Ravi watched from the corner of their bedroom, his dick soft in his sweatpants, as Priya applied red lipstick. Her sari was already off, draped over a chair, leaving her in just a lace bra and a sheer lehenga skirt that showed the dark triangle of her pussy. "He'll be here soon," she said, not looking at him. "Remember your place."

The doorbell rang. Priya’s eyes lit up. She opened it to reveal Marcus, a tall, muscular man with a confident grin. His gaze immediately dropped to Priya’s tits, the hard nipples pressing against the lace. "Damn, girl," he rumbled, his voice like gravel.

"Come in," Priya purred, taking his hand. She led him past Ravi as if he were furniture. "This is my husband. He watches."

Marcus chuckled, a deep, mocking sound. He cupped Priya's ass through the sheer fabric, his big hand squeezing. "He watches you get what he can't give you, huh?"

Priya moaned, arching into him. "Yes. He watches you fuck me properly."

Ravi’s face burned with shame, but his eyes were glued to Marcus’s crotch. The bulge there was massive, straining against his jeans. Priya got on her knees right there, her intentions clear. She fumbled with Marcus’s belt, then his zipper. When she pulled out his cock, Ravi gasped. It was a thick, veiny monster, already leaking pre-cum from its swollen purple head.

"Look at it, Ravi," Priya ordered, her