12-12-2025, 07:37 PM
He wanted my pussy more than the money.
Inside the shorter thief's mind, a storm raged.
He had come for quick cash, not this—a desperate single mom in a yellow saree, her boobs full and begging for touch, her ass cheeks soft under his grip, her pussy so close he could smell the warmth through the saree. The plan was simple: break in, grab the money, get out. But now her whispers clawed at him. Her voice, so soft, so broken, promising her pussy if he stopped his partner. Part of him screamed to shut her up, slit her throat, take the cash. He was a thief, not a rapist—usually. But her body pressed against him, boobs rising with fear, mangalsutra glinting like an invitation, her ass cheeks grinding back in desperation—it stirred something filthy. He pictured ripping her yellow saree off, shoving her on the bed, burying his cock in her pussy while she cried. The money was good, but her pussy felt better. Loyalty to his tall partner pulled one way; lust for her boobs and pussy pulled harder. If he betrayed the tall one, what then? Knife the tall thief and take her alone? Or make a deal, fuck her first, then steal? His cock throbbed painfully against her ass cheek, mind splitting between greed for 2 lakhs and raw need to fill her pussy with his cum. He squeezed her waist harder, conflicted, knife wavering.
Desperation gave me a filthy idea.
If begging for mercy failed, maybe bargaining with my body would work.
I turned my head slightly toward the thief holding me, knife still at my throat, and whispered soft and trembling, “Do you like me?”
He said nothing, but his cock twitched harder against my ass cheek over the saree, and his free hand tightened on my waist, fingers digging into the soft curve above my hip.
I swallowed hard, tears still streaming, voice dropping to a husky, inviting murmur, “You have been staring at my boobs and ass cheeks since you grabbed me. I can feel your cock hard against my ass cheek. Do you like what you see?”
Silence, but his knife hand relaxed just a fraction, blade still close but no longer crushing my throat, and his hips shifted forward slightly, rubbing his growing cock between my ass cheeks over the yellow saree.
I pushed on, whispering even softer, breath catching with fear and forced seduction, “Do you have a girlfriend? Someone who lets you grab her boobs like this?” I arched my back a little, pressing my ass cheeks back against his cock, feeling it throb through his pants.
He grunted low, no words, but his free hand slid up my side, brushed the underside of my left boob over the yellow blouse, fingers trembling with want.
I kept going, voice emotional, raw, sensual, “I can be nice to you… if you stop him. My pussy is warm… my boobs are full… I can let you touch… please… just tell him to leave the cupboard alone…”
His breath quickened in my ear, knife hand lowering slightly, cock now fully hard, grinding slow against my ass cheeks over the saree.
But the tall thief kept scbanging the crowbar, oblivious, the lock groaning louder.
I whispered again, desperate, filthy, turning my head enough to let my lips brush his ear, “Imagine my panties off… my pussy lips spread for you… you can fuck me right here… but only if you stop him now… do you want that? Do you want my pussy?”
His free hand finally moved, cupped my left boob over the yellow blouse, squeezed gently, thumb finding my nipple and rubbing it through the material until it hardened.
He was hooked.
But the crowbar kept working.
Time was slipping.
My seduction had to turn into a deal fast, or the 2 lakhs would be gone.
I moaned soft in my ear, “Please… your cock feels so big… I want it inside my pussy… but only if you save my son’s money… tell him to stop…”
He squeezed my boob harder, knife dropping lower, breath ragged.
The tall thief wedged the crowbar deeper.
The lock bent.
My heart raced.
The negotiation hung on a knife's edge—my body the bait, my son’s future the prize.
The tall thief cursed again, sweat dripping down his face as he jammed the crowbar deeper into the cupboard door, metal screeching, lock bending but still holding.
Every second he worked, the 2 lakhs came closer to disappearing.
The shorter thief behind me struggled.
His knife trembled at my throat, his arm around my waist shook, his cock throbbed hard and hot against my ass cheeks over the yellow saree, growing thicker with every breath I took.
Inside the shorter thief's mind, the storm exploded.
The 2 lakhs called to him like a siren's song, easy cash for booze, gambling, cheap whores in dark alleys. His partner was inches away from cracking the cupboard, and splitting the money would set them up for weeks. No more scbanging for scraps. But the woman in his grip, my boobs heaving against his forearm, my ass cheeks soft and warm, my mangalsutra brushing his hand, my whispers slithering into his ear like venom-laced honey, was tearing him apart. Loyalty to his partner screamed to hold the knife steady, let the crowbar do its work, take the cash, and run. They had done this a dozen times, quick in, quick out, no complications. But my body was a complication he never expected. My boobs soft against his arm, my ass cheeks warm and yielding under his hand, my pussy so close he imagined the heat radiating through the saree. He pictured dropping the knife, shoving me face-down on the bed, ripping the yellow saree off, spreading my ass cheeks, and ramming his cock into my pussy until I screamed his name. Or my asshole, tight and untouched, begging for his load. Money was replaceable; a desperate milf offering my pussy and boobs freely? A once-in-a-lifetime fuck. Betray the tall one? Knife him in the back while he worked the crowbar, then take me slow, make me beg for his cock, cum inside my pussy over and over? Or share me, let the tall one have my asshole while he took my pussy? His balls tightened painfully, cock leaking pre-cum into his pants, mind fracturing, greed for the 2 lakhs clashing with the primal urge to own my body, my promise of warmth and wetness pulling him under like quicksand. He could almost taste my nipples, feel my pussy lips clenching around his cock. Stop the theft? Or finish it and regret forever? The knife wavered in his hand, loyalty crumbling under lust's relentless assault.
The shorter thief's thoughts spun wilder, his heart pounding as hard as his cock. He had stolen from shops, houses, even temples, but never had a mark like me, curves in a yellow saree, boobs full and begging to be squeezed, mangalsutra swaying like a tease. His partner, the tall one, had always led the jobs, always taken the bigger cut, always left him with scraps. Now, with my pussy offered like a gift, why share? He could end the tall one quick, a knife to the back, then have me all to himself, spread on the bed, yellow saree torn away, panties ripped, his cock slamming into my pussy while I moaned for more. Or my asshole, tight and hot, clenching around his cock as he filled it with cum. The cash would be nice, but my body was nicer, warm, wet, willing. He imagined the taste of my pussy lips, the feel of my ass cheeks slapping against his hips, my mangalsutra swinging as I rode his cock. Loyalty? Fuck loyalty. The tall one could die for all he cared. But doubt crept in, what if I screamed after? What if the tall one turned fast? His cock demanded action, balls heavy with need, but his brain flashed warnings. Take the money and run, or take me and risk everything? Lust clawed at him, whispering to choose my pussy, my boobs, my offer to fuck. Greed whispered back for the cash. He squeezed my boob again, mind tearing, body burning.
To me, he was my only hope.
The tall thief would never listen to begging.
This one, this shorter thief with the knife and the raging cock, wanted my pussy more than the money.
I had to break him completely.
I slowly turned in his arm, knife still at my throat, facing him fully now.
His face inches from mine, eyes wild, filthy lips visible, cracked and hungry.
I looked straight into his eyes, then down at those filthy lips, then back to his eyes.
I leaned forward until my lips almost touched his, breath mingling, boobs brushing his chest, mangalsutra dangling between us.
I whispered, voice low, trembling, dripping with filthy promise, “I know you want me.”
His cock jerked hard against my lower belly over the yellow saree.
I continued, lips brushing his mouth, “Your cock is so hard for my pussy… I can feel it throbbing… don’t fight it… don’t go against your body’s urges…”
His free hand grabbed my ass cheek over the saree, squeezed hard, pulling me closer so his cock rubbed between my thighs.
I moaned soft, emotional, desperate, “You will never get to enjoy a beauty like me again in your entire life… look at my boobs… my deep navel… the shape of my ass cheeks… all yours if you stop him…”
His eyes dropped to my boobs heaving in the yellow blouse, nipples poking hard through the material, then to my deep navel, then back to my lips.
I whispered again, voice raw with seduction, “Money goes today and comes tomorrow… but this chance… my pussy wet and ready for your cock… you will regret it forever if you let him take the cash and leave me untouched…”
He groaned low, knife hand shaking, cock grinding slow and desperate between my thighs over the saree.
He glanced at the tall thief still struggling with the crowbar, then back at me, eyes torn, greed for cash warring with the need to rip my yellow saree off and bury himself inside my pussy.
His free hand slid up, cupped my right boob over the yellow blouse, squeezed hard, thumb rubbing my nipple until I gasped.
He was losing control.
Totally horny, totally tempted, trying hard to hold on to the plan, but my words and my body were breaking him.
The tall thief jammed the crowbar again, metal screamed.
Time was almost gone.
Now or never.
Inside the shorter thief's mind, a storm raged.
He had come for quick cash, not this—a desperate single mom in a yellow saree, her boobs full and begging for touch, her ass cheeks soft under his grip, her pussy so close he could smell the warmth through the saree. The plan was simple: break in, grab the money, get out. But now her whispers clawed at him. Her voice, so soft, so broken, promising her pussy if he stopped his partner. Part of him screamed to shut her up, slit her throat, take the cash. He was a thief, not a rapist—usually. But her body pressed against him, boobs rising with fear, mangalsutra glinting like an invitation, her ass cheeks grinding back in desperation—it stirred something filthy. He pictured ripping her yellow saree off, shoving her on the bed, burying his cock in her pussy while she cried. The money was good, but her pussy felt better. Loyalty to his tall partner pulled one way; lust for her boobs and pussy pulled harder. If he betrayed the tall one, what then? Knife the tall thief and take her alone? Or make a deal, fuck her first, then steal? His cock throbbed painfully against her ass cheek, mind splitting between greed for 2 lakhs and raw need to fill her pussy with his cum. He squeezed her waist harder, conflicted, knife wavering.
Desperation gave me a filthy idea.
If begging for mercy failed, maybe bargaining with my body would work.
I turned my head slightly toward the thief holding me, knife still at my throat, and whispered soft and trembling, “Do you like me?”
He said nothing, but his cock twitched harder against my ass cheek over the saree, and his free hand tightened on my waist, fingers digging into the soft curve above my hip.
I swallowed hard, tears still streaming, voice dropping to a husky, inviting murmur, “You have been staring at my boobs and ass cheeks since you grabbed me. I can feel your cock hard against my ass cheek. Do you like what you see?”
Silence, but his knife hand relaxed just a fraction, blade still close but no longer crushing my throat, and his hips shifted forward slightly, rubbing his growing cock between my ass cheeks over the yellow saree.
I pushed on, whispering even softer, breath catching with fear and forced seduction, “Do you have a girlfriend? Someone who lets you grab her boobs like this?” I arched my back a little, pressing my ass cheeks back against his cock, feeling it throb through his pants.
He grunted low, no words, but his free hand slid up my side, brushed the underside of my left boob over the yellow blouse, fingers trembling with want.
I kept going, voice emotional, raw, sensual, “I can be nice to you… if you stop him. My pussy is warm… my boobs are full… I can let you touch… please… just tell him to leave the cupboard alone…”
His breath quickened in my ear, knife hand lowering slightly, cock now fully hard, grinding slow against my ass cheeks over the saree.
But the tall thief kept scbanging the crowbar, oblivious, the lock groaning louder.
I whispered again, desperate, filthy, turning my head enough to let my lips brush his ear, “Imagine my panties off… my pussy lips spread for you… you can fuck me right here… but only if you stop him now… do you want that? Do you want my pussy?”
His free hand finally moved, cupped my left boob over the yellow blouse, squeezed gently, thumb finding my nipple and rubbing it through the material until it hardened.
He was hooked.
But the crowbar kept working.
Time was slipping.
My seduction had to turn into a deal fast, or the 2 lakhs would be gone.
I moaned soft in my ear, “Please… your cock feels so big… I want it inside my pussy… but only if you save my son’s money… tell him to stop…”
He squeezed my boob harder, knife dropping lower, breath ragged.
The tall thief wedged the crowbar deeper.
The lock bent.
My heart raced.
The negotiation hung on a knife's edge—my body the bait, my son’s future the prize.
The tall thief cursed again, sweat dripping down his face as he jammed the crowbar deeper into the cupboard door, metal screeching, lock bending but still holding.
Every second he worked, the 2 lakhs came closer to disappearing.
The shorter thief behind me struggled.
His knife trembled at my throat, his arm around my waist shook, his cock throbbed hard and hot against my ass cheeks over the yellow saree, growing thicker with every breath I took.
Inside the shorter thief's mind, the storm exploded.
The 2 lakhs called to him like a siren's song, easy cash for booze, gambling, cheap whores in dark alleys. His partner was inches away from cracking the cupboard, and splitting the money would set them up for weeks. No more scbanging for scraps. But the woman in his grip, my boobs heaving against his forearm, my ass cheeks soft and warm, my mangalsutra brushing his hand, my whispers slithering into his ear like venom-laced honey, was tearing him apart. Loyalty to his partner screamed to hold the knife steady, let the crowbar do its work, take the cash, and run. They had done this a dozen times, quick in, quick out, no complications. But my body was a complication he never expected. My boobs soft against his arm, my ass cheeks warm and yielding under his hand, my pussy so close he imagined the heat radiating through the saree. He pictured dropping the knife, shoving me face-down on the bed, ripping the yellow saree off, spreading my ass cheeks, and ramming his cock into my pussy until I screamed his name. Or my asshole, tight and untouched, begging for his load. Money was replaceable; a desperate milf offering my pussy and boobs freely? A once-in-a-lifetime fuck. Betray the tall one? Knife him in the back while he worked the crowbar, then take me slow, make me beg for his cock, cum inside my pussy over and over? Or share me, let the tall one have my asshole while he took my pussy? His balls tightened painfully, cock leaking pre-cum into his pants, mind fracturing, greed for the 2 lakhs clashing with the primal urge to own my body, my promise of warmth and wetness pulling him under like quicksand. He could almost taste my nipples, feel my pussy lips clenching around his cock. Stop the theft? Or finish it and regret forever? The knife wavered in his hand, loyalty crumbling under lust's relentless assault.
The shorter thief's thoughts spun wilder, his heart pounding as hard as his cock. He had stolen from shops, houses, even temples, but never had a mark like me, curves in a yellow saree, boobs full and begging to be squeezed, mangalsutra swaying like a tease. His partner, the tall one, had always led the jobs, always taken the bigger cut, always left him with scraps. Now, with my pussy offered like a gift, why share? He could end the tall one quick, a knife to the back, then have me all to himself, spread on the bed, yellow saree torn away, panties ripped, his cock slamming into my pussy while I moaned for more. Or my asshole, tight and hot, clenching around his cock as he filled it with cum. The cash would be nice, but my body was nicer, warm, wet, willing. He imagined the taste of my pussy lips, the feel of my ass cheeks slapping against his hips, my mangalsutra swinging as I rode his cock. Loyalty? Fuck loyalty. The tall one could die for all he cared. But doubt crept in, what if I screamed after? What if the tall one turned fast? His cock demanded action, balls heavy with need, but his brain flashed warnings. Take the money and run, or take me and risk everything? Lust clawed at him, whispering to choose my pussy, my boobs, my offer to fuck. Greed whispered back for the cash. He squeezed my boob again, mind tearing, body burning.
To me, he was my only hope.
The tall thief would never listen to begging.
This one, this shorter thief with the knife and the raging cock, wanted my pussy more than the money.
I had to break him completely.
I slowly turned in his arm, knife still at my throat, facing him fully now.
His face inches from mine, eyes wild, filthy lips visible, cracked and hungry.
I looked straight into his eyes, then down at those filthy lips, then back to his eyes.
I leaned forward until my lips almost touched his, breath mingling, boobs brushing his chest, mangalsutra dangling between us.
I whispered, voice low, trembling, dripping with filthy promise, “I know you want me.”
His cock jerked hard against my lower belly over the yellow saree.
I continued, lips brushing his mouth, “Your cock is so hard for my pussy… I can feel it throbbing… don’t fight it… don’t go against your body’s urges…”
His free hand grabbed my ass cheek over the saree, squeezed hard, pulling me closer so his cock rubbed between my thighs.
I moaned soft, emotional, desperate, “You will never get to enjoy a beauty like me again in your entire life… look at my boobs… my deep navel… the shape of my ass cheeks… all yours if you stop him…”
His eyes dropped to my boobs heaving in the yellow blouse, nipples poking hard through the material, then to my deep navel, then back to my lips.
I whispered again, voice raw with seduction, “Money goes today and comes tomorrow… but this chance… my pussy wet and ready for your cock… you will regret it forever if you let him take the cash and leave me untouched…”
He groaned low, knife hand shaking, cock grinding slow and desperate between my thighs over the saree.
He glanced at the tall thief still struggling with the crowbar, then back at me, eyes torn, greed for cash warring with the need to rip my yellow saree off and bury himself inside my pussy.
His free hand slid up, cupped my right boob over the yellow blouse, squeezed hard, thumb rubbing my nipple until I gasped.
He was losing control.
Totally horny, totally tempted, trying hard to hold on to the plan, but my words and my body were breaking him.
The tall thief jammed the crowbar again, metal screamed.
Time was almost gone.
Now or never.
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