Misc. Erotica One evening & Night in Alibaug - Actress Anusha Sharma

[oojasalda]

Anusha’s fingers tightened on his thigh, her grip surprisingly strong as she pivoted, hooking her leg around his waist and pulling him forward with a sudden, feline force. The momentum sent Keshav crashing onto the mattress, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp as he landed between her trembling thighs. For a heartbeat, they simply stayed there, chests heaving in a frantic synchronization. He looked down into her eyes and saw a hunger that mirrored his own—a raw, predatory lust that stripped away every title and pretense. She wasn't a star or a socialite in this dim light; she was a woman consumed by the need for the man before her.

Reaching down, Anusha wrapped her palm around the pulsing heat of his length. He was rock hard, a throbbing pillar of desire that seemed to vibrate against her skin. With a slow, deliberate precision, she guided the broad, blunt head of his cock to the entrance of her pussy. The contact was electric; the slick, velvet heat of her folds met the rigid strength of his shaft. As she pressed him inward, the girth of him began to stretch her lips, parting them slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Anusha let out a jagged breath, her hips tilting upward to invite him deeper, her legs locking around his waist like a vice to ensure there was no gap between them.

Keshav groaned, the sensation of her tightness nearly breaking his resolve. He leaned forward, his large hand cupping the back of her head as he captured one of her heavy, aching breasts in his mouth. He sucked the nipple with a primal intensity, swirling his tongue around the peak while his lower body continued the relentless forward drive. Anusha hissed, a sharp, guttural sound of pleasure that echoed through the silent room, her back arching as she felt him claim more of her internal space. The friction was immense, a searing heat that blurred the edges of the room until there was nothing but the feeling of him filling her.

With one final, powerful thrust, Keshav surged forward, burying the entire length of his dick deep into the depths of her cunt. He felt himself bottom out, reaching a place of intimacy and pressure that felt sacred and forbidden. He was stretching her, filling every crevice of her being, claiming a territory that felt exclusively his. Anusha’s eyes flew open, her pupils dilated with ecstasy as she felt the sheer mass of him anchor her to the bed. The fullness was overwhelming, a physical invasion that left her breathless and shaking.

For a long moment, they simply remained frozen in that peak of connection, the silence of the room replaced by the sound of their synchronized, ragged breathing. Keshav didn't move, savoring the crushing grip of her walls around him, while Anusha clung to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin. The power dynamic had shifted; he was no longer just the man who guarded the gates, and she was no longer the goddess on a pedestal. They were two bodies fused by a raw, animal hunger, stripped of everything but the urgent need to lose themselves in one another.

Then, the rhythm began. Keshav started to withdraw, sliding out slowly, teasingly, until he was almost gone, before slamming back into her with a force that made the mahogany bedframe groan. Anusha let out a loud, melodic moan, her hips rising to meet every strike, her body craving the depth only he could provide. He moved with a slow, deliberate power, each thrust designed to maximize the friction against her clitoris and the stretching of her walls. The sensation was hypnotic, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed over them in rhythmic intervals.

As the intensity climbed, Keshav leaned down, his chest pressing against hers, his lips finding the sensitive curve of her neck. He began to whisper in her ear, his voice a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through her core. He told her how beautiful she was, how he had dreamed of this moment since the first day he saw her, his words mingling with the wet sounds of their joining. Anusha responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her breath hot against his skin. She felt the build-up of tension reaching a breaking point, a coil of energy winding tighter and tighter within her.

She shifted her weight, arching her back and tilting her pelvis to change the angle of his entry, wanting to feel him hit the very back of her cervix. The change in friction sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she felt her internal muscles clench around him in a series of involuntary spasms. "More," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Give me everything, Kaka."

Driven by her demand, Keshav accelerated the pace. His thrusts became shorter, faster, and more urgent, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the slickness of her arousal acting as a lubricant for their frantic dance. The world outside the bedroom door ceased to exist; there was only the scent of their combined sweat, the sound of their colliding flesh, and the overwhelming sensation of becoming one.

As he pushed deeper, he reached a level of intimacy that felt almost spiritual. He could feel the rhythmic pulsing of her walls, the way she gripped him with a desperation that mirrored his own. Anusha’s eyes flew open, her gaze locking onto his, and in that moment, they shared a silent understanding—a recognition of the raw, untamed hunger that had driven them toward one another.

The sensation was an explosion; he filled her completely, stretching her walls with a girth that felt overwhelming and divine. Anusha let out a loud, unrestrained cry, her eyes rolling back as the fullness of him claimed her. He began to move with a primal, rhythmic intensity, his hips slamming against hers with a wet, slapping sound that echoed through the silent room. Each stroke was a revelation, a raw collision of two worlds colliding in a desperate search for pleasure.

As the pace quickened, the room blurred into a haze of sweat and gasping breaths. Keshav’s movements became more frantic, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, anchoring her as he drove himself deeper and deeper into her. Anusha met every thrust with a fierce intensity, her nails scratching down his back, her voice a series of melodic moans and shattered pleas. The tension built to a fever pitch, a coil of electricity tightening in the pit of her stomach until it finally snapped. She felt herself beginning to peak, the first waves of an intense orgasm starting to crash over her.

Keshav felt the shift in her, the way her grip tightened and her breathing became shallow. He didn't slow down; instead, he pushed harder, his movements becoming more primal. He wanted to feel every inch of her, to leave an indelible mark on her soul. With one final, powerful surge, he drove himself deep into her, his body shuddering as he released his hold on the world and surrendered himself to the pleasure.

Anusha let out a long, low moan, her body vibrating with the force of her release. She felt the warmth of his seed filling her, a sensation that brought with it a feeling of completion and contentment.

They collapsed into each other, their skin slick with sweat and exertion, their breathing the only sound in the golden room. For several long minutes, neither moved, simply savoring the heavy, humming silence that followed the storm. Anusha rested her head on his chest, listening to the frantic drumming of his heart slowing down to a steady beat. She felt a sense of peace she hadn't known in years—a raw, honest connection that existed far beyond the curated perfection of her public life.They lay there for a long time, their hearts beating in unison, their breath mingling in the quiet of the room.

The silence was only broken by the distant sound of the wind in the trees, a reminder of the world they had momentarily forgotten. As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver stripes across the bed, Anusha shifted slightly, feeling the lingering warmth of him inside her. She looked up at Keshav, whose eyes were still clouded with the remnants of passion. A small, knowing smile played on her lips. "You know," she whispered, her voice a silken thread of mischief, "your birthday gift is technically over, but I think we can find time for a second celebration before the sun comes up."

[oojasalda]

Keshav’s heart leaped at her suggestion, the thrill of a second round igniting a fresh spark of desire. Yet, as he looked around the opulent master bedroom—a space defined by luxury and the heavy presence of her husband’s status—a sudden wave of possessiveness washed over him. He wanted her in a place that belonged to him, away from the gilded reminders of the life she led. "Madam," he whispered, his voice gravelly and thick, "one request. May we move this to my quarters? I want you where the world cannot find us."

Anusha paused, considering the request. Anusha searched his eyes, finding a raw possessiveness that thrilled her. There was no reason to deny him; the risk of the midnight stroll only added to the electricity humming between them, the setting far more rugged, and that was exactly why she smiled. "Why not," she murmured, her eyes flashing. "Lead the way, Kaka."

Keshav rose from the bed with a primal grace, his muscular frame silhouetted against the dim light. Without a word, he reached down and scooped her up into his arms, lifting her with an effortless strength that made Anusha gasp. As he carried her, her soft, heavy breasts crushed against his broad, calloused chest, the friction of their naked skin creating a searing heat. He carried her through the moonlit garden, the midnight breeze biting at their damp skin, creating a shivering contrast to the fire burning between them.

He navigated the shadows until they reached his modest quarter—a simple space consisting of a small kitchen, a cramped bathroom, and a single room dominated by a narrow wooden bed. As he laid her down on the rough sheets, Keshav paused, staring at her with an intensity that bordered on hunger. She was the first woman to ever grace this humble sanctuary, a cinematic goddess resting upon his meager bed. He looked down at his length, which had softened slightly in the transition, and murmured, "Madam, please... help me find my strength again."

Anusha didn't need a second invitation. She shifted onto her knees, her eyes locked onto his as she wrapped her manicured fingers around his semi-erect shaft. She began a slow, rhythmic handjob, her grip firm and knowing, before leaning forward to envelop the head of his cock in her warm, wet mouth. Keshav let out a low groan, his hand migrating to the back of her head to guide her depth, while his other hand found the underside of her breast, mauling the soft flesh with a rough, possessivie urgency. Anusha let out a muffled moan, spitting a bit of saliva onto the growing shaft to enhance the glide, sucking him with a focused intensity that brought him back to a throbbing, rigid state.

"I think I am finally ready," Keshav breathed, his voice thick. Anusha slid him out of her mouth, looking up at him with a predatory smile before leaning down to press a lingering, teasing kiss to the bulbous tip of his dick.

"Turn around for me, Madam," he commanded, the shift in his voice from servant to master sending a fresh shiver of heat through her. "I want to feel you from behind."

Anusha didn't hesitate. She shifted on the narrow bed, turning her back to him and dropping onto all fours. The position arched her spine perfectly, thrusting her shimmering, polished ass into the air and presenting her glistening pussy to him like an open invitation. She felt the rough texture of his cotton sheets beneath her knees, a stark contrast to the silk sheets of the main house, and the raw simplicity of it only heightened her arousal.

Keshav didn't plunge in immediately. He gripped his own length, guiding the broad head of his cock to the entrance of her heat. He began to brush against her, sliding the tip of his dick across her clitoris and the wet folds of her labia in a slow, agonizing tease. Anusha let out a sharp, guttural hiss, her hips bucking instinctively as she craved the fullness of him.

"Please, Keshav," she whimpered, her voice strained.

He answered her with a powerful, singular surge, driving the base of his cock deep into her pussy with a heavy thud of colliding flesh. Anusha exclaimed, a loud, melodic cry of surrender that echoed off the cramped walls of the small room. The sensation was overwhelming; without the cushioning of a mattress, she felt every vibration of his body, the raw power of his thrusts echoing through her entire frame.

The rhythm of the narrow wooden bed became a frantic, percussive heartbeat against the silence of the quarters. Each time Keshav drove himself into her, the frame groaned under the weight of their combined passion, a raw, unvarnished sound that stripped away the last remnants of Anusha’s polished exterior. She felt the rough texture of the cotton sheets scratching against her knees, a grounding sensation that made the sliding friction of his cock feel even more intense. He wasn't the polished, careful partner she was used to; he was a force of nature, his movements driven by a hunger that had been suppressed for far too long.

The narrow wooden bed shrieked in a rhythmic, frantic cadence, acting as a metronome to the wet, slapping sounds of their collision. Anusha was no longer the poised actress or the curated trophy of a sporting dynasty; she was a creature of pure sensation, her head thrown back, her spine curving like a bow as Keshav hammered into her. With every deep, bruising thrust, a loud, melodic moan ripped from her throat, echoing off the whitewashed walls of the small quarters. She clung to the rough sheets, her fingers digging into the fabric, feeling the raw, unbridled power of him filling her to the brim. They fucked with a desperate intensity, a primal urgency that suggested the world might end the moment they stopped, their bodies slick with a cocktail of sweat and shared heat.

But fate, as it often does, played a cruel game with the shadows.

At the threshold of the room, dbangd in the velvet darkness of the midnight hour, a figure stood motionless. The door had remained ajar, a sliver of golden lamplight spilling out into the corridor to illuminate the scene in fragments. From the darkness, the stranger watched, his breath hitching in his throat. He couldn't see the woman’s face—she was positioned on all fours, her head buried in the pillow—but he had a panoramic view of the exquisite architecture of her body. He saw the shimmering, porcelain fairness of her skin, the way her hips swayed with a hypnotic rhythm, and the heavy, rounded curve of her ass as it was repeatedly claimed by the rugged man behind her. The stranger had lived a life of grit and grey, and he had never seen such a creature; she looked like a sculpture carved from moonlight and desire.

He remained paralyzed, captivated by the symphony of her pleasure. The loud, unfiltered moans of the woman reached his ears, each one a testament to the intensity of the act. He watched the way her back arched, the way her skin flushed a deep, roseate pink under the strain of ecstasy, and the raw, animalistic way the groundskeeper gripped her waist to drive himself deeper. The stranger felt a surge of heat ignite in his own gut, a voyeuristic thrill that made his heart hammer against his ribs. He was an interloper in a sanctuary of sin, witnessing a collision of worlds that should never have met.

The stranger stepped back slightly, his eyes never leaving the sight of the fair-skinned woman as she let out a particularly loud, shuddering cry of release. He knew he should leave, or perhaps speak, but the magnetic pull of their passion kept him anchored to the spot. He was the ghost in the machinery of their pleasure, an unexpected guest invited by a series of mundane errors. Kanta had left the iron gates open in her haste, and Keshav, blinded by the lure of the goddess in his bed, had forgotten to slide the bolt shut.

[oojasalda]

Kundan Kaale had spent the better part of his sixty years blending into the shadows of the outskirts, a man whose skin was as dark as the midnight soil he tread upon. In the neighboring estate, he was known simply as "Kaale," a nickname that served as both a descriptor and a label of his station. Tonight, the oppressive humidity of the monsoon season had dbangd a heavy blanket of lethargy over him. Standing guard at the gate of the adjacent farmhouse, Kaale felt his eyelids drooping, the rhythmic chirping of the cicadas acting as a hypnotic lullaby. To stave off the slumber that threatened to claim him, he decided to trek over to Keshav’s quarters. The two men were kindred spirits—same age, same kind of kindled hardship—and their nightly chats were the only luxury they truly owned.

He had noticed the main gate standing wide, a rare oversight for the meticulous Keshav. A flicker of worry sparked in Kaale’s chest; he walked the gravel path with an accelerating pace, wondering if something had happened. As he neared the small quarters, however, the silence of the night was shattered by a sound that made him freeze in his tracks: the guttural, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin, punctuated by the high, melodic wails of a woman in the throes of absolute ecstasy.

Panic and curiosity warred within him as he reached the door, which stood slightly ajar. Peering through the gap, Kaale felt the air leave his lungs. He saw the broad, weathered back of a man he knew well—it was undoubtedly Keshav—but the woman he was claiming was something from a dream. She was perched on all fours, her skin a luminous, porcelain white that seemed to glow against the dim light. From his angle, Kaale could see the exquisite curve of her side-breast and the rhythmic, hypnotic thrusting of her perfectly sculpted backside. He had never known Keshav to be a man of such appetite, nor had he ever seen the groundskeeper with a woman, let alone a goddess of such blinding fairness.

Anusha’s skin didn't seem like skin at all, but rather a luminous, iridescent veil that glowed with an inner radiance.
remained frozen, his chest heaving, mesmerized by the way the woman’s body rippled like water under Keshav’s powerful thrusts. To Kaale, the rhythmic slapping of skin and the guttural cries of ecstasy weren't merely the sounds of sex; they were the sonic vibrations of a cosmic union. He watched, transfixed, as the goddess arched her back, her breasts swaying in a hypnotic dance, convinced that if he stepped closer, he might catch a stray spark of that divine energy and be blessed with youth or fortune. The sheer audacity of the scene—the raw, unbridled lust of the man and the ethereal surrender of the woman—felt like a religious experience, a glimpse into a world where the boundaries between the mortal and the divine were blurred by the heat of desire.

Unlike the soft-hearted Keshav, Kaale was a man of blunt edges and sudden movements. The voyeuristic thrill had peaked, replaced by a surge of adrenaline and a need for answers. He stepped firmly into the room, his heavy boots clicking against the floor, breaking the spell of the erotic symphony. "Keshav! What in the name of God are you doing?" he barked, his voice raspy and commanding.

The reaction was instantaneous. Anusha let out a sharp, strangled gasp and violently ducked her head, twisting her body to bury her face deep into the rough cotton of the bedsheets, her heart hammering against the mattress. Keshav spun around, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and terror, his chest heaving. Yet, in the chaotic blur of the moment, a primal instinct overrode his panic; he didn't withdraw. He remained buried deep inside Anusha, his rigid length still acting as an anchor within her pulsing heat, as if retreating would only make the intrusion more permanent.

Anusha froze, her breath hitching in a jagged, suspended moment of terror. The shock of the intrusion sent a cold spike of adrenaline through her veins, but as the initial panic subsided, a strange, rebellious heat ignited in its place. She was a woman used to the spotlight, to the gaze of millions, yet here she was, stripped of every layer, caught in the most intimate act of her life. The risk was catastrophic; the fall from her pedestal would be absolute.

[oojasalda]

"What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get into the quarters?" Keshav roared, his voice cracking with a mixture of panic and protective rage. Despite the shock, he didn't pull away; he remained anchored deep inside Anusha, his body acting as a living shield to obscure her pussy from the intruder's view.

Kaale didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a heavy, deliberate step forward, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. From his vantage point, Anusha was a vision of ivory silk and trembling nerves, her face buried deep into the pillow, but her back was arched, her shoulder blades protruding elegantly against the rough sheets. The sight of her skin—so pale and luminous compared to the dim, dusty room—sent a jolt of raw temptation through him. He leaned in, his gaze lingering on the curve of her waist and the way her body shuddered beneath Keshav.

"I think you forgot to lock the gate, Keshav," Kaale rasped, his voice thick with a newfound amusement. "Seems you were far too occupied with your... duties to remember the bolt."

Keshav’s mind flashed back to the chaos of the evening—Kanta leaving in a rush, the gate swinging wide in the wind. He had been so consumed by Anusha’s scent and the promise of her skin that the world outside the bedroom had ceased to exist.

"I forgot the gate, yes. Now leave! We’ll talk later," Keshav commanded, his muscles tensing as he tried to shield Anusha from the voyeuristic gaze.

But Kaale didn't budge. He stepped closer, his heavy boots thudding on the floor until he was standing nearly over them. His eyes were locked on Anusha’s exposed back, tracing the dip of her spine and the elegant, trembling curve of her shoulder blades. Because she had buried her face deep into the pillow to hide her identity, her hips were thrust upward, presenting her nude, porcelain-white form in a way that felt like an offering. The contrast between her luminous skin and the rough, brown sheets was blinding. Kaale’s gaze lingered on the point where Keshav’s dark body merged with hers, his own breath hitching with a sudden, primal temptation to reach out and touch that forbidden silk.

"I came here worried that something had happened to you," Kaale murmured, his eyes roaming over her. "But here I find you in such a... state."

Anusha felt a wave of cold terror wash over her. She remained frozen, the rough fabric of the sheet pressed against her cheeks, acutely aware that she was completely naked, exposed, and still impaled by Keshav. Every second that passed, the reality of her vulnerability sank deeper. She knew the sounds she had made—the loud, uninhibited moans of pleasure—must have reached this man’s ears long before he entered the room. She felt small, stripped of her status, and utterly trapped.

"Who is this item?" Kaale asked, his voice dripping with a cynical curiosity. "She doesn’t look like some common whore. She looks like a woman from a good family... and yet, here she is, fucking with a man like you."

"That is none of your business!" Keshav snapped, his voice strained.

Anusha felt Keshav shift, his muscles tightening around her, but he didn't pull out. He remained lodged deep inside her, a desperate, physical attempt to act as a shield between her and the stranger's prying eyes. The intimacy of it, coupled with the terror of the situation, created a dizzying cocktail of sensations.

Suddenly, the flash of a smartphone camera blinded him. The sharp *click* echoed in the small room like a gunshot.

"Don't do that!" Keshav roared, reaching out to grab the phone, but Kaale stepped back with a smug grin.

"I think I'll keep this as a souvenir," Kaale chuckled, his eyes roaming over Anusha's trembling back. "Or perhaps I'll report this to someone who actually takes care of this house. Maybe Virag sir himself? I believe he’s still around the estate."

At the mention of her husband's name, a gasp escaped Anusha’s lips. Panic surged through her, a visceral scream that she couldn't hold back. "No! Don't do that!" she cried out, her voice muffled by the pillow but sharp with desperation.

Kaale froze. He tilted his head, the sound of her voice echoing in the small room. The tone, the cadence—it sounded hauntingly familiar, like a melody he had heard from a television screen or a cinema hall, yet he couldn't quite place the source of the voice beneath the layer of sheer terror.

Keshav remained anchored deep inside her, his body acting as a human shield. He felt her shivering against him, the muscles of her pussy clenching around his cock in a rhythmic, fear-induced spasm. "Why are you doing this?" Keshav pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "We are friends, Kaale. We've shared everything—drinks, food, stories. What is it you want?"

Kaale let out a dry, mocking laugh, his gaze drifting back to the ivory curve of Anusha's hip. "That’s exactly the problem, Keshav. We've always shared everything, and here you are, hoarding a goddess all to yourself in the dark."

"She is not that kind of woman!" Keshav snapped, his grip on Anusha's waist tightening.

"Oh, really?" Kaale sneered, stepping closer until he could smell the scent of sweat and arousal clinging to them. "If she’s not 'that kind of woman,' then why is she arched like a bow, giving her pussy to a groundskeeper? I could hear her moaning from a hundred yards away, screaming for more. No 'respectable' woman makes sounds like that unless she's craving every inch of it."

Anusha trembled beneath the sheets, the cold air of the room clashing with the searing heat of Keshav’s body still lodged deep inside her. The humiliation was a physical weight, yet there was a perverse, electric thrill in being exposed, in being seen as nothing more than a creature of desire by a man who knew nothing of her fame. She felt the rhythmic pulse of Keshav’s cock within her, a reminder that despite the chaos, they were still physically fused.

Kaale’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a low, predatory rumble. "I’ve made my peace with the world, Keshav, but I’ve never seen skin like that. Not in this life. I don’t care who she is or whose house she belongs to. I want a taste."

The air in the room thickened. Keshav shifted, his muscles tensing as he tried to shield Anusha’s body with his own, but Kaale reached out, his rough, calloused fingers grazing the soft, pale skin of her shoulder. The touch was an intrusion, a violation of the private sanctuary they had built, yet Anusha gasped, her back arching instinctively. The fear and the arousal collided, sending a jolt of electricity through her that made her clench tighter around Keshav.

Keshav opened his mouth to roar, his chest heaving as he prepared to drive Kaale back into the night with a mixture of rage and desperation. He was the protector here, the man who had claimed this goddess in the dark, and the thought of Kaale’s calloused hand lingering on Anusha’s shoulder made his blood boil. But before the words could leave his throat, a soft, trembling sound emerged from the pillow.

"Wait," Anusha whispered, her voice a fragile thread of silk that cut through the tension. She didn't lift her head, her face still pressed firmly into the rough cotton, but her body shuddered beneath Keshav. "Please... just give us a few minutes. Let us... we can decide. Just step outside for a moment."

Keshav froze, his eyes widening as he looked down at the crown of her head. The shock hit him harder than any of Kaale's insults; he had expected her to scream, to fight, or to demand he cover her, but this submission—this willingness to negotiate with their intruder—left him breathless. He felt the muscles of her inner walls pulse around him in a frantic, rhythmic cadence, as if her body were reacting to the danger with a desperate, forbidden excitement.

Kaale let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed off the cramped walls, the sound dripping with cynical amusement. "Give us a few minutes? You’ve got to be joking," he sneered, his gaze drifting from the ivory curve of her hip back to Keshav’s stunned face. "I’m not a fool, Madam. The moment I step foot over that threshold, the door slams shut, the bolt slides home, and I’m left standing in the dirt while you two finish what you started. I’m not leaving this room until I know exactly what’s in it for me."

Anusha let out a long, shuddering sigh. The sound was heavy, laden with a mixture of exhaustion and a budding, reckless curiosity. She felt the weight of Keshav still filling her, a warm, throbbing anchor that kept her grounded while her world spiraled into chaos. Slowly, tentatively, she shifted her hips, a small, involuntary grind against Keshav’s length that made him groan despite himself.

"At least... at least go near the door," she murmured, her voice gaining a slight, melodic edge. "Give us a moment to think. Please."

Kaale paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied the way her body reacted. He saw the way her spine curved, the way the skin of her back flushed a deep, roseate pink. He wasn't just seeing a woman; he was seeing a masterpiece of desire, caught in the grip of a man he considered a peer. The power dynamic had shifted; he was no longer just a witness, he was the judge and the jury of their secret. He took a slow, deliberate step back toward the entrance, though he remained firmly within the room, his silhouette blocking the exit.

"Slow down, Madam," Keshav whispered, his voice a jagged rasp of confusion and protectiveness. He remained buried deep within her, his body trembling with the effort of staying still while his mind raced. "What are you saying? Why are you talking to him as if we are in a boardroom? We should be fighting him, or hiding you, not... negotiating."

Anusha’s voice came muffled from the pillow, but the panic had begun to crystallize into a cold, calculating focus. "Think, Keshav. Think! I didn’t stop him because the moment he steps out that door, he owns us. That photo—that same image of me arched and open—could be in anyone's hand and my be later with Virag." She felt a surge of desperation, her internal walls pulsing around him. "We have to negotiate. We have to find a way to buy his silence before he decides the price is too high."

Keshav let out a heavy, shuddering breath, the weight of his guilt crashing down on him. He felt the fragility of her skin beneath him, the contrast of her porcelain beauty against his own rough, weathered frame. "I am sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with remorse. "If I hadn't been so blind... if I had just slid the bolt... none of this would have happened. You wouldn't be in this position."

"Let’s not delve into 'what ifs,' Keshav. The gate is open, the photo is taken, and we are still physically fused," Anusha replied, her tone shifting into the commanding register she used on film sets. "Stop apologizing and start thinking. What are our options? How do we neutralize him?"

Keshav looked up at Kaale, who was leaning against the doorframe with a smug, predatory patience. The older man looked like a vulture waiting for the feast to finish. "I'll try to convince him," Keshav suggested, his grip on Anusha's waist tightening. "I can offer him money. My savings, whatever I have in the jar. Maybe that will be enough to make him delete the picture and walk away."

"Let's try that as our first option," Anusha agreed, her voice barely a whisper. Then, she paused, the reality of her vulnerability hitting her. "But think about back-up options. We need a plan B, a plan C. And Keshav, listen to me carefully—under no condition, no matter what the deal is, I cannot show my face to him. He already have seen my body, but he must never see my face."

"Let’s start with the money," Keshav rasped, his voice tight as he tried to maintain a semblance of authority while still anchored deep inside Anusha. "Call him back. Let's see what the price of his silence is."

Kaale didn't need a second invitation. He drifted back toward the bed, his heavy boots thudding with a slow, predatory rhythm. He stopped just inches from them, leaning over to witness the sight of the groundskeeper still buried within the porcelain woman. A dry, rattling laugh escaped his throat. "You’ve got some nerve, Keshav. Truly shameless, both of you. You’re standing right in front of me, and yet you haven't even thought to separate. Your dick is still buried deep in her heat, and you still have the gall to tell me she's from a 'good family'?"

The insult hit Anusha like a physical blow. The sheer crudeness of his words, the way he reduced her existence to a mere collection of holes and desires, made her skin prickle with humiliation. She felt her face burn against the pillow, the gap between her curated public life and this raw, dusty reality becoming a yawning abyss. Beside her, she felt Keshav’s muscles coil; he was vibrating with a suppressed rage, his grip on her hips tightening as he fought the urge to lung at the older man.

"Kaale, we were friends," Keshav said, his voice strained, forcing himself to stay calm for her sake. "Tell me how much you want. I’ll give you every rupee in my savings. Every single coin. Just delete that photo and keep your mouth shut forever."

Kaale’t smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. "You're offering your life's savings just to keep her identity a secret? That tells me she is far more important than a common girl. The mystery makes the prize more valuable." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I’m in my sixties, Keshav. Money is for young men with futures. What I see in front of me right now... that is worth more than any bank account."

A heavy silence descended, thick with the scent of musk and tension. The negotiations danced back and forth, a desperate tug-of-war of dignity and fear. Anusha listened, her heart hammering against the mattress, her mind racing. She couldn't risk the photo; she couldn't risk the scandal. The thought of her face being revealed to this man was abhorrent, yet the alternative was public ruin.

"Fine," Kaale finally rasped, his voice dropping into a predatory hum. "I'll delete the photo. I'll be as silent as the grave. But the price is this: she does whatever I command. I won't touch her with a cock—I’m not that greedy—but I want her to serve me. I'll use her body for my pleasure, in whatever way I choose, except for fucking. And since you're so worried about her identity, I won't look at her face. We have a deal?"

Anusha froze. The request was vaguely defined and terrifyingly open-ended. The thought of this weathered, coarse man touching her skin—skin that was groomed and pampered—made her stomach churn. But then she remembered the camera. She remembered the open gate. The danger was immediate; the pleasure was a secondary concern.

"Okay," she muffled into the pillow, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I am okay with it. Just make sure you keep your promise."

"What? Madam, what are you saying?" Keshav gasped, his shock nearly knocking him off balance. He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, his protective instinct warring with the desperation of their predicament.

Kaale, for his part, looked as though he had just won a lottery he hadn't even dared to enter. He let out a short, jagged laugh, his eyes roaming over the porcelain expanse of her back. He had been casting a line into the dark, hoping for a scrap of submission, but he hadn't expected the goddess to actually bite. "I can't believe my luck," he chuckled, his voice thickening with anticipation. "I was just throwing the bait to see if they'd choke, and here she is, offering herself up."

"We don't have other options, Keshav," Anusha said, her voice regaining a sliver of its firm, commanding tone despite her position. "The photo is a weapon. If we don't neutralize it now, the fallout will be catastrophic. I want to get this over with."

Keshav looked between the two of them, his brow furrowed. "But how? How can you possibly ensure he doesn't see your face? He's right here."

Kaale reached into the deep pocket of his cargo trousers and pulled out a piece of black fabric. It was a weathered, slightly frayed sleeping mask, the kind used for long journeys or deep sleep. "Don't worry about the sight," Kaale rasped, waving the fabric. "I got this from my old saheb years ago. It’s an old thing, but it works. I’ll strap this over my eyes, or better yet, put it on her if she prefers, though I’d rather be the one blind to the beauty and the one feeling the surrender."

He stepped closer, the smell of cheap tobacco and old sweat invading Anusha's senses. The contrast was jarring: the raw, animal heat of Keshav still lodged inside her, and the predatory, calculating presence of Kaale hovering over them.

[desilund84]

Bro this is such a masterpiece.. Have pity on us and don't leave episodes hanging like this.. Update the next one plzzzz..

[oojasalda]

"You’re a good man, Keshav, and we've shared more than a few bottles of local brew," Kaale murmured, his voice softening into a deceptive kind of warmth. "I’m not a man who enjoys a feast in solitude. Since you’ve already claimed her, why should I stop the music? Keep her filled. Keep her moaning. I just want to be a part of the symphony."

But the momentum of the night had been shattered. The long, tense negotiation and the cold spike of fear had drained the heat from the room. Keshav felt the tell-tale soften of his own flesh; while he remained buried deep within Anusha’s pulsing heat, his erection had ebbed, leaving him semi-flaccid and heavy. With a sigh of defeat and a lingering sense of shame, he withdrew himself from her with a wet, sliding sound. As he stepped back, his penis hung limp and vulnerable in the dim light.

Kaale let out a low, mocking whistle, his eyes gleaming. "Look at that. The poor boy has lost his nerve. Don't worry, Keshav; the lady is a woman of her word, and she knows how to handle a man who's fallen asleep." He stepped closer, his voice commanding. "Go on. Get back in front of her. She won't deny you now—she’s already signed the contract."

Keshav hesitated, his heart hammering. "And what about you?" he stammered. "If she moves, if she lifts her head, you'll see her. The deal was no faces!"

"I’ll be the shadow behind the sculpture," Kaale rasped, his gaze fixed on the ivory expanse of Anusha's backside. "I’ll stay behind her, hidden by her own beauty. I promised I wouldn't fuck her, and I'll keep my clothes on, but I intend to enjoy the view and the feel of what I've won."

Trembling, Keshav climbed back onto the narrow bed. He positioned himself between her trembling hands, his semi-erect length hovering inches from her face. "Madam..." he whispered, his voice a fragile mixture of shame and longing.

Anusha lay frozen, her mind a whirlwind of terror and reckless curiosity. She had spent her life shielded by luxury and fame, but in this dusty room, she was stripped of everything but her desire. With a sudden surge of courage, she lifted her face from the pillow. For the first time, she looked directly at Keshav—not as the man who served her estate, but as the man who had just claimed her. She saw his dick, soft and pulsing in its semi-erect state, and without a word, she reached out. Her slender, manicured fingers wrapped around his warmth, her grip firm and possessive.

At that exact moment, Kaale moved. He didn't touch her with a gentle hand; instead, his rough, calloused palms slammed onto her hips, sliding upward to graze the swell of her buttocks. The contact was electric. The sheer contrast of his dark, weathered skin against her luminous, porcelain flesh was a visual shock that made Anusha’s breath hitch. A violent wave of goosebumps erupted across her skin, a physical reaction to the raw, forbidden nature of the touch.

Anusha let out a sharp, feline hiss of pleasure and fear. Instead of pulling away, she clenched her hand tightly around Keshav’s shaft, her eyes locked onto his in a silent command. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she leaned forward and took him into her mouth, her lips sliding over his skin with an urgent, wet heat.

Behind her, Kaale was mesmerized. He began to roam, his heavy hands traveling from her lower back up toward her shoulder blades, tracing the exquisite architecture of her spine. To him, she felt like living silk, a creature of otherworldly softness. He groaned, his breath hot against her neck, marveling at the sight of his own charcoal-dark fingers disappearing into the blinding whiteness of her skin. He was a man who had lived in the dirt, and now, he was touching the sun.

Keshav gasped, his head falling back against the pillow as the warmth of her mouth reignited the fire in his veins. The sight of her—this goddess of the silver screen, surrendering herself to this primal arrangement—sent a surge of adrenaline through him. He felt the grip of her hand and the suction of her mouth, and his semi-erect length began to throb and harden, responding to her focused desire. The shame that had plagued him moments ago was incinerated by the raw intensity of the moment.

As Anusha worked on him, her movements becoming more rhythmic and confident, Kaale’s hands grew more daring. He didn't break his promise to stay dressed, but he used his palms to knead the flesh of her hips, pulling her backside closer to him as he watched her pleasure Keshav. The room was filled with the wet sounds of her mouth and the heavy, ragged breathing of two men captivated by a woman who had decided that the only way to survive the scandal was to dive deeper into the transgression.

Keshav’s fingers tangled into the thick, fragrant silk of Anusha’s hair, his knuckles brushing against the nape of her neck as he anchored her to him. The terror of the intrusion had dissolved into a feverish, narrow-minded focus; the only world that existed now was the wet, sliding heat of her mouth and the rhythmic throb of his own blood. He groaned, his hips tilting instinctively, pushing his hardening length deeper into her throat, claiming her with a raw, desperate urgency that ignored the presence of the third person in the room.

Anusha felt the shift in the atmosphere, a dizzying awareness settling over her. She was a bridge of porcelain skin stretched between two different worlds, feeling four distinct hands claiming different territories of her body. While she devoted her lips and tongue to Keshav, her sensory map was being rewritten by the man behind her. She felt the dichotomy of it—the familiar, loving passion of the groundskeeper in front of her and the cold, opportunistic hunger of the intruder at her back. Yet, instead of recoiling, she leaned into the sensation, her body humming with a reckless, forbidden electricity.

Kaale had spent enough time sampling the curve of her hips and the velvet slope of her back. With a low, guttural grunt of satisfaction, he shifted his weight, leaning forward until his heavy, coarse frame collapsed against her. The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, pinning her soft, yielding form against the mattress. His calloused hands migrated upward, sliding over her ribs with a predatory speed before slamming onto her breasts. He didn't tease them; he mauled them, his rough fingers kneading the pale, plump flesh with a territorial intensity. To Kaale, they felt like warm, fresh buns, and he squeezed them with a primal greed that bordered on violence.

The sensation was a chaotic collision of pain and lust. Anusha’s breath hitched, a muffled cry vibrating against Keshav’s shaft. The weight of Kaale’s body was a crushing pressure, and as he pressed closer, she felt something rigid and hot poking through the fabric of his trousers, pressing firmly against the cleft of her ass. It took her only a heartbeat to realize what it was—the blunt, insistent pressure of his arousal, demanding recognition even through the layers of cloth. The contrast was overwhelming: the wet, sliding intimacy in her mouth and the hard, pressing demand at her backside.

A long, low moan erupted from deep in her throat, muffled by the fullness of Keshav’s cock. The sensation of being used, of being a physical prize contested by two men of the earth, ignited a fire in her that no luxury or fame had ever provided. She felt the rhythmic pulse of Keshav’s length inside her mouth and the heavy, rhythmic poking of Kaale against her rear, and she surrendered completely to the sensory overload. She began to suck harder, her tongue swirling with a renewed, frantic hunger, her body arching instinctively to bring her ass closer to the pressing heat of the man behind her.

[Voiden]

Two C from Two K.

[oojasalda]

Kaale’s hands finally released her breasts, leaving the pale flesh flushed a deep, bruised pink. Despite the intrusion, Anusha didn't stop; she remained locked onto Keshav, her mouth working with a frantic, rhythmic intensity, as if she were trying to swallow his very soul through his penis. Keshav let out a jagged moan, his head tossing back, completely mesmerized by the sight of Kaale moving toward her.

Slowly, the older man traced a calloused hand down the valley of her spine, returning to the swell of her ass before sliding off the bed. He dropped to his knees with a heavy thud. From his vantage point, Kaale saw something that made his breath hitch: Anusha’s pussy, still gaping and glistening from Keshav’s previous penetration, was leaking profusely. The sight of those swollen, porcelain-pink lips, drenched in her own arousal, was an invitation he couldn't ignore. He leaned in and began to lap at the juices with a raw, starving hunger, his tongue mimicking a deep French kiss against the vertical lips of her cunt.

Anusha jolted, a violent shiver racking her frame. She had never been in a position like this—handled by two older, rugged men, men with protruding bellies and weathered skin who were far from the polished idols she usually encountered. Yet, the sheer primal nature of it sent her into a trance of pure, unadulterated pleasure. She felt a dizzying sense of surrender, her mind floating on a cloud of forbidden sensation as she was worshipped from both ends.

After several minutes of fervent sucking, Kaale stood up, giving her backside one final, possessive squeeze. "Enough of that," he rasped, his voice pulling Anusha back from her erotic haze. He looked at Keshav, who was still trembling. "You can go back to where you were, but first, the Madam has a task. I’m putting on this mask." He tied the black fabric tightly over his eyes, plunging himself into darkness. "Now, this hot woman will undress me—with seduction. Only then will I tell you the next step."

Keshav opened his mouth to protest, his protective instinct flickering, but Anusha reached out and gripped his hand, silencing him with a firm, knowing look. She slid off the bed, her bare feet hitting the cool floor. She approached Kaale, the pungent scent of tobacco and old sweat enveloping her. With trembling fingers, she began to undo his buttons one by one. As the shirt fell away, she saw his protruding stomach and a chest dusted with coarse grey hair. She helped him slide the garment off his shoulders and moved to his trousers, unzipping them and pushing them down until he stood only in his underwear, a prominent boner straining against the fabric. With a surge of courage, she pulled the underwear down, revealing a dick that was average in size but strikingly dark.

"Alright, this is done," Kaale commanded. He directed Keshav to return to the bed, resuming the position from before. "The bed, woman. Help me find my way to where the boy was just now. I want to feel the heat where he left his mark." Anusha realised his intentions and took Kaale’s hand, guiding the blindfolded man toward the bed, and then she climbed back up onto all fours, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Start now, Keshav," Kaale ordered. He began to feel around for her head, his fingers tangling in her hair until he found her face. He brought his rigid length close, brushing it against her nose. "You know what to do."

As Anusha wrapped her fingers around Kaale's dark shaft, he let out a sharp hiss of pleasure. At that exact moment, Keshav rammed himself back into her glistening cunt with a powerful, rhythmic thrust. Anusha gasped, her body becoming a conduit for two different forces. She began to move her hand in a slow, steady friction against Kaale’s dick while simultaneously taking him into her mouth. With Keshav fucking her from behind and Kaale holding the back of her head to guide her, she experienced the overwhelming sensation of having two men filling her holes at once. The social divide had vanished; there was only the raw, thumping reality of the flesh.

[29e5o.a7.9.]

How Anusha is going to be tossed around tonight ;)

[29e5o.a7.9.]

Bro you also forgot about this story? Update please my dear author

[Hotgiri]

Please update

[oojasalda]

The symphony of friction and breath reached a sudden, jarring halt. Kaale abruptly yanked his shaft from Anusha’s mouth, the sound of the separation wet and sharp in the quiet room. He stepped off the bed with a heavy thud, ripping the black fabric from his eyes and tossing it aside. Anusha reacted instinctively, diving her face back into the depths of the bedsheet, her heart hammering against her ribs as she sought the safety of the fabric. Keshav remained frozen, his eyes narrow and questioning, his body still trembling from the proximity of a climax that had been interrupted by Kaale's sudden movement.

Kaale didn’t look at them with malice now; instead, his expression softened into a mask of profound, weary longing. "I have spent sixty years in the dirt," he murmured, his voice lacking its previous predatory edge. "I have never, in all my life, had an opportunity like this. To touch someone as beautiful and fair as her... it is a dream I didn't think I'd have." He sighed, the sound rattling in his chest. "Forget the blackmail. That was just the hook to get her to look at me. But look at her—she has given Keshav everything. Why is it wrong for me to have a taste of that grace? I know I forced the hand, but without a threat, a woman like her would never have looked twice at a man like me."

To prove his sincerity, Kaale pulled out his phone. With a few deliberate taps, he deleted the photograph, the digital evidence of their transgression vanishing into the void. "See? It doesn't matter to me. I don't want to ruin a life; I just wanted to feel alive for one night."

Keshav bristled, his protective instinct flaring. "You can't just ask for this! You can't just fuck her because you feel sorry for yourself!" he argued, his voice strained. But Anusha, listening from beneath the sheet, felt a strange, reckless empathy. The danger had peaked, and in the aftermath, a lingering curiosity remained. She reached out from under the sheet, her hand finding Keshav’s arm and squeezing it. "Stop, Keshav," she whispered. "It's okay. Let him."

Keshav let out a defeated groan and slowly withdrew from her, the sliding sound of his exit echoing the openness of her wet pussy. Kaale didn't waste a second. He leaned over her, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her arousal, and then, with a single, powerful drive, he penetrated her. Anusha let out a sharp, feline hiss. It was a different sensation—a stranger's intrusion, a rougher, heavier presence that filled her in a way that felt dangerously illicit.

Kaale paused his rhythmic drive, a subtle, knowing smile playing on his lips as he looked over at Keshav. "Why are you standing there like a statue, boy?" he rasped, his voice thick with exertion. "The feast is laid out, and there is plenty for two. Madam is far too generous to let you go hungry while I enjoy her warmth. Come, take your place; she will happily give you a blowjob while I keep her filled."

Hesitation flickered in Keshav’s eyes, but the sight of Anusha’s arched back and the raw, animal heat of the room broke his resolve. He climbed back onto the bed with a shaky breath. Anusha, her mind swirling in a vortex of submission and lust, didn't hesitate. She reached out, one hand gripping Kaale’s weathered waist to anchor herself, while the other sought out Keshav’s throbbing length. She guided him into her mouth, swirling her tongue with a desperate hunger, swallowing him whole even as Kaale continued to hammer into her from behind. The friction was overwhelming; as Kaale’s pace reached a fever pitch, Keshav let out a strangled cry, his body shuddering as he ejaculated deeply into her throat. Anusha didn't recoil; she swallowed every drop, her eyes fluttering shut in a trance of pure, sensory overload.

Exhausted and trembling, Keshav slumped back against the mattress, gasping for air. Kaale slowed his movements, his breath heavy. "Madam," he murmured, "let me have you in missionary. I want to feel the weight of you beneath me."

Keshav bolted upright, his protective instinct returning. "How is that possible? You'll see her face!"

"Peace, boy," Kaale chuckled. "Madam, use the blanket. Cover your face, and your secret remains safe." Anusha agreed, her voice a mere whisper. She pulled the heavy fabric over her head, shielding her identity while lying flat on her back, her legs spread wide in an invitation of total surrender. Kaale surged forward, his nude, weathered body colliding with her porcelain skin. Their sweat mixed in a salty, musk-filled slurry as he pressed his full weight onto her. He descended upon her like a storm, his mouth roaming her body, sucking her nipples with a raw greed and kissing the dip of her navel before driving himself back into her with a primal force that felt as if he were trying to merge their very souls.

Kaale’s weight was a crushing, honest pressure that anchored Anusha to the mattress. With her face veiled by the blanket, her other senses flared into hyper-awareness. She felt the rough sandpaper of his chest against her breasts and the scorching heat of his breath as he descended upon her body like a starving man at a banquet. He didn't just kiss her; he claimed her, his lips leaving searing marks along the valley of her stomach and circling her navel with a primal, wet intensity. Each suckle of her nipples was a greedy, rhythmic pull that sent jolts of electricity straight to her core, blurring the line between pleasure and a beautiful, reckless kind of pain.

He began to drive into her with a ferocious, unfiltered desperation, as if he were trying to carve his existence into her porcelain skin. Anusha was lost in the storm of it, her mind dissolving into a haze of pure lust. In a surge of raw instinct, she locked her legs tightly around his weathered waist, her heels digging into his back to pull him deeper, demanding every inch of him. Her manicured hands abandoned the sheets to grip the rough, muscular expanse of his buttocks, guiding his heavy thrusts with a rhythmic urgency. The room echoed with the wet, slapping sound of their collision and the ragged, guttural groans of a man who had finally touched the sun.

The tension reached a breaking point, a white-hot crescendo that left Anusha breathless and shaking. "Madam... I am cumming!" Kaale rasped, his voice a broken, triumphant growl. Anusha didn't speak; she couldn't. She only tightened her hold on him, her internal muscles clamping around his length in a final, desperate squeeze. With a violent shudder, Kaale ejaculated deep inside her, his entire frame vibrating with the force of a release sixty years in the making.

For a long minute, he remained collapsed upon her, their sweat cooling into a sticky film. He slowly pulled out, the sound wet and final. He leaned down, pressing a lingering, grateful kiss to her breasts one last time. "Thank you for this wonderful night, Madam," he whispered, his voice now devoid of predation, filled only with a quiet, humbled awe. He stood up, dressed himself in silence, and disappeared into the night, leaving the room smelling of musk and surrender.

Keshav approached Anusha, his face etched with a mixture of guilt and tenderness. "Madam, I am so sorry for all of this. It is all my fault... the gate, the request to bring you here... it should have been just us." Anusha looked up at him, her eyes still hazy with pleasure. She reached out and touched his cheek. "It is over now, Keshav. I enjoyed the time spent with you. I only wish it hadn't been tarnished by someone else, but the fire was real."

Anusha lingered in the dim light of Keshav’s room for a while longer, the silence stretching between them, heavy with the scent of musk and the lingering electricity of their shared transgression. The air felt thick, almost liquid, as she slowly gathered the remnants of her dignity and her clothing. As she stood by the door, she turned back to see Keshav still sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, his shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the floor in a state of profound remorse. Without a word, she stepped back toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce, grounding hug.

"Stop blaming yourself, Keshav," she whispered, her voice warm and devoid of any trace of the turmoil they had just endured. "It wasn't your fault. In fact," she added, a small, secretive smile playing on her lips as she pulled away, "it was a night I will never forget." She gave his hand one final, lingering squeeze before stepping out into the cool night air, leaving him with the ghost of her fragrance and the memory of her surrender.

The following morning arrived with a clinical, bright efficiency. The farmhouse buzzed with the sudden return of luxury as Virat Kohli’s car swept up the driveway, kicking up a plume of golden dust. The transition was seamless; Anusha shifted from the raw, unfiltered world of Keshav’s quarters back into the role of the poised, elegant wife and mother. As the family prepared to depart for London, the chaos of packing luggage and coordinating children filled the air.

Just before climbing into the car, Anusha caught Keshav’s eye. He was standing by the gate, his expression a complex map of longing and loyalty. Anusha didn't hesitate; she beamed at him, a genuine, happy greeting that acknowledged their secret bond without uttering a single word. "Take care of the place, Keshav," she said brightly, her tone perfectly matched to the public setting, though her eyes held a depth of intimacy that only he could decode. With a final wave, the car accelerated away, leaving the farmhouse and its ghosts in the rearview mirror.

High above the clouds, cocooned in the silent luxury of first-class travel, Anusha leaned her head back against the plush leather seat. Beside her, Virag was engrossed in his phone, the picture of a man who possessed everything the world could offer. As she watched the sprawling landscape of India shrink into a miniature map below, Kaale’s final words drifted back to her: *I have never, in all my life, had an opportunity like this. virag sir is lucky*


END
Thank you for reading!!

[tsq46z-w]

THE END?? No please continue!! This so best story

[Voiden]

Thank you for this wonderful story. It was an enjoyable and memorable read from beginning to end. I appreciate all the effort you put into it. Wishing you the best, and I hope you'll return with another amazing story soon. I'll be looking forward to it!

[tsq46z-w]

Great and amazizng story oojasalda. But please can you edit the names to Virag instead of using real names. Just don't want this story to be binned. And also drop the surname.

[oojasalda]

Great and amazizng story oojasalda. But please can you edit the names to Virag instead of using real names. Just don't want this story to be binned. And also drop the surname.

Thank you for pointing out on the name typo, Corrected. I can't replace surname as entire story needs to be corrected in that case. :-)

Glad you liked it.

[29e5o.a7.9.]

You wrote such a hot and great story and disappeared! So wrong bro.... hehe jk. Is there anyway this can continue? Like she comes back after 6 months with swell in her belly? pls continue it'll be so hot! ;)

[29e5o.a7.9.]

The kind of treasure both the old men enjoyed ;)