Adultery My Fiancee's Happiness

[Hotgiri]

Targeting tomorrow

Eagerly awaiting

[naruto9211]

Your target of 300 likes crossed??

[Lucifer8797]

Update is on the way bro... today or max by tomorrow you will get..

[sakurasan]

I am posting the next chapter shortly. I will post two versions of it.

First will be the text version
Second will be the same text with GIFs.

All gif lovers, please skip the first one and move to the second version.

[Hotgiri]

Eagerly Awaiting

[sakurasan]

Chapter 12 Bloody Sweat

Friday morning Isha woke fresh. She went to the balcony for the clothes she had washed last night.

She breathed in. After the rain the air was clean, and the sky was already bright. She took a bra off the line. The cups hung heavy, still full of water. Every panty was as wet. Nothing had dried.

She carried the heap inside and stood in her room with it on the bed. She put the blouse on. The weight of her chest sat forward in the cloth, nipples rising into two clear points. She tied the petticoat. The cloth closed over her ass and her pussy. She wrapped the saree, pinned the pallu, and left.

At college, walking between the blocks, a breeze moved under her pallu and across her chest. Her breasts moved in the blouse with every step. Each time that happened she thought of Kunal and looked for him. She walked as if a camera was on her.

She sat at her desk. Rohan did not join her. She could see him from there, busy with a group of students. The longer she sat alone, the more yesterday in the studio came back. She told herself the mask had made her do things she would never have done. She watched him with the students and could not blame the mask anymore. She wanted to be the good wife he deserved. With Kunal she could be a bad girl. To him she was one of many. She shifted and the wet petticoat stuck to her cunt. She could already hear his next cheesy line. She wanted that game today too, one last time.

Her last class was cancelled. She asked after Rohan. He messaged that he would be a little late. She said she would head home, and asked him to pick her from there for the studio.

He came at five.

“Last day of the shoot.”

“Yes. The pictures are coming out nice. Have you seen them.”

“Kunal said you will show me later. I did not want to push.”

“I will. When it is time.”

His eyes dropped to her blouse. The nipples stood through the cloth. He looked back at the road.

“I am taking the college team to Mumbai University.”

“That is tomorrow morning, right.”

“With the rains, we thought it was better to start today, in a few hours.”

“You will drop me back by then.”

“Kunal will drop you today.”

“Why can’t you leave after you drop me.”

“He will take care of you. Trust him.”

She left it at that.

In the studio, Kunal was quiet. He wore the same warm face he had on the first day in the café. He looked into her eyes.

“We are going to do a Kerala bride today.”

“Okay. Where is the costume.”

He held out a sleeveless nightie.

“Change into this first. We need to prep the bride.”

She went behind the screen. The nightie was thin and sleeveless, hanging off her breasts. She pinched both nipples until they stood hard against the cloth, wanting his eyes on her, then came out.

By seven Rohan came down with hot rotis. Isha lay back in the chair, a face pack on, both palms open and full of mehandi. The nightie was up her thighs. Kunal sat on the floor in a vest and trunks, finishing the second leg.

Rohan looked at him and winked.

“It is so hot in here today.”

“The mehandi has to dry fast. No AC.”

Rohan’s smile stayed on the trunks.

Kunal plucked at the vest.

“And I am not ruining my clothes for henna.”

Rohan looked at the mehandi.

“These are good designs. Isha, you look so beautiful.”

The rotis were still hot. She looked at them.

“I am starving.”





Kunal stood.

“Okay. I am done. Let it dry.”

He took the dinner box Rohan had brought for him and moved a little away.

Rohan sat beside her and began to feed her. He tore a piece of roti, waited for her mouth, and put it in.

“Kunal said today’s pictures will be a masterpiece.”

“Best for last? I am already getting pampered.”

“Take your time. Finish all his tasks.”

She thought of the task Kunal asked for every day after the shoot.

“Do you want me to do all the tasks.”

“I want you to do the ones you like. There is no point having a great picture if you did not enjoy making it.”

His phone rang.

“The students are calling. I am leaving for Mumbai now.”

“Have a safe journey.”

Kunal came back to her chair. He checked the mehandi, waited, checked again. He talked about everything except the lines she was used to. She answered anyway. She did not want to sound desperate. Inside, she kept waiting for those lines that would wet her. Each time he checked her arms, his hand came away before it reached her breasts, and she worried she had made him feel bad yesterday. His fingers stayed on the paste. She kept her face easy.

After an hour he cleaned her. He put a kasavu in her hands and showed her a video of how to wear it.

“Go change.”

She went behind the screen. The rain hit the studio door harder. She pulled the nightie off and stood naked at the mirror. Dark mehandi laced her hands and ran up her arms and thighs. Her breasts sat heavy and bare above his work, nipples tight. She looked at herself the way his camera would, and she went wet.

She wound the kasavu around her hips and brought the rest up over her bare breasts. Before she could knot it, thunder cracked and the studio went dark.

“Kunal.”

“Wait a minute.”

She heard him move. Light came through the cracks in the screen, warm, unsteady. He had lit large candles around the billiards table. He set two more cameras on tripods and pointed them at the table from different angles.

She pulled the cloth tight and knotted it at the centre of her chest. The gold border cut across her. Her shoulders and back were bare. The single cloth held both breasts in one fold. She stepped out.

The sight took his breath. He had meant to take the best pictures today and end the day without hurting anyone. Then she walked into the candlelight, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. A thickening started in his trunks.

He turned her, gathered her hair, and braided it into a low bun at her nape.

“I am sweating. All this work will go to waste.”

“For a candlelight shoot, the sweat will only make it erotic.”

That was the first naughty line he had given her all day. She was glad.

He walked her into the candlelight around the billiards table. The wood met her ass. He closed her hand around a thick candle, the flame close to her face, and lifted the other over her eyes so she looked like a bride searching through the dark. She held the pose and waited for the next line.

He went to the camera and took the first frame. The knot came undone. The kasavu fell to the floor. The candle was in her hand, so she could not grab the cloth. It took more than a second.




She stood naked in the candlelight, the dark hair on her cunt thick and natural. The beauty stunned him. He had only seen a bush like that in vintage nude photographs. Then he saw her face. He was at her in an instant. He snatched the kasavu off the floor and tied it back around her, knot hard on her chest, cloth pulled tight across her breasts, fast.

A moment before, she had been waiting for him to flirt. The second she was naked, a different panic took her. As he pulled the kasavu tight over her bare nipples, it felt so good. Her admiration for him grew.

He was quiet a breath. His thumb stayed on the knot, and his voice came out light.

“Wardrobe malfunctions are bread and butter for us.”

He put her through more angles. Between clicks the heat and the sweat got to him, and he pulled the vest off. His hands on her had already made her hungry. His bare chest made it worse. He lifted her by the waist and set her on the billiards table for the lying poses. The wood was cool under her back. He shot, moved, shot again.

When those were done he nodded at the chair.

“Come. Let’s see what we got.”

“There is no power.”

“The computer has a UPS. I can put the camera on the screen.”

He sat. She stood behind him. The frames came up in reverse, last pose first, the candlelight making every picture richer than the room. They went back until the first frame stopped him.

She was standing in it fully naked. Candlelight on the screen held her breasts, the dark bush, the mehandi, her face still lifted as if she had given herself to the lens.

“You know, I have clicked so many beautiful girls. I have never seen anyone this beautiful.”

“Please change it. I feel shy.”

The words came out shy. Her eyes did not leave the picture. In that rush at the table, neither of them had known the camera had taken it. On the screen she was posing naked, not falling. The shutter had caught the thin second after the kasavu left her skin and before panic reached her face. She could not see how a fall could look like that.

“I cannot change it,” he said. “That frame is heaven. You belong there. I can take you there.”

She leaned in, and her gaze dropped to his lap. His cock had pushed out of the trunks, thick, the head wet and standing in the candlelight. She had never seen a live cock. Heat slammed into her cunt. She wanted that, and nothing else.

She untied the knot. The kasavu slid down her body and hit the floor. He saw the cream cloth land, and he turned. She was naked.

“Take me then.”

He came off the chair and took her by the waist. He pulled her against his chest. His palm ran down her back and held her ass. He put his hand in her hair and held her there while his mouth went to her breast. He sucked, then took the other, and she arched into him. She stayed silent. Her palms slid on his skin.

He lifted her while he kissed her. The kasavu had stuck to her foot. It dragged with them across the floor until he pulled it free. He spread it over the billiards table, cream silk and gold border, and laid her on it. The top rail pressed her ass through the cloth.

He shoved the trunks down and kicked them off. He set his hands on her thighs and opened her until she lay spread on the silk. He stood between her legs. His eyes went to her cunt and stayed there, hungry. She went shy under that look. Her face went hot. She clapped her palms over her pussy, hiding it from his eyes.

He lifted her hands aside and brought his hips in. He lined the fat head of his cock, thick as a beer can, on her pussy, the way a cue sits on the cue ball before the shot. He drew his hips back. He struck. The head hit her cunt with a wet knock, cock on lips, stick on ball. A shock went through her. She came on that hit alone, a breaking wave, clumsy. Her hips jerked. Her heels lost the edge. She slid a few inches up the silk, away from him.

He caught her by the ass and dragged her back to the edge. He set her there, open. Her hole was almost half as wide as that head.

He put the head to her again and kissed her with it. The fat mushroom pressed her pussy lips and stayed, wet on wet. He rubbed it up her slit, over her clit, and down to her hole. Her lips parted around him, then closed, then parted again, the same hungry work a mouth does in a French kiss. Juice ran and his head shone. He came back to the same place and did it again, the ridge of him sliding between her outer lips the way a tongue slides between lips. The tip of him kissed her hole. Her folds clung to the blunt head and pulled, her hole on the slit of his cock, her lips on the thick ridge. Her hole was too small for that head. He leaked on her. She leaked on him. Cock and cunt stayed on each other, mouths open, wet, that blunt head sitting on her opening, stretching her lips wide around it, and stayed out. She made a small sound in her throat and held still.

He took her wrist and put her hand on his penis. She held him. Her palm was wet with both of them, and it slid on the shaft. Her fingers stopped halfway around him. She stared at what she was holding, at the dark head shining with her, and her breath went thin. He pushed one finger into her. She clenched on it. He added a second, then a third, scooping her juice, and rubbed it on himself, root to head. Her palms followed and spread it. He found her clit with his thumb and worked it until her hips started a helpless little roll. He pinched her nipples and her back lifted off the silk. He set her foot on his face, kissed the arch, and bit her toes. Her pussy opened a little more, hungry now, waiting. He put the mushroom head to her and pushed.

The head stretched her. Her cunt was taking its first cock. A sound came out of her.

He gave her an inch. He stopped. She breathed. He gave her another. The hymen tore. A sharp tear went through her. She shut her eyes in the pain. Heat sat under the pain. She tried to lift her head to see her pussy. He did not want her to panic at the blood. He kissed her mouth and laid her back down. The pain eased into pleasure. She felt heaven. She wanted him to take her any way he chose. She closed her eyes again.

He was in. They held still. Sweat ran into the silk. A candle threw heat on one of her breasts. He looked at her on the table the way he looked at a picture. Her nails wanted his back. Her walls fluttered around the thick length of him. She could feel him in her belly, too much, then full, then good.

He moved in short strokes. Each small push rubbed the ridge of his head inside her, a thick drag just past the opening. She made another sound, higher. He waited, then gave her longer ones. He drew back until the fat head tugged her pussy lips from inside, then slid home to the root. Sweat ran on both of them. Her bush went wet against his stomach. Silk stuck to her back. Her hips learned the count and started to meet him, clumsy at first, then finding his rhythm.

She opened her eyes and looked down. His cock was shining, thick, going into her and coming out wet. The sight made her clench. He felt it and groaned. He put his thumb back on her clit and fucked her to that rhythm, shaft and thumb together, until her thighs shook. She came on that, a breaking wave that left her even wetter, and he stayed in her through it, still moving.

Her inner walls stretched around his girth. They opened for that thickness and kept opening, wet, gripping, then yielding, until they wrapped him all the way around. Her cunt had taken a new size. It was his.

He felt her raw, skin on skin, her wet heat on the bare head of his cock and down the shaft. He had fucked so many girls. He had always used a condom. This was a different sex, intense, as if he were discovering it again. Behind the monitor sat the pack he had carried since Amboli. She had offered her body, naked in the candlelight, waiting, and the animal in him took over. While that pleasure ran through him, the sane part of him shouted to put a condom on. The animal was still in charge. It held onto this new pleasure. He told himself he would pull out at the end. He kept going.

Her walls clutched his cock like a boa swallowing prey. They shivered around him, wet and tight, pulling when he drew back. He was trying to hold back for this delicate girl and failing because she was open now and meeting every stroke.

“Fuck. Take it.”

He put speed into it. His hips slapped her. Her breasts jumped on her chest. She heard the wet sound of her cunt taking him. Each thrust stretched her around the fat head all over again, then the shaft filled the rest. She came again, a harder wave than the first, her hands pawing his shoulders and sliding off. He kept fucking her through it, through the shake and the little cries, until the wave broke and she was only wet and open under him.

Then he dropped the pace. He went almost still, buried, only a grind, deep. His breath went ragged against her cheek. She thought that was the end. She felt relief and hunger together. Her body went loose. She waited for him to leave her.

He stayed. He hooked her knee and folded it toward her chest. The angle changed. He found a new place in her and drove. Momentum came back all at once. She cried out, surprised, and her eyes flew open. He was still in her, thicker at this angle, hitting a spot that made her hips chase him on their own. “Kunal,” she said, and it came out broken. He gave her that angle again and again, faster, then easier, then faster, until she came on it too, messy, her mouth open against his shoulder.

He kept her knee there. Sweat ran off his jaw onto her breasts. The silk stuck to her hip. Blood and juice made it dark between them. She held his cock with her cunt on every stroke, naive and greedy. He looked down at where they joined, at her stretched pussy taking him, and he kept looking while he fucked.

A cramp climbed the thigh he was standing on. He hissed through his teeth, stayed inside her, and lifted her by the waist. He slid her to the centre of the table, the cloth bunching under her back, and climbed up after her. He settled between her thighs, full missionary, his weight pinning her to the cloth, and pushed to the root.

She took all of him. Her legs came around his waist and slipped off the sweat. He caught one thigh and held it open. His chest mashed her breasts. His cock reached farther this way, heavy, grinding her clit on every drive. He kissed her mouth. He kissed her breast. He fucked her in long strokes that rocked the table. Candlelight moved on her throat.

The table rocked hard. The candles went out. Only the monitor still glowed, a mild light on his back and on her breasts. The rest was dark. He kept fucking her.

She looked at his face above her. In that faint light she saw the strain and the hunger. She lifted her hips and met him. His weight made every inch feel thicker. She felt the wet run between them. She heard her own moans.

He slowed. He stayed deep and rolled his hips, small, grinding her clit until she came again, shaking under him, clumsy still, real. He groaned into her hair and kept the rhythm through it, fucking her while she was still coming, then while she was trying to catch her breath.

He built again, deeper. Her sounds went small and continuous. He pulled almost out, the fat head stretching her lips, and she thought he was leaving. She grabbed at his back. He slammed home. The table knocked. He put her other leg over his arm and gained the momentum, pounding now, her cunt clutching him in wet pulls. Sweat from his chest ran onto her. Her nipples dragged his skin. She came again with her nails dragging down his back, a last clumsy wave that left her shaking. She locked her legs around his hips.

He felt the finish climb his spine. He tried to pull out. Her legs held him in. He came inside her, pulse after pulse, hot, filling her. He fell on her and rested. She liked carrying his weight. The itch from the engagement had finally been fed. Her imagination had not come close. She had not known her pussy could give this much ecstasy. She hugged him tight and kissed him. She rested too.

Their breathing slowed. She still held him. Then he rolled off her. They lay naked side by side. The rain stopped. Then the power came back. The studio lights came on. They turned their faces to each other. Both smiled, satisfied. Thanks was in the look, and hunger too.

“Were you in heaven?”

She nodded. She sat up first and saw her pussy. His cum was flowing out of her like a river.

“Did you piss in me?”

He thought she was joking. Then he looked at her face and saw she was serious. She was too naive to tell cum from piss. That innocence hit him. His cock thickened again.

“Shall we go upstairs?”

She bit her lower lip and hid her face in his chest, laughing. She wanted the night to go on.

The clock was already past eleven. He stood first. He lifted her off the table onto his right shoulder. The cheeks of her ass pressed his face. He was excited. He carried her out of the studio, both of them naked.

Cold air hit them. He turned to look at her face. She covered it with both palms. The hair on her legs stood up. He understood. She liked this.

He bit her ass as he locked the studio. A moan came out of her. Then he walked up to his room and put her on his bed.

He lay next to her. She turned toward him. Her breasts pressed his arm. She looked down. His cock lay heavy on his stomach. It twitched. It thickened. Cool air from the AC moved over them, and the sweat on his skin went. His cock kept filling, rising, getting fatter, standing. She watched it grow. Excitement hit her. It was the first time she had seen a cock do that. It stood at last, thick, the head wet.

“You like watching it grow.”

“Hmm.”

Juice ran onto her thigh. She stared.

“Hold it.”

She put her hand on him, light, her fingers soft around the shaft.

“Tighter. Shake.”

She squeezed and shook it. It jumped hard in her fist, a thick pulse that lifted her hand.

“Can you feel the pulse.”

“Hmm.”

“Ready.”

She smiled and nodded.

He held her ass and lifted her over him. Her knees found the sheets.

“Put me in.”

She put him at her hole. She was still wet with him from downstairs. He lowered her. The fat head kissed her again and opened her.

“Ah.”

He held her there, her ass in his hands, only the head inside.

“Stay on that. That’s the fattest bit. Bounce on it. Don’t drop.”

She tried a small bounce. The head tugged her open and shut. Juice ran down the shaft that was still out.

“Mm.”

He took her breasts.

“Hold these. Ride the head. Look how much is left.”

She looked. Most of him stood between them, wet. She bounced, her hole stretched around the mushroom, her tits in his grip.

“Oh.”

“Hear that. Your hole is kissing it. Keep kissing.”

“Ohh.”

Her knees slipped. She caught herself. He squeezed her breasts, pinched the nipples, lifted them and let them drop, then held them while she worked the head.

“These tits. I can hold on. That’s how I keep going.”

“Oh.”

The words made her clench on the head. He pulled at the hair on her cunt, a firm tug that made her gasp and squeeze him again.

“Milk it. It’s sucking me.”

“Nh.”

She looked down at his hand on her bush.

“Look at me.”

She did. Her mouth was open. Her eyes stayed on his.

“You’re a greedy girl, aren’t you. You want the rest.”

“Hmm.”

He tugged her bush again.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

He let her down more, slow, another few inches, and stopped her before the root.

“Kunal.”

“Now you’ve got meat. Bounce on that.”

She bounced on the thicker stretch, her bush still not reaching him.

“More.”

He gripped her hips and held her there.

“Take the rest.”

He pushed up. The last of him went in.

“Kunal.”

“Are you full now. Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Can you take more.”

She was already stretched as far as she could go. She did not know how more would fit.

“No.”

She clenched. More juice ran down him. She sat still, taking the size.

“That’s right. A girl like you needs a fill like mine. Now faster.”

He moved her hips. Her breasts hung over him. Her cunt took the whole shaft on every stroke.

“Yes. Yes.”

“Finally. This innocent girl is training to fuck.”

“Yes.”

She rode down until her clit ground his root. He rolled a nipple.

“You won’t stop, will you. Say it.”

“God.”

She came on him, shaking, her cunt clutching the thick cock she was sitting on, juice running onto his hips. She fell forward onto his chest.

“I am not going to stop.”

“Yes.”

“Feed me your boobs,” he whispered in her ear, his hands gripping her ass tighter.

She pushed the breast into his mouth. He sucked, bit, and kept hold of her ass. Then he fucked up into her from below, short lifts, her body lying on his.

“No more teasers. This is the main picture. Let that cock go deep. It’s yours tonight.”

He drove to the root.

“Kunal.”

Her nails dug his chest. She clutched him and soaked him.

“Stay on it. I’m going to fill you again.”

“Yes.”

He held her hips down and thrust up, and came inside her, pulse after pulse.

“Kunal.”

“Keep it.”

They breathed. She stayed on him, looking into his eyes. He looked into hers. They drifted to sleep like that.

She woke to the main door closing. Bright sun was on the bed. He was gone. She went to the hall. The computer was logged in. Three folders sat on the screen. Her hand went to the explicit one. She opened the subfolder with yesterday’s date.

Their sex was in it. She was on the table and he was taking her. It looked so beautiful that she lost time, sitting there, watching Kunal take her, frame after frame.

The main door opened. He had a small bag with him. She was sitting naked at the computer. He set the bag down, came and stood behind her, then he saw the screen.

“The cameras were auto clicking. I can delete it now.”

“Don’t.”

Then she opened an older date. A woman on a bed, playing with a dildo and other toys. That woman’s cunt was bald.

“Is this how women keep that place?”

She pointed at her own pussy.

“Most women do. But yours is beautiful.”

“I like that.”

He moved her to the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the tub, knees open. The thick hair covered her cunt. He ran his fingers through it and tugged. She gasped. Her hand went down, and the ring on her finger caught in the hair. She pulled. It held.

“Are you sure? They are so natural.”

She lifted the stuck hand, the gold still in the bush.

“It gets caught in my ring. Please.”

He smiled, freed the ring, and took the trimmer from the shelf. She watched it buzz between her thighs. He held her open and trimmed a path, then the sides, then close around her lips. She held still. When he stopped, the bush was gone. She touched the smooth skin.

He turned the taps. Water rose around her calves. He got naked and stepped in. He held his hand out.

She laughed and slipped off the other side onto the tiles.

“Come here.”

He caught her waist and pulled her into the water. She yelped, still laughing, and tried to climb out. He drew her back by the hips. Then he soaped his hands and put them on her breasts. She went still. He washed her belly and the new bare cunt, his palm sliding on smooth skin. She let him. She took the soap and washed his chest, shy, and down to his cock. He kissed her mouth. She was smooth against his thigh when she pressed close. They stayed until the water cooled, then he dried her, and his hand passed once more over the bare pussy, just to feel it.

They came out of the bathroom. He looked at her, at the new bare cunt, and smiled.

“Want to see how your pussy is looking.”

She wanted to see it. The hair was gone and she had only touched it. She could not see it properly from above.
“Yes.”

He was gone into the hall and back with the camera before she had moved. She understood. The thought that had sat in her since those files, since he had talked of picture gifts, stood up fully. She had wanted to pose like that. She had told herself it would never be her. It was her now, and a lift went through her. She kept her face still.

“Won’t a mirror do.”

“No.”

He opened a new pack, a thick vibrator, and tossed it onto the bed. She looked at it, then at him. What was she supposed to do with this.

“Haven’t you masturbated.”

Of course she had. The nights in her room. Heat climbed her face.
“Yes.”

“What do you use.”

She would not sound like a girl who only had her hand. She had used something. She was proud of that.
“Carrot.”

“This is the carrot. Better.”

He pressed the button. It buzzed. He put it in her hand, laid her on the bed, and opened her legs wide, her arms out.

“Now use it.”

She ran it up and down her slit, the way she always had, and kept it outside.

“Is this how you use a carrot.”

The buzz sat on her clit and her hole stayed shut.
“Then how.”

He took the vibrator, set the buzzing head to her hole, and pushed. It went in. Her mouth opened. So this was how. All those nights the carrot had stayed outside.

He watched it sink. Nothing had gone in her before last night. Not even that. The thought landed in him, warm.

He clicked. She held the pose, the toy in her, the new bare cunt toward the lens. She loved it. Last night’s pictures had already taken the fear. She turned when he asked, and let him take more.

She could have stayed on the bed. Hunger won.
“Are we done. I am starving.”

“Done.”

She went to the kitchen. He sat at the computer and loaded the frames, then came after her. He stood behind her as if to help with the roti. His cock slid between her ass cheeks and rubbed there.

It felt good. She wanted to lean back onto it. Her cunt was still swollen from the night.
“Yours will never go down, will it.”

“When you are with me, it never does. How about now.”

She wanted now. She wanted food more.
“No, I am really sore. I need food and rest.”

When the rotis were ready they sat at the dining table and ate. Then they came to the hall. The pictures were on the screen. She looked at her own pussy, smooth, new, pale, the lips finally visible.

He reached for the small bag and pulled out a pill.

“Why don’t you take this.”

She looked at it.
“What is this for.”

“We don’t want a baby, right.”

Junior college came back. She saw the sperm she had drawn in class, the diagrams of them swimming. For two weeks in the studio, constantly teased, she had wanted only her carnal needs. Everything else had slipped her mind yesterday. The pill made her see what she had ignored. Guilt started, and she kept it off her face. She put the pill on her tongue, swallowed it with water, and went to Rohan’s room.

Yesterday’s shirt was hanging. She put it on. It smelled of him. She lay on the bed, and the sheet smelled of him too. Guilt began to hurt, then his smell eased it, and she slept.

[sakurasan]

Chapter 12. other depiction pics

[sakurasan]

Lucifer will be posting the GIF version shortly.

[Lucifer8797]

Wil post shortly

[Hotgiri]

Awasome update

[Lucifer8797]

Chapter 12 Bloody Sweat

Friday morning Isha woke fresh. She went to the balcony for the clothes she had washed last night.

She breathed in. After the rain the air was clean, and the sky was already bright. She took a bra off the line. The cups hung heavy, still full of water. Every panty was as wet. Nothing had dried.

She carried the heap inside and stood in her room with it on the bed. She put the blouse on. The weight of her chest sat forward in the cloth, nipples rising into two clear points. She tied the petticoat. The cloth closed over her ass and her pussy. She wrapped the saree, pinned the pallu, and left.

At college, walking between the blocks, a breeze moved under her pallu and across her chest. Her breasts moved in the blouse with every step. Each time that happened she thought of Kunal and looked for him. She walked as if a camera was on her.

She sat at her desk. Rohan did not join her. She could see him from there, busy with a group of students. The longer she sat alone, the more yesterday in the studio came back. She told herself the mask had made her do things she would never have done. She watched him with the students and could not blame the mask anymore. She wanted to be the good wife he deserved. With Kunal she could be a bad girl. To him she was one of many. She shifted and the wet petticoat stuck to her cunt. She could already hear his next cheesy line. She wanted that game today too, one last time.

Her last class was cancelled. She asked after Rohan. He messaged that he would be a little late. She said she would head home, and asked him to pick her from there for the studio.

He came at five.

“Last day of the shoot.”

“Yes. The pictures are coming out nice. Have you seen them.”

“Kunal said you will show me later. I did not want to push.”

“I will. When it is time.”

His eyes dropped to her blouse. The nipples stood through the cloth. He looked back at the road.

“I am taking the college team to Mumbai University.”

“That is tomorrow morning, right.”

“With the rains, we thought it was better to start today, in a few hours.”

“You will drop me back by then.”

“Kunal will drop you today.”

“Why can’t you leave after you drop me.”

“He will take care of you. Trust him.”

She left it at that.

In the studio, Kunal was quiet. He wore the same warm face he had on the first day in the café. He looked into her eyes.

“We are going to do a Kerala bride today.”

“Okay. Where is the costume.”

He held out a sleeveless nightie.

“Change into this first. We need to prep the bride.”

She went behind the screen. The nightie was thin and sleeveless, hanging off her breasts. She pinched both nipples until they stood hard against the cloth, wanting his eyes on her, then came out.

By seven Rohan came down with hot rotis. Isha lay back in the chair, a face mask on, both palms open and full of mehandi. The nightie was up her thighs. Kunal sat on the floor in a vest and trunks, finishing the second leg.

Rohan looked at him and winked.

“It is so hot in here today.”

“The mehandi has to dry fast. No AC.”

Rohan’s smile stayed on the trunks.

Kunal plucked at the vest.

“And I am not ruining my clothes for henna.”

Rohan looked at the mehandi.

“These are good designs. Isha, you look so beautiful.”

The rotis were still hot. She looked at them.

“I am starving.”

Kunal stood.

“Okay. I am done. Let it dry.”

He took the dinner box Rohan had brought for him and moved a little away.

Rohan sat beside her and began to feed her. He tore a piece of roti, waited for her mouth, and put it in.

“Kunal said today’s pictures will be a masterpiece.”

“Best for last? I am already getting pampered.”

“Take your time. Finish all his tasks.”

She thought of the task Kunal asked for every day after the shoot.

“Do you want me to do all the tasks.”

“I want you to do the ones you like. There is no point having a great picture if you did not enjoy making it.”

His phone rang.

“The students are calling. I am leaving for Mumbai now.”

“Have a safe journey.”

Kunal came back to her chair. He checked the mehandi, waited, checked again. He talked about everything except the lines she was used to. She answered anyway. She did not want to sound desperate. Inside, she kept waiting for those lines that would wet her. Each time he checked her arms, his hand came away before it reached her breasts, and she worried she had made him feel bad yesterday. His fingers stayed on the paste. She kept her face easy.

After an hour he cleaned her. He put a kasavu in her hands and showed her a video of how to wear it.

“Go change.”

She went behind the screen. The rain hit the studio door harder. She pulled the nightie off and stood naked at the mirror. Dark mehandi laced her hands and ran up her arms and thighs. Her breasts sat heavy and bare above his work, nipples tight. She looked at herself the way his camera would, and she went wet.

She wound the kasavu around her hips and brought the rest up over her bare breasts. Before she could knot it, thunder cracked and the studio went dark.

“Kunal.”

“Wait a minute.”

She heard him move. Light came through the cracks in the screen, warm, unsteady. He had lit large candles around the billiards table. He set two more cameras on tripods and pointed them at the table from different angles.

She pulled the cloth tight and knotted it at the centre of her chest. The gold border cut across her. Her shoulders and back were bare. The single cloth held both breasts in one fold. She stepped out.

The sight took his breath. He had meant to take the best pictures today and end the day without hurting anyone. Then she walked into the candlelight, more beautiful than he had ever seen her. A thickening started in his trunks.

He turned her, gathered her hair, and braided it into a low bun at her nape.

“I am sweating. All this work will go to waste.”

“For a candlelight shoot, the sweat will only make it erotic.”

That was the first naughty line he had given her all day. She was glad.

He walked her into the candlelight around the billiards table. The wood met her ass. He closed her hand around a thick candle, the flame close to her face, and lifted the other over her eyes so she looked like a bride searching through the dark. She held the pose and waited for the next line.

He went to the camera and took the first frame. The knot came undone. The kasavu fell to the floor. The candle was in her hand, so she could not grab the cloth. It took more than a second.

She stood naked in the candlelight, the dark hair on her cunt thick and natural. The beauty stunned him. He had only seen a bush like that in vintage nude photographs. Then he saw her face. He was at her in an instant. He snatched the kasavu off the floor and tied it back around her, knot hard on her chest, cloth pulled tight across her breasts, fast.

A moment before, she had been waiting for him to flirt. The second she was naked, a different panic took her. As he pulled the kasavu tight over her bare nipples, it felt so good. Her admiration for him grew.

He was quiet a breath. His thumb stayed on the knot, and his voice came out light.

“Wardrobe malfunctions are bread and butter for us.”

He put her through more angles. Between clicks the heat and the sweat got to him, and he pulled the vest off. His hands on her had already made her hungry. His bare chest made it worse. He lifted her by the waist and set her on the billiards table for the lying poses. The wood was cool under her back. He shot, moved, shot again.

When those were done he nodded at the chair.

“Come. Let’s see what we got.”

“There is no power.”

“The computer has a UPS. I can put the camera on the screen.”

He sat. She stood behind him. The frames came up in reverse, last pose first, the candlelight making every picture richer than the room. They went back until the first frame stopped him.

She was standing in it fully naked. Candlelight on the screen held her breasts, the dark bush, the mehandi, her face still lifted as if she had given herself to the lens.

“You know, I have clicked so many beautiful girls. I have never seen anyone this beautiful.”

“Please change it. I feel shy.”

The words came out shy. Her eyes did not leave the picture. In that rush at the table, neither of them had known the camera had taken it. On the screen she was posing naked, not falling. The shutter had caught the thin second after the kasavu left her skin and before panic reached her face. She could not see how a fall could look like that.

“I cannot change it,” he said. “That frame is heaven. You belong there. I can take you there.”

She leaned in, and her gaze dropped to his lap. His cock had pushed out of the trunks, thick, the head wet and standing in the candlelight. She had never seen a live cock. Heat slammed into her cunt. She wanted that, and nothing else.

She untied the knot. The kasavu slid down her body and hit the floor. He saw the cream cloth land, and he turned. She was naked.

“Take me then.”

He came off the chair and took her by the waist. He pulled her against his chest.



His palm ran down her back and held her ass. He put his hand in her hair and held her there while his mouth went to her breast. He sucked, then took the other, and she arched into him. She stayed silent. Her palms slid on his skin.





He lifted her while he kissed her.



The kasavu had stuck to her foot. It dragged with them across the floor until he pulled it free. He spread it over the billiards table, cream silk and gold border, and laid her on it. The top rail pressed her ass through the cloth.

He shoved the trunks down and kicked them off. He set his hands on her thighs and opened her until she lay spread on the silk. He stood between her legs. His eyes went to her cunt and stayed there, hungry. She went shy under that look. Her face went hot. She clapped her palms over her pussy, hiding it from his eyes.

He lifted her hands aside and brought his hips in. He lined the fat head of his cock, thick as a beer can, on her pussy, the way a cue sits on the cue ball before the shot.





He drew his hips back. He struck. The head hit her cunt with a wet knock, cock on lips, stick on ball. A shock went through her. She came on that hit alone, a breaking wave, clumsy. Her hips jerked. Her heels lost the edge. She slid a few inches up the silk, away from him.



He caught her by the ass and dragged her back to the edge. He set her there, open. Her hole was almost half as wide as that head.

He put the head to her again and kissed her with it. The fat mushroom pressed her pussy lips and stayed, wet on wet. He rubbed it up her slit, over her clit, and down to her hole. Her lips parted around him, then closed, then parted again, the same hungry work a mouth does in a French kiss. Juice ran and his head shone. He came back to the same place and did it again, the ridge of him sliding between her outer lips the way a tongue slides between lips. The tip of him kissed her hole. Her folds clung to the blunt head and pulled, her hole on the slit of his cock, her lips on the thick ridge. Her hole was too small for that head. He leaked on her. She leaked on him. Cock and cunt stayed on each other, mouths open, wet, that blunt head sitting on her opening, stretching her lips wide around it, and stayed out. She made a small sound in her throat and held still.


He took her wrist and put her hand on his penis. She held him. Her palm was wet with both of them, and it slid on the shaft. Her fingers stopped halfway around him. She stared at what she was holding, at the dark head shining with her, and her breath went thin. He pushed one finger into her. She clenched on it.



He added a second, then a third, scooping her juice, and rubbed it on himself, root to head. Her palms followed and spread it. He found her clit with his thumb and worked it until her hips started a helpless little roll. He pinched her nipples and her back lifted off the silk. He set her foot on his face, kissed the arch, and bit her toes.





Her pussy opened a little more, hungry now, waiting. He put the mushroom head to her and pushed.

The head stretched her. Her cunt was taking its first cock. A sound came out of her.



He gave her an inch. He stopped. She breathed. He gave her another. The hymen tore. A sharp tear went through her. She shut her eyes in the pain. Heat sat under the pain. She tried to lift her head to see her pussy. He did not want her to panic at the blood. He kissed her mouth and laid her back down. The pain eased into pleasure. She felt heaven. She wanted him to take her any way he chose. She closed her eyes again.

[Lucifer8797]

He was in. They held still. Sweat ran into the silk. A candle threw heat on one of her breasts. He looked at her on the table the way he looked at a picture. Her nails wanted his back. Her walls fluttered around the thick length of him. She could feel him in her belly, too much, then full, then good.

He moved in short strokes. Each small push rubbed the ridge of his head inside her, a thick drag just past the opening. She made another sound, higher. He waited, then gave her longer ones. He drew back until the fat head tugged her pussy lips from inside, then slid home to the root. Sweat ran on both of them. Her bush went wet against his stomach. Silk stuck to her back. Her hips learned the count and started to meet him, clumsy at first, then finding his rhythm.

She opened her eyes and looked down. His cock was shining, thick, going into her and coming out wet. The sight made her clench. He felt it and groaned. He put his thumb back on her clit and fucked her to that rhythm, shaft and thumb together, until her thighs shook. She came on that, a breaking wave that left her even wetter, and he stayed in her through it, still moving.



Her inner walls stretched around his girth. They opened for that thickness and kept opening, wet, gripping, then yielding, until they wrapped him all the way around. Her cunt had taken a new size. It was his.

He felt her raw, skin on skin, her wet heat on the bare head of his cock and down the shaft. He had fucked so many girls. He had always used a condom. This was a different sex, intense, as if he were discovering it again. Behind the monitor sat the pack he had carried since Amboli. She had offered her body, naked in the candlelight, waiting, and the animal in him took over. While that pleasure ran through him, the sane part of him shouted to put a condom on. The animal was still in charge. It held onto this new pleasure. He told himself he would pull out at the end. He kept going.

Her walls clutched his cock like a boa swallowing prey. They shivered around him, wet and tight, pulling when he drew back. He was trying to hold back for this delicate girl and failing because she was open now and meeting every stroke.

“Fuck. Take it.”

He put speed into it. His hips slapped her. Her breasts jumped on her chest.



She heard the wet sound of her cunt taking him. Each thrust stretched her around the fat head all over again, then the shaft filled the rest. She came again, a harder wave than the first, her hands pawing his shoulders and sliding off. He kept fucking her through it, through the shake and the little cries, until the wave broke and she was only wet and open under him.

Then he dropped the pace. He went almost still, buried, only a grind, deep. His breath went ragged against her cheek. She thought that was the end. She felt relief and hunger together. Her body went loose. She waited for him to leave her.

He stayed. He hooked her knee and folded it toward her chest. The angle changed. He found a new place in her and drove. Momentum came back all at once. She cried out, surprised, and her eyes flew open.



He was still in her, thicker at this angle, hitting a spot that made her hips chase him on their own. “Kunal,” she said, and it came out broken. He gave her that angle again and again, faster, then easier, then faster, until she came on it too, messy, her mouth open against his shoulder.

He kept her knee there. Sweat ran off his jaw onto her breasts. The silk stuck to her hip. Blood and juice made it dark between them. She held his cock with her cunt on every stroke, naive and greedy. He looked down at where they joined, at her stretched pussy taking him, and he kept looking while he fucked.

A cramp climbed the thigh he was standing on. He hissed through his teeth, stayed inside her, and lifted her by the waist. He slid her to the centre of the table, the cloth bunching under her back, and climbed up after her. He settled between her thighs, full missionary, his weight pinning her to the cloth, and pushed to the root.



She took all of him. Her legs came around his waist and slipped off the sweat. He caught one thigh and held it open. His chest mashed her breasts. His cock reached farther this way, heavy, grinding her clit on every drive. He kissed her mouth. He kissed her breast. He fucked her in long strokes that rocked the table. Candlelight moved on her throat.



The table rocked hard. The candles went out. Only the monitor still glowed, a mild light on his back and on her breasts. The rest was dark. He kept fucking her.



She looked at his face above her. In that faint light she saw the strain and the hunger. She lifted her hips and met him. His weight made every inch feel thicker. She felt the wet run between them. She heard her own moans.



He slowed. He stayed deep and rolled his hips, small, grinding her clit until she came again, shaking under him, clumsy still, real. He groaned into her hair and kept the rhythm through it, fucking her while she was still coming, then while she was trying to catch her breath.



He built again, deeper. Her sounds went small and continuous. He pulled almost out, the fat head stretching her lips, and she thought he was leaving. She grabbed at his back. He slammed home. The table knocked.



He put her other leg over his arm and gained the momentum, pounding now, her cunt clutching him in wet pulls. Sweat from his chest ran onto her. Her nipples dragged his skin. She came again with her nails dragging down his back, a last clumsy wave that left her shaking. She locked her legs around his hips.

[Lucifer8797]

He felt the finish climb his spine. He tried to pull out. Her legs held him in. He came inside her, pulse after pulse, hot, filling her.



He fell on her and rested. She liked carrying his weight. The itch from the engagement had finally been fed. Her imagination had not come close. She had not known her pussy could give this much ecstasy. She hugged him tight and kissed him. She rested too.

Their breathing slowed. She still held him. Then he rolled off her. They lay naked side by side. The rain stopped. Then the power came back. The studio lights came on. They turned their faces to each other. Both smiled, satisfied. Thanks was in the look, and hunger too.

“Were you in heaven?”

She nodded. She sat up first and saw her pussy. His cum was flowing out of her like a river.



“Did you piss in me?”

He thought she was joking. Then he looked at her face and saw she was serious. She was too naive to tell cum from piss. That innocence hit him. His cock thickened again.

“Shall we go upstairs?”

She bit her lower lip and hid her face in his chest, laughing. She wanted the night to go on.

The clock was already past eleven. He stood first. He lifted her off the table onto his right shoulder. The cheeks of her ass pressed his face. He was excited. He carried her out of the studio, both of them naked.

Cold air hit them. He turned to look at her face. She covered it with both palms. The hair on her legs stood up. He understood. She liked this.

He bit her ass as he locked the studio. A moan came out of her. Then he walked up to his room and put her on his bed.

He lay next to her. She turned toward him. Her breasts pressed his arm. She looked down. His cock lay heavy on his stomach. It twitched. It thickened. Cool air from the AC moved over them, and the sweat on his skin went. His cock kept filling, rising, getting fatter, standing. She watched it grow. Excitement hit her. It was the first time she had seen a cock do that. It stood at last, thick, the head wet.

“You like watching it grow.”

“Hmm.”

Juice ran onto her thigh. She stared.



“Hold it.”

She put her hand on him, light, her fingers soft around the shaft.

“Tighter. Shake.”

She squeezed and shook it. It jumped hard in her fist, a thick pulse that lifted her hand.



“Can you feel the pulse.”

“Hmm.”

“Ready.”

She smiled and nodded.

He held her ass and lifted her over him. Her knees found the sheets.

“Put me in.”

She put him at her hole. She was still wet with him from downstairs. He lowered her. The fat head kissed her again and opened her.

“Ah.”



He held her there, her ass in his hands, only the head inside.

“Stay on that. That’s the fattest bit. Bounce on it. Don’t drop.”



She tried a small bounce. The head tugged her open and shut. Juice ran down the shaft that was still out.

“Mm.”

He took her breasts.

“Hold these. Ride the head. Look how much is left.”



She looked. Most of him stood between them, wet. She bounced, her hole stretched around the mushroom, her tits in his grip.

“Oh.”

“Hear that. Your hole is kissing it. Keep kissing.”

“Ohh.”



Her knees slipped. She caught herself. He squeezed her breasts, pinched the nipples, lifted them and let them drop, then held them while she worked the head.

“These tits. I can hold on. That’s how I keep going.”

“Oh.”

The words made her clench on the head. He pulled at the hair on her cunt, a firm tug that made her gasp and squeeze him again.

“Milk it. It’s sucking me.”

“Nh.”

She looked down at his hand on her bush.

“Look at me.”

She did. Her mouth was open. Her eyes stayed on his.

“You’re a greedy girl, aren’t you. You want the rest.”

“Hmm.”

He tugged her bush again.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

He let her down more, slow, another few inches, and stopped her before the root.



“Kunal.”

“Now you’ve got meat. Bounce on that.”

She bounced on the thicker stretch, her bush still not reaching him.



“More.”

He gripped her hips and held her there.

“Take the rest.”

[Lucifer8797]

He pushed up. The last of him went in.

“Kunal.”



“Are you full now. Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Can you take more.”

She was already stretched as far as she could go. She did not know how more would fit.

“No.”

She clenched. More juice ran down him. She sat still, taking the size.

“That’s right. A girl like you needs a fill like mine. Now faster.”

He moved her hips. Her breasts hung over him. Her cunt took the whole shaft on every stroke.

“Yes. Yes.”




“Finally. This innocent girl is training to fuck.”

“Yes.”

She rode down until her clit ground his root. He rolled a nipple.

“You won’t stop, will you. Say it.”

“God.”

She came on him, shaking, her cunt clutching the thick cock she was sitting on, juice running onto his hips. She fell forward onto his chest.

“I am not going to stop.”



“Yes.”

“Feed me your boobs,” he whispered in her ear, his hands gripping her ass tighter.




She pushed the breast into his mouth. He sucked, bit, and kept hold of her ass. Then he fucked up into her from below, short lifts, her body lying on his.



“No more teasers. This is the main picture. Let that cock go deep. It’s yours tonight.”

He drove to the root.

“Kunal.”



Her nails dug his chest. She clutched him and soaked him.

“Stay on it. I’m going to fill you again.”

“Yes.”

He held her hips down and thrust up, and came inside her, pulse after pulse.

“Kunal.”

“Keep it.”





They breathed. She stayed on him, looking into his eyes. He looked into hers. They drifted to sleep like that.

She woke to the main door closing. Bright sun was on the bed. He was gone. She went to the hall. The computer was logged in. Three folders sat on the screen. Her hand went to the explicit one. She opened the subfolder with yesterday’s date.

Their sex was in it. She was on the table and he was taking her. It looked so beautiful that she lost time, sitting there, watching Kunal take her, frame after frame.

The main door opened. He had a small bag with him. She was sitting naked at the computer. He set the bag down, came and stood behind her, then he saw the screen.

“The cameras were auto clicking. I can delete it now.”

“Don’t.”

Then she opened an older date. A woman on a bed, playing with a dildo and other toys. That woman’s cunt was bald.

“Is this how women keep that place?”

She pointed at her own pussy.

“Most women do. But yours is beautiful.”

“I like that.”

He moved her to the bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the tub, knees open. The thick hair covered her cunt. He ran his fingers through it and tugged. She gasped. Her hand went down, and the ring on her finger caught in the hair. She pulled. It held.

“Are you sure? They are so natural.”

She lifted the stuck hand, the gold still in the bush.

“It gets caught in my ring. Please.”

He smiled, freed the ring, and took the trimmer from the shelf. She watched it buzz between her thighs. He held her open and trimmed a path, then the sides, then close around her lips. She held still. When he stopped, the bush was gone. She touched the smooth skin.

He turned the taps. Water rose around her calves. He got naked and stepped in. He held his hand out.

She laughed and slipped off the other side onto the tiles.

“Come here.”

He caught her waist and pulled her into the water. She yelped, still laughing, and tried to climb out. He drew her back by the hips. Then he soaped his hands and put them on her breasts. She went still. He washed her belly and the new bare cunt, his palm sliding on smooth skin. She let him. She took the soap and washed his chest, shy, and down to his cock. He kissed her mouth. She was smooth against his thigh when she pressed close. They stayed until the water cooled, then he dried her, and his hand passed once more over the bare pussy, just to feel it.

They came out of the bathroom. He looked at her, at the new bare cunt, and smiled.

“Want to see how your pussy is looking.”

She wanted to see it. The hair was gone and she had only touched it. She could not see it properly from above.
“Yes.”

He was gone into the hall and back with the camera before she had moved. She understood. The thought that had sat in her since those files, since he had talked of picture gifts, stood up fully. She had wanted to pose like that. She had told herself it would never be her. It was her now, and a lift went through her. She kept her face still.

“Won’t a mirror do.”

“No.”

He opened a new pack, a thick vibrator, and tossed it onto the bed. She looked at it, then at him. What was she supposed to do with this.

“Haven’t you masturbated.”

Of course she had. The nights in her room. Heat climbed her face.
“Yes.”

“What do you use.”

She would not sound like a girl who only had her hand. She had used something. She was proud of that.
“Carrot.”

“This is the carrot. Better.”

He pressed the button. It buzzed. He put it in her hand, laid her on the bed, and opened her legs wide, her arms out.

“Now use it.”

She ran it up and down her slit, the way she always had, and kept it outside.

“Is this how you use a carrot.”

The buzz sat on her clit and her hole stayed shut.
“Then how.”

He took the vibrator, set the buzzing head to her hole, and pushed. It went in. Her mouth opened. So this was how. All those nights the carrot had stayed outside.



He watched it sink. Nothing had gone in her before last night. Not even that. The thought landed in him, warm.

He clicked. She held the pose, the toy in her, the new bare cunt toward the lens. She loved it. Last night’s pictures had already taken the fear. She turned when he asked, and let him take more.

She could have stayed on the bed. Hunger won.
“Are we done. I am starving.”

“Done.”

She went to the kitchen. He sat at the computer and loaded the frames, then came after her. He stood behind her as if to help with the roti. His cock slid between her ass cheeks and rubbed there.

It felt good. She wanted to lean back onto it. Her cunt was still swollen from the night.
“Yours will never go down, will it.”

“When you are with me, it never does. How about now.”

She wanted now. She wanted food more.
“No, I am really sore. I need food and rest.”

When the rotis were ready they sat at the dining table and ate. Then they came to the hall. The pictures were on the screen. She looked at her own pussy, smooth, new, pale, the lips finally visible.

He reached for the small bag and pulled out a pill.

“Why don’t you take this.”

She looked at it.
“What is this for.”

“We don’t want a baby, right.”

Junior college came back. She saw the sperm she had drawn in class, the diagrams of them swimming. For two weeks in the studio, constantly teased, she had wanted only her carnal needs. Everything else had slipped her mind yesterday. The pill made her see what she had ignored. Guilt started, and she kept it off her face. She put the pill on her tongue, swallowed it with water, and went to Rohan’s room.

Yesterday’s shirt was hanging. She put it on. It smelled of him. She lay on the bed, and the sheet smelled of him too. Guilt began to hurt, then his smell eased it, and she slept.

[Sankamithira]

Hymen broken, She lost her virginity. Not pure anymore for any man.

Even if rohan fuck her in their first night she can't feel his cock inside like a cycle in car parking. . It can't stretch her.

Every night will be full of disappointments. She has to use carrot and vibrator again. She will start hating Rohan for not satisfying her like a man. It's better she can stop the wedding now itself to avoid big damage

[jiivajothii]

Kunal will fuck and make her pregnant while that impotent rohan will be husband for records.

[Logan]

Nice update

[Hotgiri]

Dear writer

Request to add dirty talk between Isha and Kunal while doing sex, Isha’s moaning and asking for more. Could Please add these in next chapter, story and gif and pics are awasome

[Arul Pragasam]

Super bro

[Sarran Raj]

Nice update