30-11-2025, 12:40 AM
The room smelled of sweat, latex, and the sharp tang of spent lust. Samir stayed buried inside Paromita for a few long seconds after his climax, his hips giving one last lazy roll as the condom ballooned with the last pulses of his release. When he finally eased out, the rubber clung heavily to his softening cock, a thick white slug of cum trapped inside it. He peeled it off with two fingers, tied a knot, and let it drop onto the bedsheet like a used trophy.
Paromita lay on her back, legs still spread, chest rising and falling fast. Her pussy glistened, swollen and red from the hammering it had taken. A single bead of sweat rolled from the hollow of her throat down between her breasts and disappeared into the crease where they pressed together. She felt wrecked in the best possible way, like someone had taken a hammer to every polite wall she had ever built and left only raw, pulsing need behind.
Samir dropped onto the mattress beside her, one heavy arm flung across her waist. Rahul stayed kneeling at the foot of the bed, cock jutting up angry and untouched, eyes wide, drinking in the sight of his boudi freshly ruined by another man.
For a moment nobody spoke. Only the wet sound of breathing and the faint creak of the bed filled the room.
Paromita was the first to break the silence. She turned her head toward Samir, lips curled in a lazy, satisfied smile. “You fuck like you are trying to punish me,” she said, voice husky, almost laughing. “I think my womb is somewhere near my throat now.”
Samir chuckled, deep and rough. He traced a thumb over one of her nipples, watching it stiffen again under the touch. “You asked for merciless, darling. I only gave you what you begged for.”
Rahul swallowed hard. His voice came out small. “Boudi… did it hurt?”
Paromita rolled her eyes toward him, fond and wicked at the same time. “Hurt? No, baby. It felt like someone finally opened the cage I have been living in for thirtytwo years.” She lifted one hand and beckoned him closer. “Come here. Touch me. Feel how thoroughly he used your boudi.”
Rahul crawled forward on his knees. His fingers trembled when they brushed the inside of her thigh, slick with her own juices and the faint sheen of latex. When he reached the swollen lips of her pussy he hesitated, looking up at her face for permission.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Slide two fingers in. Tell me what you feel.”
He did. The heat inside her was shocking. She was open, loose, pulsing faintly around his fingers like she still had not decided whether the fucking was over. Rahul groaned, low in his throat.
“It is so soft,” he said, wonder in his voice. “Like… like he melted you.”
Samir laughed again. “That is what a real cock does to a hungry woman, boy. You will learn.”
Rahul flushed crimson but did not pull his fingers away. Paromita clenched deliberately around them, making him gasp.
“Jealous?” she teased.
Rahul nodded, ashamed and proud at the same time. “Yes. And hard enough to hammer nails.”
Paromita reached down and wrapped her hand around Rahul’s cock. It leaped in her palm, hot and rigid. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “You waited so patiently while another man flooded your boudi’s cunt. You deserve a reward.”
Samir propped himself on one elbow, watching them with lazy interest. “What kind of reward does the little brother get?”
Paromita’s smile turned filthy. She pushed herself up on her elbows, breasts swaying heavily. “First I want something from you, Samir.” She cupped her own breasts, lifted them, squeezed them together until the flesh spilled over her fingers. “I want these fucked. Properly. I want to feel a cock sliding between them until it spits all over me. No condom this time. I want your cum hot on my skin.”
Samir’s eyebrows shot up. His cock, half soft only moments ago, gave an interested twitch against his thigh. “You are a greedy slut, aren’t you?”
“Greedy?” Paromita laughed. “I just had ten inches of stranger cock rearranging my insides and I am still not finished. Call it whatever you like.”
Rahul’s breath hitched. “Boudi… you want him to cum on your tits? In front of me?”
She turned to him, eyes glittering. “Especially in front of you, Rahul. I want you to watch every second. I want you to see exactly what your boudi has become.”
Samir was already moving, kneeling up between her thighs. His cock hung thick and heavy, slick with her juices and the residue of the condom. He slapped it once against her belly, the wet sound loud in the quiet room. “On your knees, darling. Present those gorgeous tits.”
Paromita scrambled to obey. She slid off the bed and knelt on the carpet, back straight, shoulders back, pushing her chest forward. Her breasts looked obscene like that, full and round, nipples dark and stiff. She cupped them from underneath and looked up at Samir with pure, shameless hunger.
Rahul stayed on the bed, legs spread, stroking himself slowly, unable to look away.
Samir stepped forward. He gathered her hair in one fist, tilting her head back slightly so she had to look up at him. With the other hand he guided his cock between her breasts. The head was already swelling again, darkening with fresh blood.
“Press them together,” he ordered.
Paromita squeezed her tits around his shaft. The fit was perfect, warm flesh completely swallowing him until only the flushed tip peeked out at the top. Samir groaned and gave an experimental thrust. The slide was smooth, her skin silky with sweat.
“Like that,” she murmured. “Fuck them hard. Use me.”
Samir did not need further encouragement. He set a steady rhythm, hips rolling, cock sliding in and out of the tight valley she made for him. Each thrust pushed the head against her chin, leaving a wet streak of precum across her throat.
Rahul’s hand moved faster on his own cock. “Boudi… you look so dirty like this. So beautiful.”
Paromita turned her head just enough to catch Rahul’s eye. “Tell me what you see, baby. Describe it to me.”
Rahul’s voice cracked with lust. “I see a big cock fucking your tits. I see your nipples hard and red from all the pinching. I see your mouth open, waiting for whatever he gives you. You are dripping, Boudi. Your thighs are shining.”
Samir grunted approval. “Listen to the boy. He knows his boudi is a cockhungry whore tonight.”
Paromita moaned, the sound vibrating through her chest and straight into Samir’s cock. “Yes. Tonight I am whatever you both need me to be.”
Samir’s thrusts grew rougher. The slap of his hips against her breasts echoed in the room. He released her hair and gripped the base of his cock, angling it so the head dragged across her nipples on every stroke. Paromita whimpered each time the ridge caught a sensitive tip.
“Look at me,” Samir growled.
She lifted her eyes. They were glassy with lust, utterly surrendered.
“I am going to paint these tits,” he said. “Going to cover them until they drip. And you are going to thank me for every drop.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
Rahul could not hold back any longer. “Boudi, I am close. Can I cum too? Please?”
Paromita licked her lips. “Not yet, baby. Wait until he marks me. Then you can add yours. I want both loads mixing on my skin.”
Samir’s rhythm faltered. His thighs tensed. “Fuck. Here it comes.”
The first spurt shot high, splattering across Paromita’s collarbone and throat. The second striped her left breast, thick ropes clinging to the curve. Samir pulled back slightly, aiming the rest so that her chest became a glistening mess of white. Some landed on her chin, one drop hanging from her bottom lip. She caught it with her tongue without hesitation.
When he finished, Samir stepped back, breathing hard, cock still in hand, watching his cum slide slowly down her skin.
Paromita looked down at herself, fingers tracing through the mess, spreading it over both breasts until they gleamed. Then she looked at Rahul.
“Now you,” she said softly. “Come here and add yours. Make me filthy for both of you.”
Rahul practically fell off the bed. He knelt in front of her, cock jerking in his fist. Three frantic strokes and he was there. His release was thinner but copious, shooting across the already soaked valley of her breasts, mixing with Samir’s until it was impossible to tell whose was whose. A final weak spurt landed on her nipple and hung there like a pearl.
Paromita gathered it with two fingers and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean while both men watched, spellbound.
She smiled, slow and wicked, cum still shining on her throat and chest. “There,” she said. “Now I am truly claimed tonight. By my dewar and by the stranger he brought to fuck me senseless.”
Samir dropped to one knee beside her, cupped her chin, and kissed her deep and dirty, tasting himself on her tongue. When he pulled away he was grinning.
“You are one hell of a woman, Paromita Chatterjee.”
Rahul, still kneeling, rested his forehead against her sticky breast, breathing her in.
Paromita stroked his hair with fingers still wet from their combined release. “And this,” she whispered, “is only the beginning.”
Paromita lay on her back, legs still spread, chest rising and falling fast. Her pussy glistened, swollen and red from the hammering it had taken. A single bead of sweat rolled from the hollow of her throat down between her breasts and disappeared into the crease where they pressed together. She felt wrecked in the best possible way, like someone had taken a hammer to every polite wall she had ever built and left only raw, pulsing need behind.
Samir dropped onto the mattress beside her, one heavy arm flung across her waist. Rahul stayed kneeling at the foot of the bed, cock jutting up angry and untouched, eyes wide, drinking in the sight of his boudi freshly ruined by another man.
For a moment nobody spoke. Only the wet sound of breathing and the faint creak of the bed filled the room.
Paromita was the first to break the silence. She turned her head toward Samir, lips curled in a lazy, satisfied smile. “You fuck like you are trying to punish me,” she said, voice husky, almost laughing. “I think my womb is somewhere near my throat now.”
Samir chuckled, deep and rough. He traced a thumb over one of her nipples, watching it stiffen again under the touch. “You asked for merciless, darling. I only gave you what you begged for.”
Rahul swallowed hard. His voice came out small. “Boudi… did it hurt?”
Paromita rolled her eyes toward him, fond and wicked at the same time. “Hurt? No, baby. It felt like someone finally opened the cage I have been living in for thirtytwo years.” She lifted one hand and beckoned him closer. “Come here. Touch me. Feel how thoroughly he used your boudi.”
Rahul crawled forward on his knees. His fingers trembled when they brushed the inside of her thigh, slick with her own juices and the faint sheen of latex. When he reached the swollen lips of her pussy he hesitated, looking up at her face for permission.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Slide two fingers in. Tell me what you feel.”
He did. The heat inside her was shocking. She was open, loose, pulsing faintly around his fingers like she still had not decided whether the fucking was over. Rahul groaned, low in his throat.
“It is so soft,” he said, wonder in his voice. “Like… like he melted you.”
Samir laughed again. “That is what a real cock does to a hungry woman, boy. You will learn.”
Rahul flushed crimson but did not pull his fingers away. Paromita clenched deliberately around them, making him gasp.
“Jealous?” she teased.
Rahul nodded, ashamed and proud at the same time. “Yes. And hard enough to hammer nails.”
Paromita reached down and wrapped her hand around Rahul’s cock. It leaped in her palm, hot and rigid. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “You waited so patiently while another man flooded your boudi’s cunt. You deserve a reward.”
Samir propped himself on one elbow, watching them with lazy interest. “What kind of reward does the little brother get?”
Paromita’s smile turned filthy. She pushed herself up on her elbows, breasts swaying heavily. “First I want something from you, Samir.” She cupped her own breasts, lifted them, squeezed them together until the flesh spilled over her fingers. “I want these fucked. Properly. I want to feel a cock sliding between them until it spits all over me. No condom this time. I want your cum hot on my skin.”
Samir’s eyebrows shot up. His cock, half soft only moments ago, gave an interested twitch against his thigh. “You are a greedy slut, aren’t you?”
“Greedy?” Paromita laughed. “I just had ten inches of stranger cock rearranging my insides and I am still not finished. Call it whatever you like.”
Rahul’s breath hitched. “Boudi… you want him to cum on your tits? In front of me?”
She turned to him, eyes glittering. “Especially in front of you, Rahul. I want you to watch every second. I want you to see exactly what your boudi has become.”
Samir was already moving, kneeling up between her thighs. His cock hung thick and heavy, slick with her juices and the residue of the condom. He slapped it once against her belly, the wet sound loud in the quiet room. “On your knees, darling. Present those gorgeous tits.”
Paromita scrambled to obey. She slid off the bed and knelt on the carpet, back straight, shoulders back, pushing her chest forward. Her breasts looked obscene like that, full and round, nipples dark and stiff. She cupped them from underneath and looked up at Samir with pure, shameless hunger.
Rahul stayed on the bed, legs spread, stroking himself slowly, unable to look away.
Samir stepped forward. He gathered her hair in one fist, tilting her head back slightly so she had to look up at him. With the other hand he guided his cock between her breasts. The head was already swelling again, darkening with fresh blood.
“Press them together,” he ordered.
Paromita squeezed her tits around his shaft. The fit was perfect, warm flesh completely swallowing him until only the flushed tip peeked out at the top. Samir groaned and gave an experimental thrust. The slide was smooth, her skin silky with sweat.
“Like that,” she murmured. “Fuck them hard. Use me.”
Samir did not need further encouragement. He set a steady rhythm, hips rolling, cock sliding in and out of the tight valley she made for him. Each thrust pushed the head against her chin, leaving a wet streak of precum across her throat.
Rahul’s hand moved faster on his own cock. “Boudi… you look so dirty like this. So beautiful.”
Paromita turned her head just enough to catch Rahul’s eye. “Tell me what you see, baby. Describe it to me.”
Rahul’s voice cracked with lust. “I see a big cock fucking your tits. I see your nipples hard and red from all the pinching. I see your mouth open, waiting for whatever he gives you. You are dripping, Boudi. Your thighs are shining.”
Samir grunted approval. “Listen to the boy. He knows his boudi is a cockhungry whore tonight.”
Paromita moaned, the sound vibrating through her chest and straight into Samir’s cock. “Yes. Tonight I am whatever you both need me to be.”
Samir’s thrusts grew rougher. The slap of his hips against her breasts echoed in the room. He released her hair and gripped the base of his cock, angling it so the head dragged across her nipples on every stroke. Paromita whimpered each time the ridge caught a sensitive tip.
“Look at me,” Samir growled.
She lifted her eyes. They were glassy with lust, utterly surrendered.
“I am going to paint these tits,” he said. “Going to cover them until they drip. And you are going to thank me for every drop.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
Rahul could not hold back any longer. “Boudi, I am close. Can I cum too? Please?”
Paromita licked her lips. “Not yet, baby. Wait until he marks me. Then you can add yours. I want both loads mixing on my skin.”
Samir’s rhythm faltered. His thighs tensed. “Fuck. Here it comes.”
The first spurt shot high, splattering across Paromita’s collarbone and throat. The second striped her left breast, thick ropes clinging to the curve. Samir pulled back slightly, aiming the rest so that her chest became a glistening mess of white. Some landed on her chin, one drop hanging from her bottom lip. She caught it with her tongue without hesitation.
When he finished, Samir stepped back, breathing hard, cock still in hand, watching his cum slide slowly down her skin.
Paromita looked down at herself, fingers tracing through the mess, spreading it over both breasts until they gleamed. Then she looked at Rahul.
“Now you,” she said softly. “Come here and add yours. Make me filthy for both of you.”
Rahul practically fell off the bed. He knelt in front of her, cock jerking in his fist. Three frantic strokes and he was there. His release was thinner but copious, shooting across the already soaked valley of her breasts, mixing with Samir’s until it was impossible to tell whose was whose. A final weak spurt landed on her nipple and hung there like a pearl.
Paromita gathered it with two fingers and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean while both men watched, spellbound.
She smiled, slow and wicked, cum still shining on her throat and chest. “There,” she said. “Now I am truly claimed tonight. By my dewar and by the stranger he brought to fuck me senseless.”
Samir dropped to one knee beside her, cupped her chin, and kissed her deep and dirty, tasting himself on her tongue. When he pulled away he was grinning.
“You are one hell of a woman, Paromita Chatterjee.”
Rahul, still kneeling, rested his forehead against her sticky breast, breathing her in.
Paromita stroked his hair with fingers still wet from their combined release. “And this,” she whispered, “is only the beginning.”
Komal.
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