Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Ramesh cannot sleep. He has overheard the conversation between Nawaz and Nakul Bhai, although he doesn’t know who is on the other side and can hear only half the conversation.


It is a rare night when Nawaz is in their room in the chawl. Prakash has a couple of guys over and they have been playing cards, teenpatti mostly, and drinking. It feels like the night before Diwali when most people gamble as a matter of tradition. 

Ramesh, the nondrinker, non gambler, has been tasked with keeping them supplied with food. While the usual chakhna type foods—fried peanuts, bhujia and the like are favorites, they prefer bananas for energy and probably to ease the acidity in their stomachs. 

That’s when Nawaz’s phone rings.

Nawaz looks at the display and picks up the call with alacrity.

“Bhai?” He says.

He listens for a few seconds, then says, “Bhai, it will take a few days. The bitch isn’t in town this week.”

He listens some more, then hangs up.

Ramesh is aware from Prakash’s boasting that he and Nawaz have cooked up some kind of scheme to make money off of Swati madam. He isn’t privy to all the details because every time he has asked, a crafty look comes onto Prakash’s stupid face, and he brushes him off with some kind of non-answer. 

This is unacceptable to Ramesh. He is okay with Prakash fucking the madam and perhaps including a few others in the fun and games, but only as long as the madam is okay with it. This is something that he ascertains with her every time he sees or hears of something out of the ordinary, but she seems satisfied and happy enough, so he says nothing. Anyhow, the definition of "ordinary" seems to shift every time he thinks about it. Over the last few months, even before Prakash entered the scene, change has been the only constant.

He knows the others refer to her as “the bitch,” or “the whore,” and he is almost certain that the call Nawaz just  received has something to do with her.

During the game, Prakash and Nawaz have dropped enough hints to suggest that there is some kind of gangbang being planned and Swati madam is likely going to be the main attraction. There has been mention of another woman called Paro, but Ramesh doesn’t know her.

The plans seem to be imminent, as in probably next week or sooner. But he has no idea of the date, and even if he wants to be there and aware of the plan. Instead, he feels a great desire to go out and walk by himself.

“I’m going out, getting some air,” he announces to the room. 

Nawaz looks up from his hand and then to the bunch of bananas by the foot of the bed. “Sure, looks like we’re good for the time being.”

Ramesh lifts the trap door and descends the rickety wooden stairs, and wonders how Swati madam would negotiate these stairs if they brought her here. But then he remembers that she is slim and quite athletic. Those extended sex sessions surely took a lot of energy and effort. Yeah, she could easily make it up the stairs to their room. The question that keeps niggling at him is whether he is right about the plan. 

When he reaches the akhada after aimlessly wandering about in Bhim Colony for the rest of the night, the sun is just peeking over the horizon and a new day is born. Inside, it is too early for the wrestlers to have begun their exercises, and only guruji is there, having just finished up his morning meditation routine. 

Ramesh touches guruji’s feet and seeks his blessings. 

“What troubles you, my boy?”

Ramesh thinks about this before he answers. “I am in a bit of crisis of faith, dharamsankat,” he says carefully. “There is a Devi who I worship, but there are some people who bear ill will towards her.”

“Hmm. Is this someone you love, perhaps?” Guruji’s tone is gentle, tinged with playfulness. He has clearly underestimated the depth of Ramesh’s despair, the level of his indecision.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” Ramesh says, attempting to set guruji on the right course. “She has been very generous to me. She has some…some people might call peculiar tastes, but I worship her like a Devi. It was not always so…there was a time when I lusted for her, but the Devi ma, the goddess…she showed me the error of my ways. In a dream she came to me and showed me what I should do. It is a solemn promise I made many years ago in my youth, but I had forgotten. I lost my way, but I am okay now. So, the answer is yes and no. I do love her, but not in the sense I think you mean.”

What Ramesh says is true. He has indeed been reminded of his promise made long ago at the temple of the devadasis in a dream, a few weeks ago. He has since given up drinking. He is working on the smoking, but it is a harder struggle. Ramesh has no doubt he will succeed, though. In all things, he is strong, and he knows he will prevail in the end. 

“And what do you think you should do?”

This is guruji at his best. He never gives advice, simply helps you find what is in your heart, for what else is the best guide? In fact, Ramesh knows, he doesn’t even have to speak anymore. Guruji will understand.

Instead, he says, “If I do what I have to do, can I have sanctuary here?” 

Guruji takes his face in his hands. They are of a height, and neither has to look up nor down. For a long time, guruji stares into Ramesh’s eyes. Ramesh looks back, his conscience clear, and he thinks his eyes reflect that.

“Yes,” guruji says. “Your heart is pure. I am satisfied.”

[pro10]

wow new turn again

[S Darko]

The drive back is similar to the onward journey, and again it is Swati driving. Traffic is relatively thin this morning. Perhaps the morning commuter rush has abated, or maybe a sign of the holidays. Christmas was yesterday and there’s a week before the new year. Also, it is Thursday. 


Ashok is drowsing again. 

He drank too much at the Christmas dinner last night and of course he is hungover. 

She limited herself to two drinks, and those too were spread apart over hours. She knew this would happen—she would have to drive, and therefore the relative abstention. 

Swati is looking forward to the next week that she has off. She might have to do a couple of calls with foreign clients, but it shouldn’t take up too much of her time. She plans to spend time with Dhruv, some time to herself, perhaps a spa treatment. There’s a book she has meant to read for the longest time, and that too will be in the plans. Abhi too is off, so perhaps they will do a short trip, perhaps a date night. It has been a very long time since they’ve had one of those. 
It isn’t the sex so much as the intimacy she misses. 

The last couple of days and nights—from the day before Christmas, the day itself and the night that followed have mostly been in the character of a sex slave, a harem girl. Everyone, understandably, woke late on Christmas morning, and they were delighted to find small gifts for each of them under the tree that had magically materialized in the drawing room, complete with a lit fireplace. Mostly the gifts were sex toys or gag gifts, but it was fun nevertheless. The feeling the gifts evoked was of home and childhood, even though most if not all of them had ever had such a childhood. She supposed it was from reading all that western literature. 

The morning, or what was left of it, was spent getting the feast together—mostly the womenfolk. They were all in the same harem style clothes they had started the previous evening. No servants were about. Presumably they had the day off or something. 

As the women milled about in the kitchen, one or the other of the men would come in and pinch buttocks or cup breasts, sometimes sucking on exposed nipples, all in good fun of course. The previous night had been controlled debauchery, with most of the men getting together with most of the women at some point. Or so it seemed to Swati. So this was the lifestyle. Not too bad as things went. 

At one point, Swati remembered Aparna  bending over to take something out of the oven, and Baldev walkeds in. He was clad only in a pair of shorts—the house was centrally heated— and his muscles bulged under a generous matting of hair. He wasn't the hairiest man Swati had seen, but not by much. 
Baldev walked over to Aparna and held her by the waist. In one swift motion he pulled aside her pants, exposing her nether regions. Swati was a little surprised to realize the pants had a generous slit in the back, and she checked it on her own clothes. Sure enough, there was a large slit there. A lot of material yes, but there was an opening where it mattered.

In the meantime, Baldev had dropped his shorts, a loose pair of boxers, and plunged his rampant cock into his sister-in-law’s cunt. She screamed a little, but then accommodated him, the pie in the oven forgotten. Swati went to the couple and squatted down between them, watching the action up close. She experimentally gave Baldev’s cock a few licks as it exited Aparna’s cunt, but she had to be quick because Baldev was going at a furious pace. IT seemd to her that all he wanted was to come. He was merely using Aparna as a cum dump, an easily available hole. 

The remaining women went about their chores as though this was a daily occurrence, nothing to gawk at. But Swati saw Menaka and the others take peeks at the action from time to time. They must all have been exhausted from the nonstop sex last night, and yet here was Baldev for more. 

Baldev pulled out from Aparna’s cunt and without ceremony pushed into Swati’s mouth. She was surprised but game and gave him a blowjob as well as she could, given his large size. She tried to deep-throat him, but it was impossible.

“Guk…guk…guk...” She went each time Baldev hit the back of her throat, and soon she was drooling all over his member.

“What a whore this girl is,” said Aparna as she watched the action, no doubt feeling a little left out. 

Swati of course was in no position to reply. 

Sudha from last night walked over and watched with interest. She caressed Baldev’s ass and fondled his large, low-hanging balls, and he grunted in pleasure. 
Menaka said, “Man, these guys are insatiable,” and went on cutting her salad. Knives and sex don’t mix. Usually. 

Last night, Swati, Pravin and Baldev had tried very awkwardly to fit her into a double penetration, and after trying for a while they had achieved the required configuration. The problem, it turned out, wasn’t Swati’s inability to accommodate the cocks. Rather, it had been Pravin whose erection failed. Swati had to coax him with her mouth and once he had regained his erection, they had made it possible.

She had felt fuller than ever before, mostly because of Baldev, but she had been double penetrated before, admittedly with a cock and a toy, but DP’d to be sure. She wasn’t sure if it counted or not. But there she was, getting a good reaming of her ass and cunt at the same time. 

As she kneeled in the kitchen, blowing Baldev with Aparna occasionally getting into the action, her cunt started to lubricate again, and the insatiable itch hit her.

“Fuck me Ballu!” She gasped the words out and rose, grasping the kitchen island with both hands and presenting her backside to him, her holes framed enticingly between her round white buttocks. Aparna mimicked her action, and in a trice Baldev had two cunts or assholes to choose from for his pleasure. Four for the price of one.

That’s when Ashok and Abhi walked in to get refills of their whiskey and the situation devolveed into a free for all, right there in the kitchen. 

A long honk startles her back to the present. There is a truck with Jai Mata Di written on it that wants to pass her, and she has inadvertently been blocking it. She shifts lanes—not that anyone drives in lanes here—and the truck overtakes her. 

The driver, a heavily bearded Haryanvi from the looks of him, leers at her as he passes, and she is powerfully reminded of Baldev.

She is aware that her pussy is wet again. 

[abcturbine]

Sensational....erotic....Excellent..?..
Amazing narration...
Superrrr update....

[nostonari]

awesome

[Askk2me]

It's a good build up, looking forward to Swati being pimped.

[S Darko]

When they’re almost home, Ashok awakes. 


They discuss their plans for the week ahead, and Swati wonders again how they have avoided talking about the events of the last couple of days at all. It isn’t as though they hadn’t been involved in an impromptu orgy in the kitchen just the previous day. She has no idea how many women Ashok has fucked in the last forty-eight hours, although the upper limit had to be eight. She figures they will talk about it later, perhaps in bed. 

It isn’t that they haven’t talked about it at all. There have been snide and sly mentions of the last couple of days. Ashok saying, “That was something, wasn’t it?” And she replying, “Yeah, wasn’t it?”

Ashok saying something about Menaka’s boobs, or perhaps it was Sudha’s. How Abhi had probably spiked the drinks with ecstasy and possibly Viagra or perhaps something even more potent—“I lost out after ten orgasms!”—Something about Baldev’s staying capacity. The way he had stacked the women in the kitchen, fucking now one pussy, now the other, then the assholes in turn, while he, Ashok, had himself had been sodomizing the hostess on the kitchen island and Abhi had maneuvered himself into Sudha's mouth. 

“That scene will stay with me for a long time,” he says. 

Swati adjusts herself in her seat, wishing she were home. All the friction the car ride is generating is just adding to that edge. She isn’t sure how long she can go without getting her itch scratched. Perhaps as soon as they get home, she will attack Ashok. Hopefully he isn’t too fucked out, and there is still some Viagra left in his system. If not, well, there are toys. She watches as Ashok adjusts his crotch in the passenger seat. Hmm. Maybe he too is thinking similar thoughts. 

“So…that’s the lifestyle, huh?”

“It would seem so,” says Ashok. For him, too, this has been a first.

After a moment of silence, Ashok turns on the radio, tuned to an easy listening jazz station. The volume is turned low, so they can still speak with a background of music. 

“Babe,” he says. “The last few days were fun, but you think we should do it again?”

“Visit Abhi and Menaka again, or do this…swinging?” Swati keeps her eyes on the road. 

“Well…either. Or. Not sure. It could be both ways. We could go back to Abhi’s or find closer, um, playmates. What do you think?”

Swati knows about Ashok’s extracurricular activities, especially about the woman in Singapore or wherever. Perhaps this is a way for him to legitimize fucking other women. Perhaps a way to share his penchant for extramarital affairs as a joint hobby, little knowing what his own wife has been up to in the last several months. Kind of like a couple who is drifting apart, suddenly finding a shared middle ground. 

Before she can say anything, Ashok’s phone rings.

She can hear only half the conversation, something about oxygen, ventilators and the ICU, so Ashok switches it to speaker.

“Beta,” his mother is saying, “It’s been twenty-four hours and the doctors are still not sure.”

Evidently something has happened, probably to her father-in-law.

“Bauji?” She whispers.

Ashok nods, still on the phone. Her father-in-law, a businessman, had just returned from an overseas trip. Where had it been? Vietnam? China? Someplace like that.

“I’ll come over in a few hours. I was at a friend’s house, and the phone was on silent so I didn’t notice, but I’m almost home. I’ll drop Swati and come right over.”

He gets the address of the hospital and hangs up.

“Damn. I have to go see what’s happening.”

Swati has already understood the gist of the conversation. Ashok’s father is sick and in hospital. The details can wait. 

“Isn’t your brother there?”

“Yeah, but you know Arvind. Unreliable as usual.”

Arvind, Ashok’s younger brother by ten years, is flighty, unmarried and forever chasing pussy. In fact, even in the early days of their marriage, he had made a pass at her in classic Indian porn fashion. Ashok wasn’t home, and she had just stepped out of the bathroom in only a towel. He’s entered the room, pretending that he had come in accidentally. Swati wasn’t sure what he expected. Perhaps that she would drop the towel and let him play with her body? 

She’d screamed at him and kicked him out of the room in no uncertain terms. But, she muses, today, things might be different. He had a hard, chiseled body. Who knew? But now, her main emotion was irritation at the boy when she had a whole week planned with Ashok.

“So where the fuck is he?”

“No one knows. Been gone somewhere with friends for the last couple of days. Phone is switched off.”

“Fuck.”

They reach home in silence. Dhruv is still with her parents and will likely remain there until this business with Ashok’s dad is settled. One way or the other. Either will likely take more than a week. 

Fuck! Swati screams in her mind. 

[Kamalesh Nathan]

Excellent update

[Losliyafan]

Nice update

[S Darko]

The phone rings, and Nawaz puts it on speaker. 


“There’s some pressure,” says Nikolai in his accented Hindi. To Prakash, there is a hint of desperation in his tone. The guy, he thinks, talks like Bob Christo in the old Hindi movies. Not exactly like Christo, but it is surely a foreign accent. Nawaz has told him the man is Russian. Prakash isn’t sure what that means, having no idea of where Russia might be. Anyhow, was going on with this firangi fellow?

“Bhai, I will check on it today itself,” Nawaz says. Prakash thinks he looks worried. 

“Motherfucker! What do I pay you all this money for, huh? I want results and I want them now!”

Nawaz says, “One minute Bhai,” covers the mouthpiece and says to Prakash, “You told me she was gone for this week. Did you know or were you just…?”

He makes a wave motion with his hand, indicating that perhaps Prakash may have been bluffing. 

Prakash puffs up with indignation. “No! She told me herself.” He produces his phone and shakes it at Nawaz as though that is proof enough.

“Call her again and find out,” Nawaz hisses. 

“Just finding out again Bhai,” Nawaz says into the phone after taking his hand off the microphone. “Can I call you back?”

Nakul Bhai says “Okay,” and hangs up. That one word has urgency and threat all rolled into the two small syllables. And something else. Prakash thinks it is lust, but he isn’t sure.

Swati had told him before she left that she might be out of town for the week. He doesn’t know exactly what that means. Is it the whole week or part of the week. Does it mean she will be out of town the whole time, like visiting relatives, or will she be home and just not come to office? 

It’s not like their relationship, such as it is, lends itself to pillow talk about vacation plans. In fact, a pillow or even a bed has never figured in their many exotic couplings. Usually, he issues peremptory orders to be present and the location, almost always the conference room after hours, and she always follows through. 

On the rare occasion she cannot, she will reply quickly enough. They both use the same app and leave voice messages for each other. He addresses her as Bitch or kutti, and she calls him Malik.

He opens the app on his phone and records a voice message and sends it to Swati. 

He isn’t illiterate, but finds it hard to text people, especially when it is something complex. Hopefully, she will listen to it soon and respond. If she doesn’t, he has some special punishment planned for her. He doesn’t know what it is yet, but it will be special, he promises himself. 

“Bitch! Are you back yet? I need you to be available for something special. Revert as soon as you can.”

He knows the message will not alert her because it could alert others she might be with, but he is sure she will see it soon. She is supposed to check for messages several times a day. 

Those are his orders. 

[foogy]

this is a classic.. keep hanging by a thread

[pro10]

excellent update

[NovelNavel]

Good update

[S Darko]

Thanks all. 

[S Darko]

“Hello baby! We just got back from our trip, but Daddy has to go because dadu is sick.”


“But mo-om!”

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll come get you as soon as I can, maybe tomorrow. Aren’t you having fun with Nanu and Nani?”

“Oh yes, Nanu took me to see this really cool movie yesterday and tomorrow were going to the zoo. There are all kinds of animals there, like lions and tigers and deer…and, and…dinosaurs. So, it will be fun.” 

Dhruv proceeds to make animal noises that are supposed to be different animals talking to each other with snarls and roars, and to Swati they all sound the same. She doesn’t tell him that of course. 

They talk for a few more minutes, and then hangs up. 

Then she texts Parvati to see if she can come by in the evening to cook something. Perhaps they could eat together since no one else is home. She has started taking more notice of the rest of society, the ones she had previously ignored. Not that she was vain or anything, just the way things happened in her life. The very thought she is having of eating a meal with her maid is sign of progress. She wonders what’s next. Perhaps taking out candle light vigils or marching in processions asking for equal pay for equal work? 

A pizza. Suddenly, she has a craving for pizza. All the heavy Indian food she has had for the last few days have left her with a craving for pizza. A nice, thin crust, chicken and veggie pizza. She pulls up the app and orders. She puts in the time of delivery at 6:30 in the evening, just about when she feels she will want to eat dinner. But what about Parvati and the food she will cook? 

She shakes her head. Parvati can eat pizza with her, and maybe have a drink too. What a scene, she thinks, her maid and her, sitting together, splitting a pizza and having a drink. What would they talk about?

She giggles to herself and plans the rest of her day. Ashok disappeared almost as soon as they had reached home. The worry on his face was obvious. She too is worried about he father-in-law, but then he is an old man. The story is that he was had a cold and cough, and more recently difficulty breathing. He is in the hospital and they are planning to put in a breathing tube. 

As she puts the phone in its charging cradle, she sees a brief pop-up message that disappears almost instantly. Unless one knows the app and where to find it on the phone, it is very secure. Ashok surely cannot figure it out. It is something she has shown Prakash when he insisted she communicate with him by cell phone. 

She knows Prakash has sent her something, but she is tired and even though it is not yet noon, she feels the need to take a nap. A long nap. She will make an omelet, the quickest thing she can make and sleep. Later she can see what Prakash wants. Not that it will be a mystery, but surely he can wait. Plus, her organs need some time to rest and recover too. There has been way too much action going on lately.

It has been a week almost since she has seen Prakash and the distance has given her a little bit of what? Courage? Something. SHe doesnt feel quite as scared of him or subservient. It is more like he's a playmate, maybe a little aggressive, but a playmate nevertheless.

Swati wakes up after a long and much needed nap and rubs at her eyes. The clock on her bedside table reads five in the afternoon. She has slept for three hours. God, she needed that rest. She feels sluggish, but it is the sluggishness that comes from an afternoon nap. A cup of tea will fix that. 

Maybe a quick bath. Bath or shower, she wonders. She settles on a bath. There is the familiar tingle in her nether regions, a feeling she has been having with increasing frequency these days. It is like an itch she cannot scratch and intense fucking is the only thing that settles the feeling. That too for a while. It always return, regardless of what she is doing. A bath, perhaps with a toy or two, she decides, might be exactly what the doctor ordered. For a brief moment she flashes on the doctor, the one she went to see for her “bruises.”

The good doctor has been texting her since that first appointment where she had to blow him. He’s had her tested for the common sexually transmitted diseases and she has come out clean. So far. He wants her to call him Appu, not Arvind or Dr Grover. The name is a hangover from tha Asian games mascot around the time he was born. He suggests they do some role play, perhaps a doctor-patient type scenario? All this on WhatsApp, with its end-to-end encryption. Not much good if her phone should fall into the wrong hands though. You didn’t need to be an IT person for that. 

Swati has so far not responded to him, wondering at his lack of imagination even for a role-play situation, but thinking of him has made her a little extra horny. Perhaps in the next week when there is not very much to do, maybe a tryst with him might be fun. At least a diversion. She would have to look reluctant of course, being blackmailed and all. 

In the last few months, Swati has become quite the consummate actress. Well, maybe not consummate, but she can ham it up with the best of them. Playing a sex slave, a slut wanting nothing more than a stiff cock, or a patient in distress, all come naturally to her. 

She hasn’t seen her friend Neetu in a while. She has been updated on the fucking in the office, but not that there is a new guy in the mix. She thinks it is still Ramesh that is fucking her, and Swati hasn’t clarified the situation to her. Not even the new participants in the game—Inder and Ganesh, and who knows who else Prakash will bring into the mix. She owes Neetu an update, but perhaps the truth might be too raunchy even for for adventurous friend? 

She thinks about it while she sends a “hey” emoji to Neetu. There is no reply. Perhaps she is tied up, she thinks. Haha.Neetu has a predilection for BDSM, and being tied up is one of her favorite things. Sex things that is. 

She hasn’t opened the secret app and heard Prakash’s message yet. After her bath, she thinks. 

She brews herself a cup of tea while the bathtub fills with warm water, just the temperature she likes. She sets out her two current favorite toys and lays them out on the ledge of the tub—a large black dildo and the pink small one that had so fascinated Ramesh, and later Prakash. She plans to do a little double penetration of her own, one in which she has all the control. 

She reflects on this a little. In the last few years, every time she has masturbated, it has been using video clips of gang bangs, invariably ones where the woman, usually a busty one like herself, is being fucked by at least three, if not more, men. Her favorite position is reverse cowgirl where the girl can be seen spread open and ready and completely vulnerable. She wonders why she hasn’t insisted on more double penetration in the last few months when she has had access to more cock that she has ever gotten before. 

In reality, Baldev and Pravin are the only ones that have done a true DP on her. 

Perhaps she can convince Prakash? She thinks about it and dismisses it. Prakash is probably too homophobic for that kind of thing. The closest he has been to another dick was when Ganesh was in her cunt and he in her mouth. Perhaps Prakash just didn’t know that such a thing could be done? Was that possible? She might be the one to teach him new tricks, she thinks.

When the tea is ready, she carries it in one of the travel mugs that keep it warm and undresses. She catches sight of herself in the mirror and sees not a single mark, not one bruise on her body. Those guys were really nice, good sex, but the raunchiness, the cheapness, the intensity she craved was missing. It wasn’t like she was a nymphomaniac, well, maybe just a little bit, but what she really craves is the rough treatment from Prakash, and probably other people like him. 

She has had time to reflect, and it seems to her that Baldev was right. The class divide is an especial turn on for her. There is risk and danger in that, she knows, but she is in too deep, and isn’t sure she wants to put an end to it. Not yet anyway. It doesn’t occur to her that she might not be able to end it even if she wants to. 

She wonders if Prakash would ever do more than fuck her in the office. Would he ever get up the guts to just carry her off to his place—she imagines a shack, perhaps made of waste planks and pallet wood and plastic corrugated sheets with nothing more than a basic cot on the dirt floor. A thin cotton mattress and a thinner pillow, stinking of his sweat, and probably semen. There might not even be a proper door, maybe just a sheet of plastic over the door frame. She has seen such things in movies. 

She has never seen the reality of Bhim colony. There, in his small hovel, Prakash would tie her up, perhaps to the bed with her legs spread wide open and tied behind her head, both her holes available to all and sundry. Perhaps he would hang her from a beam in the ceiling, legs held or tied akimbo, and fuck her senseless. Perhaps his friends would come in too and partake. 

A regular train of men, one after the other. All fucking her one after the other as she takes then doggy style, in the ass, in the cunt, sucking them back to hardiness as they flag. The vision of this scene sends an uncontrollable frisson of excitement through her, like an electric current she is powerless to control, and her pussy dampens. 

She shakes her head, steps into the tub, and adjusts her toys. The beauty was these worked even under water, even if they were completely submerged. In fact, they were designed to work underwater, in situations where they were fully engulfed by hot, moist flesh. 

And so, when her pink toy is safely ensconced in her asshole and buzzing merrily away and her large black dildo is pistoning in and out of her very wet pussy, she sighs and lowers herself into the warm water. Initially it is a little too hot, but she holds on, anticipating the pleasure, and slowly lowers herself. It adds one more layer to the decadent sensuousness of the situation and soon she is hip deep in the water, her hand working the dildo also under water, the jacuzzi blowing strong jets of water on her aching body, her holes stretched by two toys, and feeling very, very satisfied. 

When she is finished, she finds she had sloshed quite a bit of water over the sides in her enthusiastic masturbation session, but no matter, Parvati will be here in any minute now, and she will clean up. Worst case, she will drop a couple of towels on the mess and they will eventually dry out. It is cold outside, but inside they have heating and the temperature is a nice and toasty twenty three degrees.

She is just drying herself, paying special attention to the region between her legs—it wouldn’t do to leave it too moist because of fungal infections and so on, especially with all the action in the recent days, and the slightly rough towel feels good on her cunt lips. Also, she has just shaved again and the pubic arrow is pristine with smooth, clean edges. 

She wonders if she should change up the design. Maybe just a triangle? It is hard to get the arrow right every time, and it does take a while to do. Perhaps a simpler design. Or maybe just shave it clean altogether? What would Prakash think? What would Ramesh say? She hasn’t thought of Ramesh for a while, having accepted his weirdness about not touching her sexually.

As she sets the towel down, the doorbell rings. It is one of the new doorbells that can be programmed to play songs or any tune, but they have never bothered to do do anything with it. It just goes ding-dong. 

Swati frowns. Parvati has her own key. 

Who could this be?

[anjali]

Love the update

[pro10]

This update is different as there is more on thoughts and it shows the literal prowess you have.
Thanks for daily updates

[S Darko]

It is almost five in the evening and already getting dark when Prakash puts his glass of cheap country liquor down with a crash. 

He and Nawaz have been drinking and brainstorming, and Prakash says the best way is to go to the bitch’s house and find out. If she isn’t home, perhaps there might be a caretaker or guard or maybe a main that would let them know when madam is returning. The bitch is after all not returning his calls. He is tempted to actually call her, but holds off.


“Let’s go,” he says. 

“Are you sure?” Nawaz looks uncertain, perhaps a little worried. 

Prakash can see the dilemma pulling him in two directions. On the one hand he isn’t sure if he want to go to a posh locality and confront a high class lady like Swati. He has seen pictures of her and her slutty behavior, but he hasn’t actually met her. On the other hand, there is Nakul Bhai and the man is dangerous. 

He is aware that there are more powerful men behind Nakul Bhai, but he doesn’t know who. 

“Only one way to find out.”

Ramesh isn’t at the chawl today. Earlier he’d said he would go to the akhada and work out with the pehelwans, and hasn’t been seen since. Anyhow, good riddance, Prakash thinks. The man doesn’t even drink alcohol anymore. He just broods and smokes.

“What if she isn’t home?” Nawaz’s voice is a little shrill, reeking of desperation. 

“We’ll figure it out when we get to that point.” Prakash tries to look more confident than he feels. One of them has to take charge. But doubts assail him. 

What if the bitch is indeed not home? And what if there’s no one around to ask.

“Prakash bhai, you know the address, right?”

This is another stumbling block Prakash hasn’t contended with. He sits back down heavily and pours himself another glass. He picks up a few peanuts and chews them meditatively. He takes a deep drink of his liquor, makes a face. 

Then he snaps him fingers and picks up his phone.

“Inder bhai?”

“Yes…who’s this?”

“It’s me, Prakash.”

“What do you want, fucker?” Inder’s voice is a snarl.

“Oh, nothing, just thinking of having a party with a few friends.”

“Oh?” Inder sounds interested, hopeful even.

“Yeah…I was wondering if the bitch might want to participate…so I was going to go get her.”

Prakash hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t planned to invite Inder, but he had no choice. The fat IT man was the only one who had her address.

“What should I bring?”

Prakash has a ready answer for that. “Chocolates? And some English booze?”

Inder looked the type to drink foreign liquor. He still thought of it as foreign liquor, even though he knew some if not most of it was manufactured in India. Some in Haryana and even his own state, Uttar Pradesh.

“Done,” Inder says. Prakash hears computer keys clacking, and then Inder reads out an address.

“I’ll come to your place directly,” Inder says. He doesn’t question whether Prakash is sure Swati is home or not. Prakash thinks there is some way he knows where she is, but he has no way to be sure. Perhaps he tracks her phone. He has heard there are ways such things might be done, but of course has neither the education nor smarts to know.

Nawaz is staring at him open-mouthed.

Prakash hangs up and says, “That’s how it’s done. Hang with me, baby, and there’s no end to the stuff you’ll see.” He says “baby” in English. Then he winks elaborately.

They arrive at the big house just as it is getting dark. It is a standalone house, and the one thing it screams is “money.” And lots of it. 

Prakash is a little intimidated by the wrought iron gate, but there is no gatekeeper and the door too isn’t locked. With trepidation, he unbolts the small door set inside the large gate, making certain that his companions don’t see his nervousness. 

Once inside, he ascends the marble stairs and approaches the front door. He hesitates before he rings the bell. He turns around to look at Paro and Nawaz. 

After they got in the auto, Nawaz had detoured past the whorehouse and picked up Paro.  “She would be good to have along on the trip,” he explained. Prakash hadn’t understood the rationale, but went along with it. 

And now, here there were. 

Prakash hasn’t seen the bitch, as he thinks of her in his head, for about a week, and he wonders if things have changed in that interval. Nah, he decides, the whore is probably just being lazy, ignoring his message. He will teach her a lesson, slap her around, fuck her ass hard, and she would be fine. 

He presses the bell. 

Ding dong, it goes.

Ding dong, he thinks. These rich fuckers. Ding dong indeed. 

Then, as an afterthought, he pushes Paro in front of the peephole set into the door, Nawaz by her side, hanging on to her arm possessively.

[pro10]

next update will be interesting to see ❤️

[creamydelight]

Ohh... Not before the pizza ?