29-12-2025, 07:09 PM
Scene 27
The living room was a blur of sensation. I was the center of a feeding frenzy. Mrs. Kapoor and Mrs. Gupta were relentless, their mouths working overtime on my chest, their tongues fighting for dominance over my nipples. My head rolled back, my hair sticking to my sweaty neck, and the sound coming from my throat wasn't a protest—it was a surrender.
"Ohhh! God!" I moaned loudly, the sound vibrating through the room.
I didn't mind it. I didn't mind it at all. The shame had evaporated, replaced by a drugging, heavy heat. I grabbed Mrs. Kapoor’s hair, holding her head against my breast, urging her to suck harder. The wet suction, the pinch of teeth, the sheer adoration of these older women... it made me feel like a slut.
"Enough!" Mrs. Singhania barked, her eyes wild.
She didn't wait. She shoved Mrs. Gupta aside with her hip. She pulled Mrs. Kapoor back by her shoulders.
"Give her some space!" Mrs. Singhania commanded, though she didn't step in to take their place. She looked at me, swaying on my feet, my chest glistening with saliva.
"She wants her mother," Mrs. Singhania announced, reading the look in my glazed eyes.
I looked down through my lashes. I saw my mom sitting on the rug, naked, watching me with that same dark pride she had shown in the shower.
"Mom," I gasped, reaching a hand out towards her. "Come here."
The room went quiet. The aunties stepped back, forming a tight circle, their breathing heavy. They wanted to see this. The ultimate taboo.
Mom didn't hesitate. She rose to her knees. She crawled towards me, her bare breasts swaying. She looked like a lioness reclaiming her cub.
She stopped in front of me. She reached up and cupped my breasts, weighing them in her hands.
"You amateurs," she scoffed softly at her friends, wiping their spit off my skin with her thumb.
She looked up at me. "Do you want me, Ananya?"
"Yes," I whispered.
Mom leaned forward. She opened her mouth wide and engulfed my left breast.
It was different. It wasn't frantic like the others. It was possessive. She knew exactly how sensitive I was. She swirled her tongue around the areola, then latched onto the nipple and pulled.
"Ahhh! Mom!" I cried out, my knees buckling.
The aunties gasped.
Mom pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lip to my nipple. She looked at her friends, smirking.
"This is not the first time I am doing this," she boasted, her voice husky. She squeezed my breast, making the flesh bulge between her fingers.
"She has amazing melons," Mom declared, looking at Mrs. Singhania. "Better than mine ever were. And they taste... sweet."
She turned to me and attacked the other one, sucking aggressively while the circle of women watched in stunned, envious silence, witnessing a mother devour her daughter in the middle of the living room.
The living room was a pressure cooker of taboo. My mother was on her knees, her mouth still latched onto my nipple, claiming me in front of her friends. The air was thick with the smell of aroused women and the cologne of the stripper who had been patiently watching the appetizer round.
"Enough," a deep voice boomed over the bass of the music.
The stripper stepped forward, his shadow falling over me and my mother. He grabbed Mom by her shoulders and physically pulled her away from my chest.
A wet pop echoed as her mouth detached from my nipple. Mom looked up, dazed and flushed.
"You ladies have had your fun," the stripper growled, looking at me with dark, hungry eyes. "I've seen enough foreplay.
Now it’s my turn to finish this."
He didn't waste time with gentle positioning. He grabbed my waist with massive, oiled hands.
"Up," he commanded.
He hoisted me into the air effortlessly. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back. I was eye-level with him now, suspended, helpless.
He didn't bother walking to a wall. He stood right in the center of the rug, surrounded by the naked and half-naked aunties.
He lined himself up. I looked down and saw the thick, angry purple head of his cock pressing against my wet entrance.
"Take your medicine, Slut," he sneered.
He thrust upward, slamming into me with the force of a battering ram.
"OH MY GOD!" I screamed, throwing my head back as he filled me completely. He was huge, stretching me far beyond what Sonu - The Driver had done.
He began to pound me. He held me tight against his body, his hips snapping forward with brutal regularity. Every thrust knocked the breath out of me. I was bouncing in his arms, my breasts flopping wildly against his chest.
It was chaos. Even as I was getting fucked in mid-air, the aunties wouldn't back off.
Mrs. Kapoor was behind him, reaching around to slap my ass as it bounced against his thighs. Smack. Smack.
Mrs. Singhania was kissing my neck, licking the sweat off my skin, whispering filth into my ear while the stripper drove into me.
"Look at her take it!" Mom yelled from somewhere below, her voice hoarse with excitement. "Break her!"
The stripper’s breathing turned into guttural grunts. His grip on my waist tightened until I thought I would bruise. His thrusts became erratic, desperate.
"I'm gonna blow," he groaned, his neck muscles corded.
He looked down at Mom, who was on her knees near his feet, watching the connection point between my legs.
"Where do you want it, Sunita?" he demanded.
Mom looked me dead in the eye. There was no motherly protection there, just the cold calculation of a woman paying a debt.
"Inside her," Mom commanded. "Fill her up. Make sure it stays."
"Yes, ma'am," he grunted.
He buried himself deep inside me, holding me still against him. I felt him pulse—one, two, three massive waves of hot cum flooding into me, coating my insides. I whimpered, overwhelmed by the fullness and the sheer degradation of it.
He held me there for a long moment, letting every drop drain into me, before finally lowering me until my feet touched the rug. My legs wobbled so hard I almost fell, cum already leaking down my inner thighs.
The stripper zipped up his tear-away pants, collected his duffel bag.
"Let me know ladies when is next time," He said and let himself out. Job done.
The energy in the room shifted instantly. The manic lust evaporated, replaced by the casual normalcy of a kitty party ending. The aunties started picking up their discarded blouses and sarees, fixing their hair in the mirrors.
"Oh, Sunita darling," Mrs. Gupta cooed, pecking my naked mother on the cheek as she stepped into her petticoat. "What an afternoon. You really are the best host."
"Amazing," Mrs. Kapoor agreed, buttoning her blouse over her sweaty breasts. She turned to me, cupping my face and giving me a soft kiss on the lips. "And Ananya... you were spectacular, sweetheart. Such a natural."
Mom stood up, naked and proud.
"Well, a debt is a debt," Mom smiled graciously, as if she had just served excellent tea instead of her daughter. "You know me, girls. I’m always a sport."
"You certainly are," Mrs. Singhania said, hugging Mom. "Debt paid in full, I'd say. We'll see you next week at my place?
It's cards theme."
"Wouldn't miss it," Mom replied, waving as they filed out the door, leaving us alone in the wreckage of the living room.
I looked at Mom. She was picking up the discarded wine glasses, completely unfazed, naked except for her petticoat.
"Go shower, Ananya," she said casually, wiping a smudge of whipped cream off the armrest of the chair. "Your father will be home in an hour. We need to air this room out."
I didn't move. I felt... electric. Used, yes, but buzzing with a strange, dark power. I had been the center of attention. I had been the Slut.
"Did I do okay?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
Mom stopped. She walked over to me, grabbed my face, and kissed my forehead.
"You paid me debt.," she whispered proudly. "And you enjoyed it. I saw your face, beta. You are exactly like me."
"I... I think I liked it," I confessed.
"Good," she smiled, handing me my discarded tank top. "Now go scrub yourself. And remember—not a word to Rajesh. He lives in the daylight. We live in the dark."
Hours later, the house was a fortress of normalcy. Dinner was served. Dad ate his dal and rice, complaining about the stock market, completely unaware that his wife and daughter had been spit-roasted and fondled by his social circle just hours prior.
Around midnight, I couldn't sleep. My body was sore, my mind racing. I crept down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar—Mom always left it cracked for airflow.
I heard voices.
"I need it, Sunita," Dad’s voice whined. It wasn't his authoritative office voice; it was pathetic, needy. "It’s been a week."
I peeked through the crack. Dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. Mom was standing by the dresser, looking bored, wearing a black silk robe.
"You are insatiable, Rajesh," Mom sighed, opening the drawer where I knew she kept the black leather harness.
"I can't help it," Dad groaned, rubbing his face. "But... before we start... I have to ask."
"Ask what?" Mom snapped, strapping the harness around her hips.
Dad looked up at her, his eyes glazed with lust. "Do you ever... do you ever think about bringing someone else in? Someone... younger? Or maybe one of your friends from the kitty parties?"
I stifled a gasp. The irony was suffocating. If only he knew that Mrs. Kapoor had her tongue down my throat this afternoon.
"I wouldn't mind," Dad continued, licking his lips. "Mrs. Gupta... she has big hips. Or maybe a college girl? To watch? To help you?"
"Shut up, Rajesh," Mom said sharply, tightening the buckles. She played the role of the offended, decent wife perfectly. "You know it can't happen. You and your wild fantasies. My friends are respectable women. They would be horrified if they heard you talking like this."
"But I want it badly," Dad pleaded, almost whimpering. "Just try asking them, Sunita. Please?"
Mom rolled her eyes. She walked over to him, the black dildo protruding from her hips like a weapon.
"I will try," she lied smoothly. "But you know they will never agree. They are not like us, Rajesh. Now stop talking."
"Yes, Sunita," Dad whispered, obediently.
He didn't need further instruction. He scrambled onto the bed. He got on his hands and knees, assuming the doggy style position, burying his face in the pillows. He spread his legs wide, presenting himself to her.
"Is it ready?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"Ready for you," Mom said coldlly.
She climbed onto the bed behind him. She grabbed his hips with the same dominance the stripper had used on me.
"Take it," she commanded.
She thrust forward.
"Ohhh!" Dad groaned, a sound of pain mixed with intense pleasure. "Yes! Yes, break me!"
I watched as my mother, the woman who had been used by a stripper hours ago, became the master. She pounded my father, riding him hard.
Dad reached down. His hand moved furiously. He jerked himself, stroking his erection in time with her thrusts.
"I'm close!" Dad cried out. "Don't stop! Don't stop!"
Mom slammed into him one last time. Dad arched his back, letting out a high-pitched cry as he spilled his seed onto the bedsheet, finding his relief in the only way he was allowed—under the heel of the woman who was playing him for a fool.
The living room was a blur of sensation. I was the center of a feeding frenzy. Mrs. Kapoor and Mrs. Gupta were relentless, their mouths working overtime on my chest, their tongues fighting for dominance over my nipples. My head rolled back, my hair sticking to my sweaty neck, and the sound coming from my throat wasn't a protest—it was a surrender.
"Ohhh! God!" I moaned loudly, the sound vibrating through the room.
I didn't mind it. I didn't mind it at all. The shame had evaporated, replaced by a drugging, heavy heat. I grabbed Mrs. Kapoor’s hair, holding her head against my breast, urging her to suck harder. The wet suction, the pinch of teeth, the sheer adoration of these older women... it made me feel like a slut.
"Enough!" Mrs. Singhania barked, her eyes wild.
She didn't wait. She shoved Mrs. Gupta aside with her hip. She pulled Mrs. Kapoor back by her shoulders.
"Give her some space!" Mrs. Singhania commanded, though she didn't step in to take their place. She looked at me, swaying on my feet, my chest glistening with saliva.
"She wants her mother," Mrs. Singhania announced, reading the look in my glazed eyes.
I looked down through my lashes. I saw my mom sitting on the rug, naked, watching me with that same dark pride she had shown in the shower.
"Mom," I gasped, reaching a hand out towards her. "Come here."
The room went quiet. The aunties stepped back, forming a tight circle, their breathing heavy. They wanted to see this. The ultimate taboo.
Mom didn't hesitate. She rose to her knees. She crawled towards me, her bare breasts swaying. She looked like a lioness reclaiming her cub.
She stopped in front of me. She reached up and cupped my breasts, weighing them in her hands.
"You amateurs," she scoffed softly at her friends, wiping their spit off my skin with her thumb.
She looked up at me. "Do you want me, Ananya?"
"Yes," I whispered.
Mom leaned forward. She opened her mouth wide and engulfed my left breast.
It was different. It wasn't frantic like the others. It was possessive. She knew exactly how sensitive I was. She swirled her tongue around the areola, then latched onto the nipple and pulled.
"Ahhh! Mom!" I cried out, my knees buckling.
The aunties gasped.
Mom pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lip to my nipple. She looked at her friends, smirking.
"This is not the first time I am doing this," she boasted, her voice husky. She squeezed my breast, making the flesh bulge between her fingers.
"She has amazing melons," Mom declared, looking at Mrs. Singhania. "Better than mine ever were. And they taste... sweet."
She turned to me and attacked the other one, sucking aggressively while the circle of women watched in stunned, envious silence, witnessing a mother devour her daughter in the middle of the living room.
The living room was a pressure cooker of taboo. My mother was on her knees, her mouth still latched onto my nipple, claiming me in front of her friends. The air was thick with the smell of aroused women and the cologne of the stripper who had been patiently watching the appetizer round.
"Enough," a deep voice boomed over the bass of the music.
The stripper stepped forward, his shadow falling over me and my mother. He grabbed Mom by her shoulders and physically pulled her away from my chest.
A wet pop echoed as her mouth detached from my nipple. Mom looked up, dazed and flushed.
"You ladies have had your fun," the stripper growled, looking at me with dark, hungry eyes. "I've seen enough foreplay.
Now it’s my turn to finish this."
He didn't waste time with gentle positioning. He grabbed my waist with massive, oiled hands.
"Up," he commanded.
He hoisted me into the air effortlessly. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back. I was eye-level with him now, suspended, helpless.
He didn't bother walking to a wall. He stood right in the center of the rug, surrounded by the naked and half-naked aunties.
He lined himself up. I looked down and saw the thick, angry purple head of his cock pressing against my wet entrance.
"Take your medicine, Slut," he sneered.
He thrust upward, slamming into me with the force of a battering ram.
"OH MY GOD!" I screamed, throwing my head back as he filled me completely. He was huge, stretching me far beyond what Sonu - The Driver had done.
He began to pound me. He held me tight against his body, his hips snapping forward with brutal regularity. Every thrust knocked the breath out of me. I was bouncing in his arms, my breasts flopping wildly against his chest.
It was chaos. Even as I was getting fucked in mid-air, the aunties wouldn't back off.
Mrs. Kapoor was behind him, reaching around to slap my ass as it bounced against his thighs. Smack. Smack.
Mrs. Singhania was kissing my neck, licking the sweat off my skin, whispering filth into my ear while the stripper drove into me.
"Look at her take it!" Mom yelled from somewhere below, her voice hoarse with excitement. "Break her!"
The stripper’s breathing turned into guttural grunts. His grip on my waist tightened until I thought I would bruise. His thrusts became erratic, desperate.
"I'm gonna blow," he groaned, his neck muscles corded.
He looked down at Mom, who was on her knees near his feet, watching the connection point between my legs.
"Where do you want it, Sunita?" he demanded.
Mom looked me dead in the eye. There was no motherly protection there, just the cold calculation of a woman paying a debt.
"Inside her," Mom commanded. "Fill her up. Make sure it stays."
"Yes, ma'am," he grunted.
He buried himself deep inside me, holding me still against him. I felt him pulse—one, two, three massive waves of hot cum flooding into me, coating my insides. I whimpered, overwhelmed by the fullness and the sheer degradation of it.
He held me there for a long moment, letting every drop drain into me, before finally lowering me until my feet touched the rug. My legs wobbled so hard I almost fell, cum already leaking down my inner thighs.
The stripper zipped up his tear-away pants, collected his duffel bag.
"Let me know ladies when is next time," He said and let himself out. Job done.
The energy in the room shifted instantly. The manic lust evaporated, replaced by the casual normalcy of a kitty party ending. The aunties started picking up their discarded blouses and sarees, fixing their hair in the mirrors.
"Oh, Sunita darling," Mrs. Gupta cooed, pecking my naked mother on the cheek as she stepped into her petticoat. "What an afternoon. You really are the best host."
"Amazing," Mrs. Kapoor agreed, buttoning her blouse over her sweaty breasts. She turned to me, cupping my face and giving me a soft kiss on the lips. "And Ananya... you were spectacular, sweetheart. Such a natural."
Mom stood up, naked and proud.
"Well, a debt is a debt," Mom smiled graciously, as if she had just served excellent tea instead of her daughter. "You know me, girls. I’m always a sport."
"You certainly are," Mrs. Singhania said, hugging Mom. "Debt paid in full, I'd say. We'll see you next week at my place?
It's cards theme."
"Wouldn't miss it," Mom replied, waving as they filed out the door, leaving us alone in the wreckage of the living room.
I looked at Mom. She was picking up the discarded wine glasses, completely unfazed, naked except for her petticoat.
"Go shower, Ananya," she said casually, wiping a smudge of whipped cream off the armrest of the chair. "Your father will be home in an hour. We need to air this room out."
I didn't move. I felt... electric. Used, yes, but buzzing with a strange, dark power. I had been the center of attention. I had been the Slut.
"Did I do okay?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
Mom stopped. She walked over to me, grabbed my face, and kissed my forehead.
"You paid me debt.," she whispered proudly. "And you enjoyed it. I saw your face, beta. You are exactly like me."
"I... I think I liked it," I confessed.
"Good," she smiled, handing me my discarded tank top. "Now go scrub yourself. And remember—not a word to Rajesh. He lives in the daylight. We live in the dark."
Hours later, the house was a fortress of normalcy. Dinner was served. Dad ate his dal and rice, complaining about the stock market, completely unaware that his wife and daughter had been spit-roasted and fondled by his social circle just hours prior.
Around midnight, I couldn't sleep. My body was sore, my mind racing. I crept down the hallway toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar—Mom always left it cracked for airflow.
I heard voices.
"I need it, Sunita," Dad’s voice whined. It wasn't his authoritative office voice; it was pathetic, needy. "It’s been a week."
I peeked through the crack. Dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. Mom was standing by the dresser, looking bored, wearing a black silk robe.
"You are insatiable, Rajesh," Mom sighed, opening the drawer where I knew she kept the black leather harness.
"I can't help it," Dad groaned, rubbing his face. "But... before we start... I have to ask."
"Ask what?" Mom snapped, strapping the harness around her hips.
Dad looked up at her, his eyes glazed with lust. "Do you ever... do you ever think about bringing someone else in? Someone... younger? Or maybe one of your friends from the kitty parties?"
I stifled a gasp. The irony was suffocating. If only he knew that Mrs. Kapoor had her tongue down my throat this afternoon.
"I wouldn't mind," Dad continued, licking his lips. "Mrs. Gupta... she has big hips. Or maybe a college girl? To watch? To help you?"
"Shut up, Rajesh," Mom said sharply, tightening the buckles. She played the role of the offended, decent wife perfectly. "You know it can't happen. You and your wild fantasies. My friends are respectable women. They would be horrified if they heard you talking like this."
"But I want it badly," Dad pleaded, almost whimpering. "Just try asking them, Sunita. Please?"
Mom rolled her eyes. She walked over to him, the black dildo protruding from her hips like a weapon.
"I will try," she lied smoothly. "But you know they will never agree. They are not like us, Rajesh. Now stop talking."
"Yes, Sunita," Dad whispered, obediently.
He didn't need further instruction. He scrambled onto the bed. He got on his hands and knees, assuming the doggy style position, burying his face in the pillows. He spread his legs wide, presenting himself to her.
"Is it ready?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"Ready for you," Mom said coldlly.
She climbed onto the bed behind him. She grabbed his hips with the same dominance the stripper had used on me.
"Take it," she commanded.
She thrust forward.
"Ohhh!" Dad groaned, a sound of pain mixed with intense pleasure. "Yes! Yes, break me!"
I watched as my mother, the woman who had been used by a stripper hours ago, became the master. She pounded my father, riding him hard.
Dad reached down. His hand moved furiously. He jerked himself, stroking his erection in time with her thrusts.
"I'm close!" Dad cried out. "Don't stop! Don't stop!"
Mom slammed into him one last time. Dad arched his back, letting out a high-pitched cry as he spilled his seed onto the bedsheet, finding his relief in the only way he was allowed—under the heel of the woman who was playing him for a fool.
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