Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)
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The waiting room outside the ICU is large, sunny and comfortable. Instead of the usual plastic chairs and stark decor, this room is well appointed with several comfortable, upholstered chairs, and has a coffee machine, snacks and a magazine rack that has current issues. 


Ashok is napping in one of the corner chairs when Arvind walks in and wakes him up by putting gentle pressure on his shoulder. 

Bhaiya, it’s me, Arvind,” he says when he sees the confusion in Ashok’s eyes. 

Arvind sees the recognition dawn in his older brother’s eyes. Ashok is only four years older, but in their parents’ eyes, has made so much of a success of himself compared to his relatively shiftless ways.  

“Oh, hello Arvind.” Ashok’s voice is flat, emotionless as he takes in his brother’s presence. It is clear from his tone that he hadn’t expected Arvind to show up this quickly, if at all. But Arvind understands this. By giving them no expectations of himself, he has now the power to surprise and shock.

“How’s Bapu?” This is how they’ve always called their father. 

“He’s…um…what they call it, stable. He has all these tubes and such in his body, and he is still not doing well, but at least he is not going downhill.”

“What is it? Heart attack?”

“No, no. It is some kind of lung infection they think he got from China. They seem to be having an outbreak of it somewhere…Suhan, Wuhan, something like that.”

“Oh.” Arvind has heard vaguely of some illness that has being going on in China for the last couple of months, but he hasn’t paid any attention. It’s not like it’s in their backyard. 

“Hopefully, he will be better soon. I have some work… I mean, I can stay for a few days, but then I have to go.” He looked up at Arvind, who still stood over him. Arvind knew what he was going to say, and already resented the question before he asked it.

“What’s your schedule like, Arvind? Can you stay here, help out?” Arvind knows his older brother is needling him, his lack of gainful employment, but it still surprises him that no one wonders how he is able to afford the Mercedes he drives, or the expensive clothes, and the accouterments.

“How’s Bhabhi?” He says instead of replying. 

He emphasizes the word “bhabhi” in a derisive way, as though it wasn’t a completely respectable word denoting his sister-in-law Swati. He had taken to saying ‘bhabhi’ in that way ever since the day she had spurned his advances. 

She is something, even when fully clothed, and when he saw her in only the towel after a shower, he couldn’t help himself and propositioned her. Of course, he’d been waiting for such an opportunity and spied on her whenever he could, but that was not the main issue here. He’d seen Indian porn that showcased such things, and the bhabhi always gave in. 

He allows that at the time he'd been in his teens, and what he'd watched was porn, wherein the bhabhi allowed herself to be seduced by the devar, and in some cases actually did the seduction herself. Of course, if the seduction failed, if nothing happened, it wouldn't have been porn. 

Overall, he estimates, perhaps fifty percent of such cases of devar and bhabhi end up in bed after the former propositions her, but he has no idea about the real numbers. There are no actual polls or studies or anything on the subject, after all.  

Regardless, he feels, there must be a certain percentage of women who gave in to their brothers-in-law. 

But then again, definitely a certain percentage that said no. 

Sometimes he thinks she was right to do that, to spurn him, to deny him the heavenly experience that her body surely was, but she could have been so much nicer. Perhaps she could have let him down gently, lovingly, like a bhabhi should,  with maybe the promise of revisiting the issue at a later date. 

But the way she had actually dismissed him, like a small boy, someone of no consequence, had really riled him. 

She had slapped him. Had she? In his repeated imaginings of the event, he has magnified certain things, and he is no longer sure if she’d slapped him or not, but he goes with it. The bitch had slapped him. He’d been no more than a poor horny, frustrated teenager, and she could have been kind. She was giving herself to his older brother, and it wasn’t like she would lose something if she shared with the younger brother too. Of course, it would have to be kept secret, and that he understood. But no, she didn’t want any part of it. 

As he stalked out of the room, his face red and stinging (he remembers the pain of the slap even now, and probably the imprint of her fingers on his face when he looked in the mirror), hot tears threatening to overflow his eyes, he promised vengeance. He would get her for sure. Maybe not that day, maybe not that year, but some day for sure. 

The feeling hasn’t abated at all, and if anything only intensified over the ten or so years since the incident, as he sees her at different family events, always clad in tight, form fitting clothes. 

Even in a saree, there is something slutty about her. 

And then there are all the Facebook and Insta posts with selfies and pouting lips with her girlfriend, what’s her name…Neha? Neetu, yeah, that’s right, Neetu. That little tease. 

But Swati is the bigger tease, he thinks. Some day he would fuck her, either literally or figuratively, or both.

Ashok simply nods and says, “So…you’re not busy, right?” 

Arvind knows his brother suspects that there is bad blood between his wife and his brother, but he doesn’t think Swati has told him the specifics. He wonders why. Is there a loophole he can exploit? 

He thinks that is probably why Ashok has skirted the question he asked about bhabhi. The evasiveness irks him. He is also fairly sure Ashok thinks he is a philanderer. Which, while not far off the mark, also irritates him. 

“I have to check,” Arvind says churlishly. He pulls out his cell phone and plops down on one of the cushioned chairs, leaving one chair empty between them. “Where’s Mai?”

“I sent her home to rest.” Ashok has the business times spread out on his lap and avoids looking at his brother. 

Arvind grunts. 

His phone dings. He glances at it. 

There’s a message from his friend and partner, Alexei. 

It’s on the secure messaging app that deletes messages after a certain period, leaving no trace. 

There’s a photo attached to the message. 

Making sure Ashok can’t see his screen, he taps on the photo.

What he sees makes his heart leap straight into his mouth.

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I was expecting this long ago like there is some more to this video making thing..its not only limited to foreigners only
anyway thanks for the update.  Heart
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very nice
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Swati regains a sense of space and time, and the awareness that the men have allowed her to enjoy her orgasm for quite a while.  

They have, it seems to her, been watching her with awe. It is possible none of them have ever seen a woman come like that—with that intensity, or even someone squirt. Prakash has, of course, and Swati is aware that she sometimes squirts when she is being ass fucked and has what is called an assgasm. 

This time, what she had was a combo of assgasm and vaginal orgasm. A DP of sorts, although she would welcome a real DP with these dudes. 


Nawaz approaches her and helps her sit up, and once her breathing is even, positions her on all fours. 

She is aware what is coming next, or at least she thinks so. It is incredible, but no one has been in her cunt, her main fuckhole yet, and she’s already had a few incredible orgasms. Other than the pink vibe of course, but in a surfeit of real cocks, the toy doesn’t count. 

Her after office dalliances have usually been limited to an hour or two because there is always the pressure of returning home. 

But today she has no such pressure. There is no one waiting at home, Ashok is busy in the hospital, and Dhruv is with his grandparents. 

Inder sits down again in front of her, his floppy cock at half mast, ready for one more round of fellatio. The guy seems to be insatiable. He may have taken a pill or something, she thinks. 

Normally, he has one orgasm and then he is done for the day. He is also the only one among the three men who would have access to such pills; Prakash and Nawaz are relatively low class, uneducated, and probably ignorant. 

But these days, who knows?

She takes Inder’s slimy member into her mouth for the second time that evening and starts to suck, hoping someone will fuck her pussy soon. And almost as though the universe were conspiring to make her wishes come true, it starts to happen. 

Swati becomes aware of unremitting pressure at the entrance of her vagina, a pressure such as she hasn’t felt for a long time, not since she has given birth to Dhruv. 

From her imagined place, floating near the ceiling, she sees the huge mushroom head of Nawaz’ cock trying to breach the entrance to her cunt. 

She sees her outer and inner lips smashed, stretched and distorted like they haven’t been before, the ring of her vagina dilating, pulsing, taking a breather, then dilating some more. 

Her cunt has one job to do right now, and it is to get large enough to let this freakish intruder in.

She opens her mouth wider, still with Inder’s cock in it and breathes deep, relaxing her muscles, willing her cunt to open, relax, to let the giant lollipop into her love tunnel. 

And slowly, like a mole tunneling into fertile soil, the cock head slips in with a slurping sound, like a vacuum seal being released. 

There is no pain but incredible pressure as he takes her from behind, the pressure most intense around the urethra. It is incredible, this sense of stretching. 

She opens her mouth and pants around Inder’s rapidly stiffening cock. He seems to like her hot breath on his prick and murmurs appreciatively. Some more urine escapes her in the excitement. 

“Oh, yeah, do that more,” Inder says.
 
“Guk, guk,” she says, agreeing with him.

But Nawaz is in. 

His cockhead, the glans, the head of his monstrous cock is deep in her love tunnel. 

She can feel only the wide head of his cock, the rest being of more modest dimensions. But the toilet plunger analogy is apt, for it is the cock head of his that does the most magic, stimulating the G spot, deeper and harder than anyone has ever done before.

And the man has moves too! He grabs one of her legs and raises it in the air, changing the angle of his so far gentle thrusting. 

He pulls back only a bit before pushing in again. Each stroke comes at a different angle, and Swati is soon screaming with ecstasy around the meager cock in her mouth. 

Inder pulls her head into his crotch in an effort to shut her up, and yet her screams continue to emanate, albeit muffled by Inder’s massive thighs.

Swati feels her orgasm building. Already! She barely has time to appreciate it before it hits her, and then undulates through her. 

For the next ten or so minutes as Nawaz fucks her with varying intensity and angles and technique, she experiences, for the first time in her life, a continuous rippling orgasm, over and over, unending.

She feels faint, the lack of oxygen from her face being forced into Inder’s lap taking its toll. She has no idea if the fat man has come yet, and she doesn’t care either. 

She hears a muted groan, a cry like a wounded animal. Then she feels rough hands pull her away from the obese man and turn her around. The cock in her cunt is suddenly gone, and she feels even in that dizzy moment as though something valuable has been  lost. 

And then Nawaz is spurting in her face, her mouth, and it’s like a fire hose, and she swallows and tries to breathe in the face of his spurting orgasm. 

When she regains her senses, she sees there has been an addition to their cozy little group. 

There is a new man, about Prakash’s height and weight, darker by a few shades. He has a hungry, lustful expression on his face, and there is no question about what he is leering at.

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the pressure most intense around "mut ki chhed" haha.
Intense update but please give swati an airtight experience.
she wants. we want. Probably the would be audience of her video too.
Heart
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With these low class men, she will get AIDS soon and she will be in killing spree after that.
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Excellent update
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Nice one
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Marvelous
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Brilliant progression so far and hot scene writing as always. Keep rocking!!
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Hottie story
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Ramesh gives up around midnight as the proprietor indicates he wishes to close up. 

He realizes that he has been thinking of the man as “the '. Proprietor,” not knowing his name even though he has been frequenting the establishment, such as it is, for many months now.


Chacha, what is your name?”

The man looks startled, as though this was a strange question. He takes a few seconds to process the question. 

“Rashid,” he says finally, “Rashid Mohammed.”

“I am Ramesh,” he says, “Ramesh Awasthi. I live right there.” He points at his building. “On the third floor…”

“I know beta,” Rashid says. “I have seen you with the other two guys you live with, Nawaz and Prakash." He makes an expression of distaste when he says the two names, as though he has bitten into a particularly bitter karela

“You don’t like them?”

Rashid clears his throat and spits into the gutter. “Bhadwa hai sala, that Nawaz is nothing but a pimp.”

Ramesh knows this to be true, but never had any definite confirmation. 

“You saw the two women that came in?”

Rashid scrutinizes Ramesh’s face. “Yes? You mean Paro or the madam?”

Paro, so that was the woman’s name. 

He wonders where he’s heard the name before. Probably from Nawaz, he decides. There must be some relationship between the Madam and Paro.

“Paro, yes, that who I mean.”

“She’s one of his whores. I believe she also works as a maid. Part-time job, you know?”

An auto, making a noise like it is going to die any second, rolls into the street. They both turn to look at the somewhat unusual sight, this late at night. The vehicle passes them and disappears out of sight at the other end. 

A street dog that has been sleeping on the pavement comes to life, barks a couple of times at the retreating auto, then goes back to sleep.

Ramesh turns back to Rashid. “And Prakash?” 

“Looks like he’s going that way. Can’t say I’ll be sad when their end comes. Their expiry date gets moved up once they enter this kind of life. Always trying to make a quick buck, always trying to victimize people.”

“I see,” Ramesh says, because he has nothing more to say. 

It is clear to him that the old man has a keen eye and knows what happens on the street. He is probably a fount of information, only he doesn’t need anything. Not right now, anyway. And also, he thinks, the old man is quite judgmental.

“What do you think of me, chacha?” Suddenly, and urgently, it is important to Ramesh what this random old man thought of him. He feels somehow that the man should think well of him, not associate him with the pimps and whore mongers his other two roommates evidently are. He looks at the old man with some anxiety.

Rashid narrows his eyes and looks him up and down. At length, he says, “Pehelwan right? Hanuman bhakt, right?”

Ramesh’s eyes go wide. “How do you know?”

Rashid shrugs. “I know. I just know.”

“And do you know what is going on in there today?”

Rashid squints, and stares at Ramesh for a long time. “You’re not a cop are you?”

Ramesh shakes his head.

“Good night then, shabba khair. And take care.”
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poor Ramesh. Usne fall tora kha baaki log rahe hain.
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“Mahender,” Prakash says by way of introduction. “He’s a film director.” 

This isn’t strictly true because Mahender is really a sort of spot boy, a gofer, but so what. 

What Prakash has only just found out is that Mahender works in the porn film business. 

When he went down to fetch the man, he had told him about the orgy in progress upstairs, and Mahender had volunteered the information that he worked making porn films.


“I see all these girls naked all day, every day. But they’re usually the dark, ugly and fat chicks. Low grade movies for the mass market, the social media sites and so on,” he says. “We almost never get any high class maal. Not like the English ones…sometimes, truth to tell, I don’t even feel aroused when I see those chicks naked.”

“Well, my friend, you’re in for a treat today because what I have up there is exactly what you’re looking for.”

And then they were through the trapdoor and in the upstairs room, Prakash leading the way, and watching Mahender’s expression raptly. And boy was he rewarded. It was so gratifying to see the raw lust on his face when he saw Swati twitching on the floor in orgasm. He could not have scripted it better or chosen a better moment to enter the room. He did see that Mahender glanced briefly at the naked Paro but did not dwell there. 

Now, he watches as Mahender literally has his tongue out, panting like a dog with a bitch in heat in front of him. 

Kya maal hai bhai, kya maal hai!” Mahender’s voice is husky with lust. “Asli boobs?”

Prakash laughs. “Hundred percent asli hai Mahender bhai, there’s nothing fake about this one.” 

He praises his smartness at first finding and then training this world-class slut to perfection, conveniently forgetting the role his roommate Ramesh played, and that it was all a huge coincidence that he is in this position at all. He is too busy patting himself on the back for that level of insight. 

Mahender has no words. All he can do is watch with huge eyes the absolute spectacle of the big titted, beautiful woman writhing in ecstasy on the floor. After a while, Swati subsides into a wet mess on the floor, dirt streaked and still looking impossibly beautiful, and Mahender takes his eyes off her and looks around. 

When he sees the three phones propped up against the walls in strategic locations, he lights up. 

“You guys are shooting a porno!” 

It is so obviously not a question, and Prakash says nothing. 

“You should have told me before, I would have brought better cameras, lights, maybe even a couple of real porn actors…”

“Never mind,” Prakash says, “You’re here to have fun. So have fun.”

“But Prakash bhai, I have stuff—ropes and gags and other stuff they use in porn movies. If she can take some pain, that is.” He casts a doubtful eye at the woman on the floor.

Prakash notes that she is starting to recover. That’s good. Time for some more action.

“No worries bhai, she can take pain. In fact, she loves it!”

From the floor, now partially sitting up, legs still spread with her pussy on full display, Swati uses her right hand to heft her breasts. First one, then the other.

“All hundred percent real,” she says. “And yes, I like cock, in every hole. I can take pain too…are you a specialist?”

“Arre bhai!” Mahender gasps. “She speaks Hindi!”

“What did you think? She’s a firangi or something? She’s from right here in Gurugram…or maybe Delhi.”

“Y-yes, I mean no, I mean, she’s so fair and beautiful.”

Prakash cackles like a crazy person. 

Swati laughs and says, “You look at a naked woman in a chawl, looking to get fucked, and you’re impressed by what language she speaks?”

Mahender gapes at her as though looking at a ghost. “Bap re!” He wipes his forehead.

Prakash starts laughing again, and soon Nawaz and Inder and even Paro join in the merriment. When they’ve subsided a little and Mahender is looking suitably chastised, he says, “Ok bhai, I’ll go get the bag of tools.”

Something strikes Prakash. “Wait, before you go, take a look at this bag.” 

He offers him the bag he has brought from Swati’s house. It is a large gym bag of cylindrical design with a semicircular zipper on the top. It is from her that he has removed the ball gag earlier, as well as the pink vibrator that now lies partially under one of the beds.

Mahender opens it and starts tossing the collection of dildos, gags, a butt plug, nipple clamps on the floor, and also a pair of padded handcuffs together with a key. He nods with satisfaction with each item he removes.

“This is all good stuff. But, I have more. I’ll be right back.”

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Thank you for the update.  Heart
Its imminent that there will be more action from here.
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Nice narration
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Great update friend
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