05-12-2025, 03:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-12-2025, 03:24 PM by ashuezy2. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
Scene 12
"It is biting me here, Bhaiya," she whined, pointing to the underwire of her blouse. "And the back... it feels too tight. I can't breathe."
Remo stepped closer.
"Let me loosen it, remove it, I will fix it here." he whispered.
She pushed up the suit fabric, it was little tight but she managed to pull it above her head.
I gasped softly. Her back was completely bare now, a smooth expanse of pale, milky skin framed by the silky red suit. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath. The suit was built with cups—Remo’s specialty.
Meenal stood topless.
I gasped. she had a "big rack." Her breasts were massive, heavy, and pale. They swayed slightly with the movement, their weight pulling them down, soft and overwhelming. They were too big for her frame, a burden she carried alone.
"Better?" Remo asked, his voice vibrating against her neck.
"Mmm," Meenal hummed, closing her eyes. "But it still feels heavy in the front."
Remo didn't hesitate. He slid them around her ribcage, his palms pressing against her warm, bare skin.
He reached the front. He cupped her breasts.
I watched as his fingers dug into the soft flesh that was spilling out of the cups. Meenal dropped her head back onto his shoulder. She ground her hips back into his groin.
"Oh bhaiya, I want to feel you again inside me." she moaned.
Remo squeezed hard. He pinched her nipples, rolling his fingers over it.
Meenal’s red bridal bangles shook as she reached back, grabbing Remo’s hair. She wasn't the shy new bride anymore. She was a woman getting exactly what she paid for.
"Take it off," she begged, panting. "Take the whole thing off and take me from behind. Fuck me !"
Remo smirked at her reflection. He looked right at the mirror, almost as if he knew I was watching from the other side.
"As you wish, Madam," he whispered.
Meenal let out a sound that was half-sob, half-moan. She leaned back against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
"Oh bhaiya," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It’s been so long."
"So long?" Remo asked, his thumbs circling her large, dark nipples. "You just got married, Madam."
Meenal shook her head violently, her bridal bangles clinking.
"He doesn't touch me. He comes home late. He sleeps. He treats me like a doll in a glass case. He doesn't know... he doesn't know how hungry I am."
She was starving. I could see it in the way she arched her back, offering herself to the tailor. She wasn't getting love at home, so she brought her "insatiable deep hunger" here, to a dusty shop in Lajpat Nagar.
"I know," Remo murmured into her ear. "You need to be eaten."
He squeezed her breasts hard. The flesh spilled over his fingers. He treated them like dough, kneading the frustration out of her.
Meenal turned in his arms. She faced him now, completely exposed. Her large breasts pressed against his chest. She grabbed his face with both hands.
"Do it," she hissed, her eyes wild and wet. "Fix me."
Remo lowered his head. He buried his face in her deep cleavage, inhaling the scent of her sweat and expensive perfume. He bit down gently on her soft skin, leaving a mark that her husband would never notice because he never looked.
I watched from the darkness. I realized then that the shop wasn't just about clothes. It was a kitchen for starving women, and Remo was the one serving food.
Meenal couldn't take it anymore. The teasing, the touching—it wasn't enough. She was starving, and she didn't want an appetizer. She wanted the whole meal.
She pulled away from Remo. She grabbed her heavy purse from the hook on the wall. Her hands were shaking so hard the bangles clattered like wind chimes.
She reached inside. She didn't pull out a tissue. She pulled out a bundle of cash.
She turned back to Remo. She shoved the money at his chest.
"Here is Rs 5000," she panted, her voice thick with desperation. "Take it."
Remo looked at the money, then at her face. He didn't smile. He took the cash. He folded it calmly and put it in his back pocket.
"Meenal..." he started.
She cut him off. She grabbed his belt buckle.
"Take off your pants," she commanded. "And do me now. I can't wait."
She fell to her knees in front of him. She looked up at him, her eyes wet and wild.
"And Remo," she whispered, a dirty, hungry look crossing her face. "I don't just want it normal."
She reached around and touched her own backside, pressing her hand on her butt.
"I want it in my ass too," she begged. "My husband never touches me there. Break me open, Remo. Please."
I gasped loud enough that I was scared they heard me. Anal? Here? In the shop?
Remo didn't blink. He looked down at the bride kneeling at his feet, begging for sodomy.
"Get up," he growled. "Turn around."
Meenal scrambled up. She turned her back to him. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the wall mirror. She arched her back deep, sticking her heavy hips out. She removed her Salwaar, lowering the silk from her waist.
She wasn't wearing panties.
Her round, pale ass was exposed, shaking slightly. She looked back over her shoulder, watching him unbuckle his belt.
"Do it," she hissed. "Fill me up."
I watched as Remo’s pants dropped. I saw him harden instantly. I saw Meenal spread her own cheeks with her hands, her red bridal bangles framing the pink hole she was offering him. I realized then that Remo wasn't lying. This wasn't romance. This was a raw, paid transaction of flesh and hunger.
Remo didn't use fancy oil. He didn't have time.
He spat into his palm. Phhh-tuh.
It was a raw, dirty sound. He rubbed his hands together, making them wet and slick.
"Ready?" he growled.
Meenal looked back over her shoulder, her hair wild, sweat running down her face. "Just put it in. Don't ask."
Remo reached down. He rubbed his spit onto her tight opening. Meenal flinched, then pushed her hips back into his hand, begging for more.
Remo gripped her hips. His fingers dug into her soft white flesh, leaving red marks instantly. He lined himself up.
He thrust forward.
Slap. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed in the small box.
"Ahhh!" Meenal screamed. It wasn't a scream of fear. It was a scream of shock and relief.
He didn't go slow. He pushed past the tight muscle. He buried himself deep inside her ass.
Meenal’s head dropped forward, hitting the mirror. Thud.
"Oh god," she moaned, her voice guttural. "It’s so big. It’s tearing me."
Remo found his rhythm. He pulled back almost all the way, then slammed back in.
Thrust. Slap. Thrust. Slap.
Meenal wasn't a passive doll. She fought back. She pushed her ass against him, meeting every thrust. Her heavy breasts swung underneath her, brushing against the dirty wall, but she didn't care.
The room was filled with noise. The clack-clack-clack of her red bridal bangles hitting the mirror as she braced herself. The filthy things she was whispering. "Harder... break it... ruin me."
I saw the way her skin rippled with the impact. I saw Remo’s dark hands contrasting against her pale hips. I saw the red saree shaking violently.
The smell of sex—sweat, spit, and musk—seeped through the crack in the wall, hitting me in the face.
I couldn't look away. I watched the way her body accepted him. I watched the way her husband’s money and her expensive clothes lay forgotten on the floor while the tailor owned her completely.
I moved my own hand down to my Kurta. I couldn't help it. Watching Meenal take him, watching her face twisted in pleasure in the mirror reflection... it was too much. I touched myself through the cottom, imagining it was me bent over that table, imagining it was me paying the price.
Meenal’s body jerked violently against the mirror. Her hands clawed at the glass.
"Remo... don't stop! Release it now!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm coming!"
Remo ejaculated inside instantly. He finished inside her. He respected the command. Meenal slumped against the wall, her legs trembling, her breath coming in jagged sobs of pleasure.
Then, the tender moment. She turned around, her face flushed and sweaty. She grabbed Remo’s face and kissed him deep and hard on the mouth, tasting herself, tasting the act.
"Till next time," she whispered against his lips.
She fixed her suit quickly. She smoothed her hair. She put the mask of the "respectable wife" back on. She walked out of the trial room, her chooda clinking, leaving the scent of her desire behind.
Remo zipped up his pants. He buckled his belt calmly, "as if nothing happened." He wiped his forehead and walked out onto the shop floor.
"It is biting me here, Bhaiya," she whined, pointing to the underwire of her blouse. "And the back... it feels too tight. I can't breathe."
Remo stepped closer.
"Let me loosen it, remove it, I will fix it here." he whispered.
She pushed up the suit fabric, it was little tight but she managed to pull it above her head.
I gasped softly. Her back was completely bare now, a smooth expanse of pale, milky skin framed by the silky red suit. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath. The suit was built with cups—Remo’s specialty.
Meenal stood topless.
I gasped. she had a "big rack." Her breasts were massive, heavy, and pale. They swayed slightly with the movement, their weight pulling them down, soft and overwhelming. They were too big for her frame, a burden she carried alone.
"Better?" Remo asked, his voice vibrating against her neck.
"Mmm," Meenal hummed, closing her eyes. "But it still feels heavy in the front."
Remo didn't hesitate. He slid them around her ribcage, his palms pressing against her warm, bare skin.
He reached the front. He cupped her breasts.
I watched as his fingers dug into the soft flesh that was spilling out of the cups. Meenal dropped her head back onto his shoulder. She ground her hips back into his groin.
"Oh bhaiya, I want to feel you again inside me." she moaned.
Remo squeezed hard. He pinched her nipples, rolling his fingers over it.
Meenal’s red bridal bangles shook as she reached back, grabbing Remo’s hair. She wasn't the shy new bride anymore. She was a woman getting exactly what she paid for.
"Take it off," she begged, panting. "Take the whole thing off and take me from behind. Fuck me !"
Remo smirked at her reflection. He looked right at the mirror, almost as if he knew I was watching from the other side.
"As you wish, Madam," he whispered.
Meenal let out a sound that was half-sob, half-moan. She leaned back against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
"Oh bhaiya," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It’s been so long."
"So long?" Remo asked, his thumbs circling her large, dark nipples. "You just got married, Madam."
Meenal shook her head violently, her bridal bangles clinking.
"He doesn't touch me. He comes home late. He sleeps. He treats me like a doll in a glass case. He doesn't know... he doesn't know how hungry I am."
She was starving. I could see it in the way she arched her back, offering herself to the tailor. She wasn't getting love at home, so she brought her "insatiable deep hunger" here, to a dusty shop in Lajpat Nagar.
"I know," Remo murmured into her ear. "You need to be eaten."
He squeezed her breasts hard. The flesh spilled over his fingers. He treated them like dough, kneading the frustration out of her.
Meenal turned in his arms. She faced him now, completely exposed. Her large breasts pressed against his chest. She grabbed his face with both hands.
"Do it," she hissed, her eyes wild and wet. "Fix me."
Remo lowered his head. He buried his face in her deep cleavage, inhaling the scent of her sweat and expensive perfume. He bit down gently on her soft skin, leaving a mark that her husband would never notice because he never looked.
I watched from the darkness. I realized then that the shop wasn't just about clothes. It was a kitchen for starving women, and Remo was the one serving food.
Meenal couldn't take it anymore. The teasing, the touching—it wasn't enough. She was starving, and she didn't want an appetizer. She wanted the whole meal.
She pulled away from Remo. She grabbed her heavy purse from the hook on the wall. Her hands were shaking so hard the bangles clattered like wind chimes.
She reached inside. She didn't pull out a tissue. She pulled out a bundle of cash.
She turned back to Remo. She shoved the money at his chest.
"Here is Rs 5000," she panted, her voice thick with desperation. "Take it."
Remo looked at the money, then at her face. He didn't smile. He took the cash. He folded it calmly and put it in his back pocket.
"Meenal..." he started.
She cut him off. She grabbed his belt buckle.
"Take off your pants," she commanded. "And do me now. I can't wait."
She fell to her knees in front of him. She looked up at him, her eyes wet and wild.
"And Remo," she whispered, a dirty, hungry look crossing her face. "I don't just want it normal."
She reached around and touched her own backside, pressing her hand on her butt.
"I want it in my ass too," she begged. "My husband never touches me there. Break me open, Remo. Please."
I gasped loud enough that I was scared they heard me. Anal? Here? In the shop?
Remo didn't blink. He looked down at the bride kneeling at his feet, begging for sodomy.
"Get up," he growled. "Turn around."
Meenal scrambled up. She turned her back to him. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the wall mirror. She arched her back deep, sticking her heavy hips out. She removed her Salwaar, lowering the silk from her waist.
She wasn't wearing panties.
Her round, pale ass was exposed, shaking slightly. She looked back over her shoulder, watching him unbuckle his belt.
"Do it," she hissed. "Fill me up."
I watched as Remo’s pants dropped. I saw him harden instantly. I saw Meenal spread her own cheeks with her hands, her red bridal bangles framing the pink hole she was offering him. I realized then that Remo wasn't lying. This wasn't romance. This was a raw, paid transaction of flesh and hunger.
Remo didn't use fancy oil. He didn't have time.
He spat into his palm. Phhh-tuh.
It was a raw, dirty sound. He rubbed his hands together, making them wet and slick.
"Ready?" he growled.
Meenal looked back over her shoulder, her hair wild, sweat running down her face. "Just put it in. Don't ask."
Remo reached down. He rubbed his spit onto her tight opening. Meenal flinched, then pushed her hips back into his hand, begging for more.
Remo gripped her hips. His fingers dug into her soft white flesh, leaving red marks instantly. He lined himself up.
He thrust forward.
Slap. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed in the small box.
"Ahhh!" Meenal screamed. It wasn't a scream of fear. It was a scream of shock and relief.
He didn't go slow. He pushed past the tight muscle. He buried himself deep inside her ass.
Meenal’s head dropped forward, hitting the mirror. Thud.
"Oh god," she moaned, her voice guttural. "It’s so big. It’s tearing me."
Remo found his rhythm. He pulled back almost all the way, then slammed back in.
Thrust. Slap. Thrust. Slap.
Meenal wasn't a passive doll. She fought back. She pushed her ass against him, meeting every thrust. Her heavy breasts swung underneath her, brushing against the dirty wall, but she didn't care.
The room was filled with noise. The clack-clack-clack of her red bridal bangles hitting the mirror as she braced herself. The filthy things she was whispering. "Harder... break it... ruin me."
I saw the way her skin rippled with the impact. I saw Remo’s dark hands contrasting against her pale hips. I saw the red saree shaking violently.
The smell of sex—sweat, spit, and musk—seeped through the crack in the wall, hitting me in the face.
I couldn't look away. I watched the way her body accepted him. I watched the way her husband’s money and her expensive clothes lay forgotten on the floor while the tailor owned her completely.
I moved my own hand down to my Kurta. I couldn't help it. Watching Meenal take him, watching her face twisted in pleasure in the mirror reflection... it was too much. I touched myself through the cottom, imagining it was me bent over that table, imagining it was me paying the price.
Meenal’s body jerked violently against the mirror. Her hands clawed at the glass.
"Remo... don't stop! Release it now!" she gasped, her voice breaking. "I'm coming!"
Remo ejaculated inside instantly. He finished inside her. He respected the command. Meenal slumped against the wall, her legs trembling, her breath coming in jagged sobs of pleasure.
Then, the tender moment. She turned around, her face flushed and sweaty. She grabbed Remo’s face and kissed him deep and hard on the mouth, tasting herself, tasting the act.
"Till next time," she whispered against his lips.
She fixed her suit quickly. She smoothed her hair. She put the mask of the "respectable wife" back on. She walked out of the trial room, her chooda clinking, leaving the scent of her desire behind.
Remo zipped up his pants. He buckled his belt calmly, "as if nothing happened." He wiped his forehead and walked out onto the shop floor.
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