Cute indian Wife fuking hard POV

 

I stood in front of the mirror, taking in my reflection. The tight red salwar kameez hugged my curves in all the right places. The low neckline and short sleeves gave a tantalising glimpse of my ample cleavage and smooth, lightly toned arms. I had taken extra time to do my hair and makeup tonight, wanting to look my best. My long dark hair cascaded down my back in glossy waves and my kohl-lined eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. A light dusting of blush coloured my high cheekbones and my plump lips were painted a deep crimson shade. Satisfied with my appearance, I spritzed on some of my favourite perfume, the delicate floral scent making me feel feminine and alluring.

Tonight was a special evening. It was the first time my husband Rishab and I would be going out alone since our baby Aarav was born six months ago. Being new parents had been wonderful, but we were both craving some adult time and intimacy. Rishab had planned a romantic dinner date for us, and I could hardly contain my excitement and anticipation. As if on cue, I heard the doorbell ring. Rishab was here to pick me up to take me out. I took a deep breath, feeling a thrill run through me as I went to open the door, ready for a night of passion and togetherness with the love of my life.

As I opened the door, my breath caught in my throat. Rishab looked devastatingly handsome in a dark gray tailored suit, crisp white shirt and black tie. His hair was styled perfectly and his beard neatly trimmed. He flashed me his signature dimpled smile, his eyes roving over my body appreciatively. “Wow,” he said huskily, “You look stunning, my love. Absolutely ravishing.” He leaned in to kiss me softly on the cheek, his lips lingering a moment longer than necessary, sending a shiver down my spine. I could smell his familiar aftershave, mixed with the scent of fine scotch – it seemed he had already started the celebrations. “Ready to go?” he asked, offering me his arm. I nodded, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Rishab helped me into my coat and we slipped out into the night, ready to paint the town red.

The restaurant was an exclusive rooftop place with breathtaking city skyline views. Rishab had reserved a cozy corner table, just for us two. As we were seated, he immediately reached for my hand across the table, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles. I felt the familiar electric tingle at his touch, our eyes locking in a heated gaze. We ordered a bottle of champagne to start and clinked our flutes together, sipping the bubbly liquid. The bubbles tickled my nose and the alcohol warmed my insides, making me feel lightheaded and giddy. We chatted and laughed, enjoying each other’s company like we used to before parenthood. It felt so wonderful to just be us again, like newlyweds.

As the night progressed, we indulged in a decadent multi-course meal, feeding each other choice morsels across the table, our fingers brushing and lingering. I felt desire coiling hot and heavy in my belly as I watched Rishab’s full lips wrap around a juicy lobster chunk. He caught me staring and smiled, his eyes darkening with lust. I squeezed my thighs together under the table, feeling myself grow embarrassingly wet. It was like not a day had passed since our passionate courtship days. Rishab made me feel so utterly desired and sexy, like the rest of the world had fallen away and it was just him and me, lost in our bubble of love and attraction.

As dessert arrived, Rishab surprised me by suddenly pulling me into his lap, not caring about the other diners around us. I let out a small squeal, but melted into his touch as he wrapped his strong arms around me possessively. “Sweetheart,” he murmured into my ear, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine, “I can’t wait to get you home and unwrap you like a present.” His hands roamed over my body, one big palm cupping my breast through the thin fabric of my kameez, the other sliding up my bare thigh. I whimpered, my nipples pebbling under his touch, my core clenching with need. Rishab’s lips found my neck and I tilted my head submissively, giving him better access. He nipped and sucked at my pulse point, certain to leave a mark. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him closer, not caring about my own silent moans. I was drunk on champagne and lust, ready to be taken home and thoroughly ravished by my husband.

The car ride home was excruciatingly slow and I shifted restlessly in the passenger seat, my thighs slick and sticky with my arousal. Rishab’s hand was a heavy weight on my knee, his fingers inching dangerously close to my core. I glanced over at him, seeing the bulge of his erection straining against his trousers. He caught my eye and smirked, my wanton stare only inflaming him further. “Just a little longer, baby,” he promised darkly, “Then I’m going to bend you over the couch and fuck you so hard, you’ll be feeling it for days.” I shuddered at his words, my pussy clenching in anticipation. The image of him taking me from behind, his thick cock splitting me open, was almost too much to bear. I parted my thighs in blatant invitation, my kameez riding up to reveal the lacy edge of my panties. Rishab’s nostrils flared and he pressed down on the accelerator, the car surging forward. Finally, we screeched into our building’s garage and I was fumbling with my seatbelt, desperate to get to the bedroom.

We stumbled into the apartment, a tangle of groping hands and seeking mouths. Rishab kicked the door shut behind us and I found myself pressed against it, his body caging me in. He claimed my lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth as he ground his clothed erection against my aching core. I ripped at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin on mine. Buttons popped and flew as I tore it open, running my hands over his muscular chest and abs. Rishab let out a primal growl, hitching my leg around his hip and yanking me flush against him. I could feel every hard inch of him through our clothes and I rolled my hips, trying to get some friction. Rishab’s hands roamed my body, squeezing and kneading every curve. He pushed up my kameez and unclasped my bra with expert fingers, baring my heavy breasts to his hungry gaze. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he rasped before dipping his head to take a nipple into his hot mouth. I cried out, fisting my hands in his hair as he sucked and nibbled at the sensitive peak. My other nipple pebbled in the cool air and Rishab pinched it roughly between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting to my core.

Rishab’s mouth left a trail of wet heat as he kissed his way down my body. He dropped to his knees before me, his face level with my dripping sex. I shivered in anticipation, my fingers tangling in his hair. “God, look how wet you are,” Rishab groaned, running a finger through my slick folds, “Your pretty pink cunt is so ready for me.” I whimpered and tried to grind down on his hand, but he held me still. “Not yet, baby. I want to taste you first.” And then his mouth was on me and I saw stars. Rishab’s tongue lapped broad strokes over my slit, circling my clit before delving deep into my channel. He moaned at my flavour and I could feel the vibrations against my sensitive flesh. “Mmm, you taste so fucking good,” he mumbled, “I could eat this sweet pussy for hours.” He sealed his lips around my clit and sucked hard, two fingers plunging into my clenching heat. I was lost to sensation, my head thrown back in ecstasy as Rishab worked me towards my peak with his talented mouth and hand. His other hand came up to squeeze my breast and I shattered with a silent scream, coming hard on his fingers. Rishab gentled me through it, lapping at my spasming sex until I went boneless, slumping back against the door.

Rishab stood up, his face glistening with my juices and his eyes blazing with lust. “I need to be inside you,” he growled, quickly shucking off his remaining clothes, “I need to feel your tight little cunt wrapped around my cock.” I nodded fervently, already hiking up my skirt and pushing down my underwear. Rishab hoisted me up, my legs locking around his waist as he notched himself at my entrance. With one hard thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside me and we both groaned at the sensation. “Fuck, you always feel so good,” Rishab gritted out, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, “So hot and tight and perfect.” He withdrew until just the tip remained, before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace. The door rattled in its frame with the force of his thrusts and I could feel the ache building again, my body climbing towards another release. Rishab was relentless, pounding into me with deep, powerful strokes that hit that secret spot inside that made me see stars. His pelvis ground against my clit with every thrust and I could feel myself teetering on the edge. “Come for me, baby,” Rishab demanded, “Come all over my cock like a good girl.” And with that command, I fell apart, my body clamping down on him like a vice as I came with a ragged scream of his name. Rishab followed me over the edge a second later, his cock pulsing as he spilled into me, painting my walls with his hot seed. We clung to each other, shuddering and gasping as we rode out the aftershocks of our intense orgasms.

Finally, we made it to the bedroom, collapsing onto the mussed sheets in a tangle of exhausted limbs. Rishab pulled me into his arms, my back to his chest, and I sighed at the feel of his strong body cradling mine. “I love you,” I mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into his neck. “I love you too,” Rishab replied, pressing a kiss to my hair, “More than anything. You’re my everything.” We drifted off in each other’s embrace, sated and content, ready to be woken by our baby’s cries in a few short hours. But for now, cocooned in our little bubble of love, all was right with the world.