26-10-2024, 01:40 AM
(This post was last modified: 26-10-2024, 02:01 AM by ZareenK. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.
Edit Reason: Very frustrating that the word dr-aped automatically becomes dbanged and the word dr-agged becomes dbangged. Edited to use alternate words.
)
Update 14:
Ajay felt a flicker of hope as Tarannum nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You're right," she said, her eyes never leaving Ajay's face. "Let him go, freshen up, and come back with some energy. We wouldn't want him to pass out on us now, would we?"
Her voice was like a whip crack, sending the other three into a fit of laughter. "Oh, Tarannum," Nazia purred, "you're such a bhadwi chhinal!” Tarannum just winked at Ajay before her gaze slid down to his softening cock, still gleaming with Tanzeer's cum. "You heard the lady," she said, her tone playful yet commanding, “Why don't you go and get yourself something from the fridge, beta?" she said, “there's plenty of juices, a nice Roohafza milkshake, and maybe even some snacks!”
“Yes, hurry up, beta," Tanzeer said, her voice mockingly maternal as she watched Ajay struggle to get off the bed, his legs wobbly from the intense experience. "Don't keep the wild cats waiting," she giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. The other women's laughter filled the room, the sound a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. Ajay felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he realized that the worst was yet to come.
He stumbled into the kitchen, his mind racing with fear and confusion. The cold tiles against his bare feet offered a brief respite from the sticky mess that was his reality. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, his hand shaking as he twisted the cap and took a much-needed swig. The cold liquid soothed his dry throat, but it couldn't wash away the taste of Nazia’s pussy juices that lingered on his tongue. He pours himself a glass of Roohafza milkshake, his hands trembling as he tries to keep the glass steady. The sweet rose scent of the drink filled the air, a stark contrast to the musky scent of sex that clung to him like a second skin. He sits down in the dining chair, trying to gather his thoughts.
In the bedroom, the air was thick with the musky scent of sex and the lingering aroma of marijuana. The three women lay tangled together, their bodies glistening with sweat and sated desire. They watched Ajay retreat to the kitchen with a mix of amusement and hunger in their eyes.
“But what about us?” Iqra purred, her hand idly stroking the base of the double-ended dildo lying on the bed. “We need to rejuvenate too, don’t we?”
Nazia, sprawled on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Iqra’s right, we need our drinks and a bit of meow-meow to keep the party going!” she exclaimed, her voice still thick with desire.
“Alright, I’ll go get it,” Tanzeer said with a sultry smirk, swinging her legs off the bed. Her sandals clacked against the floorboards as she stumbled out of the room, the alcohol and drugs making her movements unsteady. Her high heels, despite their height, didn’t seem to hinder her as she swayed down the hallway, her ass cheeks bouncing with each step.
Ajay sat in the drawing room, the pink Roohafza milkshake in his hand looking almost comically innocent against the backdrop of his traumatized expression. He took a tentative sip, the sweetness doing little to quell the bitter taste in his mouth. The room felt colder now, the air conditioning a stark contrast to the heat of the bedroom. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that his two teachers, the very women who were supposed to guide and protect him, were treating him like this. He looked down at his own nakedness, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger.
As he sat there, trying to process the horror of the situation, Tanzeer sailed into the room. Her naked body seemed to glide across the floor, the high heels she never took off making her movements almost ethereal. She stopped beside him, her eyes taking in his shaking form with a predatory gaze that made him feel like a cornered animal. "Are you okay, beta?" she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet, her hand reaching out to gently flick his hair. The maternal tone was so out of place, it was like a slap in the face.
Ajay forced a nod, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm... fine," he lied, the tremble in his voice giving him away.
Tanzeer's smile grew wider, a hint of predatory satisfaction flashing in her eyes. "Good," she cooed, her hand lingering on his hair for a beat longer than necessary before she walked away to the drawing room. Her hips swayed with the grace of a seasoned seductress, each step echoed by the clack of her sandals on the cold marble floor.
Ajay couldn't tear his gaze away from her retreating form, his mind reeling at the sight of his social studies teacher, fully naked, shamelessly strutting through the house with the same confidence she had in the classroom. Her high heeled sandals clacked against the marble floor, the only sound in the otherwise silent house.
Tanzeer sailed into the bedroom, her hand grasping the whiskey bottle and Nazia's luxurious bag. The amber liquid sloshed inside the bottle, the sound a stark reminder of the depravity that had unfolded earlier. She kicked the door shut with a sandal-clad foot, the clack echoing through the hallway. Her eyes fell on the discarded strap-on and the double-ended dildo, the silent witnesses to the carnality that had taken place.
“Oops, forgot the glasses, didn’t I?” Tanzeer said with a giggle, swaying into the bedroom. Her sandals clacked against the hardwood floor, a sharp sound that seemed to punctuate the decadent atmosphere. The other women looked up from their lazy post-coital banter, their eyes glinting with interest at the sight of the bottle. “Don’t worry, we’re all adults here,” she continued, her tone dropping to a seductive purr. “We can swig straight from the bottle like the sluts we are!”
“Of course, why bother with glasses when we have such fine company?” Iqra quipped, her eyes gleaming with excitement, “And who needs to wait when we can just pass the bottle around?” She patted the space on the bed next to her, the invitation clear. Tanzeer sashayed over to the bed, the whiskey bottle in one hand and Nazia’s bag in the other. She handed over the bag to Nazia with a knowing smile before plopping down on the bed, her sandals still on, her bare ass leaving a temporary imprint on the satin sheets.
Nazia pulled out four freshly rolled marijuana joints, the aroma of the weed mingling with the scent of sex in the room. Each woman took one, their fingers deftly bringing the papers to their painted lips, lighters sparking to life in a synchronized motion. The air grew thick with smoke as they inhaled deeply, their eyes glazing over with the first hit. They passed the bottle around, each taking a greedy swig, the whiskey burning a fiery path down their throats. The alcohol and drugs combined to create a heady cocktail of lust and recklessness, the smoke from their joints swirling around them like a cloud of depravity.
Their laughter grew louder, the words they exchanged more and more vulgar, a stark contrast to the refined language they used in their day-to-day lives. They were like sirens in a cove, their high-pitched giggles and lewd comments bouncing off the walls, revealing the dark underbelly of their desires. No one would have ever suspected the depth of their depravity, not even their unsuspecting families who saw them as pillars of propriety. These socially respectable, educated, and wealthy MusIim women were the epitome of class and decorum, yet here they were, in the throes of an orgy that would make even the most seasoned libertine blush.
“Look at you, bhenchod Tarannum, so lucky to be single and free to feast on whatever cock you want, whenever you want,” Tanzeer said, her voice a mix of envy and admiration as she took a deep drag from her joint. Her eyes were glazed with desire as she licked her lips, her hips rolling in silent invitation.
Nazia took a deep hit from her joint, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling with a contented sigh. "Ah, the sweet taste of freedom," she murmured, her eyes glancing over at Tarannum with a hint of envy. "Your chudakkad chut must be in heaven, my dear, feasting on fresh meat all the time without the hassles of family and marriage!”
Iqra leaned back against the headboard, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her inner thigh. "You know, it's so much easier for you, Tarannum," she said, blowing out a stream of smoke that danced in the light. "I've got to sneak around like a bloody cat burglar just to get a taste of cock."
Tarannum took a drag from her own joint, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're all welcome here, meri pyari chut-maraniyon," she said, her voice low and seductive. "Anytime you want some fun, this house is your playground." The other women giggled in agreement, their eyes glinting with the promise of future encounters.
Nazia took a swig from the whiskey bottle. "You know, Tarannum, it's been few months since I've had a taste of such a young virgin meat and that too an uncut one," she said, her voice heavy with lust. "This little sharmila masoom chhokra, Ajay," she gestured towards the bedroom door with the bottle, “I must admit, I'm quite impressed with your catch."
Tanzeer, her eyes glittering with a mix of alcohol and drugs, cackled. "Not really a virgin anymore, is he?" she quipped, pointing her joint at Tarannum. "Our baccha-baaz Tarannum has been breaking him in for the past three weeks!" The room echoed with the sound of their raucous laughter, the smoke from their cigarettes curling around their heads like a sinister halo.
"True," Tarannum drawled, taking another hit from her joint, "but the best part is that he's still so fresh, so untouched by the world." Her eyes narrowed mischievously at Tanzeer. "But tell me, madarchodi Tanzeer, what's stopping you from getting your own fresh meat at that fancy college of ours?" she said, her tone playfully challenging. "You're a teacher there too, aren't you? Surely you can yourself find some kunwara little chhokras to feast on and have your own little harem?”
Tanzeer took a deep drag from her joint, the smoke billowing from her nostrils as she sighed dramatically. "Oh, if only," she said, her voice dripping with lust. "But you know how it is, Tarannum. With that bloody shauhar of mine and the in-laws and the kids around, I can't even take a decent shit without someone barging in!" The women all chuckled at her exasperation, the tension in the room momentarily lifting. "And that haramzadi saas of mine,” she added with a roll of her eyes, "she's got eyes like a bloody hawk!”
The room grew quiet as Tanzeer leaned back against the pillows, her hand absently playing with the strap of her sandal. "But while teaching in class," she whispered, her eyes distant with desire, "when I look at those young cute-cute chokaras, I swear my choot gets so wet it's like a bloody monsoon down there!" Her voice grew louder with each word, the frustration of her unfulfilled lust clear in her tone. "I have to go to the bathroom between classes to rub one out," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "Can you imagine, me, the respectable Mrs. Tanzeer Khan, wanking off in the staff bathroom?"
Her confession sent the room into peals of laughter, the sound sharp and brittle like breaking glass. “Ouuww poor Mrs. Tanzeer Khan,” Nazia mocked, her voice high and nasal. The room erupted with giggles, the smoke thickening as they all took drags from their joints.
But amidst the laughter, Iqra’s hand had slid between her legs, her fingers moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that spoke of a need that was more than just playful. Her eyes glazed over with lust, she whispered, “My choot is flooding too. Where is that boy? I can’t wait any longer. Bring him back, he’s had enough rest by now!” Her voice grew urgent, a clear signal that she was ready to claim her share of the evening’s entertainment. “It’s time for him to serve me now!”
Nazia's eyes glinted with malice as she took one last drag from her joint and stubbed it out in an ashtray. "You're right," she said, her voice thick with anticipation. "But first, a little something to get us in the mood," she added, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small pouch of white powder.
The other women's eyes lit up like candles at the sight of the Meow-Meow, their laughter dying down to eager anticipation. They watched as Nazia picked up a glossy magazine with picture of a naked bodybuilder in underwear, from the nightstand. Her eyes gleaming with a wild hunger that matched the pose of the man on the cover page, she bent down and poured out thin lines of the white powder, each one perfectly straight, a silent testament to her experience with the substance. She rolled out a crisp five hundred-rupee note and handed it to Tanzeer, who took it with a greedy smile.
Tanzeer leaned forward, her breasts hanging tantalizingly, and took a deep snort of the first line, her eyes watering as the powder burned its way up her nostrils. "Ah, mash,.'," she murmured, her voice thick with pleasure, as she passed the rolled-up note to Iqra.
Iqra's eyes were glazed with need as she eagerly took the note, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled the drug. Her head tipped back, her throat working as she swallowed the hit, her chest rising and falling as the drug hit her system. She coughed, her eyes shining with excitement as she handed the note to Tarannum.
Tarannum took the note with a knowing smile, as she leaned forward, her sandals digging into the bed as she took a line, the white powder disappearing up her nose with a snort that was both delicate and predatory. She passed the note to Nazia, who took her turn with the same greedy enthusiasm. The four of them took turns, the air in the room electric with the anticipation of the high to come.
"It's all thanks to you, Nazia," Tarannum said, her voice smooth as silk as she leaned back against the pillows, the whiskey bottle resting between her legs. "Without you providing us with joints and other lovely drugs, our little escapades wouldn't be half as fun."
Nazia smirked, her eyes dark with the promise of more debauchery to come. "You know I'm always happy to contribute to our little gatherings," she said, her hand still playing with the bag's zipper. "After all, what's a good party without a little bit of extra spice?"
With that, Tanzeer pushed herself off the bed, her legs wobbly from the mix of alcohol and drugs. Her sandals clacked against the floor as she stumbled out of the room, her eyes half-closed and her movements exaggerated. "I'll go get him," she slurred, her words barely coherent. "He's had enough time to... to... recover." Her voice trailed off as she disappeared down the hallway, the sound of her sandals growing fainter with each step.
A few moments later, Tanzeer reappeared, her arm resting around Ajay's shoulders. He looked better than before, his cheeks flushed with a mix of fear and arousal, but his eyes remained haunted, unable to hide the trauma he had endured. His steps were unsure, his body trembling slightly as she led him back into the room of debauchery. The sight of him, so young and vulnerable, only seemed to stoke the fires of the women's desire.
Iqra's eyes widened with excitement as she took in Ajay's naked form. She wasted no time, pulling him onto the bed over herself with her arms around his waist. Her sandals remained on, digging slightly into the softness of the mattress as she maneuvered him into position. Her mouth found his, and she began to kiss him with a hunger that was both desperate and demanding.
Tarannum, watching the scene unfold, reached out a hand to stop Nazia from approaching. "Patience, my dear," she murmured, her voice velvety and low. "Let's not overwhelm our masoom baccha just yet." Her eyes were hooded, her pupils dilated from the drugs, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "We'll take turns, savor him one by one. He's just a boy, and we need to be careful with him."
Nazia pouted, her eyes glittering with disappointment, but she nodded in reluctant agreement. Tanzeer, however, was already in a fit of giggles. "Look at her," she said, her voice thick with amusement, "so protective of her little toy boy." Nazia joined in the laughter, their mirthless cackles bouncing off the walls like a symphony of mockery. "You're turning into a bloody mother hen," she teased Tarannum, who merely raised an eyebrow in response.
The room grew silent as they all watched Iqra, her sandals digging into the bed, her mouth moving rhythmically on Ajay's cock. Her cheeks hollowed with each suck, her tongue flicking out to tease the tip. His eyes were closed, his body responding despite his mind's protests. The sound of his breathing grew heavier, his hips began to move in time with her bobbing head.
Tarannum, her eyes hooded and lustful, slithered out of the bed like a serpent, her sandals clacking against the cold tiles. She grabbed Nazia by the wrist, her grip firm and demanding. "Come," she purred, "Fuck me with that strapon.” The command in her voice was unmistakable, and Nazia's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect.
Nazia, equally intoxicated by the power and the thrill of the evening, stumbled to where the strapon and harness previously used by Iqra for fucking Tanzeer’s ass were lying on the floor, her sandals clicking with each step. The rubber phallus bobbed obscenely as she held it up, her eyes never leaving Tarannum's.
Tarannum watched her with a hungry expression, her own arousal evident in the way she licked her lips. She dropped to her hands and knees on the floor, the cold tiles sending a shock up her spine that only served to heighten her excitement. She arched her back, her breasts swinging forward, the tips brushing against the floor as she waited for Nazia to approach.
Nazia, her eyes dark with desire, took her place behind Tarannum, her sandals dragging softly against the floor as she adjusted her stance. She stepped closer, the strap-on jutting out from her pelvis like a weapon of pleasure. Her first stroke was swift and sure, the strapped-on cock parting Tarannum's wet folds without mercy. Tarannum gasped, her body shuddering as the thick rubber cock filled her completely. The sound of their sandals against the floor was like a soundtrack to their depravity, punctuating every move with a rhythmic beat that echoed through the room.
Ajay felt a flicker of hope as Tarannum nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You're right," she said, her eyes never leaving Ajay's face. "Let him go, freshen up, and come back with some energy. We wouldn't want him to pass out on us now, would we?"
Her voice was like a whip crack, sending the other three into a fit of laughter. "Oh, Tarannum," Nazia purred, "you're such a bhadwi chhinal!” Tarannum just winked at Ajay before her gaze slid down to his softening cock, still gleaming with Tanzeer's cum. "You heard the lady," she said, her tone playful yet commanding, “Why don't you go and get yourself something from the fridge, beta?" she said, “there's plenty of juices, a nice Roohafza milkshake, and maybe even some snacks!”
“Yes, hurry up, beta," Tanzeer said, her voice mockingly maternal as she watched Ajay struggle to get off the bed, his legs wobbly from the intense experience. "Don't keep the wild cats waiting," she giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. The other women's laughter filled the room, the sound a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. Ajay felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he realized that the worst was yet to come.
He stumbled into the kitchen, his mind racing with fear and confusion. The cold tiles against his bare feet offered a brief respite from the sticky mess that was his reality. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, his hand shaking as he twisted the cap and took a much-needed swig. The cold liquid soothed his dry throat, but it couldn't wash away the taste of Nazia’s pussy juices that lingered on his tongue. He pours himself a glass of Roohafza milkshake, his hands trembling as he tries to keep the glass steady. The sweet rose scent of the drink filled the air, a stark contrast to the musky scent of sex that clung to him like a second skin. He sits down in the dining chair, trying to gather his thoughts.
In the bedroom, the air was thick with the musky scent of sex and the lingering aroma of marijuana. The three women lay tangled together, their bodies glistening with sweat and sated desire. They watched Ajay retreat to the kitchen with a mix of amusement and hunger in their eyes.
“But what about us?” Iqra purred, her hand idly stroking the base of the double-ended dildo lying on the bed. “We need to rejuvenate too, don’t we?”
Nazia, sprawled on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Iqra’s right, we need our drinks and a bit of meow-meow to keep the party going!” she exclaimed, her voice still thick with desire.
“Alright, I’ll go get it,” Tanzeer said with a sultry smirk, swinging her legs off the bed. Her sandals clacked against the floorboards as she stumbled out of the room, the alcohol and drugs making her movements unsteady. Her high heels, despite their height, didn’t seem to hinder her as she swayed down the hallway, her ass cheeks bouncing with each step.
Ajay sat in the drawing room, the pink Roohafza milkshake in his hand looking almost comically innocent against the backdrop of his traumatized expression. He took a tentative sip, the sweetness doing little to quell the bitter taste in his mouth. The room felt colder now, the air conditioning a stark contrast to the heat of the bedroom. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that his two teachers, the very women who were supposed to guide and protect him, were treating him like this. He looked down at his own nakedness, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger.
As he sat there, trying to process the horror of the situation, Tanzeer sailed into the room. Her naked body seemed to glide across the floor, the high heels she never took off making her movements almost ethereal. She stopped beside him, her eyes taking in his shaking form with a predatory gaze that made him feel like a cornered animal. "Are you okay, beta?" she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet, her hand reaching out to gently flick his hair. The maternal tone was so out of place, it was like a slap in the face.
Ajay forced a nod, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm... fine," he lied, the tremble in his voice giving him away.
Tanzeer's smile grew wider, a hint of predatory satisfaction flashing in her eyes. "Good," she cooed, her hand lingering on his hair for a beat longer than necessary before she walked away to the drawing room. Her hips swayed with the grace of a seasoned seductress, each step echoed by the clack of her sandals on the cold marble floor.
Ajay couldn't tear his gaze away from her retreating form, his mind reeling at the sight of his social studies teacher, fully naked, shamelessly strutting through the house with the same confidence she had in the classroom. Her high heeled sandals clacked against the marble floor, the only sound in the otherwise silent house.
Tanzeer sailed into the bedroom, her hand grasping the whiskey bottle and Nazia's luxurious bag. The amber liquid sloshed inside the bottle, the sound a stark reminder of the depravity that had unfolded earlier. She kicked the door shut with a sandal-clad foot, the clack echoing through the hallway. Her eyes fell on the discarded strap-on and the double-ended dildo, the silent witnesses to the carnality that had taken place.
“Oops, forgot the glasses, didn’t I?” Tanzeer said with a giggle, swaying into the bedroom. Her sandals clacked against the hardwood floor, a sharp sound that seemed to punctuate the decadent atmosphere. The other women looked up from their lazy post-coital banter, their eyes glinting with interest at the sight of the bottle. “Don’t worry, we’re all adults here,” she continued, her tone dropping to a seductive purr. “We can swig straight from the bottle like the sluts we are!”
“Of course, why bother with glasses when we have such fine company?” Iqra quipped, her eyes gleaming with excitement, “And who needs to wait when we can just pass the bottle around?” She patted the space on the bed next to her, the invitation clear. Tanzeer sashayed over to the bed, the whiskey bottle in one hand and Nazia’s bag in the other. She handed over the bag to Nazia with a knowing smile before plopping down on the bed, her sandals still on, her bare ass leaving a temporary imprint on the satin sheets.
Nazia pulled out four freshly rolled marijuana joints, the aroma of the weed mingling with the scent of sex in the room. Each woman took one, their fingers deftly bringing the papers to their painted lips, lighters sparking to life in a synchronized motion. The air grew thick with smoke as they inhaled deeply, their eyes glazing over with the first hit. They passed the bottle around, each taking a greedy swig, the whiskey burning a fiery path down their throats. The alcohol and drugs combined to create a heady cocktail of lust and recklessness, the smoke from their joints swirling around them like a cloud of depravity.
Their laughter grew louder, the words they exchanged more and more vulgar, a stark contrast to the refined language they used in their day-to-day lives. They were like sirens in a cove, their high-pitched giggles and lewd comments bouncing off the walls, revealing the dark underbelly of their desires. No one would have ever suspected the depth of their depravity, not even their unsuspecting families who saw them as pillars of propriety. These socially respectable, educated, and wealthy MusIim women were the epitome of class and decorum, yet here they were, in the throes of an orgy that would make even the most seasoned libertine blush.
“Look at you, bhenchod Tarannum, so lucky to be single and free to feast on whatever cock you want, whenever you want,” Tanzeer said, her voice a mix of envy and admiration as she took a deep drag from her joint. Her eyes were glazed with desire as she licked her lips, her hips rolling in silent invitation.
Nazia took a deep hit from her joint, holding the smoke in her lungs before exhaling with a contented sigh. "Ah, the sweet taste of freedom," she murmured, her eyes glancing over at Tarannum with a hint of envy. "Your chudakkad chut must be in heaven, my dear, feasting on fresh meat all the time without the hassles of family and marriage!”
Iqra leaned back against the headboard, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her inner thigh. "You know, it's so much easier for you, Tarannum," she said, blowing out a stream of smoke that danced in the light. "I've got to sneak around like a bloody cat burglar just to get a taste of cock."
Tarannum took a drag from her own joint, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're all welcome here, meri pyari chut-maraniyon," she said, her voice low and seductive. "Anytime you want some fun, this house is your playground." The other women giggled in agreement, their eyes glinting with the promise of future encounters.
Nazia took a swig from the whiskey bottle. "You know, Tarannum, it's been few months since I've had a taste of such a young virgin meat and that too an uncut one," she said, her voice heavy with lust. "This little sharmila masoom chhokra, Ajay," she gestured towards the bedroom door with the bottle, “I must admit, I'm quite impressed with your catch."
Tanzeer, her eyes glittering with a mix of alcohol and drugs, cackled. "Not really a virgin anymore, is he?" she quipped, pointing her joint at Tarannum. "Our baccha-baaz Tarannum has been breaking him in for the past three weeks!" The room echoed with the sound of their raucous laughter, the smoke from their cigarettes curling around their heads like a sinister halo.
"True," Tarannum drawled, taking another hit from her joint, "but the best part is that he's still so fresh, so untouched by the world." Her eyes narrowed mischievously at Tanzeer. "But tell me, madarchodi Tanzeer, what's stopping you from getting your own fresh meat at that fancy college of ours?" she said, her tone playfully challenging. "You're a teacher there too, aren't you? Surely you can yourself find some kunwara little chhokras to feast on and have your own little harem?”
Tanzeer took a deep drag from her joint, the smoke billowing from her nostrils as she sighed dramatically. "Oh, if only," she said, her voice dripping with lust. "But you know how it is, Tarannum. With that bloody shauhar of mine and the in-laws and the kids around, I can't even take a decent shit without someone barging in!" The women all chuckled at her exasperation, the tension in the room momentarily lifting. "And that haramzadi saas of mine,” she added with a roll of her eyes, "she's got eyes like a bloody hawk!”
The room grew quiet as Tanzeer leaned back against the pillows, her hand absently playing with the strap of her sandal. "But while teaching in class," she whispered, her eyes distant with desire, "when I look at those young cute-cute chokaras, I swear my choot gets so wet it's like a bloody monsoon down there!" Her voice grew louder with each word, the frustration of her unfulfilled lust clear in her tone. "I have to go to the bathroom between classes to rub one out," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "Can you imagine, me, the respectable Mrs. Tanzeer Khan, wanking off in the staff bathroom?"
Her confession sent the room into peals of laughter, the sound sharp and brittle like breaking glass. “Ouuww poor Mrs. Tanzeer Khan,” Nazia mocked, her voice high and nasal. The room erupted with giggles, the smoke thickening as they all took drags from their joints.
But amidst the laughter, Iqra’s hand had slid between her legs, her fingers moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm that spoke of a need that was more than just playful. Her eyes glazed over with lust, she whispered, “My choot is flooding too. Where is that boy? I can’t wait any longer. Bring him back, he’s had enough rest by now!” Her voice grew urgent, a clear signal that she was ready to claim her share of the evening’s entertainment. “It’s time for him to serve me now!”
Nazia's eyes glinted with malice as she took one last drag from her joint and stubbed it out in an ashtray. "You're right," she said, her voice thick with anticipation. "But first, a little something to get us in the mood," she added, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small pouch of white powder.
The other women's eyes lit up like candles at the sight of the Meow-Meow, their laughter dying down to eager anticipation. They watched as Nazia picked up a glossy magazine with picture of a naked bodybuilder in underwear, from the nightstand. Her eyes gleaming with a wild hunger that matched the pose of the man on the cover page, she bent down and poured out thin lines of the white powder, each one perfectly straight, a silent testament to her experience with the substance. She rolled out a crisp five hundred-rupee note and handed it to Tanzeer, who took it with a greedy smile.
Tanzeer leaned forward, her breasts hanging tantalizingly, and took a deep snort of the first line, her eyes watering as the powder burned its way up her nostrils. "Ah, mash,.'," she murmured, her voice thick with pleasure, as she passed the rolled-up note to Iqra.
Iqra's eyes were glazed with need as she eagerly took the note, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled the drug. Her head tipped back, her throat working as she swallowed the hit, her chest rising and falling as the drug hit her system. She coughed, her eyes shining with excitement as she handed the note to Tarannum.
Tarannum took the note with a knowing smile, as she leaned forward, her sandals digging into the bed as she took a line, the white powder disappearing up her nose with a snort that was both delicate and predatory. She passed the note to Nazia, who took her turn with the same greedy enthusiasm. The four of them took turns, the air in the room electric with the anticipation of the high to come.
"It's all thanks to you, Nazia," Tarannum said, her voice smooth as silk as she leaned back against the pillows, the whiskey bottle resting between her legs. "Without you providing us with joints and other lovely drugs, our little escapades wouldn't be half as fun."
Nazia smirked, her eyes dark with the promise of more debauchery to come. "You know I'm always happy to contribute to our little gatherings," she said, her hand still playing with the bag's zipper. "After all, what's a good party without a little bit of extra spice?"
With that, Tanzeer pushed herself off the bed, her legs wobbly from the mix of alcohol and drugs. Her sandals clacked against the floor as she stumbled out of the room, her eyes half-closed and her movements exaggerated. "I'll go get him," she slurred, her words barely coherent. "He's had enough time to... to... recover." Her voice trailed off as she disappeared down the hallway, the sound of her sandals growing fainter with each step.
A few moments later, Tanzeer reappeared, her arm resting around Ajay's shoulders. He looked better than before, his cheeks flushed with a mix of fear and arousal, but his eyes remained haunted, unable to hide the trauma he had endured. His steps were unsure, his body trembling slightly as she led him back into the room of debauchery. The sight of him, so young and vulnerable, only seemed to stoke the fires of the women's desire.
Iqra's eyes widened with excitement as she took in Ajay's naked form. She wasted no time, pulling him onto the bed over herself with her arms around his waist. Her sandals remained on, digging slightly into the softness of the mattress as she maneuvered him into position. Her mouth found his, and she began to kiss him with a hunger that was both desperate and demanding.
Tarannum, watching the scene unfold, reached out a hand to stop Nazia from approaching. "Patience, my dear," she murmured, her voice velvety and low. "Let's not overwhelm our masoom baccha just yet." Her eyes were hooded, her pupils dilated from the drugs, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "We'll take turns, savor him one by one. He's just a boy, and we need to be careful with him."
Nazia pouted, her eyes glittering with disappointment, but she nodded in reluctant agreement. Tanzeer, however, was already in a fit of giggles. "Look at her," she said, her voice thick with amusement, "so protective of her little toy boy." Nazia joined in the laughter, their mirthless cackles bouncing off the walls like a symphony of mockery. "You're turning into a bloody mother hen," she teased Tarannum, who merely raised an eyebrow in response.
The room grew silent as they all watched Iqra, her sandals digging into the bed, her mouth moving rhythmically on Ajay's cock. Her cheeks hollowed with each suck, her tongue flicking out to tease the tip. His eyes were closed, his body responding despite his mind's protests. The sound of his breathing grew heavier, his hips began to move in time with her bobbing head.
Tarannum, her eyes hooded and lustful, slithered out of the bed like a serpent, her sandals clacking against the cold tiles. She grabbed Nazia by the wrist, her grip firm and demanding. "Come," she purred, "Fuck me with that strapon.” The command in her voice was unmistakable, and Nazia's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect.
Nazia, equally intoxicated by the power and the thrill of the evening, stumbled to where the strapon and harness previously used by Iqra for fucking Tanzeer’s ass were lying on the floor, her sandals clicking with each step. The rubber phallus bobbed obscenely as she held it up, her eyes never leaving Tarannum's.
Tarannum watched her with a hungry expression, her own arousal evident in the way she licked her lips. She dropped to her hands and knees on the floor, the cold tiles sending a shock up her spine that only served to heighten her excitement. She arched her back, her breasts swinging forward, the tips brushing against the floor as she waited for Nazia to approach.
Nazia, her eyes dark with desire, took her place behind Tarannum, her sandals dragging softly against the floor as she adjusted her stance. She stepped closer, the strap-on jutting out from her pelvis like a weapon of pleasure. Her first stroke was swift and sure, the strapped-on cock parting Tarannum's wet folds without mercy. Tarannum gasped, her body shuddering as the thick rubber cock filled her completely. The sound of their sandals against the floor was like a soundtrack to their depravity, punctuating every move with a rhythmic beat that echoed through the room.
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