18-11-2020, 12:33 PM
He had to break the ice fast! He spoke with grave seriousness….
Imran- “madam, relax kijea, hum sab acche log hai” (madam please relax, we’re all good people here)
Jyoti- “th.. th… theek hai….” (o… o…. ok….)
Imran than reached for the bottle and poured the milky liquid in his glass half way and held the glass to her face.
Imran- “lo madam, pi lo thak gaye hogi” (here madam drink this, you must be tired)
Jyoti- “nehi theek hai” (no, its okay)
Imran now got angry and handed her the glass forcefully
Imran- “pina toh aapko padega hi, special aapke liye hi order kiya tha, bada mahenga hai” (drink this you must, I’ve specially ordered this for you, it’s quite expensive.)
*The bottle cost around Rs.400 (Indian currency), it was a paltry sum for Jyoti, but for Imran it was a significant amount. And you might be wondering why it was worth Rs. 400, and it had nothing to do with the type or vintage of the liquor in it, it has everthing to do with the viagra he had ground up and mixed inside it. It was an old family recipe passed from father to son which used the dried and ground of petals of several rare flowers and seeds. He could have been a billionare if he had sold the secret recipe but he didn’t as it was worth more than that. This is how he trapped girls of all ages and social strata.
This is how his father had ensnared his mother and made her pregnant with him and forced her to marry him and become one of his four official wives.*
Jyoti received the glass with apprehension, she was quire sure that it didn’t have any drugs in them because he saw Imran drink from it a few minutes ago at worst she thought that it would taste like shit, but this had got her excited, it was like poverty tourism for her, she was in a poor place, amongst poor people so why not try their food and drink? She also correctly gauged that it wasn’t wise to deny this man’s request when she was sitting in a closed room with in a shady place where help was perhaps miles away. Hence Jyoti took the glass from Imran with shanking hands and brought it close to her mouth.
From the initial smell she could tell that it had an extremely acrid and pungent smell to it, she pinched her nose with her other hand as conspicuously as possible and in a long gulp downed he entire contents. She quickly slammed the glass on the table and was panting because of the heat it produced in her mouth. Then slowly as she began to breath through her nose the full extent of the cheap drink become clear, it tasted absolutely like glue, the sticky liquid stick to the back of her throat and was coughing and trying to get the shitty taste out of her mouth. Imran used this opportunity to take his hand and patted her behind her back and in the process felt her bra clasp through the thin material of her top. He noticed that the bra strap was about half inch thick and a quadruple hook strap, this meant only one thing. This bitch has bigger boobs than is even showing, it really got his cock livid again and the thought of freeing those pigeons was intoxicating to him.
*To properly taste something you need both its taste and smell, only with the combinantion of the two you can determine the flabour of somtoing. Else if you close your mouth and eat a banana or mango you will only taste dull sweatness and wont be able to tell the difference.
*If you want to analyze the socioeconomic position and true boob size of a woman notice on a couple of things. Firstly if she color of her bra too bring, and is it showing through her outfit? If so then she might be poor because poor women often buy brightly colored bra and panties as their colors will fade slowly and it will be more durable.
Secondly when she wears it, check the front for any visible lines, especially under her boobs for a line made by the “underwire” it’s in all low to mid-level bras which gives it its structural support, in expensive bras it’s absent and the boobs are held more in place by the over the shoulder straps but if you see the underwire, it means that you have a big boobed girl on your hands and don’t let her go. Thirdly if you are lucky enough to touch her straps notice if it has 2 or 4 hooks. Smaller boobs (A, B and C) cups can be held by 2 hooks easily but larger ones, especially DD ones require 4, these bras are also very hard to open so you’ll need practice, or simply rip it open. The author (me) once ripped off such a bra only the hook to almost blind him in the process so be careful.
Jyoti didn’t think for a second that she was going to take another sip of this vile beverage again but she was wrong. It was an aquried taste, once you taste, you’re hooked. Slowly Imran began to open up to her.
Imran- “accha madam aap karti kya hai” (okay madam, what do you do?”
Jyoti- “Student hu” (I’m a student)
Imran- “accha kiss college aur course me?” (okay which college and course?)
Jyoti- “Delhi University, xyz course”
Imran- “accha iska matlab tu toh kafi intelligent hai, wah itni sunder hai uske upar dimag bhi!” (wow that’s really something, you’re so intelligent as well as being beautiful)
It was a kind of raw compliment that Jyoti was not used to, she was more used to hearing, “wow expensive bag, nice dress, nice car” but nothing so deep and personal especially from a man she doesn’t even know.
Imran- “teri aawaz bhi kitni pyari hai, mai phone pe hi samajh gaya tha ki tu bahut badi Pataka hogi” (your voice is also so cute, I could tell from the phone only that you’d be a really good piece)
Now Jyoti was stunned! She was used to guys praising her left right and center, she knew she was hot, she was used to receiving poetry, having songs dedicated for her but never, ever in her life did anyone dare call her a “pataka” (firecracker/ piece). She found it demeaning but oddly exhilarating.
They kept on taking, Jyoti thought that he was the most interesting person on the world. She was used to being courted in the most expensive places in Delhi, restaurants, theatres but here she was getting free with a labour class man. Slowly the topic shifted to guys, Imran mentioned that she was such a “maal” (item) that all the guys must be after her.
Again Imran got more direct by referring her to directly as a “maal” (item). Jyoti was against taken aback but she was liking this ruffian’s language. She was explaining that all the guys hit on her but there is something lacking in them, they just don’t have the confidence to deal with her. Imran understood that this girl needs a little bit of tough love. He explained to her that,
Imran- “madam confidence ko toh koi kami nehi hum logo me, ladki chahe kitni bhi akkad wali ho, apna matlab nikal hi lete hai” (Madam, there is no derth of confidence in us people, no matter how much attitude the girl has we always get out way)
Jyoti- “accha, who kaise?” (really how?)
Jyoti didn’t know but as she was conversing with Imran she was unknowingly taking sips of the drink in the glass and munching on moong dal (a cheap N.Indian snacks made from friend mong pulses often served with cheap liquor to cut the sharp taste). Imran could clearly see that the drug was starting to have its effect. She was becoming more restless, more talkative, more flirtatious, and more ripe for the picking. Her breathing was becoming heavy, her pupils dialted and her speech was starting to slur a little as she was mixing words and repeating what she is saying. Imran just couldn’t resist the sight of those massive heaving milk tankers and her subconsciously biting her lips.
*Please note- if a woman is biting her lips in a conversation with you, she’s imagining your cock in her pussy, that is for certain.
Imran- “madam, relax kijea, hum sab acche log hai” (madam please relax, we’re all good people here)
Jyoti- “th.. th… theek hai….” (o… o…. ok….)
Imran than reached for the bottle and poured the milky liquid in his glass half way and held the glass to her face.
Imran- “lo madam, pi lo thak gaye hogi” (here madam drink this, you must be tired)
Jyoti- “nehi theek hai” (no, its okay)
Imran now got angry and handed her the glass forcefully
Imran- “pina toh aapko padega hi, special aapke liye hi order kiya tha, bada mahenga hai” (drink this you must, I’ve specially ordered this for you, it’s quite expensive.)
*The bottle cost around Rs.400 (Indian currency), it was a paltry sum for Jyoti, but for Imran it was a significant amount. And you might be wondering why it was worth Rs. 400, and it had nothing to do with the type or vintage of the liquor in it, it has everthing to do with the viagra he had ground up and mixed inside it. It was an old family recipe passed from father to son which used the dried and ground of petals of several rare flowers and seeds. He could have been a billionare if he had sold the secret recipe but he didn’t as it was worth more than that. This is how he trapped girls of all ages and social strata.
This is how his father had ensnared his mother and made her pregnant with him and forced her to marry him and become one of his four official wives.*
Jyoti received the glass with apprehension, she was quire sure that it didn’t have any drugs in them because he saw Imran drink from it a few minutes ago at worst she thought that it would taste like shit, but this had got her excited, it was like poverty tourism for her, she was in a poor place, amongst poor people so why not try their food and drink? She also correctly gauged that it wasn’t wise to deny this man’s request when she was sitting in a closed room with in a shady place where help was perhaps miles away. Hence Jyoti took the glass from Imran with shanking hands and brought it close to her mouth.
From the initial smell she could tell that it had an extremely acrid and pungent smell to it, she pinched her nose with her other hand as conspicuously as possible and in a long gulp downed he entire contents. She quickly slammed the glass on the table and was panting because of the heat it produced in her mouth. Then slowly as she began to breath through her nose the full extent of the cheap drink become clear, it tasted absolutely like glue, the sticky liquid stick to the back of her throat and was coughing and trying to get the shitty taste out of her mouth. Imran used this opportunity to take his hand and patted her behind her back and in the process felt her bra clasp through the thin material of her top. He noticed that the bra strap was about half inch thick and a quadruple hook strap, this meant only one thing. This bitch has bigger boobs than is even showing, it really got his cock livid again and the thought of freeing those pigeons was intoxicating to him.
*To properly taste something you need both its taste and smell, only with the combinantion of the two you can determine the flabour of somtoing. Else if you close your mouth and eat a banana or mango you will only taste dull sweatness and wont be able to tell the difference.
*If you want to analyze the socioeconomic position and true boob size of a woman notice on a couple of things. Firstly if she color of her bra too bring, and is it showing through her outfit? If so then she might be poor because poor women often buy brightly colored bra and panties as their colors will fade slowly and it will be more durable.
Secondly when she wears it, check the front for any visible lines, especially under her boobs for a line made by the “underwire” it’s in all low to mid-level bras which gives it its structural support, in expensive bras it’s absent and the boobs are held more in place by the over the shoulder straps but if you see the underwire, it means that you have a big boobed girl on your hands and don’t let her go. Thirdly if you are lucky enough to touch her straps notice if it has 2 or 4 hooks. Smaller boobs (A, B and C) cups can be held by 2 hooks easily but larger ones, especially DD ones require 4, these bras are also very hard to open so you’ll need practice, or simply rip it open. The author (me) once ripped off such a bra only the hook to almost blind him in the process so be careful.
Jyoti didn’t think for a second that she was going to take another sip of this vile beverage again but she was wrong. It was an aquried taste, once you taste, you’re hooked. Slowly Imran began to open up to her.
Imran- “accha madam aap karti kya hai” (okay madam, what do you do?”
Jyoti- “Student hu” (I’m a student)
Imran- “accha kiss college aur course me?” (okay which college and course?)
Jyoti- “Delhi University, xyz course”
Imran- “accha iska matlab tu toh kafi intelligent hai, wah itni sunder hai uske upar dimag bhi!” (wow that’s really something, you’re so intelligent as well as being beautiful)
It was a kind of raw compliment that Jyoti was not used to, she was more used to hearing, “wow expensive bag, nice dress, nice car” but nothing so deep and personal especially from a man she doesn’t even know.
Imran- “teri aawaz bhi kitni pyari hai, mai phone pe hi samajh gaya tha ki tu bahut badi Pataka hogi” (your voice is also so cute, I could tell from the phone only that you’d be a really good piece)
Now Jyoti was stunned! She was used to guys praising her left right and center, she knew she was hot, she was used to receiving poetry, having songs dedicated for her but never, ever in her life did anyone dare call her a “pataka” (firecracker/ piece). She found it demeaning but oddly exhilarating.
They kept on taking, Jyoti thought that he was the most interesting person on the world. She was used to being courted in the most expensive places in Delhi, restaurants, theatres but here she was getting free with a labour class man. Slowly the topic shifted to guys, Imran mentioned that she was such a “maal” (item) that all the guys must be after her.
Again Imran got more direct by referring her to directly as a “maal” (item). Jyoti was against taken aback but she was liking this ruffian’s language. She was explaining that all the guys hit on her but there is something lacking in them, they just don’t have the confidence to deal with her. Imran understood that this girl needs a little bit of tough love. He explained to her that,
Imran- “madam confidence ko toh koi kami nehi hum logo me, ladki chahe kitni bhi akkad wali ho, apna matlab nikal hi lete hai” (Madam, there is no derth of confidence in us people, no matter how much attitude the girl has we always get out way)
Jyoti- “accha, who kaise?” (really how?)
Jyoti didn’t know but as she was conversing with Imran she was unknowingly taking sips of the drink in the glass and munching on moong dal (a cheap N.Indian snacks made from friend mong pulses often served with cheap liquor to cut the sharp taste). Imran could clearly see that the drug was starting to have its effect. She was becoming more restless, more talkative, more flirtatious, and more ripe for the picking. Her breathing was becoming heavy, her pupils dialted and her speech was starting to slur a little as she was mixing words and repeating what she is saying. Imran just couldn’t resist the sight of those massive heaving milk tankers and her subconsciously biting her lips.
*Please note- if a woman is biting her lips in a conversation with you, she’s imagining your cock in her pussy, that is for certain.
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