divya

[కుమార్]

Beedaa saw it clearly — the shy, virginal flush spreading across Divya’s cheeks, the way her eyes darted away from his victorious smile, the tiny tremble in her lower lip as she tried to hide her face against his shoulder again.

‎ That innocent embarrassment only fueled him more.

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‎His grip on her thigh tightened — fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to leave faint red marks.

‎He pulled back almost fully, the thick head of his cock dragging slowly along her inner walls, pubic hair brushing her clit one last teasing time…

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‎Then he slammed back in — deep, rough, no mercy.

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‎Divya’s entire body jerked against the tiles.

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‎“AHHH!”

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‎The shout tore out of her — loud, raw, echoing off the  bathroom walls.

‎Not a moan anymore. A full, desperate cry.

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‎He didn’t stop.

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‎He started stroking her in earnest now — hard, punishing thrusts. Each one bottomed out completely, his heavy balls slapping wetly against her.

‎pubic bone grinding against her mound.

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‎ The coarse hair there scbangd her oversensitive clit with every brutal plunge.

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‎Divya couldn’t bear it.

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‎The stretch was too much, the depth too deep, the pace too relentless.

‎ Pain and pleasure twisted together until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

‎ Her walls fluttered wildly around him, trying to adjust, but every stroke forced a fresh wave of sensation through her.

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‎“AHH… Beedaa ji… slow… please… AHHH!”

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‎She shouted again — voice cracking, high-pitched, breaking on every thrust.

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‎Her nails raked down his back, leaving angry red lines across his tattooed skin, but she didn’t push him away. Her leg stayed locked around his waist — trembling, squeezing — as if her body had already decided even if her mind hadn’t.

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‎“Too… too deep… oh god… AHHH… mmm… nahi… haan… AHH!”

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‎The words tumbled out incoherently — begging him to slow, begging him not to stop, all at once.

‎Her breasts bounced wildly with each impact, mangalsutra swinging like a pendulum between them, the gold chain slapping against her damp skin.

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‎Beedaa’s scarred face hovered inches from hers — watching every expression: the wide eyes, the parted lips, the tears, the shy flush that refused to fade even as she shouted in overwhelmed ecstasy.

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‎He growled low in his throat — animal satisfaction — and angled his hips slightly, hitting that spot inside her over and over with merciless precision.

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‎Divya’s shouts turned into broken, continuous cries.

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‎“AHH… AHH… Beedaa ji… bas… bas karo… ohhh… mmm… AHHH!”

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‎Her body betrayed her completely — hips bucking back to meet him despite the pleas, inner walls clamping down like a vice around his thickness. She was close. Dangerously close. The shy virgin-like embarrassment only made the building orgasm feel dirtier, more forbidden.

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‎Outside the half-open door, the pile of clothes still lay forgotten.