17-10-2025, 12:37 PM
Scene 4
Samrat knelt between Ananya's thighs, the stark studio lights making her skin seem luminous. He was about to lower his head, to follow Kabir’s command, when his gaze shifted to the photographer. Kabir was adjusting his focus, and in that moment, the tension in the fabric of his trousers was unmistakable, impossible to miss. A slow, incredulous smile spread across Samrat's face, mirroring the one Ananya had worn just moments before. This wasn't just a photoshoot anymore. This was something else entirely.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against Ananya’s ear, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper.
Samrat: "He's erect." Woh bhi khada hai.
Ananya's eyes, which had been watching him, flickered with a triumphant spark. Her own whisper came back, breathless and thrilled.
Ananya: "Yes, I saw." Haan, maine dekha.
A shared, silent understanding passed between them—a jolt of pure, unadulterated excitement. The last vestiges of nervousness evaporated, replaced by a bold, thrilling complicity. With a renewed sense of purpose, Samrat lowered his head and his tongue met her skin.
Ananya gasped, her fingers immediately tangling in his hair, her hips beginning to move with an instinctive, urgent rhythm. The camera, which had been silent, roared back to life, a rapid-fire succession of clicks capturing every nuance of her expression as pleasure began to build within her.
Kabir shot for a solid minute, his movements economical, his focus absolute. Then, just as Ananya’s breathing became shallow and ragged, he spoke again, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room.
Kabir: "Now I leave it to you both, if you want to climax or not. The choice is yours. Show me what you want." Ab main yeh aap dono par chhodta hoon, ki aap climax karna chahte hain ya nahi. Faisla aapka hai. Mujhe dikhao ki aap kya chahte hain.
Samrat paused, his mouth hovering just above her. He looked up at Ananya, his eyes asking a question. Her answer was in the way she arched her back off the floor, her hands tightening in his hair, pulling him back down to her. It was an undeniable command.
He obeyed.
He devoted himself to her pleasure with a focus that blocked out everything but her, her sounds, her scent. He could feel the tension coiling in her body, hear her moans grow louder, less controlled. She was close, so close. The camera shutter seemed to beat in time with her frantic heartbeat.
"Samrat!" she cried out, her voice breaking as the first wave hit her.
Her body convulsed, her hips bucking as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Samrat stayed with her, holding her firmly as she rode the peak, her cry echoing off the studio walls.
The camera clicked one last time, then fell silent.
In the ringing quiet that followed, there was only the sound of three people breathing in the thick, charged air. The test was over. And they had all passed.
Samrat knelt between Ananya's thighs, the stark studio lights making her skin seem luminous. He was about to lower his head, to follow Kabir’s command, when his gaze shifted to the photographer. Kabir was adjusting his focus, and in that moment, the tension in the fabric of his trousers was unmistakable, impossible to miss. A slow, incredulous smile spread across Samrat's face, mirroring the one Ananya had worn just moments before. This wasn't just a photoshoot anymore. This was something else entirely.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against Ananya’s ear, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper.
Samrat: "He's erect." Woh bhi khada hai.
Ananya's eyes, which had been watching him, flickered with a triumphant spark. Her own whisper came back, breathless and thrilled.
Ananya: "Yes, I saw." Haan, maine dekha.
A shared, silent understanding passed between them—a jolt of pure, unadulterated excitement. The last vestiges of nervousness evaporated, replaced by a bold, thrilling complicity. With a renewed sense of purpose, Samrat lowered his head and his tongue met her skin.
Ananya gasped, her fingers immediately tangling in his hair, her hips beginning to move with an instinctive, urgent rhythm. The camera, which had been silent, roared back to life, a rapid-fire succession of clicks capturing every nuance of her expression as pleasure began to build within her.
Kabir shot for a solid minute, his movements economical, his focus absolute. Then, just as Ananya’s breathing became shallow and ragged, he spoke again, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room.
Kabir: "Now I leave it to you both, if you want to climax or not. The choice is yours. Show me what you want." Ab main yeh aap dono par chhodta hoon, ki aap climax karna chahte hain ya nahi. Faisla aapka hai. Mujhe dikhao ki aap kya chahte hain.
Samrat paused, his mouth hovering just above her. He looked up at Ananya, his eyes asking a question. Her answer was in the way she arched her back off the floor, her hands tightening in his hair, pulling him back down to her. It was an undeniable command.
He obeyed.
He devoted himself to her pleasure with a focus that blocked out everything but her, her sounds, her scent. He could feel the tension coiling in her body, hear her moans grow louder, less controlled. She was close, so close. The camera shutter seemed to beat in time with her frantic heartbeat.
"Samrat!" she cried out, her voice breaking as the first wave hit her.
Her body convulsed, her hips bucking as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Samrat stayed with her, holding her firmly as she rode the peak, her cry echoing off the studio walls.
The camera clicked one last time, then fell silent.
In the ringing quiet that followed, there was only the sound of three people breathing in the thick, charged air. The test was over. And they had all passed.
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