Ayaan Khan 34 ka tha. Hyderabad–Mumbai, export + “security line” — log seedha kehte mafia-touch. Daadhi trim, black pathani jab ghar mein, aur lund aisi baat jo Kavya shaadi se pehle sirf rumour mein sunti thi — Muslim cock, gosht sa dark, mota, nassdar, sir bada.
Kavya Sharma 29 ki. Hindu. Gore gore pair, doodh jaise jaanghein, beech mein white pussy — gulabi slit, upar patli line. Bade tits, bra-cup D, blouse mein dabaake rakhti thi saas ke dar se. Shaadi interfaith thi. Ghar mein woh kabhi bahu thi, kabhi invisible. Jab Ayaan ke rishtedaar aate, koi uska naam nahi leta. “Jo bhi hai… Hindu ladki.” Chai laao, muskarao, gayab ho jaao.
Uske saath bodyguard bhi tha — Imran, 31, kaan mein coil, aankh hamesha darwaze pe, kabhi-kabhi Kavya ke nylon panty ke mark pe. Wife’s friend Ritika roz aati thi — “passionate lovers ho tum dono, jalte hain log.” Ritika jaanti thi Kavya ka secret: shaadi se pehle Goa wali sex school — teen hafte, namard husband ko kaise rakhna, kaise fucktoy banna bina izzat gaye. Saas ne ek dafa daant mein kaha tha “prostitute wife”. Kavya ne us din se decide kiya — agar naam dena hai to Ayaan ke lund pe hi dungi.
Pehli tezz raat Eid ke baad aayi. Ayaan drunken tha. Imran ne usko suite ke andar chhod diya, darwaza poora band nahi kiya — duty.
Kavya safed nylon panties aur thin nightie mein thi. Ayaan ne bottle table pe patki.
“Aaj Hindu wali meri hai. Poori. Qurbani nahi, chudai hai.”
Kavya paas aayi. “Hoon. Teri. Invisible nahi aaj. Dekh ke le.”
Usne nightie utari. Bade tits bahar — gore, brown nipple. Ayaan ne dono haath se dabaaye, muu lagaaya, daadhi chubhi. “Itne bade doodh… aur neeche woh safed choot jo roz namaz ke baad sochta hoon.”
Kavya ghutno pe baithi. Belt. Zip. Lund nikal aaya — lambe haath jitna nahi, lekin mota itna ki Kavya ki aankh phool gayi. Dark, vein, sir chamak raha.
“Yahi na woh Muslim cock jiski baatein teri friend karti hai?” Ayaan ne baal pakde.
Kavya ne chat ke lagaaya, phir gale tak. Aankh mein paani. “Haan… yahi… meri choot iske liye geeli rehti hai.”
Ayaan ne uthaya, bed pe fenka. Nylon panty side ki, nahi utari. Slit dikhi — gori, chipchipi. Usne muh lagaaya seedha. Jeebh slit pe, phir neeche, phir ass lick — gaand ka chhed gora, tight, usne choosa jaise nasha ho.
Kavya ki kamar uth gayi. “Ayaan… aah… wahan… jeebh andar… madhosh kar diya…”
“Sex school mein yeh nahi sikhaya?” usne daant se panty ka elastic kheench ke chhod diya. “Aaj main teacher. Tu fucktoy. Ghar ki Hindu fucktoy. Jo meri family ko dikhti nahi, lekin meri chudai mein cheekhti hai.”
Do ungliyan white pussy mein. Kavya itni geeli thi ki awaaz aayi — squelch. Teesri. Ayaan ne lund slit pe ragda, sir se paani mila diya uske paani se.
“Bol, kiski hai?”
“Ayaan Khan ki… Muslim pati ki Hindu choot… daal… condom mat… andar tak…”
Ek dhakka. Mota lund safed choot mein ghusa to Kavya ki saans atak gayi. Stretch. Jaat nahi, deen nahi — bas choot aur lund. Ayaan ne pair uthaaye, folding, doodh muh mein, kamar se peeta.
Imran keearpiece ke peeche saans tez thi. Darwaze ki cheed se nylon aur gore pair dikh rahe the.
Ayaan tez hua. “White pussy… kaali nass… dekh kaise nigal rahi hai.”
Kavya ne nakhun uski peeth pe gaade. “Bhar de… creampie… meri kokh mein tera maal… saas ko mat batana… main teri prostitute nahi, teri biwi hoon… lekin aaj fucktoy bana ke rakh…”
Ayaan jhad gaya andar. Garam dhaar. Kavya kapti rahi, choot dabaati rahi. Lund nikalte hi safed maal gulabi slit se tapka, nylon ke elastic tak line ban gayi.
Ayaan ne ungli se uthaya, Kavya ke muh pe lagaaya. “Swallow. Interfaith complete.”
Doosre hafte Ritika aayi. Wine. Teen log, Ayaan thoda drunken phir se. Kiara nahi — Ritika, wife’s friend, kaali bodycon.
Kavya sharma gayi. “Ayaan, yeh nahi…”
Ayaan kehta, “Sex school ke rule yaad hain? Husband ko rakhne ke liye friend ko bhi dikhana padta hai kitni geeli hai tu. Imran bahar hai. Invisible room, visible choot.”
Ritika ne Kavya ki nylon panty utaar ke naak ke paas li. “Muslim ghar, Hindu choot, smell toh same hai. Ayaan bhai, ass lick tu kar, main doodh choosun.”
Do auratein, ek pati. Ayaan ne Kavya ko all-fours kiya, gaand chatni, jeebh chhed mein, jab Ritika ne niche sar karke Kavya ke tits masle. Phir Ayaan ne lund dubara white pussy mein daala — Ritika dekh rahi thi, ungli apni panty mein.
“Dekh Ritika… kaise meri Hindu patni Muslim lund pe nachti hai.”
Kavya ki aawaz dabi. “Teri… sirf teri… friend ke saamne bhi… fucktoy…”
Creampie phir se. Ritika ne kaha, “Loving wife nahi, greedy wife hai yeh. Isko roz bhar.”
Imran ne us raat pehli baar seedha kaha, corridor mein, jab Kavya paani lene nikli, choot se ab bhi tapak:
“Begum… agar kabhi malik so jaaye… main sirf dekhne wala nahi. Lekin rule aapke ghar ka — creampie sirf unka.”
Kavya ne aankh milayi. Invisible bahu. Visible gaand. “Imran… dekhte raho. Abhi nahi.”
Family dinner. Ayaan ke chacha. Kavya saari, bindi, mangalsutra, neeche phir nylon. Upar se perfect Hindu bahu. Neeche table ke neeche Ayaan ka haath uski choot pe, do ungli, chacha kehte “khandaan mein izzat.”
Kavya muskurati rahi, choot dabaati rahi. Invisible orgasm. Panty bhiingi. Khane ke baad bathroom mein Ayaan ne usko sink se lagaaya, saari upar, lund khada, ek hi dhakke mein andar — drunken nahi, sober, gussa aur pyar dono.
“Jo tujhe prostitute wife bole, usko yeh nahi dikhega. Yeh white pussy meri namaaz ke baad ki dua hai.”
Usne dheere choda, phir tez, tit muh mein, ass cheek haath mein. Kavya ke muh se nikla, “Ayaan… main teri hoon… Hindu, Muslim, jo bhi likh de kagaz pe… lund pe meri jaat matti hai…”
Andar tak maal. Pair kampte. Saari sambhali. Bahar aake mithai parosi jaise kuch hua hi na ho.
Teen mahine baad ghar ka rule set ho gaya.
Subah: Kavya chai, bindi, invisible.
Dopahar: Imran gym corridor, nazar.
Raat: nylon panty, ass lick, bade tits, Ayaan ka mota dark lund, white pussy, creampie.
Kabhi Ritika. Kabhi sirf pyaar — forehead kiss ke baad gandi gaali. Kabhi sex-school wale drills — “bol main fucktoy hoon, bol meri choot qurban hai.”
Ayaan ek raat uske pet pe haath rakh ke soya. “Agar baccha aaya to naam mera. Ghar ka. Interfaith nahi — hamara.”
Kavya ne aankh band ki. Saas ki nazar, sheher ki baatein, bodyguard ki khamoshi, friend ki jeebh, pati ka lund jo roz uski safed choot ko laal karta tha.
Woh Passionate Indian Lover thi.
Aur woh uski hidden fucktoy bhi thi.
Nikaah ke kaagaz pe do mazhab the.
Bed pe sirf ek awaaz thi — Kavya ki, Ayaan ke kandhe mein: “Abhi nikaalo mat. Andar hi reh. Meri choot ko yaad rahe tu kaun hai.”
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