22-09-2025, 10:00 PM
The next morning, Kinza walked into the meeting room, She avoided his gaze, settling quickly into her seat.The entire day, her nerves were tight, expecting a jab, a sly whisper, a mocking taunt about that notification. But…nothing came. He worked as usual, joked with others, barely spoke to her.Maybe he didn’t see it fully… maybe he didn’t realize.
That night she made a vow.She deleted Reddit.She unfollowed the smutty reels.She promised herself she would never let lust steer her again.For five days, she held strong.Prayers, discipline, work.Her body still ached sometimes, but she shut it out.
Until Friday.
That afternoon at the office, she noticed a small crowd gathering around Vikram’s desk. He was flexing his arm, showing off his pumped biceps to Neha and another intern. His shirt sleeves strained against the muscle, veins roping down toward his wrist.Kinza felt the familiar sting of irritation. So arrogant… such a show-off.
Vikram: “Kinza, why don’t you come take a look? See how strong my biceps are.”
He smirked, voice deliberately louder than necessary.
She rolled her eyes sharply.
Kinza: “I have no intention of doing such things.”
Neha giggled, running her fingers along Vikram’s arm.
Vikram tilted his head, gaze flicking toward Kinza.
Vikram: “Don’t you think it’s big and strong? Every part of my body, actually.”
Neha burst into laughter, swatting his arm playfully.Kinza exhaled harshly, burying her attention in her sketches. But her eyes, against her will, had lingered for that half-second. His biceps really were thick, round, hard.
That night, she tossed restlessly in bed.Every reel she scrolled past seemed worse sweaty gym hunks, thirst traps, veins bulging on forearms, abs gleaming with oil. Her mind betrayed her, flashing Vikram’s flexing bicep, the way his shirt clung to his chest. Would he have abs? A broad chest? … a big cock?
“No…” she hissed into the dark, clutching her blanket. Stop it, Kinza. Stop.But desire was coiling in her belly like a snake refusing to sleep.By 11:45 p.m., she was wide awake, pulsing with hunger.Her phone felt heavy on her nightstand, daring her.Her lips trembled. She caved.
Reddit reinstalled.A few quick searches.
And suddenly her screen was alive with filth.A muscular man, his abs ridged and chest gleaming, was hammering into a curvy woman on all fours. Her ass shook with each brutal thrust, her moans sharp, body bouncing under the sheer force of him.
Kinza’s breath grew shallow. Her thighs pressed tight together, heat flooding between them.
****… forgive me… she whispered, even as her finger slid under the hem of her pajama pants.Her hand moved almost of its own accord, sliding down the soft fabric of her nightshirt. The touch was feather-light at first a question, an exploration —and it sent a fresh flare of heat through her ribs. No, not now, she told herself, jerking her chin as if that small motion might chase the feeling away.
But the images on the screen were vivid, relentless. A low, sultry voice seemed to whisper from the phone: promises of being wanted, of being taken of feeling cherished and wild all at once. Her fingers continued their downward path, and her breath hitched.This isn’t right,she thought, but the protest was thin and distant. The more she tried to smother the urge, the louder it became, rolling through her like surf slamming a cliff impossible to stop, only to withstand until the next swell.She pictured him: the curve of Vikram’s bicep, the way his shirt clung to a chest, the arrogant smirk that had already humiliated her once. The thought of his hands strong, sure on her skin added a dangerous, thrilling edge to the shame.
Her phone played on. On the screen the couple fucked: the click of bodies, a wet rhythm, breaths and small animal noises that seemed too intimate, too loud in the small room. Kinza bit her lower lip until the taste of metal filled her mouth, trying to steady herself.
Frustration pushed her up from the bed, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She pulled the curtain halfway, letting a dark strip of shadow cut across the room. With trembling hands, she locked the door. In the dim hush, her eyes fell to her own body the soft swell of her breasts straining against the fabric, nipples pressing through as if begging to be freed.
Her fingers slid under the hem of her t-shirt, tugging it over her head. Thapp! her heavy boobs bounced loose inside the bra, full, round, obscene. She unclasped the hooks, and with a sigh the bra slipped away, spilling out her naked flesh. Big, dusky areolas stared back at her in the gloom, nipples already hard. She cupped them in both palms, lifting and squeezing, whispering to herself with a shaky, filthy smile.
[img]<a href=[/img]![[Image: fad12b0738bc46109a00c70513d77269.gif]](https://i.ibb.co/sv0XqYnB/fad12b0738bc46109a00c70513d77269.gif)
" />
"Too big, huh… which poor soul’s thirst will you end up drenching"
Her thumbs brushed the tips; a jolt of heat ran down her thighs. She crawled back onto the bed, breath hitching, and wriggled out of her loose night trousers. Her creamy thighs parted, thick and smooth, the fabric of her panties already dark and sticky with her arousal. Her trembling fingers traced the damp outline, teasing, circling the swollen nub beneath. A gasp slipped out.
Slowly, she pulled the panties down, baring her wet slit to the dark room. Her legs opened wider, shameless now, knees bent, heels pressing into the sheets. One hand circled lazy strokes over her clit, the other gripping her phone.
A post glowed on Reddit some slut fingering herself inside an office washroom stall, biting her lip, legs spread over the commode.Kinaza’s throat went dry. Her own finger slid between her folds, wetness coating her instantly. She pushed her index finger inside slow at first, testing, feeling her walls clench tight around it then faster, curling, stroking, greedier with every thrust. The wet sounds filled the room.
Her phone tilted against a pillow, the video flickering in the dark. Kinaza arched her back, biting her lips hard, shoving her face into the pillow to muffle any moan. Her other hand tugged at her mound, pressing, dragging her clit back and forth in tight, messy circles.
“Hhhnnhh…” a muffled cry slipped into the fabric.
Her nipples begged for attention; she grabbed one boob, twisted the peak roughly between her fingers, pleasure stabbing through her chest and belly. Her hips rocked up to meet her thrusting hand, desperate, the bed creaking under her movements.
Her pussy was soaking now, slick warmth spreading under her. Fingers plunged deeper, rougher, while the heel of her hand ground against her clit. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down. It was automatic, filthy, needy.
Her thighs quivered, her stomach knotted heat building and building until it broke, messy, wet climax tearing through her body. She writhed against her own hand, muffled moans strangled into the pillow, cunt gushing around her fingers.
The comments were filthy, cheering her on, calling her a slut for showing herself off.Kinaza’s thighs pressed together, trembling. Her pussy throbbed, slick and aching. What if it was me? The thought slithered in before she could stop it. Her finger circled harder on her clit as she imagined it standing in the Studio Lotus washroom, the cold tiles under her feet, her dupatta cast aside, panties pushed down, her hand shamelessly working between her thighs while colleagues passed outside.Her breaths turned ragged, her strokes faster, wetter. The room disappeared around her in her mind, she was in that office bathroom, door unlocked, heart pounding.Then, as if summoned by her own dirty guilt, Vikram appeared in the fantasy. Tall, broad, cocky suddenly kneeling in front of her, his strong hands grabbing her thighs, spreading them wider, his face burying into her dripping pussy without hesitation.
“Ohhhh…!" Kinaza gasped aloud, hips jerking up.
She felt his stubble scbanging her inner thighs, his hot tongue lapping at her folds, sucking her clit with greedy slurps. She bucked into the image, fingering herself harder, faster, as if matching his rhythm. The shame made it hotter, unbearable. Her body shook, back arching off the bed, her moans breaking free.
“Aaahhh— haaahhh— ohhhhhh!”
Her climax ripped through her, raw and unstoppable. She came so hard her wetness spilled out, fingers coated, thighs trembling uncontrollably. She didn’t even care if her parents in the next room heard her muffled cries; the orgasm tore through her body like fire, her voice betraying her.
Collapsing back into the pillow, chest heaving, she clutched her soaked hand to her lips, tears pricking her eyes. Shame clawed at her immediately. Asta*****ah… yeh kya kar diya maine…But her pussy still pulsed, twitching, begging for
more even as she whispered desperate prayers for forgiveness.
That night she made a vow.She deleted Reddit.She unfollowed the smutty reels.She promised herself she would never let lust steer her again.For five days, she held strong.Prayers, discipline, work.Her body still ached sometimes, but she shut it out.
Until Friday.
That afternoon at the office, she noticed a small crowd gathering around Vikram’s desk. He was flexing his arm, showing off his pumped biceps to Neha and another intern. His shirt sleeves strained against the muscle, veins roping down toward his wrist.Kinza felt the familiar sting of irritation. So arrogant… such a show-off.
Vikram: “Kinza, why don’t you come take a look? See how strong my biceps are.”
He smirked, voice deliberately louder than necessary.
She rolled her eyes sharply.
Kinza: “I have no intention of doing such things.”
Neha giggled, running her fingers along Vikram’s arm.
Vikram tilted his head, gaze flicking toward Kinza.
Vikram: “Don’t you think it’s big and strong? Every part of my body, actually.”
Neha burst into laughter, swatting his arm playfully.Kinza exhaled harshly, burying her attention in her sketches. But her eyes, against her will, had lingered for that half-second. His biceps really were thick, round, hard.
That night, she tossed restlessly in bed.Every reel she scrolled past seemed worse sweaty gym hunks, thirst traps, veins bulging on forearms, abs gleaming with oil. Her mind betrayed her, flashing Vikram’s flexing bicep, the way his shirt clung to his chest. Would he have abs? A broad chest? … a big cock?
“No…” she hissed into the dark, clutching her blanket. Stop it, Kinza. Stop.But desire was coiling in her belly like a snake refusing to sleep.By 11:45 p.m., she was wide awake, pulsing with hunger.Her phone felt heavy on her nightstand, daring her.Her lips trembled. She caved.
Reddit reinstalled.A few quick searches.
And suddenly her screen was alive with filth.A muscular man, his abs ridged and chest gleaming, was hammering into a curvy woman on all fours. Her ass shook with each brutal thrust, her moans sharp, body bouncing under the sheer force of him.
Kinza’s breath grew shallow. Her thighs pressed tight together, heat flooding between them.
****… forgive me… she whispered, even as her finger slid under the hem of her pajama pants.Her hand moved almost of its own accord, sliding down the soft fabric of her nightshirt. The touch was feather-light at first a question, an exploration —and it sent a fresh flare of heat through her ribs. No, not now, she told herself, jerking her chin as if that small motion might chase the feeling away.
But the images on the screen were vivid, relentless. A low, sultry voice seemed to whisper from the phone: promises of being wanted, of being taken of feeling cherished and wild all at once. Her fingers continued their downward path, and her breath hitched.This isn’t right,she thought, but the protest was thin and distant. The more she tried to smother the urge, the louder it became, rolling through her like surf slamming a cliff impossible to stop, only to withstand until the next swell.She pictured him: the curve of Vikram’s bicep, the way his shirt clung to a chest, the arrogant smirk that had already humiliated her once. The thought of his hands strong, sure on her skin added a dangerous, thrilling edge to the shame.
Her phone played on. On the screen the couple fucked: the click of bodies, a wet rhythm, breaths and small animal noises that seemed too intimate, too loud in the small room. Kinza bit her lower lip until the taste of metal filled her mouth, trying to steady herself.
Frustration pushed her up from the bed, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She pulled the curtain halfway, letting a dark strip of shadow cut across the room. With trembling hands, she locked the door. In the dim hush, her eyes fell to her own body the soft swell of her breasts straining against the fabric, nipples pressing through as if begging to be freed.
Her fingers slid under the hem of her t-shirt, tugging it over her head. Thapp! her heavy boobs bounced loose inside the bra, full, round, obscene. She unclasped the hooks, and with a sigh the bra slipped away, spilling out her naked flesh. Big, dusky areolas stared back at her in the gloom, nipples already hard. She cupped them in both palms, lifting and squeezing, whispering to herself with a shaky, filthy smile.
[img]<a href=[/img]
" />"Too big, huh… which poor soul’s thirst will you end up drenching"
Her thumbs brushed the tips; a jolt of heat ran down her thighs. She crawled back onto the bed, breath hitching, and wriggled out of her loose night trousers. Her creamy thighs parted, thick and smooth, the fabric of her panties already dark and sticky with her arousal. Her trembling fingers traced the damp outline, teasing, circling the swollen nub beneath. A gasp slipped out.
Slowly, she pulled the panties down, baring her wet slit to the dark room. Her legs opened wider, shameless now, knees bent, heels pressing into the sheets. One hand circled lazy strokes over her clit, the other gripping her phone.
A post glowed on Reddit some slut fingering herself inside an office washroom stall, biting her lip, legs spread over the commode.Kinaza’s throat went dry. Her own finger slid between her folds, wetness coating her instantly. She pushed her index finger inside slow at first, testing, feeling her walls clench tight around it then faster, curling, stroking, greedier with every thrust. The wet sounds filled the room.
Her phone tilted against a pillow, the video flickering in the dark. Kinaza arched her back, biting her lips hard, shoving her face into the pillow to muffle any moan. Her other hand tugged at her mound, pressing, dragging her clit back and forth in tight, messy circles.
“Hhhnnhh…” a muffled cry slipped into the fabric.
Her nipples begged for attention; she grabbed one boob, twisted the peak roughly between her fingers, pleasure stabbing through her chest and belly. Her hips rocked up to meet her thrusting hand, desperate, the bed creaking under her movements.
Her pussy was soaking now, slick warmth spreading under her. Fingers plunged deeper, rougher, while the heel of her hand ground against her clit. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down. It was automatic, filthy, needy.
Her thighs quivered, her stomach knotted heat building and building until it broke, messy, wet climax tearing through her body. She writhed against her own hand, muffled moans strangled into the pillow, cunt gushing around her fingers.
The comments were filthy, cheering her on, calling her a slut for showing herself off.Kinaza’s thighs pressed together, trembling. Her pussy throbbed, slick and aching. What if it was me? The thought slithered in before she could stop it. Her finger circled harder on her clit as she imagined it standing in the Studio Lotus washroom, the cold tiles under her feet, her dupatta cast aside, panties pushed down, her hand shamelessly working between her thighs while colleagues passed outside.Her breaths turned ragged, her strokes faster, wetter. The room disappeared around her in her mind, she was in that office bathroom, door unlocked, heart pounding.Then, as if summoned by her own dirty guilt, Vikram appeared in the fantasy. Tall, broad, cocky suddenly kneeling in front of her, his strong hands grabbing her thighs, spreading them wider, his face burying into her dripping pussy without hesitation.
“Ohhhh…!" Kinaza gasped aloud, hips jerking up.
She felt his stubble scbanging her inner thighs, his hot tongue lapping at her folds, sucking her clit with greedy slurps. She bucked into the image, fingering herself harder, faster, as if matching his rhythm. The shame made it hotter, unbearable. Her body shook, back arching off the bed, her moans breaking free.
“Aaahhh— haaahhh— ohhhhhh!”
Her climax ripped through her, raw and unstoppable. She came so hard her wetness spilled out, fingers coated, thighs trembling uncontrollably. She didn’t even care if her parents in the next room heard her muffled cries; the orgasm tore through her body like fire, her voice betraying her.
Collapsing back into the pillow, chest heaving, she clutched her soaked hand to her lips, tears pricking her eyes. Shame clawed at her immediately. Asta*****ah… yeh kya kar diya maine…But her pussy still pulsed, twitching, begging for
more even as she whispered desperate prayers for forgiveness.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)