I had fucked Anagha’s pussy raw. Taught her how to suck cock like a desperate little whore. Made her moan like a banshee just from fingers inside her virgin pussy. But tonight…Tonight she gave me everything.
We were in my bedroom. Lights dim. Her body was already marked with my fingerprints, my bite marks, my cum. She lay naked on her stomach, ass raised, cheeks soft and trembling.
I kissed the curve of her lower back, let my lips trail over her ass, then spread it gently. Her tiny puckered hole twitched under my breath.
“You know what I want, don’t you?” I whispered.
She nodded shyly, her face turned into the pillow. “I… I want to try.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, fingers tracing her rim. “I’ll stop the second you say.”
“I’m yours,” she breathed. “I want you… In my ass, Imran. Slowly. Please.”
God. That voice. That submission.
I reached for the lube and poured a generous amount between her cheeks. My fingers circled her hole—soft, slick, teasing—then pressed in slowly.
She gasped. “One finger,” I whispered. “Relax. Breathe through it.”
Her body tensed for a second, then gave way. I fingered her gently, massaging her from the inside, feeling her loosen with every moan. “You’re doing so well, Anagha,” I murmured. “You’re going to take me perfectly.”
I added a second finger. She whimpered, hips twitching.
“It burns a little…”
“That’s the stretch. You’ll get used to it.”
She was soaking between her thighs—her pussy dripping just from anal play.
“You’re so filthy, baby,” I growled. “Your virgin ass is clenching around my fingers and your pussy’s drooling.”
She moaned into the pillow, legs spreading wider. When I finally pulled my fingers out, her hole stayed open—soft, lubed, twitching. I climbed behind her, stroked my cock, and rubbed the thick head against her entrance.
“Ready?”
She nodded. “Do it, Imran. Please…”
I pushed. Slowly. Gently. Inch by inch. She hissed, tensed—and I stopped.
“Breathe, baby. Push out, not in. That’s it.” With each breath, her body opened for me. Her tight little asshole stretched around my cock, swallowing me whole.
I sank deeper.
She gasped. “Oh my god… It’s so full…”
“You’re taking it so well, Anagha,” I groaned. “You’re a fucking dream.”
Finally, I bottomed out—balls resting against her soaked pussy, her ass stretched fully around me. I stayed still, letting her adjust.
“Does it hurt?”
She whimpered, “It’s so intense. But… good. So wrong it feels right.”
I began to move. Slow thrusts. Grinding her ass onto me. Her moans turned into growls. “Faster… deeper…” she begged. “Use me.”
I did. I fucked her ass with smooth, hard strokes. Her ass clenched me like a vice. Her juices soaked the sheets. “Touch yourself,” I ordered. Her hand slipped between her thighs. Two fingers rubbed her clit as I slammed into her ass.
“Gonna cum…” she cried. “From my butt—ohhh fuuck!” She came screaming, legs shaking, ass spasming around my cock. And that was it. I slammed deep, grunted loud, and emptied myself inside her virgin ass. Thick, hot spurts deep in her bowels.
She collapsed onto the bed, whimpering, face soaked in sweat. I lay beside her, pulled her into my chest, and kissed her lips softly. “Now all three of your holes are mine,” I whispered. She smiled, eyes half-closed. “Always were.
She was curled up in my bed, her ass leaking my cum from the night before. Her pussy was raw, used. Her throat was trained. Her ass stretched to obey.
And her mind? Utterly mine.
But there was one final act of dominance I craved. One fantasy I’d held back.
Filling her womb. Impregnating her. Making her carry me forever.
It started with a whisper.
“I haven’t bled in two months,” she told me one morning, standing at the bathroom door in just my shirt. “I think.”
My eyes lit up. My cock hardened instantly. “You think I’ve bred you?” I asked, standing, stalking toward her. She bit her lip and nodded, cheeks flushing.
I pinned her to the wall, hands on either side of her head, my mouth at her ear.
“Say it. Say what you think I did.”
“You… you got me pregnant,” she whispered. “Your cum’s inside me. Growing something…”
I growled and lifted her against the cold tile wall. Her legs wrapped around me.
“I told you, didn’t I? I don’t fuck for fun, Anagha. I fuck to own.”
A Week Earlier. The moment I decided to breed her. She was lying on her back, thighs spread, pussy soaking and pink. I hovered above her, thick cock throbbing between her folds. “No pulling out,” I warned.
She gasped. “You’re going to cum inside again?”
“Yes. And this time, I’m not stopping till I feel your womb take it.”
Her eyes widened, her pussy clenched. I slid in deep, bottoming out in one thrust. “Let it happen,” I groaned. “Let me knock you up.”
She came twice before I did—her body trembling as I filled her with deep, heavy strokes. Then I buried myself inside her, held her hips down, and unloaded every drop of my cum into her hungry pussy.
“Breathe deep,” I whispered. “Let your womb drink it.”
She moaned, “Breed me, Imran… fuck, fill me… get me pregnant.”
I pressed her knees to her chest and kept her folded like that for an hour—her hole plugged, my cum swimming inside. Every day for a week, I bred her.
Morning. Noon. Night. Bent over the dining table. On the floor. In the shower. Legs on my shoulders. Face buried in pillows.
I didn’t stop until she was overflowing. Until she felt pregnant. Back to Present.
She stood in the bathroom, holding the test stick, eyes wide. I waited outside, shirtless, rock hard.
When she opened the door, she was silent. She held the stick out. Two pink lines. Positive. I grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her filthy. “My slut is knocked up,” I growled. “Your womb’s mine now.”
She moaned into my mouth. “Say it again…”
“You’re pregnant with my baby. I own your pussy. Your body’s mine. And now… so is the life inside you.”
We didn’t celebrate. We fucked. I bent her over the sink and bred her again, even with the test in her hand. “Let’s make sure it’s twins,” I growled.
She was glowing. Not just from the warm marigold lights or the bridal mehendi staining her hands.
She was glowing because my seed had taken root. Anagha—my once-shy, untouched virgin—was now my filthy, submissive, pregnant wife. And tonight, in her red silk lehenga, with bangles jingling and her dupatta pinned perfectly, she was ready to be ruined all over again.
The wedding had been a blur of rituals, families, and photos. They all blessed her womb, not knowing how thoroughly I’d filled it. How many times she’d begged for my cum, night after night, choking on my cock with my fingers pressing into her swollen belly.
Now, we were alone. I locked the door of my bedroom. Turned slowly.
She stood by the bed, bridal veil still covering her head, eyes lowered. Obedient. Mine.
“Come here, biwi,” I said. My voice had dropped. My cock is already hard.
She walked to me, shy steps, but her thighs were slick underneath all that silk. I knew it. I lifted the veil and kissed her soft lips, opening instantly. My tongue devoured her mouth.
“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted to rip this off you all evening?” I growled.
“Then do it,” she whispered.
I didn’t ask twice. I tore the blouse open, scattering gold beads across the floor. Her full breasts spilt into my hands, nipples already dark from pregnancy.
“Fuck, you’re fuller,” I groaned. “Your body’s changing for me.”
“For us,” she corrected, blushing.
“No. For me. I bred you. You’re carrying my child. You’re mine.”
I pushed her onto the bed, legs hanging off the edge, her red lehenga hiked up to her waist. She wasn’t wearing panties. “Filthy wife,” I hissed. “Walking around the mandap bare under this skirt?”
“You told me not to wear any,” she whispered. “You said my pussy needed to breathe before getting filled again,” I growled. I spread her legs wide and stared at her slick, already-throbbing pussy.
“So fucking wet,” I muttered. “You want my cock in your married pussy?”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “I want to feel you stretch me again. I want to cum on your cock in my bridal wear.” I didn’t tease. I unzipped, pulled my cock free, and thrust into her in one brutal stroke.
She gasped, her legs wrapping around me. My kurta still half-on, her lehenga bunched at her hips. Her mangalsutra swinging between her breasts—I fucked her like a husband possessed.
“I can feel it, Imran—my baby. It’s moving.”
“Then let it feel me, too,” I growled. “Let our child know how it was made.”
I bent her over the bed. Took her from behind, holding her belly in one hand, slapping her ass with the other. Her bangles clattered. Her moans were loud.
“Breed me again,” she begged. “Fuck your cum into me again. Make my womb heavy again!”
I slammed in deeper, grinding inside her. “Take all of it, Anagha. Every drop. Every fucking load. Forever.” And I came deep inside her married pussy.
Spurt after thick, hot spurt, soaking her again. She collapsed, exhausted, satisfied, and claimed. I kissed her back.
“Now sleep,” I whispered. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the temple.” Every stranger could see it: the way she glowed, the way her mangalsutra pressed between her breasts, and the curve of her womb pressing through every saree.
But only I knew how wet she still got when I whispered in her ear, “You’re carrying my cock inside you… even now.”
The Temple Day. We visited a small rural temple near Lonavala. A quiet trip. A peaceful retreat. She wore the traditional nauvari saree I chose—deep maroon, wrapped low and tight. Her waist was exposed. Her blouse barely contains her milk-heavy tits. A fresh jasmine gajra in her hair.
No panties. Because I’d forbidden them.
“I need to cum,” she whispered. I licked my fingers. “Later. In the car. While you ride my cock with your belly bouncing in the rearview mirror.” She whimpered, legs pressed together.
On the ride back, she sat on my lap in the backseat. The driver didn’t dare look.
But I knew he heard. The slap of skin. The sound of my wife moaning, gasping, as she bounced on her husband’s cock—pregnant, married, and utterly broken.
She cum hard, belly pressed to my chest, lips locked to mine, her pussy clenching around me as I filled her again. I didn’t care how many times I’d bred her. I would breed her again.
And again.
Because Anagha wasn’t just mine, she was made for me—body, mind, womb, and soul.