My First Threesome - 1

Half an hour later, I'm feeling the heat of the **** even though I had only taken a few sips. Raghav Ji and Amir are engrossed in conversation, discussing some local political matters. I sit quietly, my mind wandering as I take another sip of my drink.

A sly smile crosses my lips as I imagine what Alok would think if he could see this scene - his dear wife sitting here, drinking with two men she barely knows. It's so improper, and yet...there's a thrill in it, a sense of transgression.

Raghav Ji turns to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. He leans in close, his voice low and suggestive as he says, "Bhabhi Ji, why don't you show me the clothes you bought today? I bet you look absolutely stunning in them..."

I should have realized that the **** was affecting me more than I thought, because instead of instantly refusing his crazy suggestion, I hesitate. My gaze drops down to the bulge in Raghav Ji's pants, and I feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to please him.

I raise my eyes and meet Raghav Ji's gaze, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. "But Bhai Saab," I begin, my voice low and suggestive, "Amir is also here..."

Raghav Ji lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's the problem in it, Bhabhi Ji?" he retorts. "I can see the desire in his eyes as he looks at you, and I could glean that you also don't hate it."

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment at his directness, but I don't protest. Instead, I rise from my seat and grab the shopping bags, my heart pounding in my chest as I head towards the bedroom.

I can feel the weight of their gazes on my back as I walk away, and I love the way it makes me feel - desired, wanted, and just a little bit naughty.

Once inside the bedroom, I quickly pull out the floral kurta I had bought earlier. With trembling fingers, I slip it on over my leggings, the fabric clinging to my curves in all the right places.

I turn to face the mirror, my breath hitching as I take in my reflection. The kurta hugs my figure perfectly, accentuating my ample breasts and narrow waist. I run my hands over my hips, feeling a thrill of desire course through me.

With a final glance in the mirror, I gather my courage and step back out into the living room.

As soon as I step back into the living room, the intensity of their gazes hits me like a physical ****. I can feel their eyes roaming over my body, drinking in every curve and contour accentuated by the clinging fabric of my kurta. A deep blush blooms across my cheeks, and I find myself averting my eyes shyly, suddenly feeling very exposed despite being fully clothed.

Raghav Ji's eyes are calm, almost amused, as he regards me with a knowing smirk playing about his lips. In contrast, Amir's gaze is positively feral, his hungry eyes locked onto the tantalizing glimpse of my cleavage. I shiver, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical caress. If Raghav Ji weren't here, I have no doubt that Amir would have me pinned beneath him in an instant, his lust overpowering any pretense of propriety.

My body responds traitorously to the charged atmosphere, my panties growing damp as the **** and raw sexual tension swirl through my veins. It's wrong, so very wrong, and yet I can't deny the thrill that shoots through me at the thought of being taken roughly, claimed by one of these men right here on the living room floor.

It's Raghav Ji who finally breaks the tense silence, his voice low and appreciative as he murmurs, "Bhabhi Ji, this dress looks really sexy on you. You must wear more like them."

He turns to Amir, a glint of challenge in his eyes as he prompts, "Amir, what do you think?"

Amir seems to shake himself out of a daze, his eyes flicking up to meet mine as he mumbles, "Madam Ji, Sir Ji is right. The dress really brings out your beauty."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Raghav Ji pulls out his phone and gestures for me to pose. I hesitate for just a moment before spreading my arms, arching my back slightly to accentuate my curves. The clinging fabric of my kurta leaves little to the imagination, molding to every dip and swell of my figure.

For the next few minutes, an impromptu photoshoot ensues as Raghav Ji circles me, snapping photo after photo. He seems determined to capture every angle, every tantalizing glimpse of skin revealed by my daring choice of attire. Midway through, he sets the phone aside and moves in closer, his eyes drinking in the sight of me hungrily.

I can feel the heat of his gaze like a physical caress, my skin prickling with goosebumps under the intensity of his focus. My breath catches in my throat as he leans in, his fingers skimming along the curve of my hip, tracing the line where my kurta rides up to reveal a sliver of bare skin.

Finally, as if unable to resist any longer, Raghav Ji sets his phone aside and reaches for me. His hand wraps around my arm, tugging me towards him with a strength that brooks no argument. I find myself pulled down onto his lap, straddling his thighs as he settles back into his seat.

I feel a thrill run through me as Raghav Ji pulls me close, his hands roaming possessively over my curves. I can't help but smirk up at him, my voice low and teasing as I murmur, "Bhai Saab, it seems you are losing control. We are not alone, you know."

But my words seem to only spur him on, his eyes darkening with lust as he growls, "Sorry Bhabhi Ji, but seems little Raghav can't control himself."

With that, he crushes his mouth to mine in a bruising kiss, his tongue plundering the depths of my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath away. I find myself melting into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as I lose myself to the heat of his touch.

Dimly, I'm aware of Raghav Ji's hands sliding beneath my kurta, his fingers skimming over the smooth expanse of my back. But it's only when he tugs the garment up, leaving me clad in nothing but my white bra, that I truly realize the depths of my desire.

I'm lost to the sensation, my body humming with need as I writhe against him wantonly. Nothing else matters, not the impropriety of our position, not the risk of being caught.

It's only when Raghav Ji abruptly stops, his hand gripping my chin to turn my face towards the corner of the room, that I'm jarred back to reality. My eyes widen as I take in the sight of Amir, his pants down around his ankles as he strokes himself to the erotic display before him.