Misc. Erotica Couple swapping sexperience of Chaitali by Anonymous

[Aslaan pala]

Hi, it's Chaitali again, slipping back into the role of your breathless, cum-soaked narrator who can't stop replaying every filthy second of that Goa night. After Razzaq's savage, mind-breaking session with Chhaya and Shilpi—where Sammir finally got unleashed on Shilpi's holes like a storm breaking loose, pounding her pussy and ass until she was a trembling, squirting mess, her screams echoing off the walls while Chhaya watched and fingered herself to the edge—things finally quieted down in the guest room below our window.
By around 3:30 a.m., the three bodies on the king bed were spent.
Razzaq lay in the center like a satisfied sultan, his thick, spent cock resting heavy on his thigh, still glistening with a mix of their juices. He had one arm dbangd possessively over Shilpi's waist, her voluptuous body curled against his side—her D-cup breasts pressed flat against his chest, nipples still swollen and dark from the abuse, faint bite marks blooming like red flowers on her olive skin. Her long legs were tangled with his, one thigh thrown over his hip, her freshly-fucked pussy and ass still visibly puffy and leaking slow trails of cum down her inner thighs onto the silk sheets. Shilpi's face was turned toward him, lips parted in exhausted sleep, strands of her dark hair matted to her forehead with sweat, a peaceful, fucked-out smile curving her mouth. Razzaq's breathing had deepened into the slow, rhythmic cadence of deep slumber, one hand cupping the curve of her ass as if even in sleep he refused to let go completely.
Chhaya, however, was not asleep.
She lay on the other side of Razzaq, her slim, fair body still trembling with aftershocks. Her perky B-cup breasts rose and fell quickly, nipples still erect like tiny pink peaks, her stomach glistening with sweat and stray ropes of cum that had landed there earlier. Between her thighs, her shaved pussy was flushed dark pink, lips swollen and parted, a slow trickle of Razzaq's seed still seeping out every time she shifted. Her asshole—still slightly gaped from the earlier double penetration—was winking gently with each breath, shiny with lube and cum residue. But her eyes... her eyes were wide open, dark and glittering in the low lamplight, pupils blown wide with lingering hunger.
She stared across Razzaq's sleeping form at Shilpi, then slowly let her gaze drift to the corner of the room.
Sammir hadn't moved.
The giant bodyguard stood exactly where he'd been all night—back against the wall, arms crossed over that barrel chest, pants still unzipped, his monstrous cock hanging heavy and half-hard between his thighs, slick with Shilpi's juices and his own drying cum. His dark eyes were fixed on Chhaya now, unblinking, intense, like a panther that had tasted blood and was waiting for permission to feast again.
Chhaya licked her lips—slow, deliberate, the tip of her tongue tracing the swollen curve of her lower lip.
Then, without a word, she carefully extricated herself from Razzaq's side. He stirred slightly, muttered something low in Arabic, but didn't wake. Shilpi remained deeply asleep, her breathing soft and even, completely fucked into oblivion.
Chhaya slid off the bed on silent feet, naked, her small body glowing in the dim light. Every step made her sore holes clench—reminders of the brutal fucking she'd just taken. A thin trail of cum leaked down the inside of her thigh as she walked straight toward Sammir.
She stopped inches from him.
Looked up—way up—into his face.
Sammir's eyes dropped to hers, dark and unreadable.
Chhaya reached out slowly, her small hand wrapping around the base of his still-massive cock. It twitched violently in her grip, thickening instantly, veins pulsing under her fingers as blood rushed back in. She stroked him once—slow, from root to flared head—feeling the sticky residue of Shilpi's ass and pussy coating him.
"Still hard," she whispered, voice husky, barely audible. "Even after ruining her."
Sammir's nostrils flared. His jaw clenched. But he didn't speak.
Chhaya dropped to her knees right there on the carpet, inches from where Razzaq and Shilpi slept soundly.
She looked up at him again—eyes wide, innocent, yet burning with that same college-slut fire Bhanu had awakened months ago.
Then she opened her mouth wide.
And took him in.
The head alone stretched her lips to their limit—thicker than Razzaq, longer than most men she'd ever had. She gagged immediately, tears springing to her eyes, but she didn't pull back. Instead she pushed forward, forcing more of him down her throat, saliva pouring out around the corners of her mouth, dripping onto her breasts. Sammir let out a low, animal rumble—the first real sound he'd made all night that wasn't a grunt during fucking.
His huge hand came down, cupping the back of her head—not forcing, not yet, just holding. Guiding.
Chhaya bobbed—slow at first, letting her throat relax, then deeper, until her nose was buried in the coarse hair at his base, her chin against his heavy balls. She hummed, the vibration traveling up his shaft. Sammir's thighs tensed, muscles like steel cords.
She pulled off with a wet gasp, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cockhead.
"Take me," she whispered. "While they sleep. Fuck me like you fucked her. No mercy."
Sammir looked down at her for a long second—then glanced once at the sleeping forms on the bed. Razzaq's breathing remained deep and even. Shilpi didn't stir.
He looked back at Chhaya.
And something snapped.
He grabbed her under the arms like she weighed nothing, lifted her bodily, and carried her to the far wall—opposite the bed, where the shadows were deepest. He pressed her back against the cool plaster, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His cock—now fully rigid again, angry and veined—nudged against her entrance.
No foreplay. No lube.
He simply thrust.
One brutal, merciless plunge.
Chhaya's scream was immediate and high-pitched—cut off halfway as his huge hand clamped over her mouth.
The sound still carried—muffled, desperate.
Razzaq stirred slightly on the bed, muttering in his sleep, but didn't wake.
Shilpi remained out cold.
Sammir began to fuck her standing—hard, punishing strokes that lifted her entire body with each upward thrust. Her small breasts bounced wildly against his chest, nipples scbanging against his coarse hair. Her back scbangd the wall, leaving faint red marks. Every plunge made a wet, obscene squelch—her pussy stretched obscenely around his girth, lips gripping him like a vice. Her legs trembled, toes curling in the air.
He fucked her like a machine—deep, fast, relentless. No variation, just raw power. Each thrust bottomed out, his cockhead battering her cervix, making her eyes roll back. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her hips rolled to meet him, greedy for more.
Bhanu and I watched from above, frozen.
My hand was between my legs, three fingers buried in my pussy, thumb grinding my clit.
Bhanu's cock was in my other hand, stroking him slowly as we narrated in whispers.
"Look at her face," I breathed. "She's crying... but she's cumming again."
Indeed—Chhaya's body began to convulse, her muffled screams vibrating against Sammir's palm. A gush of squirt sprayed between them, splashing down his thighs, dripping to the carpet.
He didn't stop.
He spun her around—still impaled—facing the bed now, her breasts flattened against the wall, ass thrust back.
He re-entered her pussy from behind, one hand gripping her throat from the side, the other wrapping around to pinch and twist her nipples.
Chhaya's eyes locked on the sleeping forms of Razzaq and Shilpi—mere feet away.
The risk—the danger of waking them—only made her wetter.
Sammir leaned in, growling low in her ear—first words he'd spoken to her all night:
"You take it better than your friend. Tighter. Hungrier."
Chhaya whimpered, nodding frantically.
He pulled out suddenly—cock slick and shining—and pressed the head against her asshole.
No warning.
He pushed.
Chhaya's eyes flew wide, mouth opening in a silent scream as the massive head popped past her ring.
Inch after thick inch disappeared into her ass—far more than she'd taken before.
When he was halfway in, he paused—letting her feel the burn, the impossible stretch.
Then he slammed home.
Chhaya's entire body jerked, her forehead hitting the wall, tears streaming.
But she pushed back—greedy, desperate.
Sammir fucked her ass like he was trying to break her in half—long, violent strokes that made her small body bounce against the plaster. Her cheeks rippled with each impact, the sound of flesh slapping flesh loud enough that I thought surely Razzaq would wake.
But he didn't.
Shilpi slept on, oblivious.
Chhaya came again—anal orgasm ripping through her, ass clenching so hard around him that Sammir growled in pain-pleasure. He pulled out, spun her, lifted her again, and impaled her ass standing—facing the bed now.
He bounced her like a ragdoll—up and down his shaft, her legs dangling, toes curling.
Her small breasts bounced in rhythm, nipples scbanging his chest hair.
She stared at Shilpi and Razzaq—watching them sleep while she was being destroyed.
The contrast—the innocence of their slumber against the savage anal pounding—pushed her over again.
She came silently this time, mouth open in a soundless wail, body shaking violently.
Sammir finally roared—low, guttural—and buried himself to the hilt in her ass.
He came.
And came.
And came.
Thick, hot ropes flooded her bowels—pulse after pulse, so much that it leaked out around his shaft, running down her thighs in creamy rivers.
He held her there, impaled, until every last drop was inside her.
Then slowly—gently, almost tenderly—he lowered her to the floor.
Chhaya collapsed onto her knees, ass gaping slightly, cum pouring out in thick globs.
She looked up at him—eyes glassy, face wrecked, but smiling.
Sammir stroked her hair once—surprisingly gentle.
Then he stepped back, tucked himself away, and resumed his post in the corner.
Chhaya crawled back to the bed on shaky limbs, slipped between Razzaq and Shilpi, and curled into a ball.
Within minutes, she was asleep too—cum still leaking from her ruined holes.
Bhanu and I came again—quietly, intensely—watching the final act.
"That," Bhanu whispered against my neck, "was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
And he was right.