop either, but the pause seemed to blow off some of the kink that he was feeling.
Slowly and almost guiltily, he cupped Shweta’s boobs, as though he needed them to hold on to the fire in him. His eyes darted back to hers, reinstating his confidence, and with a soft squeeze to her breasts, he said in a low voice, “Alright. Five minutes more. But it has to be worth it.”
Shweta blinked at him, teasing. “Worth it how?”
Aarav’s mouth curved, dangerous. “Close your eyes.”
Curious, she obeyed. Her lashes fluttered shut, lips parting. “What are you two plotting?”
Over her shoulder, Aarav caught Rohan’s gaze. His eyes flicked down to her tits, full and flushed between them. He signalled and mouthed, one each.
Rohan’s eyes darkened instantly. For a split second, he imagined it. He and his best friend feed on his wife’s boobs, feeding on swollen nipples, wetting them, mauling them, biting them together. Two boobs, Two mouths. She’d look like sin. Like ruin. Like ours.
He gave Aarav a nod. Three fingers lifted, counted down. Three. two. one.
They both descended.
Shweta’s eyes shot open just in time to see them dive at her chest. “Ah!” her shriek echoed through the house, her head rolling back as two warm mouths plugged onto her boobs.
Rohan engulfed her left, his soft lips closing on her nipple for the first time that night. To his mild but not complete surprise, he felt a different taste on it, Aarav’s. The earlier tension of the evening had left it tenderer than usual, almost as though not belonging to his own wife.
It seemed new, as if bearing a new personality. Almost by muscle memory, he extended his tongue onto it. Flicking it before sucking it hard. I was wondering if he was enjoying sucking his wife’s nipple in front of his friend more.
He was literally sucking in the remnants of his friend’s saliva from his wife’s boobs. Regardless, his teeth continued lightly scraping the edges of her areola. Aarav claimed her right, his warm lips closing hard, sucking until her areola puckered, his tongue swirling in greedy circles.
The sight sent her pussy into a tizzy. She felt like she’d collapse with pleasure “Mmmm fuck, you guys!” she screamed. Grabbing both their heads by their hair and shoving them harder against her boobs. Her pussy heat is making her hips jerk wildly.
It was chaos, but not without contrast. On her left, Rohan’s mouth was familiar, tuned to her spots. He was well-versed in the curve of her breast. He knew the rhythm that she had grown to like. He soft-tugged at her nipple with his lips before soothing it down with the base of his tongue.
He had claimed her body for years, as a boyfriend, as a partner, as a husband. Only difference was that today his moves were a bit rougher and more urgent, as if to remind her she was HIS.
Aarav, though. Aarav was different. He was slow, soft. Almost calm yet making her blood gush through her body. He took his time, letting his lips brush on and off across her boob. As though absorbing every inch of it, then returning his focus to her nipple.
Lapping it in slow circles before flicking it sharply and then sucking it in deep. His tongue wandered, almost in a choreographed manner. But absorbing and memorising more of her curve with every passing moment, savouring what had always been forbidden until now.
It wasn’t hurried. It was reverent, almost worshipful, and that reverence made her nipple throb just as much as Rohan’s rough pulls.
The duality wrecked her. One breast being mauled raw with greedy heat, the other teased and worshipped with aching precision. Her back arched higher, her hands pulling both their heads tighter against her chest, desperate to feel both styles at once.
Her breath came out in broken gasps. Two months. Two tongues. Two men at once. For years, she had known what it felt like to be loved and lusted. but never like this. Never doubled. Never torn apart by pleasure so contrasting it felt like she might lose her mind.
“Ohhh f-fuck, yes, don’t stop. don’t stop either of you,” she sobbed, her hips grinding into the couch, her body twitching uncontrollably under their mouths.
Every flick, every suck felt amplified, magnified, made obscene by the fact that she couldn’t tell which mouth her body wanted more. Rohan’s rough claiming or Aarav’s reverent hunger. The sparks shooting down her spine and into her clit screamed in her brain that she needed both.
Involuntarily, her hands flew back to their cocks. The desperation was evident in her tight grip. The hard bulges strained against the fabric, throbbing under her palms. But the more she stroked, the more she realised. It wasn’t enough. The fabric dulled the heat, blunted the size. She needed to feel them more.
She pulled back their heads, feeling the pull on both her nipples as the boys tried to remain plugged. She looked at both of them, panting, her boobs bouncing, her nipples raw and glistening with spit. “If this is where you want to take me.”
Her voice trembled, “Then we need an even playground.” She glanced at her panties, still the only thing between her and total nakedness. “Fair’s fair, right?”
Both boys suddenly became aware of the situation. Shweta is almost naked, and both of them are fully clothed. She hesitated a bit before moving towards Rohan, though some part of her wanted to pounce on Aarav first.
She slid her slender fingers under Rohan’s t-shirt and yanked it off in one smooth tug, exposing his broad and familiar chest. Her hands briefly roamed it, nails grazing his skin, but before Rohan could register. She was already turning.
She stared at Aarav. He looked back at her longingly for the same haste that she had shown her husband. Nobody moved for a few seconds. Shweta’s mind raced. She was about to undress another man. She had seen Aarav several times in just a boxer during their vacations.
His torso was no secret to her. But undressing him was a different ballgame. Aarav sensed her plight. He smiled and raised his hands, inviting and motivating her to take the step. That was all Shweta needed. She moved in and slowly slid his shirt up his torso, undressing him.
Her husband’s best friend, revealing the firm muscle she had seen countless times, except this time, she was the one to unsheathe it. She stopped as his nipples got exposed, circling them with her nails. All the while marvelling at the guts of touching her friend Priya’s husband like this.
Aarav let out an uncontrollable grunt. Shweta’s smile broadened. With a final tug, she pulled off his shirt. For a moment, time stood still. And then her olfactory senses went into a tizzy. She had never been this close to Aarav in his shirtless avatar.
His body odour made Shweta involuntarily take a deep breath, allowing that fragrance to descend into her nerves. Her lips parted and bit on themselves. If her mind couldn’t decide whether to kiss him or bite him. Aarav’s alluring aroma instilled something primal in Shweta.
She was in a trance-like state, eyes shut, tracing her finger down his torso, before finally parking her hand on his belt, toying with the buckle. She fidgeted with it unsuccessfully. Ever so lightly brushing Aarav’s manhood now and then.
Aarav’s pulse was hammering at the sight. Seeing her plight, he slowly rose to his feet. Shweta’s eyes flicked open. She looked up at Aarav, naked in just her panties. Her boobs quivering as her hands tugged at the last piece of fabric that would bring her and her new playmate on fair ground.
Her fingers worked the buckle with agonising slow pace, metal clinking, leather sliding free and lightly slapping her cheek as though rebuking her for being a bad girl. But that charged her more. She pinched the zip between two fingers, dragging it down against the hardness of his manhood.
Shweta’s mind was in chaos, all her senses heightened, the quiet room filled by the sound of the zipper. Aarav’s manhood straining against her fingers. She unzipped, making his cock loom obscenely. Outward against the thin cotton of his brief as though making space to breathe.
She hurried to get over the chaos, making her final move of hooking her fingers in the waistband of his trousers. I was pulling them down, allowing them to gather and pool around his feet.
To her left, Rohan stripped his own trousers, leaving just his underwear. The comparison was impossible to ignore. Both cocks strained proudly, but Aarav’s tent was longer, thicker, jutting out with a weight that made Shweta’s mouth go dry.
Her gaze oscillated between her husband’s crotch and his best friend’s, almost letting out an involuntary whistle. Her hand twitched, wanting to reach out and grab, but instead. She pulled Aarav back on the couch and pulled both of their heads back into her hanging heavy tits.
“Now,” she whispered, voice trembling but commanding. “Continue.”
Both men just stared at her. one’s life-long partner, the other’s best friend’s wife, sitting almost naked between them, her tits moist from all the saliva. Her nipples were raw and inviting, her eyes showing desire but authority at the same time. For the first time tonight, she wasn’t just yielding. She was directing.
Both men felt their primal instinct for competition erupt. Rohan moved swiftly as though to claim her back for a moment and remind Shweta who her boo was. He sealed his lips around her left nipple, which was already swollen. Aarav caught the vibe and did not hesitate either.
He led with his protruding tongue, drawing broad, slow arcs on her right tit before proceeding to play with the nipple, flicking it continuously. Shweta let out a scream, arching her back. Her hands curled around both their heads, pushing them further into her chest, her body offering itself to the two men.
“Mmmmm. Yes, fuck. Oh god, both of you. suck them harder. my tits. my nipples. Never stop.”
They obeyed. The room reverberated with the wet sounds of passion. Tongue, saliva, skin, it looked like an obscene frenzy. Shweta rubbed her thighs frantically, her panties soaked, the wet fabric clinging to her swollen lips. Her whole body convulsed, but she didn’t want to stop. She wanted more.
Aarav felt her squirming and, realising how much Shweta was enjoying, snapped something in him. He pulled himself away, his eyes drunk with lust. He caught her wrist and guided her downward, steady but firm. He pressed her palm over the thick bulge straining in his underwear.
Her breath faltered, and for a heartbeat she froze. Then, instinct took over. Her fingers curled tight, squeezing through the fabric. The reaction was immediate. Aarav groaned into her chest, his mouth snapping back to her nipple, sucking it hard like her touch had lit him on fire.
The difference was instant. Without the trousers, the heat of his thick shaft burned into her skin. She could feel the shape now. The thickness, the length, the blunt crown, fighting to break free from the trap of the fabric. Her mouth opened in ecstasy, her eyes closed, as her fingers closed tighter.
“Oh God, he feels so different. So big. So alive.”
Slowly and with an unbridled desire, she loosened her grip and began stroking slowly along his length. Aarav groaned, his hips bucked against her palm, shameless, urging her to hold harder, tighter.
The shock of it rattled through her. Aarav, her husband’s best friend, is trying to piston his shaft in her palm. And it was so different from Rohan. Rohan’s familiar weight was comfort, memory, and love. Aarav’s was something else entirely. heavy, foreign, forbidden.
But she couldn’t be sure. She was holding only one. Her free hand itched to feel her husband. She reached out and found Rohan’s bulge, hard and solid beneath his briefs. As she curled her fingers around it, Rohan gasped into her breast.
The moment served as a grounding reminder to Shweta of every night that they had spent together. She froze for a heartbeat, both hands full. One shaft, she had known for a decade, the other, alien and overwhelming, making her shiver with its size. And she was stroking them both.
Her chest heaved, pinned between their mouths. Aarav’s tongue lashed her nipple with wet, greedy strokes. Rohan’s lips closed over the other, suction tugging it. Yet again, the combined force of two men broke her imagination until she couldn’t tell where one man ended and the other began.
Shweta’s body was out of her control. She was squirming and gyrating her hips helplessly, panties clinging, soaked. Her moan split the air, high and breathless. She wasn’t just being touched. She was the centre of them both. their hunger, their release, their need. Her thoughts scattered, raw and shameless.
“I shouldn’t feel this alive. I shouldn’t want both. But I do. God, I do. And they’re letting me. They’re giving me all of themselves.”
She squirmed, arched, and fidgeted with their cocks, squeezing hard at times, and then proceeded to stroke when those hard shafts would fight back the pressure. Her voice broke into cries of unintelligible moans, “Mmmh. No, please. OH GOD!”
She stroked Rohan’s cock through the thin fabric of his briefs. Her thumb dragging across the damp patch at his leaking tip. But she pumped Aarav’s new shaft harder over his underwear, fingers curling just enough to press against his balls.
Their mouths devoured her chest like starved wolves, lips tugging, tongues circling, teeth grazing. Wet slurps filled the air, obscene against the sound of Shweta’s desperate gasps. But through it all, Aarav and Rohan’s eyes found each other across the swell of her breasts.
For a heartbeat, they just stared. Two best friends, both latched to the same woman, lips glistening with the same spit. It wasn’t shame they felt. It was something darker. Filthier. And hotter.
Rohan was the first to break their eye-lock. He flicked his gaze down, then back up to Aarav, giving the smallest of nods.
Aarav frowned in confusion until Rohan nudged again. this time with a twitch of his brow. Look down. Aarav’s eyes followed Rohan’s hand.
It was gliding slowly and steadily towards her inner thigh, dangerously close to the edge of her soaked panties, even as his cock throbbed in her grip. Aarav could see the hunger in his fingers. the way they hovered, then finally pressed against her mound.
Shweta gasped, her hips bucking against the touch. Breathless and in disbelief, she managed to say, “R-Rohan. Is that you?”
Rohan just hummed his confirmation without breaking contact with her nipple, the vibration of it making her squirm. His hand pressed firmer, rubbing her clit through the thin lace.
The sight of seeing his friend massage his wife’s private parts drenched Aarav’s briefs with pre-cum. Hesitantly but not devoid of desire, his own fingers crept higher on her right thigh, trembling as they moved and stopping just short of her panties. He froze, scared of overstepping.
And then he felt it. A brush. Subtle. A nudge. Rohan’s little finger slides against his knuckle. A signal. A dare. Aarav’s head snapped up, eyes meeting Rohan’s again. The nod was tiny but loaded. Switch.
Aarav’s heart thundered. He shouldn’t. He couldn’t. And yet. Their hands shifted like thieves passing contraband, smooth and silent, and before Shweta could figure out, Aarav’s palm replaced Rohan’s, cupping the second pussy of its life, his fingers getting drenched by her soaked panties.
It took Rohan’s guidance over his palm to continue massaging circles over her clit lest Shweta feel the difference. Shweta moaned, each scream breaking shackles in her mind and heart. Each stroke of her hands peels layers of her morality and exposes undiscovered layers of kink.
Her hips gyrated with every movement of the hand on her mound below “Oh. f-fuck. Rohan, that feels so good.”
A wet pop reverberated over Shweta’s moans. It was Rohan releasing her breast, dragging his face up and clasping her hands with both his hands. His thumbs stroked her cheeks as he kissed her hard, deep, claiming.
She whimpered into his mouth, tongue slipping against his, her hand stroking his cock faster. But then her body jolted. Her pussy clenched hard. Her eyes flew open.
Rohan’s hands were on her face, not on her pussy. It was then that she realised that the rhythm was different, the pressure new, the strokes deeper, filthier, desperate in a way which could only be.
“Aarav!!” Her gaze darted down, then up. And there he was. Aarav, lips locked to her other nipple, jaw tight, eyes blazing with hunger. And his hand and their slender fingers were rubbing her mound, as it belonged to him
The shock tore a moan from her chest. “Oh. my God, it’s you,” she gasped, staring at Aarav, her thighs spreading wider involuntarily, as though wanting to give more access to Aarav.
Her hips bucked helplessly into his fingers, her hands still stroking both their cocks, precum smearing into the fabric of their underwear. The forbidden swap. The fact that Rohan had given her to Aarav this way.
It drove her insane. She moaned louder, jerking Aarav’s cock through his briefs like she wanted to rip them off, her other hand clutching Rohan’s balls through the fabric. “Oh, God, both of you. I can’t. I can’t take it.”
The realisation detonated inside her. It wasn’t Rohan’s fingers stroking her clit anymore. It was Aarav’s. His touch was rougher, less careful, more desperate. Every circle of his fingertip over her panties sent jolts of pleasure that were. different. Not worse, not better. just different. Forbidden.
Her heartbeat paced, hammering against her chest, causing her boobs to shake. She breathed heavily, her throat going dry. “Oh God, it’s him. It’s Aarav. I thought it was Rohan, but…”
She moaned, thighs spreading wider as though her body betrayed her mind. “No. No, I should stop him. He’s not my husband, he’s…”
And then another realization snapped for her. She and Aarav were both stroking each other’s genitals. The most sacred touches that had belonged only to her husband were now Aarav’s too. She imagined the scene from a third person’s perspective.
She and Aarav, he touching her pussy, she stroking his shaft while she cradled his head on her tits. The thought made her pussy clench. The filthy symmetry broke her. Her mind screamed wrong, wrong, but her body cried more. The guilt, the thrill, the danger. It all melted into one unbearable ache.
She turned her head, gasping against Rohan’s lips, then back toward Aarav, her eyes locking on his. The hunger there undid her. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was taking, and she was letting him.
And then the shame twisted into something filthier. I didn’t even know. I thought it was Rohan. I let Aarav touch me, and it turned me on more when I realised. That thought alone made her panties gush.
For Rohan, the sight was almost unbearable. in the best way.
He had orchestrated it, nudging Aarav, guiding the swap, giving his wife away with nothing but a brush of his finger. He had expected guilt. But all that was washed away, seeing Shweta’s reaction of pure passion and filth.
He watched her body react. the way her hips jerked when she realised, the moan that ripped free from her throat. It set him on fire. This wasn’t just about her pussy being touched by another man. It was about trust.
The trust she’d placed in him to lead her into this. The trust she unknowingly gave Aarav the second she realised and didn’t pull away. And fuck, the look on her face. Shock, then shame, then pure, dripping arousal.
Rohan groaned, his cock throbbing so hard in her hand he thought she’d tear through his briefs. The jealousy was gone. burned away, consumed by something hotter. It wasn’t him losing her. It was he watching her become more his by letting her fall into Aarav’s hands, too.
She’s mine, he thought, chest heaving. But now she’s his, too. And I gave her to him. I gave her, and she wanted it. His tongue claimed her mouth harder, deeper, possessive, even as his best friend fingered her over her panties.
Her gasp broke between their lips. “Oh, God, Rohan. Aarav’s. Aarav’s touching me.” And Rohan smiled against her mouth. “I know, baby. I wanted him to. I wanted to see you give in. And you did.”
Her whole body shivered at hearing him. There was no fear, only lust. Aarav groaned into her nipple again, his thumb pressing firmer against her clit, his cock jerking in her hand. “She’s soaking through,” he rasped. “I can feel it. She’s dripping.”
Shweta moaned so loud it filled the room, her arms wrapping tighter around both of them as if she needed their bodies to hold her together. For Aarav, it felt like stepping into a fire.
Touching Shweta was not an alien concept; it wasn’t that they had never hugged or their fingers had not brushed while passing the bottle of wine. Hell, he’d even picked her up once and dunked her into the pool. But this? His hand on her pussy?
This was not the same touch. This was not a graze, not an accident. His fingers were massaging her clit through her panties, and she wasn’t stopping him. She was meeting him, hips rocking into the pressure, every moan confirming that she wanted this as much as he did.
His chest pounded. Years of brotherhood with Rohan, years of guarding lines they both knew never to cross, all of it blurred into heat and hunger. Because this wasn’t just touching. Shweta was responding.
Her legs spread more with every passing moment. Her quiet short moans pierced the room at every small movement that Aarav’s fingers made on her clit, while reciprocating it on Aarav’s shaft with a squeeze, a stroke, feeling his twitch every now and then.
It became clear to Aarav, “She wants me. Right here, right now. She’s giving herself to me.” He couldn’t help himself. He closed the circuit between him and Shweta by re-clamping his mouth on her nipple.
His thoughts swirled, “No one’s ever undone me like this. Not this wild, not this desperate. Not even Priya.” The thought both terrified him and drove him mad with lust.
And then his gaze lifted. finding Rohan’s eyes over the swell of her breast. Their stare locked, wordless, and the jolt hit Aarav’s gut like a lightning strike. Rohan wasn’t angry. He wasn’t pulling her away. He was watching, steady, almost proud, as if this was exactly what he wanted to see.
Aarav’s pulse hammered as he concluded in his head. “Then it’s okay. Then she’s mine too, at least tonight.” A ragged groan tore from him, lips brushing her nipple as he whispered the truth he could no longer hold back.
“Fuck. Maybe we’ll need more than five minutes.”