30-06-2019, 01:01 PM
Yaqub said with a grin. "Hey guys, let's have a little song-and-dance the bump-and-grind type!"
He punched the play button of a rickety two-in-one tape recorder on the floor beside the bed. Music from a cabaret number from one of the latest Hindi films crackled out of the speakers.
The beat was prominent, unmistakably sexual in its insistent, driving quality. The vocals were explicit and lewd.
Vaishali grinned at the men.
Pankaj felt his bile rise. She, his goddess, his heart, his love, a slut! She was going to dance for them, like a common tramp, for her servants! He stared at her, horrified, sickened, betrayed, yet equally aroused.
Vaishali struck a pose for a second, drawing the attention of all the men to herself. She stood with her hands on her hips, her shoulders slightly hunched, her breasts squeezed even deeper together.
She tilted her face up, her lips parting slowly, lasciviously, and then her tongue slid out and ran sexily over her upper lip. Yaqub chuckled, Ramdev grinned, Bahadur gasped.
She began to move, slowly at first, yet in time to the music. Her hands slid up her body, the palms flat, fingers spread, over her belly then higher, higher, over her breasts, pausing, her breasts cupped.
She rolled her breasts in her hands, rolling her shoulders as, in the vernacular, the music warbled ... take me, take me please ... in a plaintive moan. She began to mouth the words of the song.
Again she rolled her palms over her breasts, moving them slightly out of synch, round and round, then slowly squeezing the fleshy mounds together. Her hands rose higher still, up her long neck and over her face, rising, rising, rising, till her arms were outstretched over her head, the hands twirling delicately, with infinite grace, the bangles tinkling.
She flung her head back between her arms, shuffled her legs apart and bent her knees slightly. Her hips began to gyrate, grinding round and round, pumping and thrusting in a flagrantly, obviously sexual motion and now she moaned, a low, husky, utterly sexy lovecall.
Her hip thrusting grew more frantic, more urgent and she began to arch back smoothly, bending steeply. Now her hip movements were joined by a jiggling of her breasts, thrusting and pumping them, bent over backwards in a steep arch, her body curved, exposed.
Abruptly she snapped out of it and began to dance, gyrating to the music, mouthing the utterly suggestive words, her eyes flashing and her mouth agape, sensual, devastatingly sexy.
She flicked her hair with the back of her hands, squeezed her breasts, jiggled them and pumped her hips, kicked her legs, twirling and dancing, pirouetting and gliding, her hands and legs and feet and hand moving with surety and grace, her jewellery tinkling.
Her face grew flushed with the exertions and her body began to shine with sweat. While Ramdev and Yaqub were now grinning from ear to ear, Bahadur was gasping, staring pop-eyed at her.
"Hey, Bahadur, what did we tell you?" Ramdev said, "Isn't she a real whore?"
At the words, Vaishali blew Bahadur a kiss, and once again slid her tongue over her upper lip in direct invitation to him. She shimmered away towards Ramdev. Ramdev turned around in the chair.
Swaying and gyrating, swinging and thrusting her hips she went over and flung herself into Ramdev's lap, flinging herself back. He held her with a strong dark arm behind her back, grinning at her.
She had her hands over her head still and now she flung them around his neck and slowly, with exaggerated lasciviousness, tongued his ear. Ramdev grunted. They kissed -- oh fuck, he was kissing her! -- and she let him thrust his tongue into her mouth, sucking on it, her butt squirming on his lap.
His hand slid up her smooth body and cupped a breast, squeezed it, fondled it and instantly she was up again, rising and resuming her dance. Now she moved across to Yaqub on the bed and, as he grinned from ear to ear in delight, leaned over him, hunching her shoulders and squeezing her breasts into even larger bunches, shaking them over his face.
He kissed the top of her breasts, her nipples under the tassels. His hand slid down her back and caressed her buttock.
Again she pulled away, teasing, taunting, pouting, sulking, eyes flashing, mouth agape, inviting. She swayed and pirouetted and kicked and jigged across the room, her actions getting faster now as the tempo quickened.
Suddenly, she had whirled into Bahadur's arms, grabbed his face in her hands and before he could respond, yanked his head to hers and kissed him hard and deep, her tongue pressing into his mouth.
She broke the kiss just as suddenly and then she was slithering to her knees before him, clawing open the buttons of his shirt, kissing his naked, hard, hairless torso and belly, saying, in the local dialect, I'll torment you in my love ... the words of the song.
Bahadur started to fumble with the clasp of his trousers, but she pranced away, laughing at him, taunting him. She was obviously very aroused for her eyes were full of fire, and even at that distance, Pankaj could see the lust on her face.
He punched the play button of a rickety two-in-one tape recorder on the floor beside the bed. Music from a cabaret number from one of the latest Hindi films crackled out of the speakers.
The beat was prominent, unmistakably sexual in its insistent, driving quality. The vocals were explicit and lewd.
Vaishali grinned at the men.
Pankaj felt his bile rise. She, his goddess, his heart, his love, a slut! She was going to dance for them, like a common tramp, for her servants! He stared at her, horrified, sickened, betrayed, yet equally aroused.
Vaishali struck a pose for a second, drawing the attention of all the men to herself. She stood with her hands on her hips, her shoulders slightly hunched, her breasts squeezed even deeper together.
She tilted her face up, her lips parting slowly, lasciviously, and then her tongue slid out and ran sexily over her upper lip. Yaqub chuckled, Ramdev grinned, Bahadur gasped.
She began to move, slowly at first, yet in time to the music. Her hands slid up her body, the palms flat, fingers spread, over her belly then higher, higher, over her breasts, pausing, her breasts cupped.
She rolled her breasts in her hands, rolling her shoulders as, in the vernacular, the music warbled ... take me, take me please ... in a plaintive moan. She began to mouth the words of the song.
Again she rolled her palms over her breasts, moving them slightly out of synch, round and round, then slowly squeezing the fleshy mounds together. Her hands rose higher still, up her long neck and over her face, rising, rising, rising, till her arms were outstretched over her head, the hands twirling delicately, with infinite grace, the bangles tinkling.
She flung her head back between her arms, shuffled her legs apart and bent her knees slightly. Her hips began to gyrate, grinding round and round, pumping and thrusting in a flagrantly, obviously sexual motion and now she moaned, a low, husky, utterly sexy lovecall.
Her hip thrusting grew more frantic, more urgent and she began to arch back smoothly, bending steeply. Now her hip movements were joined by a jiggling of her breasts, thrusting and pumping them, bent over backwards in a steep arch, her body curved, exposed.
Abruptly she snapped out of it and began to dance, gyrating to the music, mouthing the utterly suggestive words, her eyes flashing and her mouth agape, sensual, devastatingly sexy.
She flicked her hair with the back of her hands, squeezed her breasts, jiggled them and pumped her hips, kicked her legs, twirling and dancing, pirouetting and gliding, her hands and legs and feet and hand moving with surety and grace, her jewellery tinkling.
Her face grew flushed with the exertions and her body began to shine with sweat. While Ramdev and Yaqub were now grinning from ear to ear, Bahadur was gasping, staring pop-eyed at her.
"Hey, Bahadur, what did we tell you?" Ramdev said, "Isn't she a real whore?"
At the words, Vaishali blew Bahadur a kiss, and once again slid her tongue over her upper lip in direct invitation to him. She shimmered away towards Ramdev. Ramdev turned around in the chair.
Swaying and gyrating, swinging and thrusting her hips she went over and flung herself into Ramdev's lap, flinging herself back. He held her with a strong dark arm behind her back, grinning at her.
She had her hands over her head still and now she flung them around his neck and slowly, with exaggerated lasciviousness, tongued his ear. Ramdev grunted. They kissed -- oh fuck, he was kissing her! -- and she let him thrust his tongue into her mouth, sucking on it, her butt squirming on his lap.
His hand slid up her smooth body and cupped a breast, squeezed it, fondled it and instantly she was up again, rising and resuming her dance. Now she moved across to Yaqub on the bed and, as he grinned from ear to ear in delight, leaned over him, hunching her shoulders and squeezing her breasts into even larger bunches, shaking them over his face.
He kissed the top of her breasts, her nipples under the tassels. His hand slid down her back and caressed her buttock.
Again she pulled away, teasing, taunting, pouting, sulking, eyes flashing, mouth agape, inviting. She swayed and pirouetted and kicked and jigged across the room, her actions getting faster now as the tempo quickened.
Suddenly, she had whirled into Bahadur's arms, grabbed his face in her hands and before he could respond, yanked his head to hers and kissed him hard and deep, her tongue pressing into his mouth.
She broke the kiss just as suddenly and then she was slithering to her knees before him, clawing open the buttons of his shirt, kissing his naked, hard, hairless torso and belly, saying, in the local dialect, I'll torment you in my love ... the words of the song.
Bahadur started to fumble with the clasp of his trousers, but she pranced away, laughing at him, taunting him. She was obviously very aroused for her eyes were full of fire, and even at that distance, Pankaj could see the lust on her face.
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