"Fortune favours the brave," Rohit muttered as he remembered his jump from the 100th floor of the Shanghai Tower.
Though it was his past life as Riku, where he was laced with security ropes and tight safety gear, that solidified his trust in himself—he still had the guts for what it takes on the 30th floor.
Rohit glanced one last time at the balcony edge before shifting his gaze to the wall. He reminded himself under his breath, 'Rule number one, and last—no looking down.'
He leapt lightly onto the thick sledge, two meters wide. However, it felt far thinner than it looked, and he pressed his body against the wall for balance.
'Shit! It's entirely different with no protection,' Rohit internally noted.
A towel clung to his waist, his phone stillf gripped in one hand. The night wind swept across his bare back, sending every nerve screaming that this was a fatal mistake—but his resolve carried him forward.
"One step at a time…" he muttered, inching across at a snail's pace.
By dumb luck, the curtains on the balcony were folded to the side. With no cover of his own, he hugged the wall, standing dangerously on the ledge with only the railing for protection, before carefully leaning his head to peek inside.
His jaw nearly dropped.
Inside stood Jayesh's father, Mr. Mittal, shaking hands with Mr. Goenka.
(A/n: Will use surnames to represent as Rohit doesn't know the names yet.)
Then, from the shadows, a woman stepped forward, draped in sheer black lingerie. Her face was turned away, but her body was breathtaking.
Pale skin glowed under the lights, her waist trim as a model's, yet her hips flared wide, her curves almost surreal—so much so that Rohit wondered if they had been medically customised. Balanced on high heels, her figure was framed to perfection, her massive breasts spilling enticingly at the sides, her big ass impossibly round and alluring.
From the muffled conversation he caught, Rohit pieced together the truth.
Mittal had struck some kind of deal with Goenka, and the "service" involved was clearly his own wife. Judging from her relaxed demeanor, she wasn't being forced and was cordial, even willing.
When she unhooked her bra, Goenka lost all restraint.
He lunged forward like a starving man at a feast, burying his face between her massive jugs with frantic hunger. Both husband and wife chuckled at his frenzy, their laughter echoing softly as Goenka groped and kneaded like a boy drunk on sweetness.
Soon, she pushed him onto the bed and turned away.
Rohit quickly ducked behind the wall, his heart was pounding fast, 'Damn! the hell is going on there.'
After a long breath, he risked another glance: Goenka sat wide-eyed in stunned disbelief while Mittal patted his shoulder, gesturing him to relax.
Goenka nodded as he sat on the bed, shirt hanging loose. Then Mrs. Mittal stepped out from the corner into the light.
She carried two glasses of champagne, handing one to Goenka and the other to her husband before kneeling to unbuckle Goenka's belt. Mittal, meanwhile, sank into the sofa, loosening his own pants.
Rohit could hardly believe what he was seeing. He had expected to catch Goenka in a compromising act with her, but not this, where Mittal himself brokering his wife, then sitting back to watch.
Unprecedented.
The shock hit so hard that Rohit froze, forgetting even to raise his phone.
The truth was clearer than daylight: Mittal was a cuck. He wanted to watch his wife being devoured by strangers, pleasuring himself on the sidelines.
Goenka smacked his lips as Mrs. Mittal's hands slid into his pants. The untouched champagne trembled in his grip, spilling drops over his fingers as his other hand clenched her tits in delight. His eyes locked onto the trophy wife now kneeling before him, clad in only her panties.
Rohit could hardly breathe as he watched her lips descend, her head bobbing slowly up and down. The wet sounds of slurp faint but unmistakable, filled the room.
Goenka groaned loudly as his hands kneaded her breasts, while his shaft is being devoured by the whorish wife, slurping with unimaginable enthusiasm. His hand tightened on her hair as he guided her movements.
The look on Goenka's face was pure bliss as he pressed her head deeper.
At last he remembered the champagne in his hand. With a sudden laugh, he tipped the glass, gulping half before pouring the rest over her chest.
The liquid splashed across her face and breasts, making Mrs. Mittal gasp as rivulets trickled down her pale skin. Mittal himself chuckled darkly at the display, clearly enjoying the debauchery.
Goenka bent forward, his hands greedy as he squeezed her drenched breasts, pushing them together before slotting his shaft between them. He rutted vigorously, the slickness of the champagne coating his length as her body shook under his weight like a doll meant for pleasure. Her muffled gasps and moans filled the room, vibrating against his skin.
From Rohit's precarious angle, he cursed under his breath as he could only see her bare back. He couldn't tell if she had taken him fully into her mouth or not. The uncertainty gnawed at him.
As if on cue, Mrs. Mittal coughed wetly, pulling back to catch her breath. Mittal praised Goenka's 'creativity' with the pouring but urged them to move faster.
She obeyed without hesitation, rising to her feet. Bending over the edge of the bed, she took Goenka's shaft back into her mouth, bobbing her head with professional ease. From behind, her wide hips formed a perfect heart shape, her ass swaying hypnotically as she worked.
The glok, glok sound told the story of her being deepthroating him.
The sight sent a sudden jolt through Rohit—his once-sleeping shaft stirring awake. He tightened his grip on the railing to keep his balance.
Soon, Mrs. Mittal shifted, guiding Goenka's cock against herself and sinking down with practiced ease.
He wasn't large—barely five inches—and slid inside her without resistance. She began to ride him, her breasts bouncing freely as Goenka groaned louder than she did, clinging to her hips like a drowning man.
Supporting her ass cheeks, he held on while she teased him by smothering him with her breasts. Then she pushed him flat on the bed and rode him with slow, deliberate rolls, faint moans escaping her lips.
Then Mittal himself rose from the sofa, stepping onto the bed, his own shaft in hand. Thicker and longer than Goenka's—though Rohit noted, not as impressive as his own—he brought it to his wife's lips.
She turned, extended her tongue, licking along her husband's length.
Impatience took Mittal quickly as he gripped her hair, forcing her head steady, and thrust deep into her throat, before face fucking her.
She took it without gagging as her lips stretched wide, her makeup smearing as spit and champagne dripped from her chin. Her face shone wet under the lights, her body jerking rhythmically as she bounced on one man while sucking the other with a depraved hunger that marked her as no novice.
Rohit's breath caught. She was stunning—early thirties perhaps, her beauty obvious even through the heavy paint of cosmetics, her movements radiating the vibe of a celebrity pornstar no less.
The scene was so hot that Rohit's control cracked.
Almost without realizing, his hand helding the phone slid down trying to grip his hardening shaft.
The towel around his waist loosened and slipped off completely, fluttering into the wind.
A chill slapped his naked butt, snapping him back to reality.
His spine shivered, his knees wobbled dangerously as he remembered where he was and what he was meant to do.
Fortunately, his phone was still safe in hand. He clicked his tongue in irritation at his own carelessness, then raised it, snapping photos in quick succession.
And then fortune struck again.
Mrs. Mittal shifted mid-ride, twisting her body so that her face turned fully into view. Her features were painted with lust: mouth stretched around her husband's cock, eyes half-lidded, her hips slapping on Goenka's thighs.
Soon goenka shifted. He went behind her and adjusted her ass with a smack, while her husband continued face-humping her without giving her any respite.
It was all taboo, surreal, and obscene but yet thrilling and erotic.
The angle was perfect. From his precarious perch, Rohit steadied his phone, snapping shot after shot—the trio framed in every possible combination.
Mrs. Mittal alone, bent and dripping; Mittal violating her mouth; Goenka rutting like a desperate dog. Then, satisfied with stills, Rohit slid his thumb to video.
The threesome unfolded on camera for nearly two minutes before his phone suddenly buzzed in his palm. Thankfully it was on vibration. He quickly dismissed the notification and saved the clip.
Soon after, the session reached its peak.
To his surprise, Mittal was the first to lose control, spilling into his wife's mouth with a guttural moan. She swallowed it obediently, lips glistening with his dripping cum, even as Goenka continued pounding her from behind with his smaller, twitching shaft."
Rohit didn't bother waiting for Goenka's finish. He'd seen more than enough.
With nerves steeled and phone clutched tight, he crept back across the narrow slab, every step deliberate, until at last he slipped into the safety of his own room—bare body still exposed to the night air.
"HA-HA-HA-HA"
He collapsed onto his bed and burst into laughter, muttering to himself,
"Spying on a threesome butt naked on the 30th floor… now that's pretty wild."