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gang banged by multiple men in function–1

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gang banged by multiple men in function–1CHAPTER 1“It’ll be like Disneyland,” I told my wife. “For grown ups.”Nandini looked at the website—which, I had to admit, didn’t really explain the Mughal-e-azam nauchandi’s appeal. “Bawdy comedy?” she asked. “Wood carving? That doesn’t sound—”“It’ll be great. Everyone’ll be in costume. There’ll be hot guys with swords, wearing armor and stuff.”My wife was a big fan of those historical cable dramas about Mughal slaves and Rajput, and I suspected a big part of the appeal was all the oiled muscle on show. She blushed and, for a second, it looked as if it had worked. Then she narrowed her eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked. “Why do you want to go?”I blushed. “I just thought it’d be fun. We could…dress up and stuff.”“Dress up? Wait. What would I have to wear?”Damn. “Just a dress, like all the other women,” I said innocently.Nandini stole the mouse and clicked through one of the galleries on the website. “Like this?!” she asked, horrified.There was a gorgeous apsara on the screen wearing a low-cut vaishya’s dress. Her creamy cleavage was almost escaping.“Maybe,” I said. “I mean, something like that.”Nandini looked aghast. “But you’d be able to see…everything! All the other men would be able to see me!”I had to stop myself reacting, because at those words a deep, hot ripple of arousal went through me, finishing in my groin. I actually felt my cock twitch. All the other men.That was exactly what I wanted.“Come on,” I said. “It’s no big deal. Everyone dresses like that. It’s just a bit of fun. And there’ll be mead and ale—”“So drunk guys will be gawping at me?”“—music and dancing and…lots of stuff. Come on. Please?”She tossed back her long, chestnut hair and stared at me. I could tell she was uncertain, but my pleading eyes eventually melted their way through her defenses.“Okay, okay, fine,” she said. “But you have to wear something equally ridiculous.”The first time I realized that I loved showing off my wife was almost a year before. It had been our wedding anniversary, funnily enough. Four years married, six together and everything had been going great. Well, nearly everything. Good jobs, nice house. No k**s, but we were talking about it. The only problem was in the bedroom.I’m kind of a shy person—always the one in the corner at parties. When I met Nandini, everyone said we were made to be together because she was just like me: quiet and studious, preferring a book to a night out (historical Mughals were her idea of a guilty pleasure). Except that neither of us quite fitted the shy person mold.Nandini didn’t look as if she should be shy. Tall, with full breasts and long, silken hair, she was alluring in a way that wallflowers aren’t meant to be. She had to fight the guys off—in fact, that might be why she first agreed to go out with me, because I was the only one too shy to hassle her.I couldn’t match her in looks, but what I did have was a sex drive set much higher than a shy guy should. It was as if I had the sexual needs of a player, one of those cool guys who bedded a different girl every night. I knew how lucky I was to bag Nandini and I cherished every moment with her…but it didn’t change the fact that I was horny all the time and she wasn’t—or, at least, she didn’t appear to be.It wasn’t that I wanted sex with other women. I was a hundred percent faithful, and so was she. It was that I needed…more. I wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t as if sex with Nandini was bad—we did it at least every couple of weeks, which I told myself was pretty good after four years of marriage. And I loved the sex we had; it was just that it was…tame. I’d go on top or, occasionally, she’d go on top, and that was the limit of our experimentation. I’d coaxed her onto all fours once, loving the way her breasts hung down and bounced as I drove into her, but she’d seemed really uncertain.“Did you like it?” I’d asked her when we’d finished.She’d blushed and looked away and I’d cringed inside, assuming that I’d pushed her into something she hadn’t wanted to do. A few days later, she’d quietly asked if I wanted to try it again, but I reassured her that I wouldn’t ask her to do something that degrading ever again.So we continued. Nandini would sit in the living room reading historical Mughals while I hunkered in the den, sating myself with porn on my PC, searching things like anal sex and deep throat and even gang bang. I always took care to wipe my history when I was done, because I didn’t want Nandini to know I was into that stuff. I still felt that there was something missing, though, something I needed but that I couldn’t find.Then came the night of our wedding anniversary. We’d been out for dinner and were heading for a drink at an upmarket bar. There’s a moment I remember very clearly, because in many ways it’s the instant our lives changed. We stepped out of the doors of the restaurant, Nandini fiddling with her purse and simultaneously moving to pull a cardigan around her shoulders. She was wearing a black lehenga that hugged her ass and a dark red, low-cut top. On its own, it showed off a generous amount of her soft, pale cleavage—much more than she would usually show. That’s why she’d worn a cardigan with it, to cover herself up, and it had worked fine in the air-conditioned restaurant. But as we came down the steps and the muggy city air hit us, she hesitated.“It’s too hot,” she said, frowning. She looked down at herself uncertainly. “Do you think I can get away without it?”I smiled. The top wasn’t that outrageous—just low cut for her. “Sure,” I said. “It’s fine.”She folded the cardigan into her purse and we set off. Her breasts looked fantastic against the dark red of the top, the skin touchably smooth and soft. All I wanted was to pull her into a cab, get her home and do wicked things to her.And then it happened. As we were strolling down the street, a guy in a suit passed us coming the other way. His eyes locked on my wife’s breasts and he stared.Nandini didn’t notice—she was looking in the other direction, and the guy was gone in a second. But I sure noticed. I saw the look in the guy’s eyes and it hit me like a truck. First a gleam of raw lust as he took in her beauty. Then a flicker of surprise as he saw me and finally a flash of anger as he realized he wasn’t going to be able to have her.I liked it. That’s what really shocked me. Something about seeing another kadıköy escort man plainly lust after my wife made my cock twitch. At first, I thought it was the pride—knowing that I had a hot wife. Then I thought it might be the feeling of superiority—I’ve got her and you haven’t. But when I played it back in my mind, the real reason became clear. He’d wanted her. For that second, he’d imagined fucking her. And if I hadn’t been there to stop him…he could have done it. Seduced her and stolen her and fucked her.The whole experience almost made me stagger and Nandini must have wondered why I went suddenly quiet. As I walked along with her, I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.Then it happened again. A guy a few years older than me, giving my wife a long, lecherous look as he passed. Again, she seemed not to notice. And this time, I was imagining in my head what would have happened if I hadn’t been there. Maybe he would have stopped her and propositioned her—he wasn’t bad looking, for an older guy. What if Nandini was a different kind of woman, one who wasn’t faithful to me? Maybe she would have kissed him, right there in the street. In my mind, I could see them together, their bodies entwined, his lips mashing against hers as his tongue slipped into her mouth, one hand kneading at her breast.CHAPTER 2I swallowed and shook my head to clear it. Only a little way down the road, a group of guys was approaching and I knew that they’d stare at my wife, too. By now, though, she was looking ahead of her and would be sure to notice. So, for the first time, I took action. I waited until they were nearly on us, until they were already starting to look at her, and I pointed something out in a store window on the other side of the street. She looked towards my pointing finger, and that left the guys free to stare.And stare they did. Long, hungry looks at her breasts and legs. And because they were in a group, more than that. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they mimed squeezing her breasts with their hands, muttering obscene comments to each other. I wanted to hear them. I wanted—needed—to hear every word they were saying. In my mind, I could see them pushing her into a dark doorway, one of them covering her hungry, gasping mouth with his as the others groped and fondled her breasts, hands yanking up her lehenga, fingers working beneath until the street echoed with the cries of her orgasm.I stumbled, nearly pulling Nandini down with me.“Are you okay?” she asked, worried.I told her I was. But the truth is, I was better than okay. I’d discovered something new about myself. I loved showing off my wife, having other men stare at her and fantasize about her. And maybe more. In the darkest, deepest recesses of my mind, I imagined her letting them touch her…even kiss her. And when I was alone and jacking off, I even thought of them between her thighs, a hard cock sliding into her as she gasped and moaned.That scared me, a little. Was there something wrong with me, that I got turned on by the idea of my wife with another? It wasn’t that I didn’t feel jealousy—the idea of another guy with my wife made my chest close up tight with rage…but the anger was blended with lust. I knew I never wanted anything to actually happen—well, maybe if someone kissed her, that would be okay—so that left me playing around the edges. I bought Nandini lehengas that barely reached down to mid thigh: she didn’t wear them. I tried to get her into higher heels: she refused. Occasionally, I’d persuade her to wear a tight dress with a scoop neck and then I could enjoy the way the waiter gulped and swallowed and angled for a better look as he was serving her, or the way the cab driver stared in his rear view mirror at her.I never told Nandini what was really going on in my head. And however hard I tried, she was far too shy to do any serious teasing.That’s how I hit upon the idea of the Mughal-e-azam nauchandi. Being in a completely new environment, where the norms were different and everyone was dressed up, might help her to let loose. All the other women would be in similar clothes, so she wouldn’t feel out of place. And I knew that lots of guys went there specifically to drool at the women, so she’d get plenty of attention. We were both pretty busy with work, but we cleared our diaries for the final afternoon of the nauchandi. It sounded perfect.I had no idea how wrong it would go.“I can make you a member of the gentry or a daaku vaishya,” said the costumier.“daaku vaishya,” I broke in. “Definitely daaku vaishya.” vaishya had to be good, right?Nandini bit her lip prettily. “Um…okay. Sure.”The man handed her a large bundle of dark red fabric, a small blue and black bundle and finally some hard, curved black panels joined with laces. Nandini looked uncertainly at the pile, but thanked the man and went into the changing room.Moments later, she stuck one arm out of the curtains and beckoned me in. I slid into the small room with her. “What’s up?”She was standing in just her black bra and panties, with the black thing around her waist. It was some sort of corset, one that only covered her from just above her pubis to well below her breasts. “I think you’re meant to lace me into it,” she said nervously.I just stood there for a second, stunned. Sometimes it hit me just how gorgeous she was. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, and she was mine.“What?” she asked nervously.I shook my head. “Nothing. You’re just beautiful.”She blushed and I started to lace her into the corset. As I pulled on the laces at the back, it tightened, shrinking her waist and making her breasts appear even bigger. “That’s enough,” she said.I couldn’t help it. “I think it’s meant to be tighter,” I said. And I pulled the laces harder. I watched as her waist shrank more, until her already impressive figure was a mouthwatering hourglass.“Stop!” she gasped. “I can hardly breathe!”I stopped. “Is it okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to loosen it?”She took a few breaths, looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. “No. I’m okay. I can wear it for a few hours. God, no wonder women used to faint all the time.” She took another hesitant breath. “God, I bet I couldn’t run or…anything.”Her eyes went distant for a second and I presumed she was thinking of how uncomfortable üsküdar escort she’d be all day. I felt suddenly guilty. I’d just wanted her to get lots of attention; I didn’t want to spoil the day for her. “I’ll loosen it,” I said, and reached for the laces.“No!” she said quickly. And then she blushed. “It’s fine.”The blue and black bundle turned out to be a figure-hugging top, tight enough that it showed off her nipped-in waist and the magnificent swell of her breasts. There was only one problem.“I can’t wear a bra,” she said. The dress was strapless—or, rather, it had straps but they were designed to go down around the upper arms. A bra’s shoulder straps would be clearly visible, ruining the look.Nandini reluctantly stripped off her bra. My wife has the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever seen, full and heavy, the same delicate skin tone as the rest of her, pale and somehow vulnerable. They’re topped with perfect, pencil-eraser style nipples, light pink with small areolae.She pulled the dress up over her breasts. The top of the dress was tight enough that it squeezed her breasts together, making them bulge provocatively out of the top. She heaved the dress as high as it would go, but she has quite a long torso, and the dress would go no higher. Her nipples were barely hidden. I could feel my cock harden in my pants. It was perfect!“It’s awful!” she said mournfully. “I can’t go out like this!”“Everyone will be dressed like that.” I rubbed her bare shoulder to reassure her. “You look great.”Biting her lip again, she put on the lehenga. It was made of some light, iridescent material in dark red that shone as it caught the light. It was long, covering her almost to the ankles, and at first glance not very sexy. There was no slit up the side at all.We went back out into the main tamboo and the costumier clapped his hands, telling my wife how good she looked—and I noticed that his eyes went straight to her cleavage. Nandini looked as if she was about to change her mind, but then he handed her the rest of her costume—knee high daaku jooti with silver buckles and a belt from which hung a sword and a dagger. For the first time, I saw Nandini smile. “I get a sword?” she asked excitedly.She didn’t bother going back into the changing room, just put her foot into one of the jooti and then placed it onto a chair to do up the buckles. This meant hiking her lehenga up above the knee, and the costumier and I were treated to a display of gorgeous, toned thigh. Under the lehenga, she was wearing only a flimsy pair of black briefs. It might be long, but its looseness meant it could be pulled up very easily…in some ways, I realized, she was more exposed and accessible than if she’d been wearing a tight, short lehenga.Nandini put her other boot on and tried walking. The jooti had heels that must have been over three inches high. They wenai’t as obvious as a spiked stiletto heel, but they had the same effect. With every step my wife took, her ass swayed provocatively and her breasts jiggled and bounced. I couldn’t stop staring at her. She looked incredible! My only concern was that, when she realized how sexy she looked, she’d call a halt to the whole thing.Fortunately, she was more interested in putting on the leather belt that held her dagger and sword. With it buckled around her hips, she really did look like a daaku vaishya. She tried to draw her sword, but found it was locked into its scabbard with bright orange zip ties. “What are these for?” she asked.“It’s peace bonded,” said the costumer. “That’s a real sword and a real dagger. We don’t want you hurting anyone. Security will stop anyone they see carrying weapons that aren’t peace bonded.”She pouted just a little. “I can’t swing it around?”“No! You could take someone’s head off!” the costumer told her.“You still look pretty badass,” I said.“I do?” she asked shyly. “Really?”CHAPTER 3She ran—as best she could, in the jooti—over to a mirror and I tensed, waiting for the howl of outrage as she saw her exposed cleavage. But none came. “I don’t look badass,” she said quietly. “I look….” She trailed off, and got that distant look in her eyes again.I frowned. I’d never seen her like this before. “Do you like it?”She coughed and nodded and I swore I saw her blush. Why would she be blushing?I decided I’d figure it out later. The important thing was to get her into the nauchandi before she changed her mind. “Let’s get in there,” I said, and took a step towards the counter to pay.“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” she said. “I’m not going out there dressed like this with you in jeans. You said you’d wear something equally ridiculous.”I’d completely forgotten about my own costume. I asked the costumier to give me a standard male outfit, but he rubbed his chin in concern.“The problem is,” he said, “the nauchandi is pretty busy, and there’s a lot more men than women. And you’re a little on the small side.”I flushed. I am a little on the short side for a guy, and slender, with it. Nandini being tall doesn’t help. With her heeled jooti on, she was a good few inches taller than me.The costumier looked through the racks and shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have any male outfits that would fit you.”My jaw dropped. “You’re not telling me I have to wear a woman’s outfit?”“Oh, gracious no. I have a youth outfit here that’ll fit you. It just might be a little…tight.”It was.When I came out of the changing room, I was in a pair of cream tights that were so tight you could see the bulge of my cock and balls. On my top half, I wore a sort of waistcoat the guy called a jerkin, with no shirt underneath. On a bigger guy, it might have looked quite good, but on me it hung limply on my slender chest, showing off my lack of muscles. A pair of rough, worn jooti that didn’t lend me any extra height completed the outfit.“Don’t I get a weapon?” I asked plaintively.“No,” the costumier said. “You’re a stable boy.”My wife looked at me. “You look great,” she said. Then tried not to laugh.I sighed. I was in a hurry to get into the nauchandi, because we were only there for the afternoon and it was already well past noon. It’s worth it, I thought. It’s worth it to see Nandini in that costume. I paid the costumier, we put all our twenty-first century possessions in a locker, and we headed in.It was like Disneyland for grown ups. For the first few minutes, tuzla escort I didn’t know which way to look first.There were vendors hawking their wares—everything from clothes to furniture. There were food and drink stalls, selling ale and mead and twenty different varieties of meat-on-a-stick. There were jugglers and singers and people dancing.The difference was that, in Disneyland, you ignored the rest of the attendees except when you had to stand in line behind them. Here, the guests were as much of a draw as the attractions.Almost every woman was in a low-cut dress, a peasant blouse or some sort of corset. lehengas were hiked up for dancing, showing lots of leg. Some of the women were in little more than a bikini made of fur or chain mail (the nauchandi had a pretty loose interpretation of history and I saw elf maidens, cat girls and steampunk ladies…and all of them looked amazing).Some of the men had gone to just as much trouble. I saw guys in full sets of armor and a few were even riding about on horses dressed as lords and princes. A lot of them had taken the opportunity to show off their muscles, with black leather versions of my jerkin and tight pants…only on them, the effect was a lot more flattering.I walked on and almost smacked right into Nandini’s back. She’d stopped dead, entranced by a lohar working at his stall. The guy was stripped to the waist and pounding on a piece of metal with a huge hammer, his long, sandy-blond hair hanging down over his face, his muscles gleaming with sweat.I’d never known Nandini to look at another man before. Which, when I thought about it, was sort of weird. Maybe she’d just been hiding it well, and didn’t feel the need to hide it here. Or maybe it was that these guys were dressed just like the men in the cable shows she loved. It gave me a little pang of unease to see her looking, but I quickly dismissed it. I mean, I was looking as well, right? It was only fair.Besides, that unease was twisted around something else. The idea of her thinking of another man, even though I knew she’d never do anything about it, played right into my fantasies. I put my arm around my wife’s waist and she actually jumped, she’d been so lost in watching the guy. She looked immediately guilty.“Let’s go over there,” I said. “Let’s see what he’s doing.”She blushed. “Oh! No, I was just looking, I wasn’t really—”But I guided her over there and said a cheery hello to the guy. Who ignored me. I was put out for a second, but then I realized it was part of his act. Everyone was in character, and you were meant to play along as much as you could.“No time for talk, young squire,” he told me. “I have twenty swords to finish before nightfall.” He whacked the metal particularly hard and a shower of sparks flew up. His tanned biceps gleamed.Nandini was shuffling her feet and trying not to look at him, apparently quite embarrassed to be suddenly close to the man she’d been gazing at…and probably fantasizing about. “We should go,” she whispered to me.“You, vaishya,” the lohar said. “Come fetch me some water. I have no time to lay down my tools.” And he finally lifted his head and looked right at my wife, and I saw something pass between them. The guy was pretty good looking, with a short blond beard and a winning smile that defused his arrogant attitude. In fact, with all that tanned muscle and the big hammer, he looked like a Norse god.My wife blushed, but I was surprised to see her practically run forward and pick up the ladle from a bucket of water. The lohar stepped away from the forge a little, still clutching the red hot sword in one hand and his hammer in the other. He was taller than her, even with her heeled jooti on and, as she pressed up against his naked chest to put the ladle to his lips, she suddenly looked very small and fragile. And as she reached up with the ladle, I saw him staring straight down at her breasts, perfectly offered up to him by the dress and almost within reach of his mouth.He drank hungrily, his bare chest rising and falling as he panted between gulps. He leaned back as he emptied the ladle and my wife had to press up against him harder to keep it at his lips…and then she planted one hand right on his chest to balance herself.The lohar drank his fill, gave a growl of satisfaction and suddenly pulled my wife into the crook of one arm, keeping the hot sword out of the way. She yelped, but then, as he bent her backwards over his arm, she went sort of…limp. I mean, he wasn’t holding her, and she could have just straightened up, but she just hung there and stared up at him, and I saw her start to pant, her eyes wide. The lohar grinned, leaned down and kissed the base of her throat. The spot he chose made it light and playful—it wasn’t like he was kissing her on the lips. Yet on the other hand, his mouth was only a hands-width above the top of her breasts. And still she made no attempt to move.“Begone, vaishya!” he told her. “I have work to do! Distract me no more with your temptations!” He hoisted her up and sent her staggering out of his tamboo.I was standing there open mouthed. The whole thing had taken only thirty seconds, but my wife had been ogled, grabbed and kissed. It was exactly what I’d dreamed of, and my cock was hardening rapidly in response.“Well,” said Nandini, panting. “I mean—That was—Well.” She didn’t sound offended or angry, exactly. It was more like she was trying to sound offended and angry. As if she thought she should be.I was grinning. I was so, so¸ glad that we’d come to the nauchandi. Then, just as we were about to move on, I glanced back and caught the lohar looking at the two of us. I gave him a friendly smile, just to show that everything was cool and we were fine playing along—I understood it was all in fun. And he smiled back at me, but the smile wasn’t…right.His eyes flicked to my wife and then to me and the smile he gave was cruel and calculating, sending a deep chill through me. And it ended, weirdly, not with a final look at my wife’s ass or breasts but with a sneering, knowing look at my own costume, especially the lower half.I stopped in my tracks, a chill rising in me. For a moment, I looked back over my shoulder towards the entrance. Past the costumier’s tamboo, I could see bits of our old, familiar world—cars and SUVs, people in normal clothes. Should we just leave?I looked at my wife, at those gorgeous breasts jiggling as she walked along. She realized I’d stopped and turned around, flicking her long hair over one shoulder and smiling at me, as if asking what the problem was. Right then, a man passing by her took the opportunity to gawp at her chest and I felt my cock stiffen again.I shook my head, dismissing my concerns. We moved on.tbc…………………………

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