[opendoor]

From Chiiti, lets move to Fathima story

Who is Fathima ?


Fathima



xx years old, 5'6" tall, weighing 50 kg—a radiant beauty with a complexion as fresh and vibrant as a Kashmiri apple. Yet, her beauty remains hidden from everyone except her *Baba* (father) . Her greatest strengths are her beauty, innocence, and kindness.
Poverty is her curse.

Beauty is her blessing.

Though she is only xx, her physical maturity makes her appear older. Her world is confined strictly to her home and sch ool—she knows nothing of the world beyond.

Haseena



A 40-year-old domestic worker who is very "accommodating."

She performs any task without the slightest hesitation.

At home, she caters to her husband and neighbour son.

Her goal is to provide the same kind of "service" to the master of the house where she works.
 
Iqbal



A 50-year-old car driver.

He is skilled at maneuvering a car through the narrowest of alleyways.
He is equally skilled at inserting his cock into the tightest of openings.

His strength: his daughter.

His weakness: an obsessive, insatiable craving for money and sex

He enjoys using lewd, vulgar language with his employer’s wife while driving her around for shopping.

Iqbal was aware that in the past, whenever he failed to pay the rent, the landlord and his son would have sex with his wife. Because of this, instead of feeling humiliated when someone else has sex with his wife right in front of him, Iqbal has gradually grown accustomed to it and even started to enjoy it.

As for Haseena, she has a high sex drive; she constantly hopes that if the right opportunity arises, someone or other might come along to sleep with her.

8 years back..



Iqbal has lost his job

To make ends meet, Iqbal takes on odd jobs, working as a car driver.

In the process, he ends up working as a driver for a *zamindar* (landowner) named Sudarshan.

One day, upon arriving at the office, his boss calls him into a room and says, "Iqbal, go to this address; they’ll give you a box—bring it back here."
Iqbal goes to the address, mentions Sudarshan’s name, collects the box, and heads back to the office. On the way, driven by curiosity, he opens the box to see what’s inside. He finds a thin rope, six metal clips, a whip, and a tube-like device with a small ball attached. When he presses a button, the ball begins to spin rapidly, making a whirring sound. Not quite understanding what these items are for, he puts them back into the box and takes it to his boss’s room. He was shouting at someone over the phone: "How can you tell me this now? Don't you have any common sense? I booked this ages ago—what am I and my friends supposed to do now?" He hung up.

"Sir, I’ve brought that box."
"Take it away and throw it in the river."
"What’s wrong, sir? You seem quite upset. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Just then, Haseena called, but Iqbal cut the call.
"My friends and I booked a whore for tonight, but the bitch bailed on us. The whole night’s party is ruined."
Meanwhile, Haseena called again.

"Go ahead and take that call," Sudarshan said.
Iqbal stepped aside and answered. "How many times do you have to call? What the hell are you so busy doing?" she asked, sounding irritated.
Iqbal explained everything that had happened—to his own wife.
"Oh, really? Well, ask them how much they’re paying. I’ll stay on the line," she replied. Iqbal tucked the phone into his pocket, walked back to Sudarshan, and asked, "Sir, how much did you pay for the booking?"
Sudarshan looked him up and down, a bit suspiciously, and said, "Twenty-five thousand. Do you know someone? If you can arrange it, I’ll pay an extra five thousand."

"Let me check and get back to you, sir," Iqbal said. He stepped outside and spoke into the phone: "Hey, Begum... you heard that, right? I’m hanging up now..." Hasina says, "Hey, listen to me. Tell them you know a whore and that you can bring her—but make sure you get thirty thousand rupees for it." Iqbal, sounding suspicious, replies, "But I don't know anyone like that."
"Oh, you foolish husband of mine! I’m right here, aren't I? Just take me!"
"Look, I understood you sleeping with a man here or there—I figured you did it because we needed the money—but now you’re talking about going out onto the streets like a common whore?"
"Listen—I’ll just sleep beside some man, and I’ll get paid for it too. Now, stop talking and go tell them!"
Iqbal hesitates for a moment, then goes back inside and mumbles, "Sir, I know a whore; I can bring her, but she’s asking for thirty thousand rupees."
"Tell her to come, but she must not refuse anything we ask of her—agreed?"
"Alright, sir."
"Tell me, is this whore fair-skinned? And does she wear a burqa?" Swallowing his rising anger, he says, "Sir... you’ve probably never fucked someone like her before—she’s the quintessential 'family woman,' sir."
"Alright, fine... here’s ten thousand as an advance; the remaining twenty will be paid once the job is done." He then provided the address for where she should be brought that evening.

Iqbal headed home to fetch his wife, Haseena.
By the time he arrived, Haseena was already dressed and ready.
She wore a white sari with a green floral pattern, paired with a matching white blouse—through which her breasts were clearly visible—and a white petticoat underneath. With a long string of jasmine flowers in her hair, she looked exactly like a whore.
Iqbal just kept staring at her.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You don't look like a married woman at all."
"Then what do I look like?" "You look just like a street-corner whore."
"Ha ha! Well, isn't that exactly what you're taking me along for—to play the whore?"
"Alright, let's go." Saying this, he got his wife into the car and drove to the address provided by 'Sir.' He rang the doorbell, and a man—roughly the same age as their 'Sir,' around 50—opened the door and asked, "Who are you looking for?"
"Well, sir, Mohan Sir gave us this address."
"Oh?"
"Yes, sir."
"So, did you bring her?"
"I did, sir," he replied, gesturing toward his wife, Haseena, who was standing beside him.
"Whoa, what a stunner of a whore! Bring her inside."
Iqbal took Haseena inside.
Inside, there were three men—all around the same age as their 'Sir'—wearing nothing but *lungis*. Just then, Sudarshan Sir walked in, adjusting his own *lungi*.
"Oh, Iqbal! You're here? I was worried you might bail on us. Is this her?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hey Mohan, our usual broker always brought us dark-skinned women, but this guy has brought a fair-skinned whore! And just look at the way she’s dbangd that sari—you can tell she’s a total whore," one of the friends remarked.
"Hey Iqbal... she really does look like a 'family-woman-turned-whore,' just like you promised!" "She’s fair-skinned... but why isn’t she wearing a burqa?"
"Sir, if she had come up in the lift wearing one, it might have aroused suspicion. So, I made sure she got ready to look exactly like a typical family woman."
"What’s this, Iqbal? You’re talking as if she’s your own wife—like you personally oversaw her getting ready!"

"Hey, Begum... go to the bathroom and change your clothes for the gentlemen."

Hasina goes to the bathroom with her handbag and returns after changing her clothes.



She appears in an outfit they find incredibly appealing—they are left stunned. "Yes! This is exactly our fantasy! We’ve been trying to get our hands on someone like this for so long, but it never worked out. Finally, this driver guy has made it happen!" they exclaim, clearly delighted.

"Sir, we’re running out of time—let’s get started!"

"Alright, alright. Hey Mohan, he actually works at my office; he’s not just some random broker. But he’s certainly managed to land us a real beauty!"

"Oh, is that so? Well, what are you standing around for? Pass the liquor!"
As Iqbal moves forward to pour a drink, the four men feast their eyes on Hasina.

"Hey, what’s your name?"

"Hasina."

 




"Wow! A fair-skinned slut—just what I wanted! Not that the name matters; we’re just going to call you 'slut' anyway," they laugh.
Iqbal watches, wondering how Hasina will react. To his shock, she walks toward them, lets her *pallu* (sari dbang) fall, and sits on one of the men’s laps.
"If she’s a slut, then you have to call her a slut, *bava* (darling)," she says, reaching over to squeeze his cock right through his *lungi*.
"Damn! You’ve got a grip that could squeeze the very essence out of a man, you wench!" he cries out, pulling her closer and grabbing her buttocks. He was fondling her intensely.

Another man stood up and said, "Hey, take her and go into the bedroom!" as he grabbed Haseena by the arm and pulled her.
She landed right on his lap, her face positioned close to his cock. Without hesitation, she took his cock—still covered by his lungi—into her mouth and gave it a gentle bite.

Just then, Mohan Sir spoke up, "Hey, let's watch her dance while we have a drink!"

He pulled Haseena to her feet and said, "Hey, why don't you dance for us while slowly taking off your clothes?"

Having already removed her *pallu* (sari end-piece), Haseena opened the box Iqbal had brought. Singing a song herself, she unwrapped her sari and tossed it toward the men.

As they drank, the men watched her dance, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Next, she began unhooking her blouse one by one. Once all the hooks were undone, she held the garment in her hands, swaying her breasts from side to side and up and down, teasing the men further. Suddenly, she turned around, whipped off her blouse, and tossed it back toward them.

One of the men caught the blouse, pressed it against his face, and inhaled deeply. Letting out an "Ah!"—he untied his lungi, wrapped the blouse around his erect cock, and began stroking it rhythmically.

Meanwhile, dancing to the song "Baavalu Sayya," (local movie song),  Haseena untied the drawstring of her *langa* (petticoat/skirt), twirling the string while swaying her waist in perfect rhythm with the music. "I’ve never seen such a wild, insatiable bitch before!" the others remarked, praising their 'sir.'



Haseena slowly let her skirt slide down. Bending over, she swayed her buttocks, slapped them with her hands, and—stripping off her undergarments—exposed her anus to them.
"Your asshole is going to get torn apart today, you slut!" one of them exclaimed.

She turned around, covering her breasts and pussy with her hands. As she approached the men, she pulled her hands away, moved close to each of their faces, and swayed her breasts. She then tugged at their *lungis* before returning to the spot where she had been dancing earlier.

Since none of them were wearing underwear, their cocks stood fully erect.
Just then, Mohan Sir stood up and headed toward an inner room. "Iqbal, come along—bring out that box from inside," he said, while dragging a tea-stand out into the hall.
"Lie down on this, you slut!" he commanded. Haseena complied, though her legs remained dangling off the edge.
One of the men took a rope from the box and tied Haseena’s legs to the legs of the tea-stand. When Iqbal asked, with a hint of alarm, "Sir, what are you doing?" Haseena interjected, "Oh, come on—didn't you say earlier that you could do whatever you wanted?" Sudarshan Sir looked at Iqbal and gave him a wink. "Just you watch," he said, placing a stick in Haseena's hands. He then pulled her arms back and tied them to the stick.

Next, he gently kneaded her breasts, bound them together with a rope, and left one end of the rope hanging so it could be pulled. Taking clips from a box, he attached two to her nipples, and two more to her labia.
Until then, she hadn't felt much pain, but looking at her face, it was clear that the agony was just beginning.
He then lit a candle and began dripping the hot, molten wax all over her breasts.
Haseena let out soft, gasping moans—"Ah... ah... ah..."
He slowly dripped the wax over her entire body, including her pussy. Meanwhile, the others watched the scene, enjoying themselves while drinking.

 

One man stood up and slapped Haseena hard across the cheek—*smack, smack!* Haseena cried out, "Ah! Hit me—hit me more!" Encouraged, he struck her a couple more times.
Another man approached, rubbed off the wax that had accumulated on her skin, and remarked, "Look at you, you slut—you've turned all red!" He then gave her pussy a light tap.
"Hmm, hit me again, *bhava* (dear)," she said, looking at him with intense, raw desire.
This time, he struck her even harder.
"Ah... hmmm..."
He removed the clips from her body, pulled the rope tied around her breasts, and began striking her breasts with a ruler.
A look of exhaustion washed over Haseena's face. She is visible, yet she continues to provoke them, goading them on: "Hit me, hit me more!"

Haseena’s body bears the marks of a ruler across her breasts, burns from a candle flame on her stomach, and the welts of hand-slaps on her cheeks. Her hair is completely disheveled, her *bottu* (forehead mark) is smeared away, and she is left entirely naked.

Then, Sudarshan Sir unties the ropes binding Haseena, forces her to bend over, and—taking a whip—lashes her across the buttocks with sharp, stinging strikes. Unable to bear the pain this time, Haseena screams out, "Amma! Ahhh!" Taunting her—"Well, you slut, does it hurt now?"—he delivers two more blows. They then grab and pull at her breasts with their hands, while simultaneously striking her buttocks with loud, sharp smacks. When Haseena can no longer stand and collapses to the floor, they seize her by the hair and drag her into the bedroom.


They made her kneel, and four men gathered around, positioning their cocks in front of her face. She began sucking them one by one, while her hands busied themselves stroking the others. One man grabbed her by the hair and shoved his entire cock into her mouth; struggling to swallow it, Haseena found herself in great distress. Just then, Sudarshan Sir kicked her hard on the buttocks, shouting, "Hey, you bitch, have you grown too bold?" Stung by the pain, she took the whole cock deep into her mouth and started sucking.
Sudarshan Sir lay back on the bed and beckoned her. Haseena aligned her pussy with his cock, mounted him, and began to thrust. Simultaneously, another man thrust his cock into her ass from behind. Haseena let out a stifled cry—"Abba, ah!"—biting her lip to endure the pain.


The other two men offered their cocks to her mouth. With one man thrusting from behind and another from below, they pounded away relentlessly. They soon swapped positions—those who had been sucking began to fuck, while those who had been fucking now took their turn to be sucked.

"Hey, it’s going into your ass so easily—just how many have been inside you?"
"Ah... ah... twenty... oh, God!"


Meanwhile, the men in front shoved their cocks deep into her mouth.
Iqbal watched, puzzled—he was certain only five men had fucked her, yet she claimed it was twenty. Deciding to ask about it later, he took another sip of his drink and continued to watch them. It seemed they had all reached their climax. Suddenly, they stood up, pulled Haseena back down, and forced her onto her knees. Once again, she began servicing them—sucking one cock after another while using her hands to stroke the rest. Almost simultaneously, they all groaned—"Ah... oh... ah!"—and ejaculated, spraying their semen all over her face. They then pried her mouth open and poured the remaining fluid inside. Haseena swallowed it eagerly, and whatever had landed on her breasts, she scooped up with her fingers and placed into her own mouth. After thoroughly cleaning each of their cocks, she started to get up.

"Hey, wait! Where are you going?"
"To the bathroom... to wash up."
"Hold on, we’re not done yet." They made her sit in the corner of the room, and one by one, they urinated on her, creating a small puddle. "Stay sitting right there in that urine until we tell you to move," they commanded, before heading off to the bathroom themselves. Iqbal looked at his wife, Haseena—she showed no signs of distress; on the contrary, she looked at her husband with a sense of pride, as if she had achieved something significant.

After a while, Subarson Sir and his friends left. Before departing, each of them handed over five thousand rupees, telling us to keep it as a tip.

Turning to me, Sir said, "Well done, Iqbal! You’ve brought us the absolute best whore. While others might play hard to get—refusing to do this or that, no matter how much they’re paid—she, on the other hand, does everything..." "Hey, go clean up that urine, take a bath, and then come back," he said.



After Haseena finished her bath and got dressed, Sudarshan handed her some money, saying, "Here, Iqbal, here is the remaining twenty thousand." He then asked, "Tell me, would you be able to stay for a couple of days?"
"I don't have any objection, but I'm not sure if my husband will agree."
"Good heavens! You’re married—you have a husband too?" Forgetting that there were ladies from a respectable family present, Iqbal said—

"Yes, she’s right here in front of you; ask her yourself."

Iqbal was left dumbfounded when his wife dropped this bombshell.

Sudarshan Sir, also a bit bewildered, asked—
"What’s this, Iqbal? What is she saying?"

"Yes, Sir. She is my wife, Haseena."

Sudarshan was stunned.

"Then what is all this?"

"Well, Sir, when you mentioned thirty thousand rupees, I figured—why pass up the money?" Saying this with a laugh, Haseena—who was still completely naked—walked over to Sudarshan Sir and took his cock in her hand.

"Damn, Iqbal! I’ve always had this fantasy—to fuck another man’s wife right in front of him. If you’re okay with it, I’ll fuck her just this once, while you watch."

"Why ask him, Sir? Come on!" Haseena replied, lifting her saree and petticoat, and bending over the bed.

"Iqbal, come over to this side—you’ll get a better view," Sudarshan said, positioning him right next to them.

Adjusting his cock, Sudarshan slid it into Haseena’s pussy and began to thrust slowly.

"Ah, you bitch! What a pussy you’ve got... oh, ah, ah, ha, ha!" he groaned, picking up the pace of his thrusts.
"Hey, Iqbal! Look at this—I’m fucking your wife’s pussy! Ha, ha, ha!" "Ah... ah..."
Haseena: "Hmm... hmm... yes, put it in just like that, sir... ah... hmm... Hey, husband, look!"
Iqbal is right there, watching his wife being fucked.

"Ha ha! Oh, this has been a long-held desire of mine—and today, thanks to you, it’s finally being fulfilled!" he exclaimed, thrusting even harder.

"Oh, God... ah... yes, sir! Keep going, sir—ah, oh my!" Haseena gasped, her eyes rolling back. With a hearty laugh, the man thrust his hips with increasing speed until, reaching their climax simultaneously, they both collapsed onto the bed.

A while later, the man got up and said, "Iqbal, thank you so much! My wish has been fulfilled—you’ve got yourself a superb wife!" He planted a kiss on Haseena and added, "Let’s plan a trip sometime—maybe for a couple of days?"

 

"Do you even need to ask, sir? I’m ready whenever you say the word!"

A week later, Sudarshan and Haseena went to Goa and stayed for four days. From then on, Haseena became a shared mistress for Sudarshan and three of his friends. Whenever they were in the mood, they would show up to have sex with her; sometimes, they would even visit individually. 

Since they always left some money behind, Haseena would eagerly encourage them and let them have their way with her.
One day, something Sudarshan said angered Iqbal so much that he quit his job under him and even blocked Sudarshan’s number on his wife’s phone.

But what exactly did Sudarshan say? "Hey Iqbal... you fulfilled my desire to fuck a man's wife right in front of him. I have another fantasy, too—I want to fuck both your wife and your daughter in few years, right in front of you, Iqbal."




Now, Haseena has begun the hunt for a new cock; the difference this time is that the man must not only be willing to fuck her, but he must also be someone who pays her.

[opendoor]

In the nearby upscale community lives the family of Dr Manohar, Pavithra and Shruthi



Around  a year back…

Around one o'clock in the afternoon, Subbaiah calls Pavitra. Subbaiah is their farm worker in the village

"Madam, I’ve come to Hyderabad to buy some fertilizers. If you’re home, I’d like to drop by and see you."

Pavitra knows exactly why he wants to visit. Whenever the opportunity arises, he enjoys thrusting his thick cock into her itching pussy—and she enjoys it just as much.

"Hey Subba, why this sudden visit? You should have told me beforehand!"

"Sorry, Madam. It was a last-minute trip."

"Well, I’m not in Hyderabad right now, but my daughter is at home. Why don’t you go over, have a meal, and then head back? She’s mentioned many times that 'Uncle Subbaiah' is a very good man."

"Shruti is a very kind person, Madam."

"True, but she isn't much of a cook—just have whatever is available. Wait until the heat dies down before you head back to the village. My husband isn't in town either."

"Oh, why put her through the trouble, Madam? I’ll just come by when you’re around."

"Subba, that’s always been your problem—you’re far too hesitant! My daughter likes you; just go and say hello."

"Alright, Madam."

Pavitra hangs up the phone and immediately calls her daughter Shruthi



"Hey, where are you?" 

"Mom, I’m heading home now; my morning classes have just finished."


"Oh, really? Listen, Subbaiah Mama has arrived in Hyderabad—he’s at the bus stand. Pick him up on your way home. He’s a simple man from the village and doesn’t eat outside food. There’s some biryani in the fridge; heat it up for him and make an omelet, too. He can have lunch, rest for a while, and then head back. He’s from the village, after all—we must treat him with proper hospitality."

"What are you saying, Mom? Why should we be 'hospitable' to our own farmhand?"

"Hey! Whether it’s the farmhand, the help, the worker, or the watchman—they are all part of our household. They live with us and are here for us. Don’t look down on them like that."

"Alright, alright... I’ll take care of it."

After hanging up, Shruti sets off for the bus stand on her scooter.

She doesn’t get much of a 'kick' out of traveling by car. She absolutely loves riding her scooter—it gives her a thrill to provoke men by letting her breasts bounce freely. That’s why she prefers the scooter—and she makes sure to wear a loose-fitting bra.

At the bus stand, she spots Subbaiah Mama, gives him an affectionate hug, and says, "How are you, Mama? Mom called and told me you were coming. Let’s go home!" She has Subbaiah hop on, then stops by the bank to withdraw some cash. After buying a few necessary items, she sends them off in the tractor that had arrived with him, and then asks, "Did Dad give you any specific tasks, Subbaiah Mama?" "Ah... yes, I completely forgot!" he exclaimed, suddenly remembering. He explained the task to Shruti, and she replied, "Alright then, let's go." 

As they were riding on the bike, another vehicle suddenly cut across their path, forcing him to brake hard. Caught off guard, Subbaiah lost his balance; he lurched forward, pressing his entire front against Shruti’s back. One of his hands landed on her shoulder, while the other rested firmly on her thigh. The soft, yielding sensation of her thigh traveled from his palm to his brain, sending a jolt through his entire body—each part of him reacting in its own way. Meanwhile, the intoxicating, feminine fragrance emanating from Shruti transported Subbaiah to an entirely different world.

As the traffic ahead cleared, Shruti nudged the bike forward and called out, "Subbaiah-mama..." The sound brought him back to reality. "Uh... yes?" he stammered, shifting his weight backward and releasing his grip on her thigh. 

Shruthi, who had never noticed such a sensation from Subbaiah before, felt a jolt run through her nerves at his firm touch. Her body shivered, and a deep, primal craving stirred within her. She thought to herself, "If I just tease Subbaiah—who’s sitting right behind me—it might satisfy this itch I’m feeling. And the best part is, no one would ever know.

" Meanwhile, Subbaiah pulled his hand back from her thigh, marveling at how incredibly soft it felt. As the wind caught her top, it lifted, revealing the curves of her legs encased in white leggings. Her top clung to her waist and back, clearly outlining the bra she wore underneath.

When his hand, resting on her shoulder, brushed against the strap of her bra, Subbaiah—who had been calm until then—suddenly felt a surge of intense heat. He found himself wishing he could bend her over right there and fuck her. Both of them, riding on the bike, were lost in the same thoughts, yet neither knew who should make the first move. 

After they finished their errands, Shruthi asked, "Subbaiah, have you had lunch?" He replied, "No, miss. Just drop me off at the bus stand; I’ll grab something to eat there." But Shruthi, having a different idea in mind, insisted, "Why eat out? Let’s go home instead." She persuaded him to get back on the bike, and they headed off.

Subbaiah, sitting behind, feasted his eyes on Shruti’s curves. Every time the bike hit a pothole, her breasts would sway rhythmically, and he would lean over her shoulder to get a good, lingering look. "Since your mother isn't home, why are we even going to the house, Miss?" Subbaiah asked. 

"Do you only come home for my mother? Don't you come for me?" Shruti replied. "Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, Miss!" Subbaiah said quickly. "Well, even if I don't cook as well as my mother, I can still take good care of you," Shruti said.

Not quite sure how to interpret that, Subbaiah asked, "What do you mean, Miss?" "I mean, even if I can't cook as well as my mother... I can still manage quite well," Shruti explained. "Is that so, Miss? Your mother doesn't just cook well—she also serves food with such warmth and insistence," Subbaiah remarked. 




"Really? I’m just learning to cook now... I’ll pick up that skill soon enough," Shruti said. Just then, a speed breaker appeared; as the bike braked suddenly, Subbaiah lurched forward and bumped into her. Seizing the opportunity, he gripped her waist with both hands and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Sorry, Miss!" he said. 

"It’s alright, Subbaiah," Shruti replied. As she shifted back, Subbaiah’s gaze fell upon her full, rounded buttocks. "Damn... I wonder when I’ll get a chance to squeeze those," he thought, just as Shruti pulled the bike to a stop—they had arrived home.

The two got off the bike. As Shruti walked ahead, swaying her hips, Subbaiah followed behind, his eyes fixed on her. As soon as they went inside, Shruti asked Subbaiah to sit on the sofa, brought him a glass of water, and smiled at him with a peculiar, knowing look. Puzzled by her expression, Subbaiah took the glass and drank the water; as he handed it back, Shruti squeezed his hand firmly. Noticing this, Subbaiah thought to himself, "She seems quite eager—why not take advantage of this?" Deciding not to let slip an opportunity he had been waiting for for so long, he slowly pulled his hand away from the glass and fixed a smoldering, intense gaze upon her. Shruti gave a faint smile, said, "I'll be right back," and took the glass to the table. 

She then went to her room to freshen up and returned wearing a tight-fitting pair of shorts—revealing half her thighs and clinging to her buttocks—paired with a loose, thin T-shirt. As she walked past Subbaiah, swaying her hips, and headed toward the kitchen to fetch a glass of juice, Subbaiah was left completely stunned, staring at her in utter shock. Since she wasn't wearing a bra, her breasts bounced up and down with every step she took. The tight-fitting bottoms revealed the contours of her intimate area, while her T-shirt—riding up above her navel—showcased her deep, alluring belly button. 

With her hair left loose, she walked gracefully toward Subbaiah. Placing one hand on her waist and leaning forward slightly, Shruti said, "I’ll have a meal ready in about fifteen minutes; until then, why don't you have this juice?" Flustered, Subbaiah stammered, "Ah... sure, okay," and reached for the glass. As he did, he caught a glimpse of her fair, milky-white breasts—more than half of which were visible beneath her loose T-shirt—along with the distinct, tiny tips of her nipples pressing against the fabric. Subbaiah stood frozen, his mouth agape, staring fixedly. Noticing this, Shruti gave a soft cough, which brought Subbaiah back to his senses, and he finally took the glass.


Giving him a playful, mischievous look, Shruti turned around and walked toward the kitchen, swaying her waist with elegant grace. Watching her, Subbaiah felt as though a massive storm had just swept through him; he began to sip his juice. As he watched Shruti move—first heading toward her room as if for some task, then turning back toward the kitchen—his body began to heat up intensely. He drank the cool juice and set the glass down on the table in front of him. As Shruti bent down to pick up a glass, a large portion of her bosom was exposed; unable to contain himself, Subbaiah reached down and squeezed his own manhood. Seeing this, Shruti let out a soft, stifled laugh and walked away, moving with an extra touch of allure. 

Subbaiah understood exactly what was happening—realizing she was acting this way because she was craving to be fucked—he slowly got up, walked over, and stood at the kitchen doorway, staring intensely at her thighs and buttocks. Shruti turned back, cast a sultry, provocative look at him, arched her waist to one side, and stood there in a seductive pose.

Looking at her, he thought, "Damn, what a lustful bitch."

Subbaiah stood rooted to the spot, stroking his cock while taking in her broad back, slender waist, and firm, shapely buttocks. Shruti glanced back at him, her eyes heavy with desire, and asked in a husky voice, "What are you looking at?" "Oh... nothing at all, ma'am," Subbaiah replied, taking two steps inside. "Hey... why are you coming inside?" Shruti asked. 

Subbaiah took a couple of steps forward, standing within arm's reach, and kept staring intensely. Noticing him out of the corner of her eye, Shruti said, "If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll tell my mother." "Oh? And what exactly will you tell her, young lady?" Subbaiah asked. "That you were looking at me like this," Shruti replied. "Hmm... and where, exactly, would you say I was looking?" Subbaiah pressed. As she stammered, trying to find the words, Subbaiah reached out and firmly cupped her buttock in his hand.


Caught off guard, Shruti jolted and said in a dazed, breathless tone, "Hey... let go!" "Are you going to tell your mother about this, too?" Subbaiah asked. "Yes... I will," Shruti said, her voice trembling. "Oh, really?" Subbaiah replied, moving his hand to her other buttock, kneading it thoroughly. Shruti noticed his hand trembling slightly. 

"Hey... let go! You’re doing all sorts of things—I’m going to tell my mother!" she insisted. "Go ahead, tell her! Do I look like I’m afraid?" Subbaiah said, sliding both his hands under her T-shirt to rest them on her bare waist, pressing down gently. "Sss... ah... no, stop, let go!" Shruti cried out, squirming and twisting away.

Subbaiah pressed his erect, throbbing manhood against Shruti’s buttocks and rubbed it back and forth. The sensation left Shruti feeling intensely aroused, though she tried not to show it. Suddenly, she turned toward Subbaiah, feigning a bit of anger, and asked, "What are you doing?"

Caught off guard, Subbaiah took a step back, stammering, "Well, I... I..." His gaze drifted to the two nipples visible beneath her T-shirt. Noticing this, Shruti scolded him, "Hey! What are you looking at again?" Startled back to reality, Subbaiah—feeling a mix of fear and agitation—replied, "I just happened to see them, miss—they were showing through." "What exactly did you see?" she asked, her tone still carrying a hint of feigned annoyance. 

Subbaiah pointed toward her breasts. Shruti looked down at her chest and nipples, then, overcome with shyness, exclaimed, "Ugh! Have you no shame?" Seeing her blush, Subbaiah gathered some courage and said, "Oh, come on, miss—I’ve known you since you were a little girl!" Shruti covered her breasts with her hands and retorted, "Hmm... isn't there a big difference between seeing me back then and seeing me now?"



"Ha... that’s the only difference, isn't it?" Subbaiah replied, his eyes fixed on her breasts as if he wanted to bite into them, while he absentmindedly toyed with his own manhood. "Isn't it wrong to look at me like that, Subbaiah?" Shruti asked. "I’ve already seen the girl’s mother—what’s wrong with looking at the girl herself?" Shruti said, pulling one of her hands away from her breast. "Besides, you’re the one who showed them to me, aren't you?" Subbaiah replied. 

"Ugh, what did I ever show you?" Shruti asked, lowering her head in shyness while trying to pull her hand free. Gathering his courage, Subbaiah reached out and pinched one of her small, prominent nipples—clearly visible through her T-shirt—between his fingers and gave it a tug. The unexpected touch sent a jolt through Shruti’s breasts, a sensation that rippled through her nerves and made her entire body shiver. Before she could recover, he grabbed the other nipple, pressing and pulling it with intense desire.
"Ah... ugh... what are you doing? I’m going to tell my mommy!" Shruti exclaimed. "Go ahead and tell her," Subbaiah retorted. He pinned both of her hands behind her back, opened his mouth wide, took one of her breasts inside, and began biting it gently with his teeth, while his tongue traced the erect nipple. 

Unable to move, Shruti squirmed, but the pleasure from his tongue against her nipple masked the pain of his teeth marks. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Just let go... what are you doing?" Subbaiah clamped his jaws tighter, gripping her breast firmly between his teeth, and pulled his head back. The breast was crushed between his teeth, leaving it stinging as it slipped free. Unable to bear the pain, Shruti said, with a hint of anger, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Finding nothing there, he suddenly took her other breast into his mouth, gripping it firmly with his teeth just as he had done with the first.

As both her breasts began to ache and burn, Shruti struggled, crying out, "Ah... hey, let go! What are you doing?" "You’ve been teasing me for so long—I can’t hold back anymore!" Subbaiah replied, pressing his face against her breasts—still covered by her T-shirt—and showering them with kisses. 



The sharp pain began to fade, replaced by a tingling, throbbing sensation that spread throughout her entire body. "Ah... oh... take it easy," Shruti whispered. Realizing he had finally broken through, Subbaiah let go of her arms and gripped her waist, continuing to knead her breasts. Shruti reached out, running her hands through his hair; she pulled his head back, looked straight into his eyes, and—with a playful wink—asked, "What’s the rush?"


"I just can’t resist your delicate beauty," Subbaiah said, squeezing her waist while gazing at her with an intensity that suggested he might just devour her whole. Noticing the desire in Subbaiah’s eyes, Shruti leaned in and kissed his lips. She took each of his lips into her mouth, sucking on them, which made Subbaiah feel as though he had reached heaven. As he moved his hands up and down her waist, he lifted her T-shirt, removed it, and tossed it aside. He then captured her lips, sucking on them in return. Shruti pushed her tongue inside, intertwining it with his, and savored the taste of his saliva.



After two minutes, she pulled away from his lips. Seeing her fair, firm, and shapely breasts—and noticing the red welts across them—Subbaiah asked innocently, "Oh dear, what happened to you?" Shruti, amused by his feigned ignorance after having caused the marks himself, gave his cheek a playful, gentle tap. With her other hand, she reached down, grabbed his cock and testicles, and squeezed them. "Oh, easy now!" Subbaiah groaned. As he began to lick the red welts on her breasts—soothing the stinging sensation while a deep, internal heat surged within her—Shruti squeezed his cock firmly and asked, "Do you understand now what that pain feels like?"

"Ah... oh... I’m sorry," Subbaiah murmured, as he continued to lick her entire breast and suck on her nipple. Shruti, feeling intensely aroused and eager to take a cock inside her, pulled out Subbaiah’s cock—which she had been holding—and began to stroke it, while also kneading his testicles. "Oh, my lady, I can’t take this anymore!" Subbaiah exclaimed. "Is that so? Oh dear... well, what will you do now?" Shruti asked, putting on an innocent expression. 



Subbaiah reached between her legs and, pressing through her shorts with three fingers, rubbed against her pussy. "I’ll only find relief once I fuck your pussy, my lady," he said. As he moved two fingers over her labia, while his middle finger slid back and forth—pressing firmly against her clitoris and the slit of her pussy—her desire reached a fever pitch. "Ugh... how can you talk like that to your mistress?" Shruti asked. Squeezing her pussy hard, Subbaiah replied, "I’ve fucked your mother—how could I not fuck you, my lady?"

"Stop talking," Shruti said, pulling away from his cock and turning around. Subbaiah embraced her from behind, pressing his erect penis against her soft buttocks. With one hand, he squeezed her breast, while the other rubbed her pussy; feeling the wetness there, he said, "Come along, miss." "Hmm... where to?" Shruti asked. 

"To the room," Subbaiah replied, squeezing her pussy again. "Look at how much it’s leaking!" "Let it leak—I’m not coming," Shruti insisted. "You won't agree when asked nicely, will you?" Subbaiah said. He turned her toward him, hoisted her up so she hung over his shoulder, and pulled down her shorts. As he stroked and gently spanked her exposed buttocks, he carried her toward the bedroom. "Hey, let me go! Where are you taking me?" Shruti cried out.

He tossed her onto the bed, pulled off her shorts, and stripped naked in an instant. Gazing at her with intense desire, he climbed onto the bed. As she tried to scoot backward, saying "No," Subbaiah grabbed her legs and pulled her back. "What do you mean, 'no'?" he asked. "What is it that you don't want?" Shruti struggled to free her legs, but he spread them wide. Staring at her smooth, wet pussy, he exclaimed, "Wow... your pussy is absolutely beautiful!" 

He spread her legs even further, and as he looked up at her, Shruti fell back, lying flat on her back on the mattress. "Oh, my lady..." Subbaiah said, placing his hands on Shruti’s thighs and pushing them back. As her waist lifted, inviting him to lick her, Subbaiah couldn't hold back; he leaned down, planted a kiss on her pussy, and slowly slid his tongue into the slit.



As his cool tongue entered her hot, moist folds, Shruti’s entire body shuddered and trembled. Subbaiah pushed his tongue deep inside, tracing the inner edges before finally brushing against her clitoris. Overcome by the sensation, Shruti lost all control; craving more, she lifted her hips and pressed Subbaiah’s head firmly against her pussy. Making a soft, audible sound, Subbaiah continued to lick her, then caught one of her labia between his teeth and gave it a gentle nip. "Ah... oh..." Shruti moaned intensely, unable to bear the pleasure, and reached her climax, releasing her juices. Subbaiah lapped up every drop, then looked up with a satisfied expression and said, "My lady, your nectar tastes wonderful." Shruti turned her head away, blushing deeply.

Positioning himself between her legs, Subbaiah looked at her with intense desire, pressing his cock against her pussy. "Shall I put it in?" he asked. Shruti shook her head from side to side, signaling 'no.' "Hmm... so you said 'no'?" Subbaiah teased, biting down sharply on her breast. "Ah... hey, watch it, you devil—take it easy!" Shruti exclaimed. As he gripped her breast firmly from the base, took the nipple into his mouth to suckle it, and teased it with his tongue, her entire body felt like it was on fire. Unable to contain the sensation, she reached down, grabbed his cock, and moaned, "Ah... oh god... put it in!" Subbaiah pulled away from her breast and asked, "Didn't you just say 'no' a moment ago?"


"Ha... I want it now—come on!" she urged, squeezing his cock hard. "Ah... oh!" She lifted her hips, pressing his cock against the slit of her pussy, and began to move her waist, unable to bear the intense heat building within her. "Damn... you’re an even bigger slut than your mother!" Subbaiah remarked. Looking at him with a fierce, defiant gaze, Shruti replied, "Yes, I am a slut—so, are you going to put it in or not?" 

"Why wouldn't I?" he growled, thrusting it in forcefully. "Ahhh... oh!" Shruti let go of his cock, grabbed his waist with both hands, and pulled him deeper into herself. Sensing this, Subbaiah pulled back slightly and then, using all his strength, drove it all the way in. "Ah... take it slow," she moaned, closing her eyes. Subbaiah pulled his cock back to the very edge, holding it there. Since it still wouldn't go in, Shruti slowly opened her eyes to look. 

"Damn it, what kind of struggle are you putting up?" Subbaiah remarked, finally pushing it all the way in. With a wet *slap* sound, their private parts collided; as his cock slid deep inside and reached the very end of her pussy, Shruti let out an "Ah!" Moving his hips rhythmically in and out, Subbaiah groaned, "Oh man, what a pleasure!" as he leaned down to suck on her lips. Shruti asked, "Does it feel that good?" while his hands moved from her waist to rub and squeeze her buttocks. "Oh yes! This is the first time I’ve fucked a young girl like you," Subbaiah replied, picking up the pace. Shruti, looking intensely into his eyes, signaled for more.

Carried away by the moment, Subbaiah exclaimed, "Damn, what incredible pleasure you're giving me!" He began thrusting with all his might, one stroke after another. The friction against her pussy walls sent a wave of pleasure throughout her entire body, making her feel as if she were floating on air. She wrapped her legs around Subbaiah’s waist, reached under his arms to grip his shoulders tightly, and urged, "Keep going—hit me harder!" 

Hearing this, Subbaiah adjusted his knees on the mattress and began thrusting at full speed. As the wet, rhythmic *slap-slap* sound filled the room, he asked, "How does it feel, young lady?" Shruti replied, "It feels amazing! Don't stop—keep hitting me... hit me even harder!" "Damn... is all this fucking still not enough for you?" Subbaiah asked, delivering a few hard thrusts. Unable to hold back, Shruti cried out, "Aah... oh god!" as she climaxed.

"What the hell, you slut—if you go and climax like that, what am I supposed to do?" Subbaiah demanded. Moving his hands from her shoulders to trace patterns on her chest, Shruti replied in a dazed, intoxicated tone, "Keep fucking until *you* climax too—did I ever tell you to stop?" As his cock—which had been rigid—began to slide in and out more smoothly, lubricated by her fluids, Subbaiah kneaded her breasts with both hands and remarked, "Your mother must be getting fucked pretty well over there, right?" Shruti shot back, "Well, isn't that exactly why she sent me here?"

Stunned by that unexpected jolt, Subbaiah saw stars. "Damn! What incredible pleasure—if I’d known it was this good, I would’ve fucked you ages ago!" he exclaimed. "Forget the past; just keep going from now on," Shruti replied, thrusting back against him. "Ahhh... yes, keep fucking me!" Subbaiah groaned. For five intense minutes, he pounded away, kneading, sucking, and biting her breasts. 

Gasping for breath and sensing he was about to climax, he gave a few deep, hard thrusts, pressed his cock firmly inside, and released his warm seed before collapsing on top of her. About fifteen minutes later, they recovered, cleaned up, and—feeling quite hungry—had a meal together, after which they fucked once more to their heart's content. As evening approached, Shruti bathed and put on a nightgown, anticipating her brother’s return.



Subbaiah also got up, dressed, and sat on the sofa, acting as if nothing had happened. When Shruti brought tea and placed it on the table, they each took a cup; Subbaiah gestured, asking for another round. Shruti shook her head 'no.' Subbaiah put on a pleading expression, begging, "Please!" Seeing this, she chuckled and pointed to her watch, signaling that there was no time left. Subbaiah wore a look of resignation, but Shruti gestured firmly that there was absolutely no chance. 

Left with no other choice, Subbaiah set down the cup and headed toward the doorway. Turning back, he embraced Shruti, who was following him. "Ugh, let go! Someone might come!" she protested, struggling to break free. "No one’s coming—let’s get this over with quickly," he said, squeezing her breasts. Though a fire was igniting within her, Shruti continued to feign resistance. Subbaiah, still holding her from behind, guided her to the sofa and commanded, "Bend over."

 


"Oh, for heaven's sake... you never listen, do you?" Shruti sighed. She lifted one leg onto the sofa, placed her hands on the headrest, and bent forward, raising her buttocks. Subbaiah caressed her backside right over her nightgown, exclaiming, "Wow... what a pair!" He then reached down, gathered the hem of her nightgown, and pulled it up onto her back. After stroking her back and waist, he pulled down her panties and gave her fair, rounded buttocks a gentle slap. Positioning his erect cock right between her buttocks—at the very entrance of her pussy—he gripped her waist and thrust forward forcefully. As it slid in halfway, Shruti let out a moan: "Ah!"

He pulled back and thrust again—this time driving it in completely—until his lower abdomen collided with her buttocks, creating a sharp, resounding smack. "Oh... go ahead," Shruti said in a husky voice. Hearing this, Subbaiah got into a rhythm; he reached forward, shifted her bra, grabbed and squeezed her breasts, and toyed with her nipples using his fingers. Driven by intense desire, Shruti arched her waist back to accommodate his thrusts. "Aah... oh God... no matter how many times I fuck you, I just can't get enough!" Subbaiah exclaimed, thrusting into her with great force.

"I wish I could fuck you and your mother together," Subbaiah remarked. "Really? Well, that’s for later—finish what you’re doing now," Shruti replied, arching her waist back even harder. Unable to hold back any longer, Subbaiah pounded into her relentlessly for five minutes before reaching his climax. Caught up in the intensity of his thrusts, Shruti also climaxed twice. Satisfied, the two got up, adjusted their clothes, and stepped outside—just as Rahul arrived on his bike. Shruti quickly told them to drop Subbaiah off at the bus stop. As they left, she thought to herself, "If we had been even a little bit later, we would have been caught," and hurried back inside, closing the door.

She checked the phone and saw many missed calls from papa



shittt.. papa will come anytime now, papa is always busy but he makes some time for her. she has to throw this old fart Subbaiah out soon..