10-11-2025, 07:41 PM
Gauri’s entire body froze.
Ajay’s voice which was thick, authoritative, unmistakable made her heart stop.
She pulled her blouse close with trembling fingers. She quickly tried to button herself up and in the process one button fell down and rolled on the floor. Siraj froze, his hands still half raised, eyes wide with panic. The air in the room, once heavy with heat, now smelled like danger.
Gauri?” Ajay called again, closer now. The doorknob rattled.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Think. Think. Fuck!!!! She led Siraj with one hand and pushed him behind the narrow space between the office cabinet and the wall. “Stay. Silent.” Her voice was a hiss, barely audible.
She smoothed her saree, tugged her pallu into place.
Another knock. Louder.
“Coming!” she called, forcing brightness into her tone. She crossed the room quickly, cracked the door just enough to look out.
Ajay stood there, balding head shining under the light, his stomach straining against his shirt. His eyes narrowed, then flicked past her into the dim office.
“You alone?” he asked, voice low.
“Of course,” she said smoothly. “Just finishing some grading. What’s so urgent?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on her neck then dropped to the sight of her pallu which did not cover her twin assets completely. One of the blouse buttons was still crooked and the top most one was missing.
“I need to discuss your leave,” he said finally, pushing the door wider.
Ajay stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft *click* that sounded like a gunshot in the sudden silence.
As Gauri walked back to her desk. She was filled with horror. "Fuck!!!" she had managed to pull the blouse together, but in her panic she had forgotten the bra entirely. It lay on the floor behind the desk, a black lace scrap. The blouse clung to her wet skin, and showed skin in patches from sweat and the earlier heat of Siraj’s mouth. Her nipples still swollen, still aching pressed visibly against the thin fabric, dark shadows beneath the rose silk.
Ajay’s gaze dropped immediately.
His eyes widened, pupils dilating as they traced the unmistakable outline of her heavy, braless breasts. They moved slightly with each sudden breath she took, the weight of them shifting under the blouse, the fabric catching on the stiff peaks of her nipples. A bead of sweat rolled from her collarbone, slipping between the valley of her cleavage and disappearing beneath the silk.
Ajay (voice low, amused): “No bra, Gauri? In my department? That’s… bold.” He tilted his head, gaze sliding to the dark, stiff peaks tenting the silk. “Were you expecting someone to notice? Or did you just want them free all day, bouncing with every step?”
Gauri (breath catching, chin high): “Sir, I—”
Ajay (cutting in, stepping closer): “Shh. Let me guess. You took it off because it was too tight.” His eyes flicked to her chest; the fabric clung like wet tissue. “Or maybe it was soaked already. From all that hard work.”
A bead of sweat rolled over the swell of her left breast, pausing at the edge of the silk before dripping onto the floor. Ajay’s tongue wet his lower lip.
She forced a smile, arms folding instinctively beneath her chest pushing her breasts higher, making the situation worse. The movement only drew his stare deeper. Another bead of sweat traced the same path, shining like a pearl against her flushed skin.
“Sir, I was just—”
“Grading?” He stepped closer, eyes never leaving her chest. “Must be *intense* work. You’re absolutely *drowning in sweat.*”
Behind the filing cabinet, Siraj’s breath was heavy and audible in the stillness. Gauri’s stomach twisted. *Fuck!*, she thought.
Ajay tilted his head, smirking. “Those *mangoes* of yours… they look heavier than I remember. Must be the season. All that *sweet juice* just begging to be tasted.”
Her cheeks burned. She shifted, the silk rubbing against her sensitive nipples, sending a jolt straight between her legs. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping.
“Sir, please—”
“Please *what*?” He leaned in, close enough that she could smell his cologne it was strong, overpowering. His gaze flicked to the wet patch between her breasts. “You’re sweating like you’ve been *working out.* Hard. Maybe you need someone to… *relieve the pressure.*”
Gauri’s pulse thundered in her ears. Siraj was *right there*, crouched in the dark, hearing Ajay leer at her like she was fruit on a platter.
Ajay’s hand lifted, hovering near her blouse. “That button’s crooked,” he murmured. “Let me fix it for you.”
“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping back.
She wanted to disappear. She knew Ajay was seeing *everything* and devouring her with his eyes while she stood half naked and sweating in front of him.
The bra on the floor was in plain view now and Ajay’s gaze shifted towards it.
He crouched, slow and deliberate, and picked it up between two fingers. Black lace dangled like a trophy.
He straightened, dangling the scrap inches from her face. “Do you want me to help you put it back on?”
Gauri’s breath caught.
The room shrank to the space between their bodies, the air thick with cologne and sweat and the low hum of danger.
She should have snatched it.
She should have threatened.
She should have screamed.
Instead, she looked at him (really looked).
The balding crown, the pot belly, the hunger in his eyes that wasn’t just lust but power.
“Help me?” she echoed, voice velvet and venom.
Her fingers closed over his wrist (not pulling away, not yet).
“You want to touch me that badly?”
Her voice came out shaky. “This is inappropriate, sir.”
“Inappropriate?” He stepped closer, backing her against the desk. “You’re the one standing here with your *tits* out, dripping sweat like you’ve been playing with yourself. Don’t act smart now. How can you be at work without a bra?”
Behind the cabinet, Siraj shifted *barely* but the wood creaked. Ajay’s head snapped toward the sound.
Gauri’s heart stopped.
“What was that?” Ajay asked, voice sharp.
Ajay’s eyes narrowed. He took another step toward the cabinet.
Gauri panicked.
She didn’t think.
She moved.
Her hand shot out, fingers curling into Ajay’s tie.
She pulled it hard.
His head moved towards her, off balance, eyes wide with shock.
She tried to make sure he did not fall to the ground and he fell on her.
His face was buried between her heavy, braless tits, he could taste her sweat as her breasts jerked upward from the impact.
His arms hugged her instinctively, wrapping around her hips, palms slamming onto her big, round ass. Fingers dug in through the saree, squeezing the firm round ass cheeks like he owned it, pulling her harder into the accidental embrace.
She pressed forward, letting her tits block his face from seeing the cabinet.
“Sir,” she purred, voice trembling only at the edges, “you’re so impatient. If you want to discuss my leave…” She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “let’s do it properly. In your office. Where no one will interrupt.”
Ajay’s breath hitched. “Now?”
“Now,” she whispered. She slid her hand down the tie, slow and deliberate, until her fingers closed around his wrist. “Come with me.”
She didn’t wait. She turned, blouse still unbuttoned, sweat cooling between her breasts, and pulled him toward the door. Her hips swayed with every step, the saree clinging to her thighs. She could feel the weight of her braless chest shifting, the silk rubbing her nipples raw. She didn’t look back.
Ajay followed like a dog on a chain.
At his office door, she paused. Turned. Pressed her body against his, letting him feel the full weight of her breasts through the silk.
“Inside,” she breathed. “I’ll show you exactly how grateful I can be for those extra weeks of vacation.”
Ajay fumbled with his keys, hands shaking. The lock clicked.
She pushed the door open with her shoulder, stepped inside and shut it behind them.
Then she heard another sound of the door closing. She sighed a huge sigh of relief. Siraj left her room. She would not be in trouble now.
The second she realized this, her mask cracked. She backed away, hands raised. “Sir, I—”
Ajay lunged, grabbing her waist. His hands travelled behind and squeezed her ass cheeks. “[i]Finally.”
[/i]
“Touch me again and I scream.”
He froze.
“You want to discuss my leave approval? Fine. But you’ll do it professionally. No more games. No more mangoes. Or I go straight to the board. And your wife.”
Ajay’s face twisted lust, rage, calculation.
She didn’t blink. “You sign the form. I leave for Europe. And this...” she gestured between them, “...never happened.”
Finally, he nodded. Once.
Gauri shut the door of her house behind her, leaned against it, and let the silence swallow the day.
The light flickered once, then steadied. She dropped her keys into the bowl, slipped off her sandals, and walked barefoot to the bathroom. The saree slid from her shoulders like a confession, pooling on the tiles. Blouse next. Buttons still crooked. She peeled it away; the wet silk clung, reluctant. Her skin was flushed, marked faintly where Ajay’s fingers had dug through fabric. She didn’t look in the mirror.
She turned the shower on hot. Steam rose, thick and forgiving. She stepped under the spray and let it burn her skin.
Ajay’s hands flashed first: palms slamming onto her ass, fingers sinking into flesh, pulling her into him. The memory made her flinch. She grabbed the soap, worked it into a lather, and scrubbed. Hard. Across her hips, between her thighs, up over the curve of her ass. White foam ran down her legs like guilt. She turned, let the water pound her back, and scrubbed again.
Then the other image: his face buried between her breasts, mouth open, tasting sweat. The weight of him, the smother. She lifted her arms, soaped under them, across her chest, around each breast. Circles. Harder. Until the skin stung and the memory blurred under the heat.
She stayed until the water cooled. Until the only scent left was clean soap and steam.
She shut the tap. The silence returned, heavier now.
Towel. Thick, white, rough. She dried herself slowly: neck, arms, breasts, stomach, thighs. Between her legs. The towel rasped over sensitive skin, grounding her. She wrapped it around her body, tucked it tight, and padded to the bedroom.
The bed was disorganized. She didn’t care. She dropped the towel, crawled under the sheet naked, and curled into herself.
The ceiling fan hummed. Her eyes closed.
Ajay’s hands. His mouth. Gone.
She exhaled, long and slow.
Fuck! Its all because of Siraj! If nothing happened between us everything would have been fine. He is a student. I am the professor. What was I thinking? fuck!
What would have happened if Ajay found Siraj behind the cabinet? My life, reputation would have been over... completely! fuck! fuck! It would have become a big college scandal. fuck! Never again! Made a big mistake. Will never make it again!
Sleep took her before the next breath.
She was on her back, wrists handcuffed behind her back and on her bed. The metal bit into her skin, cold and unforgiving. Her arms were twisted, shoulders aching, chest thrust forward completely helpless.
The room was Ajay’s office, but wrong. The blinds were drawn tight, the air thick with his cloying cologne and something darker. She was in her rose saree, but the pallu had slipped entirely, blouse half unbuttoned, gaping open. Her breasts braless, heavy, nipples stiff from fear and cold. They rose and fell with every panicked breath. Sweat beaded between them, trickling down her stomach.
Ajay was over her, shirt unbuttoned, belly straining, eyes black with hunger.
He held a single button between his fingers the last one on her blouse.
"Please.. no", she begged.
Ajay (voice low, filthy):
“Look at you, Gauri. HandCuffed. Tits out. All that sweet juice just dripping for me.”
He leaned in, breath hot against her ear.
Ajay:
“No bra again? You wanted this. Wanted me to peel you open like a ripe fucking mango.”
His fingers brushed the final button.
Pop.
The blouse fell open completely. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and flushed, nipples dark and aching. She tried to twist away, but the cuffs clinked, holding her pinned. Her back arched involuntarily, offering them up like a sacrifice.
Ajay (growling):
“God damn it! Look at these udders. Begging to be milked.”
“Fuck. These udders are heavier than I dreamed.”
He squeezed them hard.
His fingers dug into the firm, sweaty flesh, kneading like dough. Her tit overflowed his palm, the weight spilling between his fingers as he compressed it, forcing a bead of sweat to slide from her nipple. She gasped, back arching pushing her heavy breasts into his hands.
Ajay: “Feel that? Your breasts are fantastic Gauri! I will give them all the attention they deserve!”
He switched to the right, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting until her moan was sharp, involuntary. He rolled it, tugged, then slapped the underside of her breast gently. The flesh jiggled, a wet smack echoing in the room.
Both hands now cupped her tits from below, lifting them like offerings. He weighed them, bounced them, watching the sweat drip from her nipples in slow, shiny trails.
Ajay: “Perfect. Ripe. Begging to be sucked.”
He leaned in. His mouth latched onto her left nipple hard. No teasing. He sucked like a starving man, cheeks hollowing, tongue lashing the stiff peak. His teeth grazed, then bit sharp enough to make her cry out. He pulled back, stretching her nipple until it slipped from his lips with a wet pop, then dove onto the right.
Ajay (muffled against her flesh): “Mmm. Sexy bitch.”
He alternated left, right, left sucking one while pinching the other, twisting until both nipples were swollen, shiny with his spit, throbbing. His hands massaged relentlessly, squeezing from base to tip like he was milking her, forcing more sweat and saliva to drip down her stomach.
Gauri (voice breaking, tears streaming):
“Please… I’ll do anything… just stop…”
Ajay (pulling back, lips wet, eyes gleaming):
“Anything?"
“Gonna suck you dry, Professor.”
She screamed, but no sound came. Her body arched, thighs trembling, pussy clenching around nothing.
Gauri jolted awake, a raw scream tearing from her throat.
Her areolas were swollen, throbbing, nipples elongated from the nightmare's torment.
Between her thighs, she was drenched. Her body shaking with violated aftershocks.
She curled into a ball, sobbing, fingers clawing at her nipples to erase the phantom suction.
The nightmare clung like a stain.
Her phone buzzed.
Siraj:
Still thinking of you.
She stared, chest heaving
Her thumb shook.
Then she typed
Ajay’s voice which was thick, authoritative, unmistakable made her heart stop.
She pulled her blouse close with trembling fingers. She quickly tried to button herself up and in the process one button fell down and rolled on the floor. Siraj froze, his hands still half raised, eyes wide with panic. The air in the room, once heavy with heat, now smelled like danger.
Gauri?” Ajay called again, closer now. The doorknob rattled.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Think. Think. Fuck!!!! She led Siraj with one hand and pushed him behind the narrow space between the office cabinet and the wall. “Stay. Silent.” Her voice was a hiss, barely audible.
She smoothed her saree, tugged her pallu into place.
Another knock. Louder.
“Coming!” she called, forcing brightness into her tone. She crossed the room quickly, cracked the door just enough to look out.
Ajay stood there, balding head shining under the light, his stomach straining against his shirt. His eyes narrowed, then flicked past her into the dim office.
“You alone?” he asked, voice low.
“Of course,” she said smoothly. “Just finishing some grading. What’s so urgent?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on her neck then dropped to the sight of her pallu which did not cover her twin assets completely. One of the blouse buttons was still crooked and the top most one was missing.
“I need to discuss your leave,” he said finally, pushing the door wider.
Ajay stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft *click* that sounded like a gunshot in the sudden silence.
As Gauri walked back to her desk. She was filled with horror. "Fuck!!!" she had managed to pull the blouse together, but in her panic she had forgotten the bra entirely. It lay on the floor behind the desk, a black lace scrap. The blouse clung to her wet skin, and showed skin in patches from sweat and the earlier heat of Siraj’s mouth. Her nipples still swollen, still aching pressed visibly against the thin fabric, dark shadows beneath the rose silk.
Ajay’s gaze dropped immediately.
His eyes widened, pupils dilating as they traced the unmistakable outline of her heavy, braless breasts. They moved slightly with each sudden breath she took, the weight of them shifting under the blouse, the fabric catching on the stiff peaks of her nipples. A bead of sweat rolled from her collarbone, slipping between the valley of her cleavage and disappearing beneath the silk.
Ajay (voice low, amused): “No bra, Gauri? In my department? That’s… bold.” He tilted his head, gaze sliding to the dark, stiff peaks tenting the silk. “Were you expecting someone to notice? Or did you just want them free all day, bouncing with every step?”
Gauri (breath catching, chin high): “Sir, I—”
Ajay (cutting in, stepping closer): “Shh. Let me guess. You took it off because it was too tight.” His eyes flicked to her chest; the fabric clung like wet tissue. “Or maybe it was soaked already. From all that hard work.”
A bead of sweat rolled over the swell of her left breast, pausing at the edge of the silk before dripping onto the floor. Ajay’s tongue wet his lower lip.
She forced a smile, arms folding instinctively beneath her chest pushing her breasts higher, making the situation worse. The movement only drew his stare deeper. Another bead of sweat traced the same path, shining like a pearl against her flushed skin.
“Sir, I was just—”
“Grading?” He stepped closer, eyes never leaving her chest. “Must be *intense* work. You’re absolutely *drowning in sweat.*”
Behind the filing cabinet, Siraj’s breath was heavy and audible in the stillness. Gauri’s stomach twisted. *Fuck!*, she thought.
Ajay tilted his head, smirking. “Those *mangoes* of yours… they look heavier than I remember. Must be the season. All that *sweet juice* just begging to be tasted.”
Her cheeks burned. She shifted, the silk rubbing against her sensitive nipples, sending a jolt straight between her legs. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping.
“Sir, please—”
“Please *what*?” He leaned in, close enough that she could smell his cologne it was strong, overpowering. His gaze flicked to the wet patch between her breasts. “You’re sweating like you’ve been *working out.* Hard. Maybe you need someone to… *relieve the pressure.*”
Gauri’s pulse thundered in her ears. Siraj was *right there*, crouched in the dark, hearing Ajay leer at her like she was fruit on a platter.
Ajay’s hand lifted, hovering near her blouse. “That button’s crooked,” he murmured. “Let me fix it for you.”
“Don’t,” she snapped, stepping back.
She wanted to disappear. She knew Ajay was seeing *everything* and devouring her with his eyes while she stood half naked and sweating in front of him.
The bra on the floor was in plain view now and Ajay’s gaze shifted towards it.
He crouched, slow and deliberate, and picked it up between two fingers. Black lace dangled like a trophy.
He straightened, dangling the scrap inches from her face. “Do you want me to help you put it back on?”
Gauri’s breath caught.
The room shrank to the space between their bodies, the air thick with cologne and sweat and the low hum of danger.
She should have snatched it.
She should have threatened.
She should have screamed.
Instead, she looked at him (really looked).
The balding crown, the pot belly, the hunger in his eyes that wasn’t just lust but power.
“Help me?” she echoed, voice velvet and venom.
Her fingers closed over his wrist (not pulling away, not yet).
“You want to touch me that badly?”
Her voice came out shaky. “This is inappropriate, sir.”
“Inappropriate?” He stepped closer, backing her against the desk. “You’re the one standing here with your *tits* out, dripping sweat like you’ve been playing with yourself. Don’t act smart now. How can you be at work without a bra?”
Behind the cabinet, Siraj shifted *barely* but the wood creaked. Ajay’s head snapped toward the sound.
Gauri’s heart stopped.
“What was that?” Ajay asked, voice sharp.
Ajay’s eyes narrowed. He took another step toward the cabinet.
Gauri panicked.
She didn’t think.
She moved.
Her hand shot out, fingers curling into Ajay’s tie.
She pulled it hard.
His head moved towards her, off balance, eyes wide with shock.
She tried to make sure he did not fall to the ground and he fell on her.
His face was buried between her heavy, braless tits, he could taste her sweat as her breasts jerked upward from the impact.
His arms hugged her instinctively, wrapping around her hips, palms slamming onto her big, round ass. Fingers dug in through the saree, squeezing the firm round ass cheeks like he owned it, pulling her harder into the accidental embrace.
She pressed forward, letting her tits block his face from seeing the cabinet.
“Sir,” she purred, voice trembling only at the edges, “you’re so impatient. If you want to discuss my leave…” She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “let’s do it properly. In your office. Where no one will interrupt.”
Ajay’s breath hitched. “Now?”
“Now,” she whispered. She slid her hand down the tie, slow and deliberate, until her fingers closed around his wrist. “Come with me.”
She didn’t wait. She turned, blouse still unbuttoned, sweat cooling between her breasts, and pulled him toward the door. Her hips swayed with every step, the saree clinging to her thighs. She could feel the weight of her braless chest shifting, the silk rubbing her nipples raw. She didn’t look back.
Ajay followed like a dog on a chain.
At his office door, she paused. Turned. Pressed her body against his, letting him feel the full weight of her breasts through the silk.
“Inside,” she breathed. “I’ll show you exactly how grateful I can be for those extra weeks of vacation.”
Ajay fumbled with his keys, hands shaking. The lock clicked.
She pushed the door open with her shoulder, stepped inside and shut it behind them.
Then she heard another sound of the door closing. She sighed a huge sigh of relief. Siraj left her room. She would not be in trouble now.
The second she realized this, her mask cracked. She backed away, hands raised. “Sir, I—”
Ajay lunged, grabbing her waist. His hands travelled behind and squeezed her ass cheeks. “[i]Finally.”
[/i]
“Touch me again and I scream.”
He froze.
“You want to discuss my leave approval? Fine. But you’ll do it professionally. No more games. No more mangoes. Or I go straight to the board. And your wife.”
Ajay’s face twisted lust, rage, calculation.
She didn’t blink. “You sign the form. I leave for Europe. And this...” she gestured between them, “...never happened.”
Finally, he nodded. Once.
Gauri shut the door of her house behind her, leaned against it, and let the silence swallow the day.
The light flickered once, then steadied. She dropped her keys into the bowl, slipped off her sandals, and walked barefoot to the bathroom. The saree slid from her shoulders like a confession, pooling on the tiles. Blouse next. Buttons still crooked. She peeled it away; the wet silk clung, reluctant. Her skin was flushed, marked faintly where Ajay’s fingers had dug through fabric. She didn’t look in the mirror.
She turned the shower on hot. Steam rose, thick and forgiving. She stepped under the spray and let it burn her skin.
Ajay’s hands flashed first: palms slamming onto her ass, fingers sinking into flesh, pulling her into him. The memory made her flinch. She grabbed the soap, worked it into a lather, and scrubbed. Hard. Across her hips, between her thighs, up over the curve of her ass. White foam ran down her legs like guilt. She turned, let the water pound her back, and scrubbed again.
Then the other image: his face buried between her breasts, mouth open, tasting sweat. The weight of him, the smother. She lifted her arms, soaped under them, across her chest, around each breast. Circles. Harder. Until the skin stung and the memory blurred under the heat.
She stayed until the water cooled. Until the only scent left was clean soap and steam.
She shut the tap. The silence returned, heavier now.
Towel. Thick, white, rough. She dried herself slowly: neck, arms, breasts, stomach, thighs. Between her legs. The towel rasped over sensitive skin, grounding her. She wrapped it around her body, tucked it tight, and padded to the bedroom.
The bed was disorganized. She didn’t care. She dropped the towel, crawled under the sheet naked, and curled into herself.
The ceiling fan hummed. Her eyes closed.
Ajay’s hands. His mouth. Gone.
She exhaled, long and slow.
Fuck! Its all because of Siraj! If nothing happened between us everything would have been fine. He is a student. I am the professor. What was I thinking? fuck!
What would have happened if Ajay found Siraj behind the cabinet? My life, reputation would have been over... completely! fuck! fuck! It would have become a big college scandal. fuck! Never again! Made a big mistake. Will never make it again!
Sleep took her before the next breath.
She was on her back, wrists handcuffed behind her back and on her bed. The metal bit into her skin, cold and unforgiving. Her arms were twisted, shoulders aching, chest thrust forward completely helpless.
The room was Ajay’s office, but wrong. The blinds were drawn tight, the air thick with his cloying cologne and something darker. She was in her rose saree, but the pallu had slipped entirely, blouse half unbuttoned, gaping open. Her breasts braless, heavy, nipples stiff from fear and cold. They rose and fell with every panicked breath. Sweat beaded between them, trickling down her stomach.
Ajay was over her, shirt unbuttoned, belly straining, eyes black with hunger.
He held a single button between his fingers the last one on her blouse.
"Please.. no", she begged.
Ajay (voice low, filthy):
“Look at you, Gauri. HandCuffed. Tits out. All that sweet juice just dripping for me.”
He leaned in, breath hot against her ear.
Ajay:
“No bra again? You wanted this. Wanted me to peel you open like a ripe fucking mango.”
His fingers brushed the final button.
Pop.
The blouse fell open completely. Her breasts spilled free, heavy and flushed, nipples dark and aching. She tried to twist away, but the cuffs clinked, holding her pinned. Her back arched involuntarily, offering them up like a sacrifice.
Ajay (growling):
“God damn it! Look at these udders. Begging to be milked.”
“Fuck. These udders are heavier than I dreamed.”
He squeezed them hard.
His fingers dug into the firm, sweaty flesh, kneading like dough. Her tit overflowed his palm, the weight spilling between his fingers as he compressed it, forcing a bead of sweat to slide from her nipple. She gasped, back arching pushing her heavy breasts into his hands.
Ajay: “Feel that? Your breasts are fantastic Gauri! I will give them all the attention they deserve!”
He switched to the right, pinching the nipple between thumb and forefinger, twisting until her moan was sharp, involuntary. He rolled it, tugged, then slapped the underside of her breast gently. The flesh jiggled, a wet smack echoing in the room.
Both hands now cupped her tits from below, lifting them like offerings. He weighed them, bounced them, watching the sweat drip from her nipples in slow, shiny trails.
Ajay: “Perfect. Ripe. Begging to be sucked.”
He leaned in. His mouth latched onto her left nipple hard. No teasing. He sucked like a starving man, cheeks hollowing, tongue lashing the stiff peak. His teeth grazed, then bit sharp enough to make her cry out. He pulled back, stretching her nipple until it slipped from his lips with a wet pop, then dove onto the right.
Ajay (muffled against her flesh): “Mmm. Sexy bitch.”
He alternated left, right, left sucking one while pinching the other, twisting until both nipples were swollen, shiny with his spit, throbbing. His hands massaged relentlessly, squeezing from base to tip like he was milking her, forcing more sweat and saliva to drip down her stomach.
Gauri (voice breaking, tears streaming):
“Please… I’ll do anything… just stop…”
Ajay (pulling back, lips wet, eyes gleaming):
“Anything?"
“Gonna suck you dry, Professor.”
She screamed, but no sound came. Her body arched, thighs trembling, pussy clenching around nothing.
Gauri jolted awake, a raw scream tearing from her throat.
Her areolas were swollen, throbbing, nipples elongated from the nightmare's torment.
Between her thighs, she was drenched. Her body shaking with violated aftershocks.
She curled into a ball, sobbing, fingers clawing at her nipples to erase the phantom suction.
The nightmare clung like a stain.
Her phone buzzed.
Siraj:
Still thinking of you.
She stared, chest heaving
Her thumb shook.
Then she typed
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