Part 3 - Monica's Perspective:

The party was just getting started when I walked into Nitin's lavish farmhouse. The place was buzzing with energy, music was thumping, and the lights were dim, just enough to make everything feel a bit mysterious. I could feel the eyes on me as I walked through, my dress barely covering my ass, the red thong peeking out with every step.

Nitin greeted me with a sly smile, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "You look stunning," he whispered, close enough for me to feel his breath on my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"Thanks," I said, trying to keep my composure. I could see the hunger in his eyes, and it made my heart race. We mingled for a bit, but I knew where this was heading. The crowd was thin, just as Nitin planned. Most of the guests were either colleagues or friends who knew the score.

As the night progressed, the party thinned out even more. It was like a dance we were doing, moving closer with each drink, each laugh, each accidental touch. By midnight, most had left, and it was just a few of us, the music now softer, more intimate.

Nitin suggested we step outside for some fresh air. We walked to the back where the pool shimmered under the night sky. He was behind me, his hands on my hips, guiding me.

"You wore what I sent," he whispered, his hands now on my ass, squeezing gently.

"Yes, I did," I replied, feeling a rush of excitement. His touch was bold, confident, and it was driving me wild. We danced by the pool, his hands roaming more freely now, touching, teasing. I was drunk, not just on alcohol but on the thrill of the forbidden.

He pulled me close, and I could feel his hardness against me. "I've been wanting this for so long," he murmured into my neck, his lips trailing down.

We didn't make it back inside. Right there, by the pool, he turned me around, and our lips met, hungry and fierce. His hands were everywhere, pulling my dress up, my thong aside. I was lost in the moment, the thrill of being wanted so intensely.

We eventually moved inside, to his bedroom, where the reality of what was happening sank in. The room was lit with just enough light to see everything but not too much to make it feel exposed.

He was gentle yet aggressive, taking his time to undress me fully this time, his eyes drinking in every inch of my body. I felt like I was on a stage, performing just for him. He kissed his way down, and I was moaning, louder than I ever had with my husband. It was different, wilder.

He was big, much bigger than I had imagined, and the thrill of that was overwhelming. We used the condoms my husband had insisted on, but the act itself was raw, passionate. He took me in ways I hadn't experienced before, each position more exhilarating than the last.

The night was a blur of pleasure, a mix of missionary, doggy, and me riding him, each moment feeling like it could last forever. He was skilled, attentive, making me feel like I was the center of his universe for that night.

As dawn broke, we lay there, exhausted, the room smelling of sex and sweat. I took a moment to check my phone, seeing messages from my husband. I sent him a picture of me, naked under a sheet, the evidence of our night scattered around. It was a mix of guilt and thrill, knowing he was part of this journey.

I texted him, "He fucked my brains out," and waited for his response, knowing it would excite him as much as it did me.

Nitin stirred beside me, suggesting another round. This time, his demeanor shifted; he was relentless, his eyes dark with desire. He pushed me onto the bed, his tone changing, "You're my hotwife now, aren't you, slut?" His words were sharp, meant to provoke, to push boundaries.

He spanked me hard, making me yelp, then tried to choke me, pulling my hair back as he positioned me on all fours for doggy. "Your husband could never fuck you like this, bitch," he growled, his voice commanding. He entered me from behind, his thrusts hard and unyielding, each one making me gasp, my breasts bouncing with each impact. He was merciless, his grip on my hips tight, pulling me back onto him with each thrust, making it clear who was in control.

"Call me Daddy, slut," he demanded, his hand coming down hard on my ass again, the sting sharp, followed by a wave of heat. "Beg for it, beg for my cock," he continued, his voice rough with arousal.

I found myself moaning, "Please, Daddy, fuck me harder," the words coming out in a mix of pleasure and submission. He was like a bull, asserting his dominance over me, his heavy balls slapping against me as he pounded from behind, making me feel every inch of him.

He then pushed my head down, forcing me to suck his balls while he continued from behind, "Suck them, you little bitch," he growled, the degradation fueling the intensity of the moment.

When he was close, he pulled out, his cum shooting across my face, hot and sticky. "Click it, show me," he ordered, and I did, capturing the moment with my phone, then swallowing as he watched, his satisfaction evident in his smirk.

That morning, I thought about calling an Uber as I tried to compose myself, but my husband insisted he would come to pick me up. I agreed, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. I quickly cleaned up as much as I could, but the scent of sex and cum still lingered on me.

When I stepped outside, my husband's car was waiting. The early morning light was harsh, revealing everything. I slid into the passenger seat, the smell of our night together filling the car immediately.

He looked at me, his eyes taking in my disheveled state, the faint marks on my skin, the scent that could not be hidden. "You smell like sex," he said, his voice a mix of arousal and something else, perhaps jealousy or excitement.

I nodded, not sure what to say, a small smirk playing on my lips as I felt the last of the night's thrill. "Yeah, it was... intense," I managed to say, watching his reaction, knowing this was a new chapter for us both.

He drove in silence for a moment before speaking again, "Did you enjoy it?" His voice was husky, his curiosity palpable.

"Yes," I admitted, feeling the thrill of confession, "It was everything we talked about and more."

The drive back was filled with an electric silence, both of us lost in our thoughts, the scent of sex hanging in the air, a reminder of the night that had changed everything.