29-04-2025, 03:11 PM
He won.
Again.
I didn’t even feel the loss. I was still thinking about his kiss on my neck.
How my name sounded in his voice.
How my panty was still damp between my thighs.
He looked at me calmly.
“Anni…”
I raised my eyebrows. “Tell.”
“This dare…” he said softly. “I want to do it. Not tell.”
I stared. “What you mean?”
“I want to remove your blouse.”
My throat tightened.
The cloth was already unhooked. My bra was gone.
My breasts were hanging freely under the thin cotton.
He wasn’t asking for a strip.
He was asking for permission.
That made it worse.
Or better.
I didn’t answer immediately.
But I knew I wasn’t going to say no.
“…Go ahead.”
----------------------------------------------------------
He stood up.
Walked slowly toward me.
I didn’t move.
He knelt beside me.
His hand reached up, fingers touching the left side of my blouse. The part near my shoulder.
He pulled it slightly.
The cotton peeled back.
My left breast started to come into view — full curve, smooth skin, soft jiggle from the pull.
I gasped and brought my hand across, covering it.
He paused.
Then moved to the other side.
Right hand, right side.
This time, he pulled it more firmly. The cloth slid down the slope of my right breast.
Before the nipple could show — I brought my other hand across.
Both hands now cupping my breasts, holding them tightly.
The blouse hung down loosely at my elbows, wide open.
He sighed, half laughing.
“Anni… you should not cover with hand.”
I smiled. “You never said that in the dare.”
“You said you wanted to remove the blouse. You did. That’s all.”
He gave a small pout, like a scolded collegeboy.
I laughed. “Next time be more specific.”
He sat back on the mat, legs folded, body bare, but not defeated.
----------------------------------------------------------
We started the next game.
I won.
And I didn’t hesitate.
“Your turn now.”
He looked at me.
I smiled. “Remove your last piece. Slowly.”
He blinked.
“You mean… inner?”
I nodded. “Yes. Stand up. Do it slow. Inch by inch.”
He gave one small smile — maybe nervous, maybe excited.
Then stood.
----------------------------------------------------------
His cock was already semi-hard. The inner was clinging to it like skin.
His fingers touched the waistband.
He didn’t look at me.
Just started pulling.
Slowly.
First the sides loosened.
Then the top dipped. The waistband slid under his navel.
His pubic hair showed — trimmed short. Neat.
Then the root of his cock — brown with a white-pink base — thick, curved, soft but swelling.
The head was still under the cloth.
He pulled it further.
The head slipped out.
Brown and white mix. Skin slightly loose near the top. Vein running down the side.
It bounced once as the fabric dropped.
Then the full length stood free.
----------------------------------------------------------
I swallowed.
Seven inches. Maybe more.
Longer than Kartik.
Thicker too — not as fat as Prakash’s, but still healthy.
I remembered Prakash’s black, thick cock. Like a monster.
This one wasn’t that.
But it looked alive.
Real.
Heavy.
His balls hung full beneath, soft and lightly shaking.
He immediately covered it with one hand and sat down.
His chest rising fast now. Like he knew I saw everything.
----------------------------------------------------------
And me?
I was still topless.
Blouse off shoulders. Hands cupping my breasts.
Eyes locked on the cock I just dared to see.
No touch yet.
But my legs were pressing together.
Because my pussy?
Leaking again.
----------------------------------------------------------
The cards were hot in my hands. Or maybe it was just my palms sweating.
My breasts were heavy — no blouse, no bra, just my arms crossed over them. And even that was failing. My nipples were so hard, the pressure from my own skin was too much.
My panty was soaked.
Fully.
The dark patch in the center had spread. I could feel it clinging to me, sticky against my lips. My thighs wouldn’t stop rubbing.
And Arjun?
Naked.
His cock standing straight. Brown-pink, thick, veiny.
Head shining.
Precum glistening at the tip like his body had no more shame.
----------------------------------------------------------
He won again.
Looked calm. But I could see it — the tightness in his abs, the twitch in his shaft.
“Anni,” he said. “Come close.”
I tilted my head. “Why?”
“Feed me,” he said, smiling. “Like I’m your baby.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Just come… hold me… pretend to feed like you’re my mother.”
I laughed once — sharp.
“My hands are covering your full entertainment show. If I remove, everything will fall out.”
He smiled. “Then that’s the correct dare. Remove your hand.”
I looked at him.
Then down at his cock.
It was standing hard now. The head looked angry — swollen, wet.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Pointing there,” I said, “are you asking? Or is that asking?”
He grinned. “Both of us are asking.”
----------------------------------------------------------
I sighed.
And slowly…
I moved my arms away.
My breasts dropped.
Free.
Full.
Exposed.
The nipples were tight, dark brown, stiff from all that holding and teasing. The weight of each breast made them bounce slightly as I moved.
He stared.
Not wide-eyed. Not laughing.
Just…
Stunned.
His cock twitched.
A small drop of precum dripped and hung from the tip.
I didn’t say anything.
But my panties — I could feel it.
I was leaking.
Slick warmth soaking the cloth. A tiny line trickling down toward the mat.
----------------------------------------------------------
Next round.
I won.
I looked up at him.
His chest was still moving fast. His cock was bobbing slightly with every breath.
“Your turn now,” I said softly.
He looked up.
“Come close.”
He got up, cock swaying slightly as he stepped.
“Stand here,” I said, pointing near me.
He stood. His cock was inches from my face now — flushed, dripping, thick.
“My dare,” I said, voice quiet, “is… hold your cock. And tell me how you’d seduce me. What you’d do. What you’d say.”
He blinked.
I smiled. “Like you’re trying to impress your anni.”
He laughed once — nervous.
Then his hand went down.
He held it.
Fingers wrapped slowly around the shaft.
One stroke.
Just once.
His voice low.
----------------------------------------------------------
“First… I’d take your hand,” he said, softly.
He lifted his other hand toward me — hovered near mine.
“Then I’d bring your palm here,” he whispered, guiding it toward his cock but not touching yet.
“I’d tell you… you’ve been making me mad from the first day. The way you sit. The way your hips sway when you go to the kitchen.”
His cock twitched in his fist. He stroked once more.
“I’d say… anni… you’ve no idea what you’ve done to me.”
----------------------------------------------------------
I was frozen.
Breathing harder now.
His hand moved again.
Precum smeared along his fingers.
My eyes stayed there.
His words burned into me.
My nipples were aching now.
My panties were useless. Wet. Flooded.
----------------------------------------------------------
I didn’t say anything.
Didn’t stop him.
Didn’t move.
Just watched.
----------------------------------------------------------
The cards were half-forgotten now.
I shuffled without thinking.
His eyes were on my chest — my full, open breasts bouncing lightly with every move.
He won again.
I knew before he opened his mouth that something dangerous was coming.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Anni,” he said, smiling a little.
“Remove your panty.”
I froze.
No fake smile this time.
“No,” I said firmly. “Sorry. That one you can’t ask.”
He opened his mouth.
I lifted my hand, stopping him.
“Or the game ends here.”
He looked down.
Nodded once. Silent.
----------------------------------------------------------
He sat back. For a moment, I thought the heat had broken.
But then he looked up again — soft, respectful.
“Then…” he said quietly.
“Feed me.”
----------------------------------------------------------
My stomach flipped.
I closed my legs tighter under me.
“Rules,” I said quickly, holding up a finger. “No touching. Only lips. Max 1 minute. That’s all.”
He gave a small boyish nod.
“Five minutes?” he tried, laughing.
“One.”
“Okay anni.”
----------------------------------------------------------
I sighed.
Then crooked my finger at him. “Come.”
He crawled closer, his cock bobbing heavily as he moved — no shame now.
He lay down, resting his head carefully in my lap.
His breath hit my bare thigh — made my skin jump.
I cupped his head gently, lowering his face toward my chest.
The weight of his head pulled at my panty waistband slightly.
I felt the heat between my legs spill a little — sticky, desperate.
----------------------------------------------------------
And then...
His lips closed around my nipple.
----------------------------------------------------------
Soft.
Wet.
Warm.
No hands.
No push.
Just sucking.
Slowly.
Rhythmically.
His tongue flicked once over the tip — lazy, slow.
I gasped without meaning to.
The suction pulled the full aerola into his mouth.
Not rough. Not greedy.
Slow. Deep. Savoring.
He wasn't sucking like a child.
He was sucking like a man.
Like he was starving.
----------------------------------------------------------
I could feel it:
His tongue tracing the circle of my aerola.
----------------------------------------------------------
His breath fanning my skin.
----------------------------------------------------------
The wetness spreading in my panty — soaking, dripping into the mat now.
----------------------------------------------------------
My thighs trembling, toes curling against the mat.
----------------------------------------------------------
One minute?
It felt like an hour.
I looked at the clock.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Time’s up,” I said breathlessly.
He didn’t stop.
Sucked once more, harder, like trying to steal one last taste.
I pushed his forehead gently.
“Enough.”
He pulled back.
His lips shiny. His eyes glazed.
He sat up slowly.
Moved back to his place.
His cock?
Angry hard. Red. Veins thick. Dripping precum again.
----------------------------------------------------------
And me?
My breast was tingling.
My panty flooded.
My thighs shaking.
And the worst?
I wanted to call him back.
I wanted to shove his face into my other breast.
But I just sat there.
Breathing.
Silent.
Waiting for the next move.
----------------------------------------------------------
The next round.
Cards shuffled clumsily.
My hands weren’t steady.
My panty — still soaking — clung to me like glue. My thighs were sticky. The mat was damp under me. My breasts bounced free with every little movement, the nipples stiff, desperate.
I won.
----------------------------------------------------------
I looked at him.
He waited.
Breathing harder.
His cock was throbbing now — pink at the tip, brown along the shaft, thick, leaking.
I smiled softly.
“Get up,” I said.
He stood.
The cock sprang forward — not wildly, but heavily, proudly.
Standing straight toward me.
Pointing like it had a mind of its own.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Don’t move,” I said. “Be a statue.”
He froze.
Arms loose. Legs slightly apart. Cock standing straight, twitching once every few seconds.
Precum drooled from the head.
Clear, thick.
Hung at the tip.
Dropped.
Hung again.
----------------------------------------------------------
I didn’t walk.
I crawled.
On my hands and knees.
Breasts swinging beneath me — heavy, round, full — pulling against the soft skin of my chest.
I could feel them swaying.
I could see his eyes flicker downward — staring at the way my breasts jiggled, the nipples almost grazing the mat.
I crawled closer.
Slowly.
Inches away.
----------------------------------------------------------
Now my face was inches from his cock.
I didn't touch him.
I didn’t use hands.
I just lifted my face up — like a cat sniffing.
The smell hit me.
Musky.
Strong.
Warm.
Fishy.
Exactly like I had read in some forgotten biology chapter — male fluids have a musky, sea-salt smell.
It wasn’t disgusting.
It was…
Raw.
Real.
Man.
----------------------------------------------------------
He twitched.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Statue means statue,” I said sharply.
He stood still again.
Hands at sides. Cock proud and dripping.
----------------------------------------------------------
I moved my face closer.
Opened my mouth slightly.
Pushed out my tongue.
And licked.
Just once.
One small lick.
Across the shiny bead of precum resting at his tip.
----------------------------------------------------------
The taste hit me.
Salty.
Warm.
Alive.
Not sweet.
Not bitter.
Just… male.
Just Arjun.
----------------------------------------------------------
He shuddered.
His thighs flexed hard.
His cock twitched madly — like it wanted to jump into my mouth fully.
But he didn’t move.
Obeyed.
I smiled, small.
Because even now — even now — he was still calling me anni in his heart.
Still respecting me.
While my tongue licked his leaking cock.
----------------------------------------------------------
I pulled back.
Sat on my heels.
My breasts bounced once, heavy and slow.
His cock twitched again.
But we didn’t speak.
We just looked at each other.
Breathing.
Alive.
Burning.
And still pretending it was all a game.
----------------------------------------------------------
Again.
I didn’t even feel the loss. I was still thinking about his kiss on my neck.
How my name sounded in his voice.
How my panty was still damp between my thighs.
He looked at me calmly.
“Anni…”
I raised my eyebrows. “Tell.”
“This dare…” he said softly. “I want to do it. Not tell.”
I stared. “What you mean?”
“I want to remove your blouse.”
My throat tightened.
The cloth was already unhooked. My bra was gone.
My breasts were hanging freely under the thin cotton.
He wasn’t asking for a strip.
He was asking for permission.
That made it worse.
Or better.
I didn’t answer immediately.
But I knew I wasn’t going to say no.
“…Go ahead.”
----------------------------------------------------------
He stood up.
Walked slowly toward me.
I didn’t move.
He knelt beside me.
His hand reached up, fingers touching the left side of my blouse. The part near my shoulder.
He pulled it slightly.
The cotton peeled back.
My left breast started to come into view — full curve, smooth skin, soft jiggle from the pull.
I gasped and brought my hand across, covering it.
He paused.
Then moved to the other side.
Right hand, right side.
This time, he pulled it more firmly. The cloth slid down the slope of my right breast.
Before the nipple could show — I brought my other hand across.
Both hands now cupping my breasts, holding them tightly.
The blouse hung down loosely at my elbows, wide open.
He sighed, half laughing.
“Anni… you should not cover with hand.”
I smiled. “You never said that in the dare.”
“You said you wanted to remove the blouse. You did. That’s all.”
He gave a small pout, like a scolded collegeboy.
I laughed. “Next time be more specific.”
He sat back on the mat, legs folded, body bare, but not defeated.
----------------------------------------------------------
We started the next game.
I won.
And I didn’t hesitate.
“Your turn now.”
He looked at me.
I smiled. “Remove your last piece. Slowly.”
He blinked.
“You mean… inner?”
I nodded. “Yes. Stand up. Do it slow. Inch by inch.”
He gave one small smile — maybe nervous, maybe excited.
Then stood.
----------------------------------------------------------
His cock was already semi-hard. The inner was clinging to it like skin.
His fingers touched the waistband.
He didn’t look at me.
Just started pulling.
Slowly.
First the sides loosened.
Then the top dipped. The waistband slid under his navel.
His pubic hair showed — trimmed short. Neat.
Then the root of his cock — brown with a white-pink base — thick, curved, soft but swelling.
The head was still under the cloth.
He pulled it further.
The head slipped out.
Brown and white mix. Skin slightly loose near the top. Vein running down the side.
It bounced once as the fabric dropped.
Then the full length stood free.
----------------------------------------------------------
I swallowed.
Seven inches. Maybe more.
Longer than Kartik.
Thicker too — not as fat as Prakash’s, but still healthy.
I remembered Prakash’s black, thick cock. Like a monster.
This one wasn’t that.
But it looked alive.
Real.
Heavy.
His balls hung full beneath, soft and lightly shaking.
He immediately covered it with one hand and sat down.
His chest rising fast now. Like he knew I saw everything.
----------------------------------------------------------
And me?
I was still topless.
Blouse off shoulders. Hands cupping my breasts.
Eyes locked on the cock I just dared to see.
No touch yet.
But my legs were pressing together.
Because my pussy?
Leaking again.
----------------------------------------------------------
The cards were hot in my hands. Or maybe it was just my palms sweating.
My breasts were heavy — no blouse, no bra, just my arms crossed over them. And even that was failing. My nipples were so hard, the pressure from my own skin was too much.
My panty was soaked.
Fully.
The dark patch in the center had spread. I could feel it clinging to me, sticky against my lips. My thighs wouldn’t stop rubbing.
And Arjun?
Naked.
His cock standing straight. Brown-pink, thick, veiny.
Head shining.
Precum glistening at the tip like his body had no more shame.
----------------------------------------------------------
He won again.
Looked calm. But I could see it — the tightness in his abs, the twitch in his shaft.
“Anni,” he said. “Come close.”
I tilted my head. “Why?”
“Feed me,” he said, smiling. “Like I’m your baby.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Just come… hold me… pretend to feed like you’re my mother.”
I laughed once — sharp.
“My hands are covering your full entertainment show. If I remove, everything will fall out.”
He smiled. “Then that’s the correct dare. Remove your hand.”
I looked at him.
Then down at his cock.
It was standing hard now. The head looked angry — swollen, wet.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Pointing there,” I said, “are you asking? Or is that asking?”
He grinned. “Both of us are asking.”
----------------------------------------------------------
I sighed.
And slowly…
I moved my arms away.
My breasts dropped.
Free.
Full.
Exposed.
The nipples were tight, dark brown, stiff from all that holding and teasing. The weight of each breast made them bounce slightly as I moved.
He stared.
Not wide-eyed. Not laughing.
Just…
Stunned.
His cock twitched.
A small drop of precum dripped and hung from the tip.
I didn’t say anything.
But my panties — I could feel it.
I was leaking.
Slick warmth soaking the cloth. A tiny line trickling down toward the mat.
----------------------------------------------------------
Next round.
I won.
I looked up at him.
His chest was still moving fast. His cock was bobbing slightly with every breath.
“Your turn now,” I said softly.
He looked up.
“Come close.”
He got up, cock swaying slightly as he stepped.
“Stand here,” I said, pointing near me.
He stood. His cock was inches from my face now — flushed, dripping, thick.
“My dare,” I said, voice quiet, “is… hold your cock. And tell me how you’d seduce me. What you’d do. What you’d say.”
He blinked.
I smiled. “Like you’re trying to impress your anni.”
He laughed once — nervous.
Then his hand went down.
He held it.
Fingers wrapped slowly around the shaft.
One stroke.
Just once.
His voice low.
----------------------------------------------------------
“First… I’d take your hand,” he said, softly.
He lifted his other hand toward me — hovered near mine.
“Then I’d bring your palm here,” he whispered, guiding it toward his cock but not touching yet.
“I’d tell you… you’ve been making me mad from the first day. The way you sit. The way your hips sway when you go to the kitchen.”
His cock twitched in his fist. He stroked once more.
“I’d say… anni… you’ve no idea what you’ve done to me.”
----------------------------------------------------------
I was frozen.
Breathing harder now.
His hand moved again.
Precum smeared along his fingers.
My eyes stayed there.
His words burned into me.
My nipples were aching now.
My panties were useless. Wet. Flooded.
----------------------------------------------------------
I didn’t say anything.
Didn’t stop him.
Didn’t move.
Just watched.
----------------------------------------------------------
The cards were half-forgotten now.
I shuffled without thinking.
His eyes were on my chest — my full, open breasts bouncing lightly with every move.
He won again.
I knew before he opened his mouth that something dangerous was coming.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Anni,” he said, smiling a little.
“Remove your panty.”
I froze.
No fake smile this time.
“No,” I said firmly. “Sorry. That one you can’t ask.”
He opened his mouth.
I lifted my hand, stopping him.
“Or the game ends here.”
He looked down.
Nodded once. Silent.
----------------------------------------------------------
He sat back. For a moment, I thought the heat had broken.
But then he looked up again — soft, respectful.
“Then…” he said quietly.
“Feed me.”
----------------------------------------------------------
My stomach flipped.
I closed my legs tighter under me.
“Rules,” I said quickly, holding up a finger. “No touching. Only lips. Max 1 minute. That’s all.”
He gave a small boyish nod.
“Five minutes?” he tried, laughing.
“One.”
“Okay anni.”
----------------------------------------------------------
I sighed.
Then crooked my finger at him. “Come.”
He crawled closer, his cock bobbing heavily as he moved — no shame now.
He lay down, resting his head carefully in my lap.
His breath hit my bare thigh — made my skin jump.
I cupped his head gently, lowering his face toward my chest.
The weight of his head pulled at my panty waistband slightly.
I felt the heat between my legs spill a little — sticky, desperate.
----------------------------------------------------------
And then...
His lips closed around my nipple.
----------------------------------------------------------
Soft.
Wet.
Warm.
No hands.
No push.
Just sucking.
Slowly.
Rhythmically.
His tongue flicked once over the tip — lazy, slow.
I gasped without meaning to.
The suction pulled the full aerola into his mouth.
Not rough. Not greedy.
Slow. Deep. Savoring.
He wasn't sucking like a child.
He was sucking like a man.
Like he was starving.
----------------------------------------------------------
I could feel it:
His tongue tracing the circle of my aerola.
----------------------------------------------------------
His breath fanning my skin.
----------------------------------------------------------
The wetness spreading in my panty — soaking, dripping into the mat now.
----------------------------------------------------------
My thighs trembling, toes curling against the mat.
----------------------------------------------------------
One minute?
It felt like an hour.
I looked at the clock.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Time’s up,” I said breathlessly.
He didn’t stop.
Sucked once more, harder, like trying to steal one last taste.
I pushed his forehead gently.
“Enough.”
He pulled back.
His lips shiny. His eyes glazed.
He sat up slowly.
Moved back to his place.
His cock?
Angry hard. Red. Veins thick. Dripping precum again.
----------------------------------------------------------
And me?
My breast was tingling.
My panty flooded.
My thighs shaking.
And the worst?
I wanted to call him back.
I wanted to shove his face into my other breast.
But I just sat there.
Breathing.
Silent.
Waiting for the next move.
----------------------------------------------------------
The next round.
Cards shuffled clumsily.
My hands weren’t steady.
My panty — still soaking — clung to me like glue. My thighs were sticky. The mat was damp under me. My breasts bounced free with every little movement, the nipples stiff, desperate.
I won.
----------------------------------------------------------
I looked at him.
He waited.
Breathing harder.
His cock was throbbing now — pink at the tip, brown along the shaft, thick, leaking.
I smiled softly.
“Get up,” I said.
He stood.
The cock sprang forward — not wildly, but heavily, proudly.
Standing straight toward me.
Pointing like it had a mind of its own.
----------------------------------------------------------
“Don’t move,” I said. “Be a statue.”
He froze.
Arms loose. Legs slightly apart. Cock standing straight, twitching once every few seconds.
Precum drooled from the head.
Clear, thick.
Hung at the tip.
Dropped.
Hung again.
----------------------------------------------------------
I didn’t walk.
I crawled.
On my hands and knees.
Breasts swinging beneath me — heavy, round, full — pulling against the soft skin of my chest.
I could feel them swaying.
I could see his eyes flicker downward — staring at the way my breasts jiggled, the nipples almost grazing the mat.
I crawled closer.
Slowly.
Inches away.
----------------------------------------------------------
Now my face was inches from his cock.
I didn't touch him.
I didn’t use hands.
I just lifted my face up — like a cat sniffing.
The smell hit me.
Musky.
Strong.
Warm.
Fishy.
Exactly like I had read in some forgotten biology chapter — male fluids have a musky, sea-salt smell.
It wasn’t disgusting.
It was…
Raw.
Real.
Man.
----------------------------------------------------------
He twitched.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Statue means statue,” I said sharply.
He stood still again.
Hands at sides. Cock proud and dripping.
----------------------------------------------------------
I moved my face closer.
Opened my mouth slightly.
Pushed out my tongue.
And licked.
Just once.
One small lick.
Across the shiny bead of precum resting at his tip.
----------------------------------------------------------
The taste hit me.
Salty.
Warm.
Alive.
Not sweet.
Not bitter.
Just… male.
Just Arjun.
----------------------------------------------------------
He shuddered.
His thighs flexed hard.
His cock twitched madly — like it wanted to jump into my mouth fully.
But he didn’t move.
Obeyed.
I smiled, small.
Because even now — even now — he was still calling me anni in his heart.
Still respecting me.
While my tongue licked his leaking cock.
----------------------------------------------------------
I pulled back.
Sat on my heels.
My breasts bounced once, heavy and slow.
His cock twitched again.
But we didn’t speak.
We just looked at each other.
Breathing.
Alive.
Burning.
And still pretending it was all a game.
----------------------------------------------------------
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