Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[Johnnythedevil]

Very interesting

[anjali]

Super

[abcturbine]

Mind blowing.....

[Gopal Ratnam]

wonderful

[S Darko]

Mahender cannot believe his luck. He has hit the mother lode for sure. For years, he has struggled on the fringes of the film industry, such as it is in the Delhi area, simply because he has no connections to go to Mumbai, and has been waiting for his chance to make it big.


This slut is going to be his ticket, he decides. 

There isn’t much by the way of hardcore BDSM type movies in India, not good quality anyway, and he has an idea that this slut might form the kernel of his new enterprise. He might be able to raise some money, but he feels the imperative to strike out on his own. 

As soon as possible. 

He goes over the list of people who might be willing to lend him money, perhaps go into partnership with him. He, Mahender, would bring the talent and the know how, and the other partners would bring the money. That way if, in the unlikely event things went south, he would not be left holding the bag. They would all lose. 

But that wouldn’t happen. 

Not with this kind of talent available to him. 

Not with this Swati madam. 

The woman is exquisite. Her body is perfect, her attitude is perfect, and her approach to sex, any kind of sex, is also perfect. There is no question in his mind that she is a porn star born. 

In fact, after the first few fucks, he went easy on her, not wanting to mark her in any way or ruin the talent.

How old was she? Perhaps in her late twenties or early thirties? That was fine. She could work for at least five years, maybe more, now that there was a trend with older women in porn. 

The very thought of her makes his dick rise again. It must be the fifth or sixth time this night, and that is a record for him. He needs to calm the fuck down and get some sleep if he is to make his shift at ten in the morning. 

He has big plans to shoot several hardcore movies with the best talent he can find, and this woman would be the jewel in the crown. 

Once his OTP platform is established, more and better talent would flock to him. This was India after all, a land of over a billion people, and the income potential was unimaginable. 

He tries to breathe regularly, smoothly, hoping sleep will come, but it doesn’t. 

Ideas crowd his mind. He has several scripts he has worked on. They can only loosely be termed scripts, but they are situations where a man and woman might find themselves, have a few lines of dialog before they settle down to some hardcore action. 

The scenes are no more than a page long, but he has realized in his career, that people like a little story before the main action starts, and it lends some authenticity to what the movies are. 

There would be lesbian stories, regular boy-girl scenes, multiple men with one woman like it had been upstairs. His mind wanders to the lesbian scene. He’d seen Swati and Paro make out, and he thinks that could be a winner. Perhaps if he replaced Paro with someone with better looks?

He is no Ashutosh Gawarikar. 

He of all people knows that, but who knows, in a decade or two, porn could become mainstream. 

High class porn like what he intends to shoot, of course, not the low budget, low class, cheap shit that floats about on the internet these days. 

He has some footage on his phone that he will edit, enhance and finalize. 

Why, this might be the start of his OTT platform. He can already see the name on the banner, “Mahender Adult Films Release.” 

He could release footage of Swati as a teaser before the viewer is blocked by a paywall. Furthermore, he has only the foggiest idea of how to set these things up. 

He will ask the IT guy, Inder about how to set it up. It might be better to have the servers in a different country where the government wouldn’t or couldn’t interfere. Yeah, that was the way to go. 

Tomorrow, today actually, he thinks, the sounds of intense fucking finally settling down to silence upstairs, he will talk with Prakash and Nawaz and see how he can get the woman alone and talk to her. She seems to be the rarest of the rare type—doing this kind of thing just for the love of it. He had been taken aback because while he’d heard stories of such women, he had never actually seen one. 

He goes over all her positive points; she has a fantastic figure, large natural breasts, and the ability to take cock in every hole. Plus, she can squirt. 

During the night, when she had been writhing on the floor after a particularly brutal fuck, Mahender had inserted two fingers into her cunt and vigorously massaged her G spot until she squirted in his face. Squirting is not common, but it is huge in porn. 

He gets another idea. He can sell the films directly to the big porn producers. Breakers, or Find Your Kink, and he could make mega bucks on that kind of a deal. 

He needs to talk to one of the guys in his porn job, someone who might know how to get this done. He thinks he knows just the guy. Perhaps they could go in as partners?

He will get Swati’s number and text her, and go from there. He thinks he will send her a sexy image of herself, one of the many he has saved on his phone. 

And that’s his last thought as sleep finally takes him.

[pro10]

My guess was wrong then.
thank you for the update.

[abcturbine]

Very well crafted.....
Sensual update.....

[pro10]

AT29C try this. Expires Sept 10th.

A friendly reminder for those who want to read "wages of sin" from smashword site, absolutely free, using the code.
Do use it before it get expired.

[fuckandforget]

Nice update

[Askk2me]

No updates in long time? Please keep this threat going.

[pro10]

No updates in long time? Please keep this threat going.

Of course there will be update, when there will be right time.
The author is one of the most responsible writer here, even more than the popular ones; if you have observed lately. May be at times there are other priorities to settle out in everyone's life, but stick to the story and I believe update will come soon. Again.

[Chitrarassu]

Nice going

[S Darko]

Sorry everyone for the delay. I will be posting an update soon, maybe tomorrow, but then I will be going on a hiatus;  I cannot predict how long that will be. I may or may not be able to post during that time. Some kind of family situation that I did not foresee. 

Sorry about that. And thanks for bearing with me.

S

[S Darko]

Arvind regards the magnificent walled compound and the guarded gate from his mirrored safe place in the drivers seat. 

The uniformed sentry gives him the dead eye despite the fact he has driven up in a swanky car. The Mercedes usually shines enough in anyone’s eyes that they never question his credentials, but this guard seems to be made of sterner stuff. Perhaps he needs a chauffeur to impress this guy.


Slowly, he gets out and lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke out in soft puffs, signaling calm. 

The guard seems to soften as well. It is a few days after the new year, and even though he had vowed to stop smoking, that resolution only lasted a couple of days. He has since crept back to his previous pack-a-day habit.

His father is still in the ICU, and now his mother too is starting to show signs of the same disease. She is still at home, but Arvind thinks from the way she coughs, she too is probably headed to the ICU. It seems to him it is only a matter of days. 

The doctors believe it is some kind of virus out of China, although there is no confirmation, nor any definite treatment beyond the basic supportive treatment. 

Ashok has been spending a lot of time at the hospital, having taken a long period of time off from his work. 

Swati too, shows up from time to time, and everyone is worried.

Arvind walks up to the gate and says, “Nikolai Saab?”

The guard stares at him for a minute before he pulls out a ledger. 

“You have appointment?”

“Yes, I called him a few days ago.” 

Arvind had called a friend in Delhi, a Punjabi guy he knew that was openly fucking his sister-in-law, and sometimes pimping her ass out as well for the connect, and had been richly rewarded. 

The man, Baldev, had not given him the phone number for Nikolai, but instead had called and made the appointment for him. Arvind knew that people in this line of business didn’t openly give out visiting cards and usually kept their phone numbers secret.

The driveway is L-shaped and the main door out of sight of the main gate. 

When he rings the doorbell, he has a longish wait. He stands on the highest step and drums his fingers on the stair rail.

 A fully naked, magnificent specimen of womanhood opens the door. 

His breath catches as he takes her in. 

She is tall, about five feet ten, maybe more, in her red heels, which is the only thing she has on. She has a fantastic figure. Her breasts are high and large, standing proud of her chest like a teenagers’, marred only by the plastic surgeon’s scar at the bottom of each boob. 

“Mr Arvind?” 

He nods, not trusting his voice. It isn’t everyday that he is greeted by a gorgeous naked woman at the door. 

Her face cannot be called beautiful, plain in fact, bordering on mannish, but she is definitely striking. Her  features are broad and prominent, and even though she is made up, he can see she has had fillers in her lips and cheeks. 

He isn’t sure where to look, alternately looking at her face and then away, but her body pulls his eyes back, and he notes in quick fleeting glimpses that she has no scars other than those under her breasts, her cunt is clean shaven, and that she has very little fat on her body, there being the hint of a six pack on her flat belly. 

Her whole body has a sheen as though she has been oiled. He attempts a nonchalance as though being greeted by naked women is all in a days work for him. 

“Follow me please,” she says and turns. 

Her manner is neutral, neither arrogant, nor deferential. 

She is completely unselfconscious that she is stark naked and he is fully clothed. It is a good thing the house is heated he thinks, as he follows.

Her ass cheeks dimple with each step, and her hips swing from side to side in the most enticing manner as he follows her into the large house. 

The house is somewhat darker than the outside, and he can catch quick glimpses of her pussy lips winking in and out from between her ass cheeks, as she takes each step. 

She finally stops at a larger wooden door that stands partially open but Arvind has been so busy focusing on her ass that he almost bumps into her. He has to hang on to the door jamb to keep his balance and when she turns, he can see the ghost of a smile on her face. 

She steps aside and Arvind can see a white man sitting on an overstuffed wing-back chair, his face in shadow. 

The man is large, and the wings of the chair that would have dwarfed a lesser man seem to sprout from his shoulders, giving him a vaguely Darth Vader like look. 

The man has a beard that is between blonde and brown and so is the hair on his head which are heavily gelled and combed to stand up in front. 

His features are neutral, almost Indian, Arvind thinks, except that the man is clearly white. Perhaps some mixed blood in his genealogy?

He looks powerful, something in the breadth of his shoulders, the depth of his chest. Even though the man is sitting down, Arvind thinks he is probably close to six feet tall, perhaps more. Muscular, but going to fat. Probably eighty, ninety kilos in weight.

The most striking thing about the man though, is that his trousers are around his ankles together with his underwear, a checked pair of boxers, and Arvind can see his erect cock bobbing slightly with each heartbeat. 

It is a fantastic specimen, this cock, simultaneously the most fascinating and ugly member he has ever seen. The color of it is pale, paler than the rest of him, like a mushroom, and the cock is very large, but the interesting thing is that it is knobby, like a sitaphal, except that it is longer like a mooli, rather than spherical. Also, he is completely clean shaven there. 

Arvind tears his eyes away lest the other man catch him looking. He is no homo, and he wouldn’t be caught dead examining another man’s penis. 

He looks around at the stark white walls, the large dark stain on the wall as though someone had spilt tea or something. 

There is almost no furniture in the large room. Nikolai is probably a minimalist, but not when it comes to women. 

The woman goes to Nikolai, kneels between his legs and starts sucking his dick as though she had just been interrupted in a chore and now has to get bak to it. 

The man pays her no mind other than to grunt his pleasure.

“Arvind?” There is no hint of any foreign accent, and Arvind thinks this man must have spent a lot of time in India to lose his accent.

Arvind nods. He steps into the room and closer to the man. He thinks twice aabout extending his hand, but seeing that Nikolai has seemingly no inteest, thinks better of it.

There is an empty chair, similar to the one the man is sitting in, and Arvind sinks into it. 

“Nikolai?”

“Yes, yes, I am Nikolai,” he says. 

Then, in Hindi, he says, “What can I do for you.” 

Now there is an accent, but Arvind, for all his sophistication cannot think where the accent is from. Certainly not Russian because he knows how Alexei speaks. This man’s accent feels like it is put on. A make believe accent that might pass for any generic white man mangling Hindi.

“I have a proposition for you,” Arvind says. He pulls his phone out and brings up the picture and holds it out to him. The girl continues to suck away at the monstrous cock and he tries to ignore it. 

Nikolai seems not at all put off by the situation. He appears to consider it normal and acceptable. 

It could be that Nikolai believes this is some kind of power play, and Arvind feels the faint twinge of resentment. He cannot imagine the arrogance it would take to do this kind of thing.

The man has money, power, and naked women to service him even when there are visitors. 

The woman makes loud slurping sounds and when Arvind glances at her, he can see a long string of saliva trickle from her mouth to the mosaic floor.

Nikolai takes the phone and for a second Arvind thinks there is a reaction. Surprise, he thinks, but the man’s features quickly go back to a careful neutrality.

Nikolai clears his throat. “What about her?” He puts a hand on the girl’s head, forcing himself deeper into her throat. 

“Gluk, gluk, gluk…ggggkkkkk.”

He lets up the pressure and the girl pulls her mouth off him and takes a couple of greedy breaths. Her lipstick is gone now and her mascara is running. 

Then she goes back to sucking, now using both hands to masturbate him as well. Her hands are small, and she needs both hands to engulf the girth in addition to the portion in her mouth.

Arvind pulls his eyes away with some effort and concentrates on Nikolai’s face. 

“I believe you have a deal with Alexei about this one.”

“Maybe,” Nikolai allows. “But what is that to you? You don’t know her, do you?”

For a moment, Arvind is nonplussed. Does this man know the truth? That the woman is his sister-in-law? That he has a personal and nefarious motive for this little piece of business? 

If Nikolai knows, and he lies, he could be in trouble. But then, the chances he knows would be slim. Or would it? He decides to roll the dice.

Arvind takes a big breath, thinking, here we go. The moment of truth. “No, nothing like that. I want to have a day or two with her before…before, you know, she goes away.”

Nikolai doesn’t even blink. “I see. And what are you willing to pay for the privilege?”

Arvind names a number, and Nikolai doesn’t say anything. He closes his eyes and moans, enjoying his blowjob. He caresses the woman’s head with one hand, affectionally like one might pet a dog. 

The woman redoubles her effort.

Arvind names a second number, then a third.

Finally Nikolai opens his eyes and says, “That sounds fine, but why don’t you take her from Alexei directly? You are his friend, business partner, no?”

Arvind knows, and Nikolai knows and they both know that the other know the reason, and Arvind just shrugs and says nothing.

“You’re getting her, right?”

“Maybe,” Nikolai concedes. “I will let you know. It maybe a month or two.”

Arvind nods and starts to rise.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Nikolai says, “How rude of me.” He points at the girl between his legs, and looks up at Arvind. “You can fuck her if you want. She is very talented with her vaginal muscles.”

Arvind feels torn. It would be great to fuck this woman, she is so perfect. But then, this is business, not pleasure. 

“Thanks, but I have to go.” And before he can change his mind, he turns and walks back to the main door. 

As reaches the door, he hears Nikolai say, “Alright, now get up and sit on it.”

There is a sensuous moan, presumably the woman as she settles herself on his cock, but by the time he has reached the door and let himself out.

Arvind reaches his car and lights another cigarette as he unlocks the door. 

He wonders at the man he just met and ponders the strange accented Hindi he spoke. 

It sounded almost like a parody of a foreigner in the movies. Weird. 

He takes a puff, opens the door to his car and is suddenly doubled over with a coughing fit. 

He desperately blows out the smoke he has inhaled, looks at the cigarette he is holding as though for clues. He throws the cigarette away and coughs over and over, his hands on his knees. When the coughing subsides, he tries to catch his breath. He feels breathless, a little dizzy. 

He spits the saliva that has collected in his mouth all of a sudden and finds it frothy and pink. 

Must be the pan masala he had earlier, he thinks.

He should go home, pour himself a stiff one and relax. 

Watch a movie maybe. Even though it is only mid afternoon. 

[pro10]

Thank you..
world is a better place to live in because of responsible people like you.

[abcturbine]

waiting

[Ashbot]

[abcturbine]

Missing your writing dear....
Kindly continue...

[creamydelight]

Please update

[S Darko]

Sorry for the long delay. I have something going on that prevents me from allocating the necessary bandwidth to this story. Thanks for patiently waiting. Here is an update. Enjoy.




Swati and Neetu have lunch.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker!” 


Neetu is simply amazed at the revelations Swati has made over their lunch. “So, you’re doing regular orgies with the low class, and that too in the chawl in Bhim colony!”

Swati has been telling her story, catching her friend up on her shenanigans over the last couple of months.

“So, what, back up. Let me get this straight. First you were giving nudie shows to this Ramesh guy, then you were fucking him in the conference room of your office…”

“No, no, I never fucked Ramesh.” Swati giggles. “Not yet anyway. It’s on my list of things to do.”

Neetu frowns. “Seems to me like you have taken forever to get to first base with that guy! So who is it again you were fucking?”

“A security guy called Prakash. And the IT guy, Inder. Then there was this chaiw,.' called Ganesh.”

Swati goes through the sequence of events as best as she can as they sit on the outdoor table at a fancy restaurant having lunch. It is late February, and the two friends are sitting in the same al fresco place they’d met last time. 

Neetu has been out of the country for a while, and just returned from Belgium. The day is cold, but sunny and both their jackets are off, dbangd over the chair backs. Neetu has been given the gist of the happenings, and she is ruminating on them and asking for details. Deets, like she likes to say, "Give me the deets."

“So the guy just picked you up from your house wearing nothing but a towel? And then took you in an auto to his chawl!”

Swati giggles. “That’s pretty much what happened. Although, I wouldn’t say picked me up. More like kidnapped me.” She fills in more blanks about Paro and Prakash and Inder, and then the new guys that were there, Nawaz and Mahender.

“Mahender tried to contact me a few times. He’s a porno director of some sort. He does good work actually,” she said when Neetu made a face.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re not going to do that, are you?” Then seeing Swati’s expression she says, “No! You’re going into porn, girl? Really?”

Swati shakes her head. “No, not really anyway. There’s a bunch of my videos that are on the internet, I’m sure, but I don’t think it is recognizable as me.”

“Babe, this is a slippery slope you’re on. Better call it quits while you can.” Neetu picks up her glass of sweet tea and sips while looking thoughtfully at her friend over the rim. 

She casts around for the waiter and finally catches his eye and beckons him over. 

“Can we get martinis? Vodka please.”

The waiter raises his eyebrows as though in surprise, or perhaps in censure. Who drinks martinis in the middle of the day? But he nods and scurries off.

Swati continues. “Oh, but I can call an end to it whenever I want! I’m in control here. I know I have to call Prakash Malik, but it’s not like a slave-master relationship in any case.” 

Swati feels unsure of what she has just said, but part of being an executive in the corporate world involves lying confidently. The truth is that she has been feeling a little apprehensive, definitely so after the last time she was at the chawl. 

The two women sat in the mild sunshine, sipping their drinks, eating their delicate starters in companionable silence. The martinis arrive, and they sip at it. Swati nods and says, "That's good."

“How was Belgium? Did you get any action there?”

Neetu laughed. “Not much, but I did get into a threesome. There are two kinds of Belgians, you know? The French speaking and then there are the Flemish. They generally hate each other, but maybe not like so bad as like the caste or religion things in India. Well, they basically tolerate each other for the most part. Anyhow, the French, as you know, are very romantic. Very liberal and open with marriage and stuff. So I was at this meeting in the afternoon with these people and one of them suggested I should come out with them for a drink after work. I thought it was harmless, because there were a lot of people, but in the end, it was just me and three other guys. Then as the evening progressed, one of the guys begged off because he had to take his daughter somewhere, so that left me and the two guys, both single, and then, well, one thing led to the other and we ended up in bed in one of the guys’ hotel room and…”

“And?”

“Well, they fucked my brains out. Both of them, one by one, then teaming up. All night long. I even got a DP, my first one. Wait, no, does oral and ass count as a DP?”

Both of them burst out laughing at this technicality. Neetu tells Swati some more about her foreign tryst, and all Swati can think is it was so bland, so vanilla compared to her own experiences. 

Swati tells Neetu about going back to the chawl on her own accord—not forced by Prakash or anyone—at least three times after the Christmas gangbang. 

She'd shown up at the chawl unannounced, much to Prakash’s surprise, but he had adapted to the situation without missing a beat. He had rustled up the required participants and given her what she needed. That time some of the men had been rough, very rough in fact, and she’s had bruises on her tits and belly for almost two weeks. 

Thankfully, Ashok’s time had been fully taken up with caring for his parents, and he’d barely visited home to shower and change clothes. 

Swati has been satisfied each time by the prolonged sessions of intense and sometimes painful sex. 

Ramesh was there one of those times, and he'd stayed and watched for the bulk of the session, then taken her back home. She had noticed the somewhat disappointed expression on his face as she prostituted herself for these common people, but he hadn't said one word in censure. 

On second thoughts, she thinks, she hadn’t exactly prostituted herself—she hadn’t been paid after all. In fact, she’d have paid them if they wanted. She wasn’t sure what the appropriate word was for her behavior, but she thought "slutted herself" would work best.

That day she had performed double and triple penetrations with aplomb, with Mahender, Prakash and Nawaz, and a couple more of the slum residents. The old auto w,.' had finally gotten into the act after swearing everyone around to silence. He was perhaps the most pathetically grateful. 

Mahender had upped his game considerably, now using better lights, sometimes a green screen and other accouterments that allowed him to produce a better end product. He had even shown her some of his footage that he stored on an external hard drive, and she had to admit it looked good. He was still casting about for a good partner, one who wouldn’t rob him. 

For her part, Swati wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for a new career in porn, even though her existing career in IT seemed increasingly distant these days, and her family in disarray. 

Ashok was still spending a lot of time in the hospital. Both her parents-in-law were in the ICU, sick from what they were calling the Chinese virus, and her brother-in-law, Arvind, was also not doing very well either. 

Dhruv, who’d been enrolled in a new college near her parents house was spending a lot of time there, and she was either commuting between the hospital, her parents' house, her own house, or work. She had been using up a lot of her sick time, but no one seemed overly concerned with that since many people were in the same boat, either sick themselves or caring for someone that was sick.

And always, the chawl that called her back with increasing insistence every time she went there, like the sirens that called out oh so enticingly to Odysseus on his journeys. But unlike Odysseus, Swati had no self-control to lash herself to a metaphorical mast and avoid acting on the call. She heeded almost every call, and went willingly to be manhandled and ravaged for hours at a time.

She was addicted to the sex and the surroundings, she finally admitted to herself. During the day, whether she was in a conference call, in the boardroom or sitting in the ICU, the naked, rough boards of the chawl room would pop into her mind. Boards that were sometimes her only view as she took cock after cock on her hands and knees in the doggy position. She dreamed about the ropes binding her, suspending her, the roughness of the manhandling, the crude comments, but most of all, the cocks in her orifices. Sometimes, admittedly, they were toys, especially when the men were exhausted, but there was something in one or more of her holes almost all the time.

Moving in and out, reaming out her holes, unending friction, her nerve endings screaming in pleasure. 

She would unconsciously open her mouth, gasping a little when a remembered orgasm flooded her mind. Once, her boss had asked if she was okay, and guiltily, she had brought her mind back to the meeting, the present.

The sessions in the conference room were long over; Inder had returned to his home, some place in Madhya Pradesh. His parents were sick. 

There was a collective sense of the entire country holding its breath, waiting for God knew what was going to happen. A feeling of the end of times was upon them, no one was sure what tomorrow would bring, and people lived from day to day without concern for what the morrow would bring. 

In the meantime, life continued like a facsimile of the real thing; restaurants and offices were open, buses and trains and taxis and autos continued to work, although there was the palpable sense that there were fewer people on the streets.

Neetu snapped her fingers in Swati’s face. “Earth to Swati, Earth to Swati, come back!”


Swati started and sat up. She’d been daydreaming, zoned out. “Sorry, I was…”

Neetu chuckled and said, “So, tell me more about the “glory hole” thing. That sounded exciting.”

“It’s a long story,” Swati said, “if you have the time!”

“Sure,” said Neetu. 

And Swati launched into her story.