Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

“Mahender,” Prakash says by way of introduction. “He’s a film director.” 

This isn’t strictly true because Mahender is really a sort of spot boy, a gofer, but so what. 

What Prakash has only just found out is that Mahender works in the porn film business. 

When he went down to fetch the man, he had told him about the orgy in progress upstairs, and Mahender had volunteered the information that he worked making porn films.


“I see all these girls naked all day, every day. But they’re usually the dark, ugly and fat chicks. Low grade movies for the mass market, the social media sites and so on,” he says. “We almost never get any high class maal. Not like the English ones…sometimes, truth to tell, I don’t even feel aroused when I see those chicks naked.”

“Well, my friend, you’re in for a treat today because what I have up there is exactly what you’re looking for.”

And then they were through the trapdoor and in the upstairs room, Prakash leading the way, and watching Mahender’s expression raptly. And boy was he rewarded. It was so gratifying to see the raw lust on his face when he saw Swati twitching on the floor in orgasm. He could not have scripted it better or chosen a better moment to enter the room. He did see that Mahender glanced briefly at the naked Paro but did not dwell there. 

Now, he watches as Mahender literally has his tongue out, panting like a dog with a bitch in heat in front of him. 

“Kya maal hai bhai, kya maal hai!” Mahender’s voice is husky with lust. “Asli boobs?”

Prakash laughs. “Hundred percent asli hai Mahender bhai, there’s nothing fake about this one.” 

He praises his smartness at first finding and then training this world-class slut to perfection, conveniently forgetting the role his roommate Ramesh played, and that it was all a huge coincidence that he is in this position at all. He is too busy patting himself on the back for that level of insight. 

Mahender has no words. All he can do is watch with huge eyes the absolute spectacle of the big titted, beautiful woman writhing in ecstasy on the floor. After a while, Swati subsides into a wet mess on the floor, dirt streaked and still looking impossibly beautiful, and Mahender takes his eyes off her and looks around. 

When he sees the three phones propped up against the walls in strategic locations, he lights up. 

“You guys are shooting a porno!” 

It is so obviously not a question, and Prakash says nothing. 

“You should have told me before, I would have brought better cameras, lights, maybe even a couple of real porn actors…”

“Never mind,” Prakash says, “You’re here to have fun. So have fun.”

“But Prakash bhai, I have stuff—ropes and gags and other stuff they use in porn movies. If she can take some pain, that is.” He casts a doubtful eye at the woman on the floor.

Prakash notes that she is starting to recover. That’s good. Time for some more action.

“No worries bhai, she can take pain. In fact, she loves it!”

From the floor, now partially sitting up, legs still spread with her pussy on full display, Swati uses her right hand to heft her breasts. First one, then the other.

“All hundred percent real,” she says. “And yes, I like cock, in every hole. I can take pain too…are you a specialist?”

“Arre bhai!” Mahender gasps. “She speaks Hindi!”

“What did you think? She’s a firangi or something? She’s from right here in Gurugram…or maybe Delhi.”

“Y-yes, I mean no, I mean, she’s so fair and beautiful.”

Prakash cackles like a crazy person. 

Swati laughs and says, “You look at a naked woman in a chawl, looking to get fucked, and you’re impressed by what language she speaks?”

Mahender gapes at her as though looking at a ghost. “Bap re!” He wipes his forehead.

Prakash starts laughing again, and soon Nawaz and Inder and even Paro join in the merriment. When they’ve subsided a little and Mahender is looking suitably chastised, he says, “Ok bhai, I’ll go get the bag of tools.”

Something strikes Prakash. “Wait, before you go, take a look at this bag.” 

He offers him the bag he has brought from Swati’s house. It is a large gym bag of cylindrical design with a semicircular zipper on the top. It is from her that he has removed the ball gag earlier, as well as the pink vibrator that now lies partially under one of the beds.

Mahender opens it and starts tossing the collection of dildos, gags, a butt plug, nipple clamps on the floor, and also a pair of padded handcuffs together with a key. He nods with satisfaction with each item he removes.

“This is all good stuff. But, I have more. I’ll be right back.”