My name is Anwar Khan. I am 58 years old, the head of a respectable family in Karachi. Everyone respects me. I am known as a strict but fair man.
But no one knows my darkest desire — my young Bahu, Ayesha.
Ayesha is 22 years old. She married my eldest son, Faisal, two years ago. She is beautiful in that innocent, traditional way — fair skin, big doe eyes, long black hair, and a body that makes my blood run hot. Full breasts, wide hips, and a soft, round ass that sways when she walks in her saree.
From the day she entered our house as a new Bahu, I wanted her.
At first, I tried to control myself. But every time I saw her bending over to serve tea, or when her saree pallu slipped from her shoulder, my cock would harden. I started finding excuses to be near her.
Faisal works long hours and often travels for business. That left Ayesha alone in the house with me and my wife most of the time.
It started on a hot afternoon during load-shedding.
The power was out. My wife had gone to visit her sister. Ayesha was in the kitchen, wearing a simple yellow cotton saree. The fabric was sticking to her sweaty body, showing the outline of her bra and the curve of her ass.
I walked in quietly.
She was reaching up to get something from the top shelf. Her saree pallu had fallen, revealing her deep cleavage and the smooth skin of her waist.
I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I stepped behind her and pressed my body against hers. She froze.
“Sasur Ji… what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice shaking.
I put my hands on her waist and pulled her back against my hard cock.
“You know exactly what I’m doing, Bahu,” I growled in her ear. “I’ve wanted this tight little body since the day you came into my house.”
She tried to pull away, but I held her firmly.
“Please… this is wrong,” she begged. “I’m your son’s wife.”
“That’s exactly why it feels so good,” I replied, sliding one hand up to squeeze her breast through her blouse.
Ayesha whimpered but didn’t fight hard. I could feel her trembling.
I turned her around, pushed her against the kitchen counter, and kissed her hard. She resisted at first, then slowly melted as I squeezed her breasts and rubbed my cock against her.
That was the beginning.
Over the next few weeks, I trained my reluctant Bahu.
Every time Faisal left for work, I would call her to my room.
At first she would cry and beg me not to do it. She would say “This is sin… I’m your Bahu…” But her body always betrayed her. Her nipples would get hard, and her pussy would get wet the moment I touched her.
I started slow.
I made her strip in front of me and stand naked while I admired her body. Then I would make her suck my cock. She was terrible at first — shy and hesitant — but I trained her well. Soon she was deepthroating me like a good little Bahu slut.
Then came the real training.
I started fucking her pussy. She cried the first time I entered her, whispering “Forgive me Allah…” as I stretched her married cunt. But by the third time, she was moaning and pushing back against me.
The ultimate conquest was her ass.
One night when Faisal was away on a business trip, I made her get on all fours on my bed.
“Please Sasur Ji… not there,” she begged, tears in her eyes. “It will hurt too much.”
I lubed my cock and pressed the head against her tight virgin asshole.
“You are my Bahu,” I said firmly. “This hole also belongs to me.”
I pushed in slowly. Ayesha cried out in pain as I stretched her virgin ass. But I didn’t stop. I fucked her ass deep and hard while she sobbed into the pillow.
By the end of that night, she was pushing back against me and moaning like a whore.
Now, six months later, my once-reluctant Bahu is completely broken in.
She still pretends to resist sometimes — it turns me on when she whispers “This is wrong…” while spreading her legs for me.
Every morning before Faisal wakes up, she comes to my room and sucks my cock. In the afternoon when my wife is napping, I fuck her in the storeroom or on the terrace. At night, when Faisal is asleep, she sneaks into my room and rides my cock like a desperate slut.
She has become addicted.
Yesterday, while Faisal was in the next room watching TV, she came to me in the kitchen, lifted her saree, bent over the counter and whispered:
“Quick Sasur Ji… fuck your Bahu’s ass before he notices.”
I fucked her hard and filled her asshole with cum while her husband was just twenty feet away.
When I pulled out, she turned around, dropped to her knees, and sucked my cock clean — tasting her own ass on me.
She looked up at me with lust-filled eyes and whispered:
“I’m your dirty little Bahu now… Use me whenever you want.”
After I took Ayesha’s anal virginity, she was never the same.
The innocent, shy Bahu who used to call me “Sasur Ji” with respect and fear slowly turned into my personal fucktoy. But she still played the reluctant game sometimes — and I loved it.
Faisal was away again for a week in Dubai. That gave me full control over his young wife.
The very next morning after he left, I called Ayesha into my bedroom.
She came wearing a simple sky-blue saree, looking nervous but already breathing heavily.
“Lock the door,” I ordered.
She obeyed.
“Take off your clothes. Slowly.”
Ayesha hesitated, biting her lip. “Sasur Ji… what if Ammi wakes up?”
I stepped closer and grabbed her chin.
“I don’t care. Strip.”
With trembling hands, she removed her saree, then her blouse and petticoat. She stood before me in just a black bra and matching panty — the ones I had bought for her.
I made her turn around and bend over, holding the edge of the bed.
I pulled her panties down to her knees and spread her ass cheeks. Her asshole was still slightly puffy from the previous night’s fucking.
“Look at this used hole,” I growled. “Your husband has never touched it… but I own it now.”
I spat on her asshole and pushed two fingers inside. Ayesha moaned, pushing back against my hand.
“Please… be gentle today,” she whispered, still playing the reluctant Bahu.
I laughed and slapped her ass hard.
“You don’t get gentle anymore.”
I lubed my cock and slammed into her ass in one brutal thrust. Ayesha cried out, gripping the bedsheets. I fucked her hard, deep, and without mercy — pounding her asshole while she moaned and whimpered.
When I was close, I pulled out, spun her around, and shoved my cock into her mouth.
“Swallow every drop, Bahu.”
She looked up at me with teary eyes as I flooded her throat with thick cum. She swallowed it all like a good girl.
But I wanted more.
Two days later, my wife (Ayesha’s Saas) went to visit her sister for the weekend. The house was finally empty except for me and Ayesha.
I made her wear the sluttiest thing she owned — a red transparent saree with a backless blouse that barely contained her heavy breasts. No bra. No panties.
I fucked her all over the house.
On the dining table where we eat as a family.
On the sofa where she sits with Faisal.
In the kitchen while she was cooking biryani — I bent her over the counter and fucked her ass while she stirred the pot.
The most humiliating moment came that night.
I made her call Faisal on video call while I was fucking her.
She was on all fours on my bed, face down, ass up. I was balls-deep in her asshole.
“Call your husband,” I ordered.
With a shaky hand, she dialed. Faisal picked up.
“Assalamualaikum, jaan,” he said warmly.
Ayesha tried to keep her voice steady as I slowly thrust into her ass.
“W-walaikum assalam…” she replied, biting her lip hard.
I started fucking her harder. The sound of my balls slapping her wet pussy filled the room.
Faisal asked, “Are you okay? You sound strange.”
I reached around and rubbed her clit while pounding her asshole.
Ayesha moaned softly, then quickly covered it with a cough.
“I’m… I’m fine, just tired,” she lied, her voice breaking as another orgasm built inside her.
I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Tell him you love him while I cum in your ass.”
Tears of shame and pleasure ran down her face as she said:
“I love you, Faisal…”
Right as she said it, I buried my cock deep in her asshole and unloaded. Ayesha came hard at the same time, biting her hand to stay quiet.
Faisal never suspected a thing.
By the end of the week, Ayesha was completely broken.
She no longer pretended to resist.
Every morning she would wake me up with her mouth on my cock. Every night she begged me to fuck her ass before Faisal came home.
She even started wearing butt plugs during the day so she would stay ready for me.
The final surrender came on the last night before Faisal returned.
Ayesha crawled into my bed completely naked and whispered:
“Sasur Ji… I don’t want to be Faisal’s wife anymore. I want to be your personal Bahu slut. Use me however you want… whenever you want… even when he’s home.”
I fucked her ass one last time that night, filling her with cum while she moaned:
“I’m yours… only yours…”
