Adultery Rich girl Jyoti Ruined& Reduced to a Low Class Common Whore

[RRahul]

Jyoti was standing outside the door, she straigthned her clothes, took a long breath, put her hands on the door handle and pressed down& away to open. She was walking into the lion’s den where one walks willinging by leaves with the lion’s permission.




She opened the door& stepped in with as little thought as possible. Her senses regained when she was inside, her head was almost spinning from the sensory overload. The room was heavily filled with the smell musty of cigarette and Hookah smoke, making it a primeval misty atmosphers, There was a single 100W light bulb on top of the roof which was covered in red cellophane which gave the room a deep red hue. There was generally very little furniture in the room, clearly if she didn’t know, she should have known by now, as she was taking a look around there was a simply wooden table, a chair and a dirty cot and on the cot was sitting the lion himself. Imran was sitting there like a Persian Shah, but wearing the attire of a labourer migrant.




 A dirty “ganji” (vest) and a lungi (a knee length join cloth). He had at his side a glass filled with a milky clouded liquid and a bottle of the same. He took a long gulp and finished whatever crap was in the glass& stood up, now Jyoti was frightened of the monster which was in front of her. He was standing at around 6’8” tall, his complexion was dark, which was in stark contrast to her own milky complexion. He was extremely muscular, not like a body builder but was lean and muscular like those labour class people who spend their entire lives doing manual work and develop real manly muscles unlike fake pumped up ones at the gym. His masculinity could be gauged from the layers of curly hair which she could see on his chest and arms, she was wondering where else did he have such hairs ;-) 





He was wearing a loose lungi but she could clearly make out the rod shaped impression of his cock and could only imagine what weapon he was hiding inside. His vest bore stains of pan, meat, and god knows whatever he was doing. Her eyes moved upto to his face where she saw the impressions of a stone cold man. He looked like the ugliest man she had ever seen. His face was like a butcher, mean and unyielding, wearing a cap and sporting the thickest and curliest beard she’s ever seen. Her legs were trembling with fear, her lips and throat became parched, but her pussy was throbbing wet. Her brain told her to run, but her pussy to stay.





When she was pondering over what to do, Imran merely when behind her, unnoticed and closed the door, the thump of the door closing brought her to her senses. Knowing that the imasse has to be broken Imran spoke in a deep and sure voice…



Imran- “Madam aap finally aa hi gayi, mai aapka hi wait kar raha tha” (madam you have finally come, I was waiting for you)


Jyoti- “ha.. ha… aa gayi” (ya… yes… I’ve come)



Imran now went behind her and closed the door, while he was behind her he didn’t fail to notice her ass from a top view, my god, his cock almost burst in his pants. He could clearly see two huge gel bags and a deep valley in between, it was like to inverted letter “U” placed side by side like thus, “UU.” Imran would have grabbed a handful thrown her on the cot and forced himself on her but she knew her history, he knows that she was a wild horse to be tamed and conquered.





He gently placed his palm massive hard hand on the small of her back. He placed it so that his top two fingers were resting on her back and his bottom three fingers were on her ass. It was a find balance only a man accustomed to handling hundreds of women could pull off. He guided her to the chair and sat her down, he watched how her giant ass squished against the hard chair as she sat down.


 He went and sat on the cot in front of her. He was sitting just inches away from her, it was as if a tiny lamb had fallen into the paws of a lion who was merely playing with it. From this close Imran could notice everything about her, he noticed the beads of sweat on her forehead and neck which twinkled like stars under the red light, he noticed her heavy breathing, a sexy mix of caution and excitement, and her heaving bosom, with each breath her massive boobs became more prominent and vulgar, her sweat made the thin top stick to her skin like it wasn’t even there. Imran could easily guage every conture of her body. His eyes became transfixised on her massive milk tankers, her absolutely flat belly and her flaring waist. 






As his eyes wondered down to between her legs, she tightly closed her legs meaning she wasn’t psychologically ready for sex and only could wonder who else had been in that heaven before him. Had this been any other of the hundreds of slum girls he had in his room he would have ripped off her clothes and would have been putting a baby in her tummy right now, but he knew that he had to take it slow. If he were to throw her on the bed and have his way with her she would most probally tell her father and that would be the end of him and Murad who was sitting glued to the monitor downstairs.