Misc. Erotica Chaitali ki diary: Day 1 in Noida

[Mohit.Kumar]

Abdul’s grip tightened on her neck. "Choos," he commanded, shoving her head forward. Chaitali opened her mouth obediently, her lips stretching wide around the swollen head. The taste flooded her senses—salty, musky, overwhelmingly male. She gagged slightly as the thick shaft pushed against the back of her throat, but Abdul didn’t relent. He thrust deeper, the coarse pubic hair scratching her nose. Tears welled in her eyes as her throat spasmed around the intrusion. She sucked clumsily, her tongue swirling around the ridge, her saliva slicking the hot skin. The vibrations from the van’s floor rattled her knees, merging with the rhythmic pulsing of his cock against her palate.

Abdul groaned, a guttural sound that vibrated through her skull. "Ah, haan." he panted, bucking his hips upward. His free hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head down harder with each thrust. Chaitali choked, drool dripping down her chin onto her exposed breasts. The sting in her scalp mixed with the ache in her jaw. She focused on the weight filling her mouth, the salty pre-cum coating her tongue. Rashid’s low chuckle echoed from the front seat as he swerved violently, making Abdul’s cock slam deeper into her throat.

Abdul’s thrusts grew frantic, erratic. "Nikalne wala hoon" he gasped, his fingers tightening like a vise in her hair. Chaitali felt the thick shaft pulse violently against her tongue. He jerked her head down one final time, holding her nose buried in his coarse pubic hair as hot jets flooded her throat. She gagged, swallowing convulsively, the salty-bitter taste overwhelming. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing with spit and sweat. Abdul shuddered, releasing his grip slightly, letting her pull back, gasping for air, thick strands of saliva still connecting her lips to his softening cock.

Abdul slumped back, breathing heavily. Chaitali remained kneeling on the vibrating floor, her knees aching. Without hesitation, she leaned forward again, her tongue darting out to lick the glistening shaft clean. She traced the thick veins, lapped at the sticky residue clinging to the base, her movements slow and thorough. Her eyes fluttered closed as she savored the musky tang, the faint bitterness lingering on her tongue. She nuzzled against his damp thigh, her lips brushing his skin, inhaling deeply the raw scent of his release mixed with sweat and dust.

Abdul chuckled, a low rumble of satisfaction. He patted her head roughly, fingers tangling in her disheveled hair. "Shabash, Bangalan," he grunted, watching her with hooded eyes. Rashid glanced back in the rearview mirror, his smirk widening as Chaitali diligently cleaned Abdul’s softening cock. He deliberately slowed the van, easing it onto a smoother patch of road flanked by towering piles of excavated earth and skeletal concrete pillars. "Site aa gaya," Rashid announced unnecessareely, his voice thick with amusement. The Omni rolled to a stop beside a stack of rusting rods near the half-finished structure.

Abdul shoved Chaitali’s head away. "Chalo," he barked, tucking himself back into his trousers with a grunt. Chaitali scrambled backwards on her knees, wiping her slick chin with the back of her hand. Her blouse hung open, breasts still exposed and glistening with spit and sweat. She blinked, dazed, her lips swollen and red.Rashid leaned over the seat, his gaze fixed on Chaitali’s disheveled state. "Button up, Didi," he ordered, his tone flat. "Site pe log hain."

Chaitali giggled, a breathy, unfocused sound. Her fingers fumbled clumsily with the tiny pearl buttons of her blouse. The damp fabric clung stubbornly, resisting her trembling hands. She tucked her heavy, dusky breasts back into the sweat-darkened lace bra, the coarse material scbanging her sensitized nipples. Each touch sent aftershocks of sensation rippling through her exhausted body. She managed to fasten the top two buttons, leaving a deep V of cleavage exposed, the floral bra clearly visible beneath the thin polyester. Her saree was hopelessly crumpled, the pallu hanging loose. She smoothed it down over her wide hips with a distracted pat.

Abdul shoved the van door open with a metallic screech. Dust-laden heat flooded the cramped interior. He climbed out, stretching his thick arms, the muscles in his back rippling beneath his sweat-stained vest. He didn't look back at Chaitali. Rashid killed the engine, the sudden silence ringing in Chaitali's ears, broken only by the distant clang of metal and the drone of a generator. Rashid slid out, his eyes scanning the skeletal structure ahead – bare concrete pillars rising from the dusty wasteland, rebar sticking out like broken bones. A lone figure in a faded yellow hardhat moved slowly near a pile of gravel, too far away to notice them.

Abdul leaned back into the van's doorway, his broad frame blocking the harsh light. His gaze, sharp and predatory again, fixed on Chaitali. She was still perched awkwardly on the sticky backseat, hastily smoothing her crumpled saree over her wide hips, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to fasten another pearl button on her damp, gaping blouse. Her lips felt swollen, her jaw ached, and the musky taste of Abdul lingered thickly on her tongue. She met his stare with a wide, guileless smile, her dark eyes brightening instinctively under his attention. "Chaliye, Abdul Bhai?" she chirped, her voice slightly hoarse, leaning forward eagerly, her cleavage deepening visibly as she moved.

Abdul’s grin widened, revealing stained teeth. He reached out, his thumb brushing roughly against her still-damp chin where traces of his release glistened faintly. "Kab tak intezar karu, Bangalan?" he rumbled, his voice low and thick with promise. His thumb lingered, pressing possessively into the soft flesh beneath her lower lip. "Jaldi ana." Chaitali’s breath hitched. She giggled, a high, breathy sound that made her heavy breasts sway beneath the thin blouse. "Jaldi hi," she breathed, her gaze flitting over his sweat-streaked vest, her tongue darting out unconsciously to wet her tingling lips. "Pakka."

Rashid jammed the key in the ignition, twisting it violently until the engine coughed to life, belching acrid blue smoke. As the Omni lurched forward, Chaitali scrambled onto the sticky vinyl backseat, her wide hips settling heavily. The vibrations rattled up her spine, mingling with the lingering ache in her jaw and the throbbing sensitivity of her breasts beneath the cheap, damp lace. Rashid’s eyes locked onto hers in the rearview mirror—dark, commanding, devoid of warmth. "Didi," he barked over the engine’s roar, jerking his chin at the beer crate wedged beside her. "Ek beer khol."