Misc. Erotica Couple swapping sexperience of Chaitali by Anonymous

[Aslaan pala]

Hi, it's Chaitali again, still catching my breath just from typing out that intense night with Bhanu Bhaiya. But the story doesn't end when the last drop of cum lands on my skin. Oh no… what came after was almost as important, maybe even more intimate in its own way. Let me tell you about the aftercare—the slow, tender part that made everything feel safe, cherished, even after he'd just claimed the most forbidden part of me.
After he pulled out and painted my back and ass with those thick, hot ropes, we both collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty, trembling heap. My whole body was shaking—legs jelly, ass throbbing with that deep, delicious ache, pussy still pulsing from the orgasm that had ripped through me like lightning. I could barely move, just lay there on my stomach, face buried in the pillow, trying to remember how to breathe properly.
Bhanu didn't just roll over and light a cigarette like some guys might. No, he was surprisingly gentle right from the start. He leaned down first, pressing soft kisses along my spine, starting from between my shoulder blades and trailing all the way down to the small of my back. "Shhh, meri jaan… relax karo," he murmured against my skin, voice low and soothing now, nothing like the growling dominant man who'd just fucked my ass raw. His big hands—those same hands that had gripped my hips hard enough to leave faint bruises—now stroked me lightly, almost reverently, from my shoulders down to my thighs, calming the tremors.
"Thoda dard ho raha hai abhi?" he asked softly, fingers ghosting over the red handprints on my ass cheeks.
I nodded into the pillow, voice muffled. "Haan bhaiya… thoda bahut… but acha dard hai. Worth it."
He chuckled quietly, the sound warm. "Good girl. Par ab main sambhalta hoon tumhe."
He got up for a minute—left me there, ass still up, cum slowly cooling on my skin—and I heard him in the attached bathroom running warm water. When he came back, he had a soft, wet washcloth and a small bottle of soothing aloe gel. He knelt behind me again, very carefully parted my cheeks, and gently wiped away the excess lube and his release with the warm cloth. The warmth felt heavenly against the tender, stretched skin. He was so careful, almost worshipful—dabbing, never rubbing hard.
"Kitni sundar lag rahi ho abhi bhi," he whispered, tracing a finger lightly around my slightly puffy hole. "Meri mark kiya hai… but ab thoda pamper karna padega."
After cleaning me up, he helped me turn over onto my back—slowly, supporting my lower back so I didn't strain anything. Then he spread a generous amount of the cool aloe gel over my ass cheeks and between them, massaging it in with feather-light circles. The relief was instant—the burning eased, replaced by a soothing chill that made me sigh deeply.
While he did that, he kept talking to me in that low, comforting voice: "Tum bahut brave thi aaj, Chaitali. Pehli baar itna bada lund le liya… aur itna achhe se. Proud of you, bhabhi." His words made my chest feel funny—warm and fluttery. No one had ever praised me like that after something so filthy.
Once I was all lotioned and clean, he pulled the sheets over us and gathered me against his chest, my head tucked under his chin, one strong arm wrapped around my waist, the other hand gently stroking my hair. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, calming the last of my jitters. He kept kissing the top of my head every few minutes, murmuring little things: "Rest karo… main yahin hoon." "Kuch chahiye? Paani? Chocolate?"
I smiled sleepily. "Bas yeh… tumhare baahon mein rehna."
He reached over to the nightstand, grabbed a bottle of water, opened it, and held it to my lips so I could drink without moving much. Then he fed me a couple of pieces of dark chocolate he'd kept there—said he always keeps some for after intense sessions. The sweetness melted on my tongue, grounding me.
We lay like that for a long time—maybe half an hour—just breathing together, skin on skin, no rush. Every now and then he'd check in: "Koi jagah zyada dard toh nahi kar rahi?" or "Thik ho na, meri jaan?" I'd nod, snuggle closer, feeling surprisingly small and protected in his huge arms.
Eventually, the soreness settled into a dull, pleasant throb, and the endorphin haze made me drowsy. Before I drifted off, I whispered against his chest, "Bhaiya… thank you. Not just for the fuck… for this too."
He kissed my forehead, long and lingering. "Arre, thank you bolne ki kya baat hai? Tum meri favorite ho ab. Aur yeh sab—yeh bhi part hai. Main tumhe hurt nahi hone dunga, samjhi?"
I fell asleep like that—wrapped in him, ass still tingling, heart strangely full.
When I woke up a couple of hours later, he was still holding me, but he'd dimmed the lights even more and put on some soft music. He helped me to the bathroom when I needed to pee (legs wobbly as hell), even stood outside the door in case I felt dizzy. Then back to bed, fresh sheets, more cuddles, more gentle back rubs until I was completely relaxed.
That aftercare… it made the whole experience feel deeper than just sex. Like trust. Like care. Like something I didn't even know I needed until he gave it to me.
Now, every time we sneak away for our private sessions, he never skips this part. And honestly? It's become one of my favorite things about him.
So tell me, stranger… does that make the afterglow even hotter for you? Or should I describe our next private meet-up? ?