Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Five minutes later, Inder is seated at the table and eating the chocolates out of Swati’s cunt with gusto, much to the bemused enjoyment of Prakash and Ramesh.


“He loves eating pussy, it seems,” Prakash observes redundantly to Ramesh, who grunts. 

All that can be heard are the slurps and wet munching sounds as Inder goes to town on Swati’s love hole.

Swati thinks through the sensations in her nether regions, despite the sensations, that Ramesh is always very quiet, never saying anything obscene or vaguely expletive-like, even though he wants to see her naked and perform for him. What a strange guy.

All this while she is being eaten out with a skill she can hardly believe. Well, actually she is being eaten out of. 

Inder, the fat, oily guy, the IT security chief if that can be believed, is eating the chocolate out of her cunt that Prakash has stuffed in here just a minute or two ago. Swati can readily  believe the fat man loves chocolate even more than sex.

Swati had been in a post orgasmic stupor as she lay on the hard, cold surface of the conference table, her back cold, but her nether regions still practically steaming from the intense orgasms she had enjoyed. Her whole bottom was soaked with her own juices, and there was of course Prakash’s semen leaking from her poor abused asshole. She was aware, vaguely, of Prakash saying she had to clean something up, but she was floating like she had smoked a joint or something. 

Then she had felt herself being pulled, positioned, and she was about to protest because she thought he was getting ready to fuck her again. She would be ready to go, sure, but she just needed to catch her breath, come down a little from her high. 

Her orgasms had been back to back, giving her an almost unending roller coaster like high, a continuous spasm wracking her cunt, ass and pelvis, sweeping up into her body, her stomach clenching, her breasts sore and feeling like they were swollen with milk again.

Something small and hard went into her cunt, and she hardly felt it and she didn’t react much beyond a tiny moan. Then more and more small objects began entering her cunt, almost immediately becoming soft and squishy. She could feel some thick liquid run down the bottom of her cunt into the crack between her buttocks and drip on to the conference table. 

She raised her head to see what it was and was surprised to see Prakash busily stuffing chocolates into her abused pussy.

The next thing she knew was the conference room bursting open and the short, fact, oily man she knew only as the IT guy, entered the room. 

He ordered Prakash away from her and sat himself down at the table. There was no question he called the shots around here. Prakash stepped away with a bemused smile on his face. 

The fat guy then grabbed her thighs, separated them as far as they would go, and dove in. He ate her pussy and the chocolates with great eagerness, and made up for any deficiency in skill with boundless enthusiasm.

Now, Swati feels a presence by her face and opens her eyes that have been screwed shut with her impending orgasm, to see Prakash’s thick spear waiting right there. 

It seems to have revived after the onslaught on her ass. It is a little wet still and faintly smells, well, bad. 

She knows she has no option, bad smell or no, and she opens her mouth and lets it in. 

She controls the natural distaste for the shit smelling dick and feels her esophagus clench in protest. With a conscious effort, she focuses on her cunt that Inder is still eating with avidity. 

One of her hands moves toward her clit, as though of its own volition, and starts making lazy circles over it. She can feel the ripples of early orgasm coming on, and she knows it will not be a big one, but a release nevertheless. 

And then she is coming, her hips bucking into Inder’s saliva and chocolate coated face, his glasses askew and smeared with her juices. 

“AAAAHHHHH! SSSSSSSSS!” She wails. 

She has never been so vocal before, but somehow it feels appropriate to let it all out in this bizarre situation. To think of it is to admit the strangeness of the setting. 

“Aaaah!” Yells Inder, clutching at his glasses. He pulls off his glasses and tried to clean them with his shirt. Incongruously, he is still fully clothed, as is Ramesh. She never quite understands why Inder is yelling. 

Prakash in the meantime has shed his shirt and is in his undershirt, a sleeveless gangee, dingy yellow in color. 

She sucks on his cock with enthusiasm and when she climaxes from Inder’s mouth and her own clit massage, Prakash seizes the opportunity and rams his cock in all the way into her throat. The hypoxia thus created intensifies her orgasm, and she lies there shaking and shuddering with the climax before the air hunger starts to take over her senses, and she slaps at his thigh with her hands.

Prakash releases the iron hold her has on her head and pulls out, and Swati breathes in with great whoops. 

Before she knows it, Prakash is between her legs, bending her in half again. Her thighs are pushed over her chest, crushing her tits, making them bulge outwards. She hears Prakash chuckle at the sight and then adjust her thighs, so her tits are positioned between them but pushed out now as though in offering. 

He bends his head and roughly chews on one nipple, sucking, gnawing, and even biting. It is painful, but she is distracted by the gigantic log he pushes into her cunt with such force that her breath rushes out of her in a great whoosh.

Then he is upright, and fucking her without mercy like a piece of meat, grabbing on to her hips, bending her, doubling her over and fucking not just her cunt but her whole body.

Inder is now by her side, and he grabs one of her tits near the base with one hand and slaps the bulging flesh with his other hand, over and over. She can see from her position, the skin of her boob turn a dusky red. When he is satisfied, or tired perhaps, he rests for a second, then grabs the other one and slaps it over and over. 

Several of the slaps land on her nipple, and they are now painfully erect. 

But the pain in her boobs and the pressure Prakash is putting on her body are more than compensated by the intense pleasure that is rippling out from her cunt into her lower belly. 

She can feel it building even as she puts out her hands to steady herself on the table. 

It is very uncomfortable, the most uncomfortable sex she has ever had, but it is also fabulous, intense and no bed in the world can make up for the simultaneous pain and pleasure. 

She can’t help looking up at the recessed lights in the ceiling, and before she can finish the thought, the lights are spinning away into crazy patterns, and she is coming violently, the lights flashing and spiraling, and she is lost in an orgasmic maelstrom of outer space.