Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

The next week, after Swati returned, Ramesh made another request. Could she walk from her office to the conference room topless?


Ramesh had started making more requests now. Each time, it was something small, incremental, like an off year iPhone update. But taken together, it was hard to believe that she had made some significant steps, progressions actually, from the day she had, on a whim, literally drawn him a map by looking pointedly at her discarded clothes on the floor next to her chair. 

And each time Ramesh made a tiny request, it seemed reasonable, but still it gave her a little jolt like a shot of Red Bull mixed with a shot of vodka. A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and a quick lurch of her heart. She would give herself a heart attack one day, she thought, just from that feeling. 

And she was becoming a junkie for that feeling. Kind of like people who loved roller coasters.
 
After some thought, Swati decided she could walk that walk. And did. The thrill of it almost made her swoon. Things progressed slowly after that. 

After the topless catwalk, during which she lost her footing on her high heels, partly because she wasn’t used to walking like that, and partly because she came hard in the middle of her walk, Ramesh asked for more.

Soon, she was walking topless and bottomless but with her panties on to the conference room. Then, she left her clothes in her office and walked to the conference room, clad only in panties, her high heels and her mangalsutra. 

The next step was inevitable. Ramesh asked to see everything. “Poora dekhna hai, please madam,” he said.

His aspect was so pathetic that Swati was able to justify her acquiescence easily. Poor fellow, she thought, he must never have seen this kind of thing outside of porn. So, it was quite all right, giving him these shows. Again the idea of a sort of social service came to her mind. If giving money or food or clothes or even shelter were all considered charity, why not some nude shows for a person’s sexual health?

The day after, Ramesh asked with his characteristic shyness, “Madam, can you please remove the…um…jungle on there? I can’t see anything.”

Sure enough, Swati, who used to meticulously shave when she was newly married, had neglected to do so in recent years, at least after Dhruv had come along, and let things go a little. 

There is a thatch, sure, maybe not a jungle, but when she looked at herself in the mirror later that night, she could see the truth in what he said. It was definitely a thicket, and one had to have really good lighting and exposure to see her pussy lips and the opening to her cunt. 

For a few moments, she fantasized about letting Ramesh shave her. 

That would be quite a leap! She would bring in her razor and other stuff, sit in her chair and spread her legs. Then she would tell Ramesh to get to it. “Do it however you like,” she would say. 

And he would salivate and kneel between her spread legs, and apply the shaving foam slowly and deliberately, and then shave her smooth in the gentlest way possible. 

She decided to postpone that decision to another day.

[fuckandforget]

Superbbbbb

[Ajay Kailash]

Super

[Kamalesh Nathan]

Niceeeeee

[abcturbine]

Amazing update......keep cumming....

[zulfique]

She is turning a SEX BEAST now.

[Joseph Rayman]

Lovely update

[S Darko]

Ramesh could not hide his pleasure at what he saw the next day. He had spent the night in a fever of anticipation, and now the need was too much. It felt like a stone in his bowels, this need to see her, to be in her presence. He wasn’t sure what it was, love or lust or something else entirely.


Prakash was going to return in a couple of days from his village, and even though he would likely be engaged to be married by now, he would no doubt would ask details of what was going on, and reiterate his desire to see the heavenly Swati madam. 

Ramesh thought that perhaps he should lie to his friend this time. Yes, he was loyal to his buddies, but he had started to doubt his friend’s intentions. He wasn’t sure that the innocent exterior that Prakash projected was true. 

And then, at the appointed hour, he knocked and entered her office. 

Swati madam sat naked on her chair, waiting for him. The last several times, she had greeted him like that. She wasn’t afraid that someone else might come through the door, and she had overcome her fear and shyness entirely. 

Like a heroin addict for whom small doses soon become meaningless, he thought. The laptop was open. She had evidently been getting some work done. Or perhaps she had been watching whatever it was she watched, like the very first time. He suspected it was some type of porn, but didn't know anymore.

She stood and he saw she was naked. Both topless and bottomless. 

Naked as the day she was born except for a thin strip of hair that had been trimmed with expertise like an arrow that pointed to the treasures and pleasures that lay below. 

His breath caught and for a few seconds he could not believe what he was seeing. Swati madam, completely naked. She had removed the jungle from below.

Nangi. Nangi. Nangi!

Just like he’d requested. 

Of course, she still wore her mangalsutra, and the high heels. But that only made her more sexy, more powerful and Devi-like in his opinion. 

“Shall we?” She said.

Ramesh nodded. He'd already done a round of the floor and knew there was no one around. 

He walked ahead of her as they skirted the cubicles. It was always a risk, he knew, that someone might be in one of those cubicles and emerge at just the right time. He had done his best to scour the area for stragglers, but there was still a small risk. He knew that, and he knew that Swati madam also knew that. That, he supposed, was the fun, the thrill. The excitement.

She walked up and down the narrow corridor lined on one side by the backs of the beige office chairs along the length of the conference table, and the glass wall on the other side, a width of about six feet. The length was more than twenty feet, perhaps even thirty feet, ample space for a catwalk. Ramesh stood at the very end, arms folded and leaning against the wall, and watched her as she sashayed up and down. 

He watched with delight as her boobs swayed gently from side to side, a testament to their ponderous weight and heft. He watched with rapture as she walked away from him, her earthy hips swaying, her beautiful, rounded buttocks dimpling in and out with each step. The darkness between winking at him with each stride. 

He wanted so touch her boobs, fondle them, heft them in his hands and feel their weight. He wanted to run his hands up and down her flanks, her buttocks. Maybe delve a few fingers into the ultimate treasure, her cunt. He knew the words, he knew how these things worked even though he had no personal experience. 

He clearly saw her pussy lips as she came toward him, smooth shaved, beaded in dewy wetness that became more prominent with each trip she took up and down. The clear fluid dripped down her inner thighs, all the way to the back of her knees. He had noticed this the first few times her panties has become wet, and now he knew what it was. The fluid of her arousal. 

After three such cycles of walking up and down, she stood in front of him, hands on her waist, one hip cocked to the side and let him run his eyes up and down her nude form. 

“Happy now? Khush?”

Her voice was throaty, a little hoarse. Ramesh understood that she was turned on, and it was desire that thickened her throat. But he also knew that there wasn’t anything he could or would do about it. 

That kind of thing was for other people, perhaps that fat slob, Inder.

She had that divine smile on her face, with the dimples, and he was breathless and tongue-tied, and he simultaneously wanted to fall on her and…he didn’t know what, but also he wanted to fall at her feet and worship her, run his tongue up and down her body in homage, to pleasure her, just like the pleasure she had given him. 

But, his mind screamed at him, that would be wrong! Wrong! Forbidden! And all he could do was nod.


A few days passed. 

She was now walking naked from her office to the conference room. At first she’d carried her clothes with her, but later, as she gained confidence in his sweep of the office, she left the clothes behind. Why bother when she was going to undress and dress in her office anyway?

The thrill of doing this a couple times a week was what Ramesh lived for, and from what he could tell, Swati madam too wanted to do it equally. She got as much pleasure from exposing herself to him as he did from watching her. He thought of the two of them as partners in this game. A game that he knew was getting more dangerous with time. 

The fat man, he knew, was watching from somewhere. Ramesh didn’t know where exactly the cameras were but her knew they were there, for why else would Inder have told him to move the venue to the conference room. In his mind, it was a good thing that Swati madam hadn’t realized it, but he still felt bad for the deception. 

He had no idea what Inder was getting out of this. Perhaps, he too liked to watch. Remotely, maybe on a television screen, and maybe he recorded it and made videos and sent them out on the internet with the faces blurred. He had no idea. 

So far, Inder had not even spoken to him for weeks. He had brought Swati madam to the conference room and slowly escalated the game, but nothing more had come from the fat IT guy’s end. Perhaps he had forgotten, perhaps the fat man had simply died of a heart attack—fat people sometimes did. 

And then, that day, as she was putting on her kameez, her head still covered by the cloth, he made his next request.

When her head emerged finally, she looked shocked, and the color rose to her cheeks. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then she looked like she had made a decision. She nodded, a slow up and down of her head.

[Hotyyhard]

wow what a suspense what he requested her eager to know

[Steven Rajaa]

Super super super

[NovelNavel]

What is running in Ramesh mind. Where all these are heading to. Does he wants to touch and feel her body. This slow seduction is killing.

[desiass]

Great writing Man........waiting for the next updates

[Hotyyhard]

wow awesome update waiting for more

[Deepak Sanjeev]

Awesome update

[fuckandforget]

Good update

[zulfique]

Super bro

[S Darko]

Prakash sat thinking on the bus back to Gurugram. 

It was a good seven-hour overnight journey including stops, and he had a while to think. His companion, a fat man that smelled of goats, was fast asleep and his head kept slipping don on his shoulder. He had nudged the guy several times, and each time the man would wake, look groggily here and there and go right back to sleep. Couldn’t blame him. It was nighttime after all. 

But Prakash had things on his mind.


This Ramesh business was intriguing to him, and he wondered how to take advantage of the situation. Ramesh was a fool, he knew, a village idiot who had no sexual experience and going about with his pictures of Hanuman and celibacy and on and on until his head hurt. 

He had to pretend to like the fellow—they were from nearby villages and therefore brothers, but it only extended so far. In the city, it was every man for himself.

Take this Swati madam for example. It had been weeks since their little dalliance, if one could call it that, had started. If it was him, Prakash, he would have taken control of the situation and grabbed her by the hair and taken her then and there. Maybe not the first time, but the second or third time, sure. 

But here he was, listening to the fool go on about how beautiful the woman was. God, do something with the bitch already!

In his imagination, the things he could do with such a beauty as Ramesh described were legion. He would fuck her, in every position possible, have her blow him, titty fuck her like in the videos he had seen. He could do other things, he thought. 

Pimping her out in Bhim colony to the poor folks for mere rupees was one of the options, just to humiliate her, lord it over her, but to be able to control someone like that! The feeling was too heady. Too much yaar, he told himself. 

He could fuck her ass, a long time fantasy of his, something the whores he visited wouldn’t let him do, but maybe they wanted more money. He wasn’t sure about that, because he was always on a tight budget. Perhaps for the right amount of money…

He thought about some high and mighty ladies that parked in the garage and wondered if Swati was one of them. Perhaps the bitchy woman who dropped her keys and stood there waiting for him to come out of his kiosk and pick them up for her? 

Or could it be the one that always wore sunglasses and expected him to clean off the bird shit on her windshield for free? 

Or the young lady that ignored him as though he didn’t exist even though he saluted her every time she came in or left? 

Perhaps it was the one who had said, “Diwali bonus? Don’t you get a salary for doing your job?” He was dumbstruck. What was a few hundred rupees to her? 

And his resentment grew for all the entitled fuckers that lived in this city.

Yeah, he hoped it was one of them. He would enjoy humiliating any one of them,for sure. He would love to fuck them senseless, to beat them and enjoy the pain he inflicted on them. His grin was savage in the dark of the night.

He would talk to Nawaz, the third, and mostly absent roommate. 

So far, Nawaz knew nothing about this whole affair, but perhaps it was time to bring him in. He knew Nawaz was connected and had fingers in many pies. Perhaps he had mob connections. He knew for sure that Nawaz had connections in the red-light district, and he suspected the man might be involved in extortion. 

As far as he knew, Nawaz had no real job, like he and Ramesh did. It was a mystery why Nawaz continued to rent the chawl together with them when he hardly spent any time there. Regardless, Nawaz would know what could be done with this madam. 

He had asked to be part of theSwati madam deal, but Ramesh had refused. He asked at least see her, even if it was outside the office, just point her out, so he could see who the woman was, but that too was denied. 

There were over a hundred women that worked in the building, maybe two hundred, maybe even more. He couldn’t even be sure if the woman Ramesh was “seeing” even parked in his garage. 

He could not go into the building without Ramesh because his card would not let him access the main building. Every damn thing here was carefully controlled by card access. That fucking fool, Ramesh had access to practically the whole place, and he, the watchman in the garage could only go to specific places.

But last week that had changed. 

A man had driven in, talking loudly on his cellphone, and swiped his card to enter the garage. As he went through, he dropped his card, but the phone conversation was apparently so engaging that he did not notice. Prakash watched the whole thing from his glass enclosed kiosk and rose to pick it up. 

The door was on the exit side. By the time he had gone around and picked it up, the man had already driven away, still talking on the phone.

Prakash dropped the card with its little plastic cover into his pocket. 

Later, when he was sure he was alone, he’d looked at it. Systems Engineer, it said, below the name of the guy, Prashant Kakkar, but that didn’t tell him anything. 

The title suggested a senior post, especially the way he’d been talking on the phone and the imperious way he’d driven through, not caring about the card. From the car too, a shiny and expensive looking one, the guy looked important. 

Prakash would try the card and see if it would let him access the building. He had no time that day and besides he had to return to his village because his father had deemed it so. 

He wondered how that Kakkar guy had gotten into the building, but perhaps he had some other form of access. Maybe he called security and they gave him a new card. Big people could get things done, and very quickly, he knew.

There was a girl in the village his family wanted him to look at, and knowing his father, the alliance was probably already a done deal and his acquiescence was merely a formality. At least that’s how it had gone for his two elder brothers. Perhaps he, by virtue of his city job, could rebel? Hmm. Something to think about. 

The village felt great, and after he got off the bus, he took in great lungfuls of unpolluted air. Sure, there was the odor of cowdung, and freshly cut wheat, but at least it was natural and unpolluted. 

His homecoming was great. They all doted on him, fed him all kinds of stuff, made a big fuss over him. His two brothers were cordial enough. But there was as a wariness in their eyes. He had escaped the drudgery of the village, and they had not. 

Prakash had shrugged it off. For one thing, life in the city wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and besides, he had other things to think about.

They had to make a journey by bus and then by bullock cart to the neighboring village, everyone dressed in their finest clothes. He was wearing his only pair of jeans and a full sleeve shirt buttoned to the top, and a cheap pair of dark glasses that said Ray-Ban on the lens, but he knew it was fake, although no one else did. 

The girl wasn’t bad looking, he had to admit, but he’d told his mother after they returned, that he didn't want to marry her. It wasn’t the girl. She was okay, but he had other things going on. He had a career to establish, he needed to make a fortune first. He wasn’t in the mood to get married yet. Prakash was only twenty-three, too young by city standards to be married. 

His father had learned of his refusal from his mother, who tried to soften Prakash’s words. She was the peacemaker in the family, and she tried hard, but it didn’t work. His father had raged at him the next day, and his mother had stood at the entrance to the dark kitchen, wringing her hands. 

As the youngest boy, he was her darling. His two brothers were no help. Instead, they stood by, smirking. After all your shenanigans, you have finally been called to account, their looks seemed to say. 

The next few days were spent in a Cold War, and he avoided everyone except his mother. She was nice, but ultimately useless. His two sisters-in-law tried to talk him into the alliance. But he was adamant. 

He stayed away, hanging out with his friends, those he could find anyway, and returned home only for meals. And then it was time to return to work. He had the morning shift, ending at five in the evening. Prakash knew he should sleep, at least a little, for it wouldn’t do to be caught snoozing in the kiosk, but his thoughts were racing. 

He fingered the access card in his pocket.

The possibility that the computerized access on the card could have been revoked in the week that had passed by hadn’t occurred to him.

[Dumeelkumar]

Where is this heading to. Prakash is gonna get lucky before Ramesh>

[chellaporukki]

Cant predict what is going in each person mind

[S Darko]

Inder logs into his Incel forum and asks a question: “I have a bitch here that loves exhibiting herself and teasing lower class men. What can I do with her?”


The answers start coming in thick and fast. 

Almost all of them want to fuck the bitch senseless and then kill her, some in inventive ways. Her head should be cut off and mounted on the crossroads as a deterrent to other conniving bitches who flaunted their sexuality, one says. 

Another opines that she should be tied to a pole in the street, and every passer-by should be allowed to fuck her in any hole they please and then when everyone is satisfied, she should be shot. Or perhaps she should be skinned alive. 

Inder closes his laptop, deep in thought. He turned forty the week before and has never had sex. Not with a woman, at least. Does his hand count? 

It isn’t for lack of trying to get a woman, and people who point out that he is fat are simply jealous of his intellect. His voyeurism is not a coping mechanism, it is simply a way to get even with the people who make fun of him. Yes, that is what it is.
 
He has watched, with interest and a tumescent dick, the goings-on in the conference room. Swati has progressively undressed and given further shows, and it has all been very titillating. There is no question, the bitch is sexy as hell. Her boobs, her ass, her waist, all are perfectly proportioned. Her complexion is fantastic. 

She must be high caste, Inder thinks. Used to pampering her body with lotions and creams, the best beauty parlors, spas and whatnot. He feels sure of that. But what to do with that?

He sits on a mountain of damning data on so many people, but he still can’t get laid. Well, he supposes he could blackmail one of the women, but would that be fun? What if she laughs at him? He knows his dick is relatively small based on internet searches and porn. But so what? It isn’t the size of the organ, it is how one uses it. And who is to say that men with larger dicks get more pleasure out of sex that those with small ones? 

What he really wants to do is to walk in and take what is his. No questions asked. If he chooses to get a blowjob, that should be a right, not something to be received as charity. Not something he has to beg for. He thinks Swati might be the right one for that. He files away his plan for her. One day…

He logs into the security system to see what the latest shenanigan Swati and Ramesh have gotten up to. He is curious about how Ramesh treats the woman. No touching, just watching. 

There is lust in the man’s eyes, he is sure of it. The cameras in the conference room are high definition, so he can zoom in and see everything. 

Ramesh has done pretty much everything he has asked, no demanded, of him. He has moved the venue from the office to the conference room, he has had her undress fully and do a catwalk for him. The catwalk idea was all Ramesh—Inder had nothing to do with it. He figures Ramesh is no fool, he can be inventive when he wants to. 

But the man is definitely odd.

The screen comes to life in glorious high definition. There is sound too, but they hardly speak most of the time. Just some heavy breathing from what he can tell. Today, the show has taken a little bit of a progression. A show to end all shows, he thinks. 

And then what he sees freezes him in his seat. There is someone outside the conference room, peeking in through the glass wall. 

A man in a chaprasi uniform, but who in the fucking fuck is he?