Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Prakash walks up and down the office space, trying to find Swati’s office. It seems there is no one about. Finally, he walks to the end of the hall where there is a large, glass-walled room.


He peers through the glass. 

Aha!

Finally!

There is Ramesh sitting on one of the office chairs like a laat sahib. 

And, he cannot believe his eyes, right in front of him is a naked woman, her eyes closed, her legs spread shamelessly and resting on two additional office chairs, and there is something pink hanging out of her cunt!

He immediately takes notice of her shaved cunt, but wait! There’s a little strip of hair that’s shaped like an arrow pointing at her clit. Her position on the chair is such that she is slightly turned toward him, and he can see it all.

He watches for a few seconds. This must be Swati, the whore. He shakes his head to clear it. He thinks about what he should do.

He can’t hear much, but it looks like Ramesh is sitting six feet in front, watching her, and occasionally doing something on his phone and then looking up again. There is a fixed and stupid grin on his face as he watches. 

Swati’s mouth hangs open, her eyes closed, her pink lips open and glistening and she is presumably making some sounds, moans perhaps, the shameless whore, but he can’t hear anything. The glass is thick and there is some distortion to the image.

He squints his eyes and looks at her boobs, then her bare cunt where there is copious fluid leaking out and dripping to the carpeted floor. One of her hands is periodically goes down to her cunt and touches the pink thing, rubs at her clit and then goes back up to tug and pinch her nipples. Her other hand is holding on tight to the arm of the chair as though she is afraid she will fall off.

Her boobs are dancing all over the place, swaying and bobbing and amazingly firm. The whore’s nipples are pointing out like, like…metaphors fail him. Finally, he settles on something familiar, bhindi, lady fingers, big fat fucking bhindis. 

What a whore! What a flithy whore! 

The litany repeats itself in his mind. The woman is a bigger, much bigger, whore than he had imagined. From all the stuff that Ramesh has told him, he had built a picture in his head of a voluptuous siren, a sex queen, but the reality is better, way better. And way filthier too.

He can watch the show from here, he thinks, but there is too much turmoil in his head. His thoughts aren’t coherent. One part of him is rooted to the spot, and another wants to pull open the door and confront the duo having fun inside. He waits, and thinks, and waits and thinks.

Finally, he is unable to contain himself anymore and he creeps to the door that is farthest from them and pushes it. 

Nothing.

He pulls on the door. The door swings open with a click.

The woman is the chair opens her eyes at the sudden sound. 

Prakash recognizes her. 

It’s that woman! The Diwali bonus woman!

His eyes widen as he steps into the room and takes several steps toward them. He has no eyes for Ramesh. He looks only at Swati.

“You!” He says. Almost screams. 

All the anger and passion that is bottled up inside him, all the subservience that is forced upon him, all the difficulties of being an under-educated village boy in the big city, the shame and humiliation of it, all of it erupts in that one syllable.

He takes a few more steps toward her. 

Swati is frozen in place.

Then, suddenly, inexplicably, she opens her mouth wide in a scream.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” She goes, not stopping.

Prakash glances at Ramesh who’s finger seems to be pressed hard on the phone screen. 

“OOOIIIIAAAAA!!!!”

Swati’s hips jerk frantically, pulse like she is fucking the air and her hand frantically pulls at the pink thing that is hanging from her cunt. 

It won’t come out it seems. It looks like a tight fit. Her mouth is still open, still screaming incoherently.

Then, as her hips are still gyrating and humping the air, and presumably the pink thing, she slips from the chair and falls on her ass. The two chairs her legs were resting on are pushed away in opposite directions, rolling away in slow motion, yet her legs are still in the air, jerking and trembling. 

Prakash has seen a woman orgasm before, in porno videos, and always thought they were faked, but now he is forced to reconsider.

Swati’s convulsions are getting less frantic, and she is still pulling at the thing with her right hand. Then, the pink thing is out and there is a loud farting noise that accompanies the ejection. No one speaks.

Prakash’s eyes widen as he sees how big it is. Like a dog’s thing when it just pops out of the bitch. And just as pink. The thing is shaking and jiggling in her hand as though it is alive. She drops it on the carpet and it wriggles on the ground like a crazy snake. 

He has no thoughts except rage. Although, somewhere in his mind he also registers that he has a raging hard-on.

Swati is still convulsing slightly, and still on her ass on the carpet, her legs spread obscenely. Her legs, incredibly, are still shaking in the air, not on the ground. She must have hurt herself falling like that Prakash thinks, but doesn’t care. What a fucking bitch!


Her tremors subside slowly. She is on the ground, coughing and trembling, like a bitch who has just been fucked to within an inch of her life. 

He stands before her, arms folded. Then he speaks. His voice is louder and higher than he intends. He thinks he is going for cool, dispassionate, but the fury has him in its grip. 

“No Diwali bonus, huh? Don’t you get a salary for doing your job, huh?”

Swati’s is looking up at him, her expression uncomprehending. Her legs are splayed, cunt open, gaping in fact, and her tits are still heaving from the massive orgasm she has just experienced.

Her face is blank. She doesn’t recognize this man. She tries to cut her eyes toward Ramesh but Prakash is in the way. 

Prakash is still speaking, now in a low, menacing tone.

“You’re too good for the likes of me, are you? And yet, here you are, naked and fucking that plastic thing like a whore in front of my friend. You shameless whore! Whore! Whore!” 

He is screaming in Hindi, almost incoherent with rage.