Yesterday, 08:48 PM
Reveal
The London night was cold, but the interior of the elite, underground club "The Vault" was a furnace of bass and strobe lights. Tilak and I moved through the crowd like twin storms of muscle, our sheer bulk forcing a path through the throngs of lesser men. We were dressed in bespoke suits that struggled to contain our frames, but the real display was the three women trailing behind us on literal silver chains.
Shanti, Anjali, and Priya were dbangd in "dresses" that were nothing more than strips of black latex and silk, barely covering their heavy, hourglass curves. They walked with their heads down, their skin still tender from the morning's "lessons." To the world, they were high-fashion accessories; to us, they were a mobile harem of broken flesh.
The Display of Power
We secured a private booth overlooking the dance floor. Tilak didn't wait for the champagne to arrive. He pulled Shanti onto his lap, his massive hand disappearing under her skirt, his fingers working her seasoned, soaking wet cunt in full view of the VIP patrons.
"Look at them, Subhash," Tilak rumbled, his voice dark with a twisted pride. "They see the hulks. They see the pedigree. And they see the filth we’ve turned these 'refined' women into."
I had Priya kneeling between my legs, her face pressed against the thick, trunk-like bulge in my trousers. I grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so the nearby elites could see the glazed, vacant look of a total sex-slave in her eyes. "They’re learning, Tilak. They know that in this family, the only law is the iron and the cock."
Throughout the night, we used them. In the shadows of the booth, Tilak made Anjali and Shanti perform for the room, forcing the mother and daughter to use their tongues on each other while he watched with a predatory, cold grin. I did the same with Priya, stretching her throat with my thick girth until she was gasping for air, a silent warning to anyone who dared look too long.
The Final Confession
Late that night, after we had dragged the three exhausted women back to the flat and locked them in their respective quarters, Tilak and I stood on the balcony. We were stripped to our waists, the cold rain washing away the scent of the club. We shared a bottle of dark rum, our muscles twitching in the moonlight.
The air grew heavy. Tilak looked out at the London skyline, his expression shifting from the dominant predator to something older, darker, and more haunted.
"You asked me once why I was so obsessed with the 'source,' Subhash," he started, his voice a low, gravelly thrum.
I leaned against the railing, my thick trunk-like cock finally relaxed but still heavy. "I did. You’ve got my sister, you’ve got Priya... but you hunted my mother like a wolf."
Tilak took a long swig of the rum. "I never told you why I hated my 'father' back in Dehradun. He was a weak, thin man. A ghost. I used to stand in the hallway of our old house when I was six years old. I’d hear the bed groaning—not with his rhythm, but with the violence of the men my mother brought home when he was away."
He turned to me, his eyes burning with a raw, primal fire. "They were like us, Subhash. Massive. Built like gods. I watched through the keyhole as they ruined her. I watched her beg for the weight of a real man, her hourglass body bucking under cocks that looked like yours. I realized then that I wasn't my father’s son. I was the seed of one of those monsters."
He let out a short, harsh laugh. "I didn't just want your mother because she’s a MILF, brother. I wanted her because she represents the throne I saw as a child. Every time I ram myself into her, every time I hear her scream under my BDSM hand, I’m killing the memory of that weak man who let his wife be taken. I’m becoming the monster I saw through the keyhole."
I looked at my brother-in-arms, the man I had shared everything with since the dorms of Dehradun. The cycle was complete. We weren't just two gym-obsessed hulks anymore; we were the fulfillment of a dark, muscular destiny.
"Then we’ve won, Tilak," I said, clapping a heavy, calloused hand on his shoulder. "The weak men are gone. Only the hulks remain."
Tilak nodded, a slow, wicked grin returning to his face. He looked toward the bedroom where Shanti was chained, waiting for her next round of torment.
"Let's go back in, Subhash," he growled, his monstrous cock already beginning to throb and rise. "I think the 'Matriarch' needs another reminder of exactly who sired this new breed of man."
We turned back into the darkness of the flat, two brothers bound by blood, iron, and a hunger that would never, ever be satisfied.
The cycle of conquest reached its final, perverse peak when Tilak’s mother, Meera, arrived in London. If Shanti was a refined, ivory-skinned goddess, Meera was an explosion of raw, earthier sexuality. She was the woman who had started it all—the one whose hunger for muscular, dominant men had forged Tilak into the beast he was today.
She walked into the flat with an air of knowing exactly why she was there. She didn't look at her son with maternal warmth; she looked at him, and then at me, with the predatory hunger of a woman who had spent a lifetime seeking out the largest, hardest males in the room.
The Mirror Image
I felt my trunk-like cock throb the moment I saw her. She was a slightly older, more seasoned version of Tilak—the same dark, intense eyes and a body that was an impossible hourglass, her breasts heavy and low, her hips wide enough to cradle a giant.
Tilak stood by the window, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "She’s here, Subhash. The original sin. She’s the one who taught me that a woman’s only purpose is to be conquered by iron and muscle."
I walked toward Meera. I was a replica of Tilak now—cold, hulking, and utterly devoid of mercy. I didn't greet her. I reached out and gripped her jaw, forcing her face up to mine. "You've been breeding monsters, Meera," I growled, my voice a gutteral rasp. "It’s time you learned what it feels like to be broken by one."
Meera didn't flinch. She let out a wet, throaty laugh, her hand reaching down to feel the massive, trunk-like bulge of my cock through my trousers. "I’ve been waiting for a man thick enough to actually fill me, Subhash. Don't disappoint me like the ghosts of my past."
The Final Exchange: A Household of Filth
The flat was now a complete temple of carnal depravity. Tilak had Shanti and Anjali; I had Priya and now, the prize I had craved to match my brother’s ambition—his own mother.
I took Meera into the secondary bedroom. I didn't use silk or soft words. I used a leather strap to bind her wrists to the headboard, stretching her mature, lush body across the mattress. I stripped naked, my massive, vein-mapped trunk swinging heavy and purple-headed.
"You want to know how your son became a god, Meera?" I hissed, climbing over her, my heavy weight pinning her down. "He watched you. He watched you get ruined by men like me. And now, I’m going to show you why he never looked back."
I grabbed her heavy, mature thighs and shoved them back toward her shoulders, exposing her soaking wet, seasoned cunt. I didn't use lube. I positioned my thick head and lunged with the full force of my 250-pound frame.
"FUCK!" Meera screamed, her back arching as my girth stretched her aged walls to their absolute limit. I was twice the size of any man she’d ever had. I began to ram her with a dirty, rhythmic brutality, my heavy balls slapping against her ass with a sound like wet thunder.
"Yes! Split me, you monster!" she wailed, her hourglass frame bucking under me.
The Grand Finale: The Four-Way Violation
The door burst open. Tilak entered, dragging Priya by her hair. He was naked, his monstrous cock dripping with Shanti’s juices. He looked at me pulverizing his mother and let out a roar of approval.
"That’s it, Subhash! Claim the source!"
The next few hours were a blur of unimaginable filth. We brought all five women into the center of the room. It was a sea of tanned, muscular flesh and the pale, soft curves of the women we had broken.
I had Meera on her hands and knees, my thick trunk-like cock hammering into her back door, while Priya knelt beneath her, catching the sweat and fluids that dripped from us. Tilak was behind Priya, his long, dominating cock disappearing into her while he reached forward to slap his mother’s heavy, swinging breasts.
"Look at us, Meera!" Tilak roared, his voice echoing through the flat. "The two boys you sent to Dehradun... we’ve come home to claim the queens!"
The air was foul with the scent of sex, musk, and the total collapse of family boundaries. We swapped. We shared. We used every hole available. I found myself DP’ing Meera with Tilak—a mother being split wide open by her son and his brother-in-arms. The friction was so intense it felt like the room would ignite.
As we both reached the end, we held the women down. We exploded simultaneously—a volcanic eruption of hot, thick seed that covered Meera, Shanti, and the girls in a white, sticky testament to our dominance.
The New Dynasty
One year later, the London flat was quiet, but the hierarchy was absolute. Shanti and Meera both walked with the heavy, slow gait of women who were permanently pregnant with the next generation of hulks. They moved about the house naked, their hourglass bodies swollen and marked, serving Tilak and me with a broken, mindless devotion.
Tilak and I stood on the balcony, two titans of industry and lust. We had everything—the money, the muscle, and a harem of the most beautiful, broken women of our own bloodline.
"We did it, Subhash," Tilak murmured, looking at his mother and mine as they scrubbed the floor at our feet. "We turned the trauma into a kingdom."
I looked at my brother, then down at the thick, trunk-like cock that had built this empire. "And the best part, Tilak? The next generation is already growing inside them. The monsters are here to stay."
The transition from the cramped London flat back to the family estate in India was a homecoming of kings. The "study abroad" trip had been a cover for a total radicalization of the family hierarchy. Subhash and Tilak returned as titans, marrying each other’s sisters in a grand, public ceremony that masked the absolute filth occurring behind closed doors.
The estate became a fortress of carnal excess. Modesty was abolished. In the master wing, the beds were reinforced with steel to support the weight of the hulks and the violence of their lust.
The Master Suite: No Boundaries
In Subhash’s wing, the wedding vows were just a license for depravity. Every night, the bed was occupied by three people: Subhash, his wife Priya, and his mother-in-law, Meera.
Subhash, now a mountain of granite-hard muscle, didn't distinguish between the two. He treated them like a matched set of hourglass vessels. He would pin Meera—his mother-in-law—to the headboard, his thick, trunk-like cock pulverizing her seasoned, wet cunt, while Priya knelt between them, her mouth busy with her husband’s heavy, low-hanging balls.
"Look at her, Priya," Subhash would growl, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble. "Look at how your mother takes this girth. She’s teaching you how a real woman serves a hulk."
Meera didn't just take it; she thrived on it. Having been impregnated by her own son-in-law, her belly was beginning to swell with Subhash’s seed. She was a "breeding queen," her hourglass frame becoming even more lush and heavy as she carried the next generation of the dynasty.
Tilak’s Dominion: The Command
Across the hall, Tilak had turned Shanti and Anjali into his personal harem. His BDSM-heavy dominance had completely shattered Shanti’s maternal dignity. She was no longer Subhash’s mother in Tilak's eyes; she was the "Senior Concubine."
Tilak would spend hours training them in tandem. He loved to have Shanti and Anjali face each other on all fours. He would move between them like a predator, his monstrous, intimidating cock dripping with sweat. He would hammer Anjali until she was sobbing, then immediately withdraw and slide his length into Shanti’s mature, gasping throat.
"You’re both carrying the blood of the beast now," Tilak would hiss, slapping Shanti’s heavy, pregnant belly. Like Meera, Shanti was also carrying her son-in-law’s child. The lineage was becoming a tangled, muscular web of shared DNA and raw power.
The Grand Orgy: The Sunday Ritual
Once a week, the inhibitions were completely stripped away in a grand orgy that involved all six of them. The brothers, built like hulks, would meet in the center of the great hall.
The four women—Shanti, Meera, Anjali, and Priya—would be stripped bare, their skin glistening with oils. There were no "wives" or "mothers" during these sessions; there were only holes and masters.
* The Swap: Subhash would take Anjali, his own sister, and ruin her with his trunk-like girth while Tilak watched, his hand buried in the hair of Subhash’s mother, Shanti.
* The DP: The brothers would often double-team the mothers. Meera and Shanti would be placed back-to-back, and the two hulks would synchronize their thrusts, splitting the older women open from both ends until the hall echoed with guttural screams and the wet, rhythmic slapping of heavy muscle.
"They're ours, Subhash!" Tilak would roar, his eyes wild with the triumph of his childhood vision. "Every inch of them. Every drop of their milk, every scream of their pleasure—it belongs to the iron!"
The New Bloodline
The morning after these sessions, the house was a wreck of silk, spilled wine, and the musk of six people who had abandoned every social taboo. The two mothers, Meera and Shanti, would walk through the gardens, their pregnant bellies glowing in the sun, prideful of the fact that they were carrying the sons of the men who had conquered them.
The brothers stood on the balcony, their 20-inch arms crossed, looking over their domain. The sisters had become obedient, lust-crazed shadows of their husbands, and the mothers had become the ultimate prizes.
"The dynasty is secure, brother," Subhash said, his trunk-like cock resting heavy and satisfied against his thigh.
Tilak looked at the four women below, his gaze dark and absolute. "It’s not just a family anymore, Subhash. It’s a species. And we are the kings."
The legacy of the boarding college brothers had evolved into something legendary—a kingdom of iron, blood, and an unbreakable, carnal devotion. As the final months of the pregnancies waned, the atmosphere in the estate shifted from raw, aggressive conquest to a deep, protective possessiveness. The two hulks, Subhash and Tilak, found that their dominance had forged a bond so tight that the four women didn't just obey them; they worshipped the very ground they walked on.
The Midnight Sanctuary
On the night before the first monsoon rain of the new year, the family gathered in the massive, velvet-dbangd master suite. The air was cool, scented with the familiar jasmine and the heavy, musky aroma of the men’s skin.
Subhash sat on a low, oversized leather chair, his massive legs spread. Priya, his wife, and Shanti, his mother-in-law, lounged against his trunk-like thighs. Meanwhile, Tilak stood by the window, his granite-carved back to the room, while Meera and Anjali attended to him, their hands roaming over the massive ridges of his muscles.
"We started this as a hunt," Tilak rumbled, turning around. His gaze softened as it landed on the two older women, Shanti and Meera, whose hourglass frames were now beautifully distorted by the weight of the sons they carried. "But look at what we’ve built. This isn't just filth anymore. It’s ours."
The Final Union
The night didn't begin with commands, but with a slow, heavy-breathing intimacy. Subhash pulled Shanti and Meera toward the center of the massive bed. He stripped slowly, his thick, trunk-like cock rising with a slow, pulsing majesty.
He took Shanti—his mother-in-law and the woman who had carried his deepest fantasies—and laid her back. He didn't hammer her this time. He entered her with a slow, agonizingly deep thrust that made her eyes roll back in pure, romantic surrender. He kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers, while his wife, Priya, stroked his back, whispering how much she loved seeing her mother filled by her husband.
Across the bed, Tilak had Meera and Anjali pinned. His dominating edge was still there, but it was tempered with a fierce, lion-like love. He buried his monstrous length into Meera, his mother, while Anjali held her mother’s hands, their fingers interlaced.
"You brought me into this world to be a king, Mother," Tilak whispered into Meera’s ear as he filled her. "And now, I’m giving you a prince to replace the ghosts."
The Romantic Peak
As the rain began to drum against the roof, the six of them became a single, pulsing organism of muscle and soft, yielding curves. The swapping was effortless and filled with a strange, dark tenderness. Subhash moved from Shanti to Priya, his thick trunk-like cock leaving them both gasping and decorated with his essence, while Tilak did the same for Meera and Anjali.
In the final moments, the two brothers faced each other over the bodies of the women they had conquered and claimed. They reached out, their massive hands clasping in a mid-air grip—the same grip they’d used as boys in the gym, but now weighted with the lives they had created.
"To the dynasty," Subhash groaned, his voice thick as he delivered the final, deep pulses of seed into Shanti’s womb.
"To the blood," Tilak answered, his body racking with a violent, beautiful climax as he flooded Meera.
The Morning of the New World
The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds, reflecting off the damp earth. The two mothers, Shanti and Meera, sat on the veranda, their bellies touching as they shared a quiet laugh, their bodies finally at peace in the roles they were born for. The sisters, Priya and Anjali, sat at their feet, resting their heads on their mothers’ laps, unified by the men who had claimed them all.
Subhash and Tilak stood behind them, two hulking guardians of a new world order. There were no more secrets, no more shame. There was only the heavy, sweet scent of jasmine, the sound of the receding rain, and the knowledge that they had turned a tangled web of desire into a fortress of absolute, erotic love.
The cycle was complete. The hulks had found their home, and the women had found their masters.
The summer heat was nothing compared to the sweltering, uninhibited lust aboard the Iron Sultan, the brothers' private luxury yacht. Far out at sea, away from the prying eyes of society and the constraints of the mainland, the final barriers of the family bloodline were systematically dismantled.
Tilak and Subhash stood on the deck, their massive, 250-pound frames glistening with a mixture of sea salt and sweat. Below deck, in the master cabin lined with mirrors and silk, the four women waited—not as family, but as a collective of shared flesh, bound by the seed of the two hulks.
The Double Violation of the Matriarchs
The highlight of the voyage was the night Tilak and Subhash decided to fully claim the "Source." They entered the cabin to find Shanti and Meera—both heavily pregnant and glowing with a primal, maternal heat—lounging on the massive circular bed.
"Tonight, there is no mother, no son-in-law," Tilak rumbled, his voice vibrating through the hull of the ship. He stepped toward Shanti, his mother-in-law, his monstrous cock already thumping against his abdomen. "Tonight, you are simply the woman carrying my legacy."
Tilak grabbed Shanti by her thick, mature thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed. At the same time, Subhash moved toward Meera. He didn't hesitate. He hoisted Meera’s hourglass frame onto his lap, his thick, trunk-like member sliding into her seasoned entrance with a wet, heavy squelch.
"Oh god, Subhash," Meera wailed, her fingers digging into the granite-hard muscles of his back. "It’s so thick... you’re stretching me apart."
The Breeding Ritual
The brothers began a synchronized rhythm of absolute filth. Tilak was hammering Shanti with a dominant, BDSM-fueled intensity, his heavy slaps echoing in the cabin. He forced her to look at Anjali, her own daughter, who was kneeling nearby, forced to watch her mother being colonized by the man they both served.
"Look at her, Shanti!" Tilak hissed, his veins popping as he rammed deeper into her. "See how she watches her mother take the load she used to beg for!"
Subhash was equally relentless with Meera. He flipped her over, pinning her pregnant belly against the silk sheets, and entered her from behind. His trunk-like girth was so massive it looked like it would split her wide open. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure through Meera that made her scream his name, her maternal dignity completely erased by the raw power of his cock.
The Ocean of Seed
As the yacht rocked with the waves, the six of them reached a state of total, animalistic frenzy. The sisters, Priya and Anjali, were brought into the fray, creating a tangled heap of limbs and muscle.
The brothers swapped mid-thrust. Subhash took Shanti, while Tilak took Meera. It was the ultimate exchange—two brothers fucking each other's mothers-in-law while their wives watched and assisted. The air was foul with the scent of sex and the heavy, metallic musk of the two giants.
"Now, Subhash!" Tilak roared.
They both pulled out at the last second, the mothers and daughters huddled together in the center of the bed. A volcanic eruption of hot, thick seed sprayed across them—coating Shanti’s pregnant belly, Meera’s heavy breasts, and the faces of the two sisters.
The bloodline was now a chaotic, beautiful mess of shared DNA. The mothers were breeding for their sons-in-law, the sisters were whores for their husbands, and the two brothers stood tall as the absolute masters of the dynasty.
The day of the births was not a clinical affair; it was a ritual of raw, muscular possession. In the darkened, incense-heavy master suite of the estate, the air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and the primal musk of two men who had completely rewritten the laws of nature.
Shanti and Meera lay on the massive, reinforced bed, their hourglass frames strained to the limit as they brought the next generation of hulks into the world. Subhash and Tilak didn't stand by as observers; they acted as the architects of the delivery, their huge, calloused hands guiding their sons out of the very women they had spent months pulverizing. When the two infants—already broad-shouldered and heavy-limbed—let out their first cries, the brothers didn't offer comfort. They looked at the mothers with a cold, triumphant hunger. The breeding was done. Now, the real filth could begin.
The Grand Swap: Breaking the Final Taboo
One month later, the recovery was complete, and the women were more lush and desperate for the iron than ever before. Tilak, his dominant BDSM streak reaching a fever pitch, declared that the "old roles" were officially dead.
"Tonight, Subhash," Tilak growled, his monstrous, intimidating cock already thumping against his thigh, "we stop pretending. There is no 'your wife' or 'my mother.' There is only the meat and the masters."
In a move of total, vulgar depravity, the brothers initiated the Ultimate Swap.
Subhash and Meera (The Mother Claim)
Subhash didn't just take Tilak’s mother; he treated her like a seasoned, high-priced whore. He dragged Meera to the center of the room, her heavy, milk-swollen breasts swinging. He forced her onto all fours and entered her from behind with one brutal, trunk-like lunge.
"You like this, don't you, Meera?" Subhash hissed, his thick girth stretching her seasoned entrance until she shrieked. "You like being fucked by a man who treats you like a breeding animal instead of a mother." He began to ram her with a dirty, rhythmic violence, his heavy balls slapping against her ass with the sound of wet thunder.
Tilak and Shanti (The Matriarch’s Ruin)
Across the room, Tilak was busy destroying Shanti’s last shred of dignity. He had Subhash’s mother bound in a leather harness, her hips tilted up. He didn't use finesse. He used his long, dominating cock to pulverize her womb, his hands raining down stinging, red-marking slaps on her mature thighs.
"Look at your son, Shanti!" Tilak roared as he hammered her. "Look at how he's ruining my mother while I turn you into a leaking, screaming slut!"
The Kinky Vortex: Wives and Mothers Entwined
Then came the true filth. Tilak commanded the sisters, Anjali and Priya, to join the fray. But he didn't want them with their husbands.
He forced Anjali to serve Subhash and Priya to serve him.
The scene was a chaotic sea of muscle and fluids. Subhash was DP’ing Meera with the help of a massive toy while Anjali licked the sweat off his granite-hard abs. Tilak had Shanti and Priya on their knees in front of him, forcing the mother-in-law and the sister to compete for his monstrous length, their tongues dancing around his pulsing, purple-headed shaft in a desperate bid for his seed.
"Swap again!" Tilak commanded, his voice a guttural explosion.
The rotations became a blur of vulgarity. Subhash was now hammering his own sister, Anjali, with a raw, "dirty-talk" intensity that made her weep, while Tilak took Priya and Meera in a double-header, his dark, commanding energy forcing them to perform acts that would have been unthinkable a year ago.
The Final Explosion
The night reached its peak when the two brothers stood back-to-back in the center of the bed, the four women huddled around them like a pack of thirsty animals.
"Open your mouths, you pathetic, beautiful sluts!" Tilak roared.
He and Subhash let fly. A volcanic, twin eruption of thick, hot, white seed sprayed across the room, coating the mothers, the wives, and the sisters in a unifying layer of filth. They crawled over each other, licking the seed off one another’s bodies, fully broken, fully owned, and fully addicted to the power of the two hulks.
The dynasty wasn't just built on blood—it was built on the absolute, kinky destruction of every boundary. They were a family of monsters, and they had never been happier.
The dynamic of the estate shifted from a private kingdom into a total, depraved arena of muscle when Vikram arrived. Vikram was a man who made Subhash and Tilak look like disciplined soldiers; he was an unhinged, high-octane pervert with a physique that surpassed even the "Hulk" standard. His chest was like a reinforced steel plate, and his legs were like tree trunks, but it was his mind that was truly twisted.
Vikram didn't just love sex; he loved the transaction of it. He was the ultimate Alpha who believed that women—including his own wife, Kavita—were currency to be spent and traded in the pursuit of the ultimate high.
The Arrival of the Lead Alpha
Vikram rolled up to the estate in a matte-black armored SUV, stepping out with a swagger that demanded total submission. Beside him was Kavita, a woman with a lethal hourglass figure, dressed in a transparent silk sari that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"Subhash, Tilak," Vikram rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. He didn't shake their hands; he gripped their traps, testing the density of their muscle. "I heard you two have turned this place into a breeding ground. But you’re still playing by 'family' rules. I’m here to show you how a real Alpha runs a harem."
Tilak’s eyes darkened with respect. "And what’s the first lesson, Vikram?"
Vikram grinned, revealing a row of predator’s teeth. He grabbed his wife, Kavita, by the hair and threw her toward Subhash and Tilak. "The first lesson is that an Alpha owns everything, but shares what he chooses. My wife hasn't been filled by a real man in three days. Show her what your 'hulk' cocks can do while I take a look at these mothers of yours."
The Cuckold King: The Ultimate Trade
While Subhash and Tilak were pulverizing Kavita on the velvet rug—their thick, trunk-like cocks double-plugging her until she shrieked for mercy—Vikram walked into the master suite where Shanti and Meera were resting.
The two matriarchs, still lush and dripping from the morning’s session with their sons-in-law, recoiled at the sight of this new, massive stranger. But Vikram didn't care for modesty. He stripped naked in the center of the room, revealing an organ that was monstrous—a thick, dark, pulsating weapon of war that made even Tilak’s length look standard.
"I’m the new law in this house," Vikram hissed, grabbing Shanti and Meera by their throats and slamming them together. "Your sons gave me their permission. Actually, they traded you for a night with my wife. You’re mine now."
Vikram’s style was filthy, vulgar, and completely devoid of any remaining boundaries. He forced the two mothers onto their knees, making them lick the base of his massive shaft while he described in graphic detail how he was going to ruin them.
The London night was cold, but the interior of the elite, underground club "The Vault" was a furnace of bass and strobe lights. Tilak and I moved through the crowd like twin storms of muscle, our sheer bulk forcing a path through the throngs of lesser men. We were dressed in bespoke suits that struggled to contain our frames, but the real display was the three women trailing behind us on literal silver chains.
Shanti, Anjali, and Priya were dbangd in "dresses" that were nothing more than strips of black latex and silk, barely covering their heavy, hourglass curves. They walked with their heads down, their skin still tender from the morning's "lessons." To the world, they were high-fashion accessories; to us, they were a mobile harem of broken flesh.
The Display of Power
We secured a private booth overlooking the dance floor. Tilak didn't wait for the champagne to arrive. He pulled Shanti onto his lap, his massive hand disappearing under her skirt, his fingers working her seasoned, soaking wet cunt in full view of the VIP patrons.
"Look at them, Subhash," Tilak rumbled, his voice dark with a twisted pride. "They see the hulks. They see the pedigree. And they see the filth we’ve turned these 'refined' women into."
I had Priya kneeling between my legs, her face pressed against the thick, trunk-like bulge in my trousers. I grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so the nearby elites could see the glazed, vacant look of a total sex-slave in her eyes. "They’re learning, Tilak. They know that in this family, the only law is the iron and the cock."
Throughout the night, we used them. In the shadows of the booth, Tilak made Anjali and Shanti perform for the room, forcing the mother and daughter to use their tongues on each other while he watched with a predatory, cold grin. I did the same with Priya, stretching her throat with my thick girth until she was gasping for air, a silent warning to anyone who dared look too long.
The Final Confession
Late that night, after we had dragged the three exhausted women back to the flat and locked them in their respective quarters, Tilak and I stood on the balcony. We were stripped to our waists, the cold rain washing away the scent of the club. We shared a bottle of dark rum, our muscles twitching in the moonlight.
The air grew heavy. Tilak looked out at the London skyline, his expression shifting from the dominant predator to something older, darker, and more haunted.
"You asked me once why I was so obsessed with the 'source,' Subhash," he started, his voice a low, gravelly thrum.
I leaned against the railing, my thick trunk-like cock finally relaxed but still heavy. "I did. You’ve got my sister, you’ve got Priya... but you hunted my mother like a wolf."
Tilak took a long swig of the rum. "I never told you why I hated my 'father' back in Dehradun. He was a weak, thin man. A ghost. I used to stand in the hallway of our old house when I was six years old. I’d hear the bed groaning—not with his rhythm, but with the violence of the men my mother brought home when he was away."
He turned to me, his eyes burning with a raw, primal fire. "They were like us, Subhash. Massive. Built like gods. I watched through the keyhole as they ruined her. I watched her beg for the weight of a real man, her hourglass body bucking under cocks that looked like yours. I realized then that I wasn't my father’s son. I was the seed of one of those monsters."
He let out a short, harsh laugh. "I didn't just want your mother because she’s a MILF, brother. I wanted her because she represents the throne I saw as a child. Every time I ram myself into her, every time I hear her scream under my BDSM hand, I’m killing the memory of that weak man who let his wife be taken. I’m becoming the monster I saw through the keyhole."
I looked at my brother-in-arms, the man I had shared everything with since the dorms of Dehradun. The cycle was complete. We weren't just two gym-obsessed hulks anymore; we were the fulfillment of a dark, muscular destiny.
"Then we’ve won, Tilak," I said, clapping a heavy, calloused hand on his shoulder. "The weak men are gone. Only the hulks remain."
Tilak nodded, a slow, wicked grin returning to his face. He looked toward the bedroom where Shanti was chained, waiting for her next round of torment.
"Let's go back in, Subhash," he growled, his monstrous cock already beginning to throb and rise. "I think the 'Matriarch' needs another reminder of exactly who sired this new breed of man."
We turned back into the darkness of the flat, two brothers bound by blood, iron, and a hunger that would never, ever be satisfied.
The cycle of conquest reached its final, perverse peak when Tilak’s mother, Meera, arrived in London. If Shanti was a refined, ivory-skinned goddess, Meera was an explosion of raw, earthier sexuality. She was the woman who had started it all—the one whose hunger for muscular, dominant men had forged Tilak into the beast he was today.
She walked into the flat with an air of knowing exactly why she was there. She didn't look at her son with maternal warmth; she looked at him, and then at me, with the predatory hunger of a woman who had spent a lifetime seeking out the largest, hardest males in the room.
The Mirror Image
I felt my trunk-like cock throb the moment I saw her. She was a slightly older, more seasoned version of Tilak—the same dark, intense eyes and a body that was an impossible hourglass, her breasts heavy and low, her hips wide enough to cradle a giant.
Tilak stood by the window, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "She’s here, Subhash. The original sin. She’s the one who taught me that a woman’s only purpose is to be conquered by iron and muscle."
I walked toward Meera. I was a replica of Tilak now—cold, hulking, and utterly devoid of mercy. I didn't greet her. I reached out and gripped her jaw, forcing her face up to mine. "You've been breeding monsters, Meera," I growled, my voice a gutteral rasp. "It’s time you learned what it feels like to be broken by one."
Meera didn't flinch. She let out a wet, throaty laugh, her hand reaching down to feel the massive, trunk-like bulge of my cock through my trousers. "I’ve been waiting for a man thick enough to actually fill me, Subhash. Don't disappoint me like the ghosts of my past."
The Final Exchange: A Household of Filth
The flat was now a complete temple of carnal depravity. Tilak had Shanti and Anjali; I had Priya and now, the prize I had craved to match my brother’s ambition—his own mother.
I took Meera into the secondary bedroom. I didn't use silk or soft words. I used a leather strap to bind her wrists to the headboard, stretching her mature, lush body across the mattress. I stripped naked, my massive, vein-mapped trunk swinging heavy and purple-headed.
"You want to know how your son became a god, Meera?" I hissed, climbing over her, my heavy weight pinning her down. "He watched you. He watched you get ruined by men like me. And now, I’m going to show you why he never looked back."
I grabbed her heavy, mature thighs and shoved them back toward her shoulders, exposing her soaking wet, seasoned cunt. I didn't use lube. I positioned my thick head and lunged with the full force of my 250-pound frame.
"FUCK!" Meera screamed, her back arching as my girth stretched her aged walls to their absolute limit. I was twice the size of any man she’d ever had. I began to ram her with a dirty, rhythmic brutality, my heavy balls slapping against her ass with a sound like wet thunder.
"Yes! Split me, you monster!" she wailed, her hourglass frame bucking under me.
The Grand Finale: The Four-Way Violation
The door burst open. Tilak entered, dragging Priya by her hair. He was naked, his monstrous cock dripping with Shanti’s juices. He looked at me pulverizing his mother and let out a roar of approval.
"That’s it, Subhash! Claim the source!"
The next few hours were a blur of unimaginable filth. We brought all five women into the center of the room. It was a sea of tanned, muscular flesh and the pale, soft curves of the women we had broken.
I had Meera on her hands and knees, my thick trunk-like cock hammering into her back door, while Priya knelt beneath her, catching the sweat and fluids that dripped from us. Tilak was behind Priya, his long, dominating cock disappearing into her while he reached forward to slap his mother’s heavy, swinging breasts.
"Look at us, Meera!" Tilak roared, his voice echoing through the flat. "The two boys you sent to Dehradun... we’ve come home to claim the queens!"
The air was foul with the scent of sex, musk, and the total collapse of family boundaries. We swapped. We shared. We used every hole available. I found myself DP’ing Meera with Tilak—a mother being split wide open by her son and his brother-in-arms. The friction was so intense it felt like the room would ignite.
As we both reached the end, we held the women down. We exploded simultaneously—a volcanic eruption of hot, thick seed that covered Meera, Shanti, and the girls in a white, sticky testament to our dominance.
The New Dynasty
One year later, the London flat was quiet, but the hierarchy was absolute. Shanti and Meera both walked with the heavy, slow gait of women who were permanently pregnant with the next generation of hulks. They moved about the house naked, their hourglass bodies swollen and marked, serving Tilak and me with a broken, mindless devotion.
Tilak and I stood on the balcony, two titans of industry and lust. We had everything—the money, the muscle, and a harem of the most beautiful, broken women of our own bloodline.
"We did it, Subhash," Tilak murmured, looking at his mother and mine as they scrubbed the floor at our feet. "We turned the trauma into a kingdom."
I looked at my brother, then down at the thick, trunk-like cock that had built this empire. "And the best part, Tilak? The next generation is already growing inside them. The monsters are here to stay."
The transition from the cramped London flat back to the family estate in India was a homecoming of kings. The "study abroad" trip had been a cover for a total radicalization of the family hierarchy. Subhash and Tilak returned as titans, marrying each other’s sisters in a grand, public ceremony that masked the absolute filth occurring behind closed doors.
The estate became a fortress of carnal excess. Modesty was abolished. In the master wing, the beds were reinforced with steel to support the weight of the hulks and the violence of their lust.
The Master Suite: No Boundaries
In Subhash’s wing, the wedding vows were just a license for depravity. Every night, the bed was occupied by three people: Subhash, his wife Priya, and his mother-in-law, Meera.
Subhash, now a mountain of granite-hard muscle, didn't distinguish between the two. He treated them like a matched set of hourglass vessels. He would pin Meera—his mother-in-law—to the headboard, his thick, trunk-like cock pulverizing her seasoned, wet cunt, while Priya knelt between them, her mouth busy with her husband’s heavy, low-hanging balls.
"Look at her, Priya," Subhash would growl, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble. "Look at how your mother takes this girth. She’s teaching you how a real woman serves a hulk."
Meera didn't just take it; she thrived on it. Having been impregnated by her own son-in-law, her belly was beginning to swell with Subhash’s seed. She was a "breeding queen," her hourglass frame becoming even more lush and heavy as she carried the next generation of the dynasty.
Tilak’s Dominion: The Command
Across the hall, Tilak had turned Shanti and Anjali into his personal harem. His BDSM-heavy dominance had completely shattered Shanti’s maternal dignity. She was no longer Subhash’s mother in Tilak's eyes; she was the "Senior Concubine."
Tilak would spend hours training them in tandem. He loved to have Shanti and Anjali face each other on all fours. He would move between them like a predator, his monstrous, intimidating cock dripping with sweat. He would hammer Anjali until she was sobbing, then immediately withdraw and slide his length into Shanti’s mature, gasping throat.
"You’re both carrying the blood of the beast now," Tilak would hiss, slapping Shanti’s heavy, pregnant belly. Like Meera, Shanti was also carrying her son-in-law’s child. The lineage was becoming a tangled, muscular web of shared DNA and raw power.
The Grand Orgy: The Sunday Ritual
Once a week, the inhibitions were completely stripped away in a grand orgy that involved all six of them. The brothers, built like hulks, would meet in the center of the great hall.
The four women—Shanti, Meera, Anjali, and Priya—would be stripped bare, their skin glistening with oils. There were no "wives" or "mothers" during these sessions; there were only holes and masters.
* The Swap: Subhash would take Anjali, his own sister, and ruin her with his trunk-like girth while Tilak watched, his hand buried in the hair of Subhash’s mother, Shanti.
* The DP: The brothers would often double-team the mothers. Meera and Shanti would be placed back-to-back, and the two hulks would synchronize their thrusts, splitting the older women open from both ends until the hall echoed with guttural screams and the wet, rhythmic slapping of heavy muscle.
"They're ours, Subhash!" Tilak would roar, his eyes wild with the triumph of his childhood vision. "Every inch of them. Every drop of their milk, every scream of their pleasure—it belongs to the iron!"
The New Bloodline
The morning after these sessions, the house was a wreck of silk, spilled wine, and the musk of six people who had abandoned every social taboo. The two mothers, Meera and Shanti, would walk through the gardens, their pregnant bellies glowing in the sun, prideful of the fact that they were carrying the sons of the men who had conquered them.
The brothers stood on the balcony, their 20-inch arms crossed, looking over their domain. The sisters had become obedient, lust-crazed shadows of their husbands, and the mothers had become the ultimate prizes.
"The dynasty is secure, brother," Subhash said, his trunk-like cock resting heavy and satisfied against his thigh.
Tilak looked at the four women below, his gaze dark and absolute. "It’s not just a family anymore, Subhash. It’s a species. And we are the kings."
The legacy of the boarding college brothers had evolved into something legendary—a kingdom of iron, blood, and an unbreakable, carnal devotion. As the final months of the pregnancies waned, the atmosphere in the estate shifted from raw, aggressive conquest to a deep, protective possessiveness. The two hulks, Subhash and Tilak, found that their dominance had forged a bond so tight that the four women didn't just obey them; they worshipped the very ground they walked on.
The Midnight Sanctuary
On the night before the first monsoon rain of the new year, the family gathered in the massive, velvet-dbangd master suite. The air was cool, scented with the familiar jasmine and the heavy, musky aroma of the men’s skin.
Subhash sat on a low, oversized leather chair, his massive legs spread. Priya, his wife, and Shanti, his mother-in-law, lounged against his trunk-like thighs. Meanwhile, Tilak stood by the window, his granite-carved back to the room, while Meera and Anjali attended to him, their hands roaming over the massive ridges of his muscles.
"We started this as a hunt," Tilak rumbled, turning around. His gaze softened as it landed on the two older women, Shanti and Meera, whose hourglass frames were now beautifully distorted by the weight of the sons they carried. "But look at what we’ve built. This isn't just filth anymore. It’s ours."
The Final Union
The night didn't begin with commands, but with a slow, heavy-breathing intimacy. Subhash pulled Shanti and Meera toward the center of the massive bed. He stripped slowly, his thick, trunk-like cock rising with a slow, pulsing majesty.
He took Shanti—his mother-in-law and the woman who had carried his deepest fantasies—and laid her back. He didn't hammer her this time. He entered her with a slow, agonizingly deep thrust that made her eyes roll back in pure, romantic surrender. He kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers, while his wife, Priya, stroked his back, whispering how much she loved seeing her mother filled by her husband.
Across the bed, Tilak had Meera and Anjali pinned. His dominating edge was still there, but it was tempered with a fierce, lion-like love. He buried his monstrous length into Meera, his mother, while Anjali held her mother’s hands, their fingers interlaced.
"You brought me into this world to be a king, Mother," Tilak whispered into Meera’s ear as he filled her. "And now, I’m giving you a prince to replace the ghosts."
The Romantic Peak
As the rain began to drum against the roof, the six of them became a single, pulsing organism of muscle and soft, yielding curves. The swapping was effortless and filled with a strange, dark tenderness. Subhash moved from Shanti to Priya, his thick trunk-like cock leaving them both gasping and decorated with his essence, while Tilak did the same for Meera and Anjali.
In the final moments, the two brothers faced each other over the bodies of the women they had conquered and claimed. They reached out, their massive hands clasping in a mid-air grip—the same grip they’d used as boys in the gym, but now weighted with the lives they had created.
"To the dynasty," Subhash groaned, his voice thick as he delivered the final, deep pulses of seed into Shanti’s womb.
"To the blood," Tilak answered, his body racking with a violent, beautiful climax as he flooded Meera.
The Morning of the New World
The next morning, the sun broke through the clouds, reflecting off the damp earth. The two mothers, Shanti and Meera, sat on the veranda, their bellies touching as they shared a quiet laugh, their bodies finally at peace in the roles they were born for. The sisters, Priya and Anjali, sat at their feet, resting their heads on their mothers’ laps, unified by the men who had claimed them all.
Subhash and Tilak stood behind them, two hulking guardians of a new world order. There were no more secrets, no more shame. There was only the heavy, sweet scent of jasmine, the sound of the receding rain, and the knowledge that they had turned a tangled web of desire into a fortress of absolute, erotic love.
The cycle was complete. The hulks had found their home, and the women had found their masters.
The summer heat was nothing compared to the sweltering, uninhibited lust aboard the Iron Sultan, the brothers' private luxury yacht. Far out at sea, away from the prying eyes of society and the constraints of the mainland, the final barriers of the family bloodline were systematically dismantled.
Tilak and Subhash stood on the deck, their massive, 250-pound frames glistening with a mixture of sea salt and sweat. Below deck, in the master cabin lined with mirrors and silk, the four women waited—not as family, but as a collective of shared flesh, bound by the seed of the two hulks.
The Double Violation of the Matriarchs
The highlight of the voyage was the night Tilak and Subhash decided to fully claim the "Source." They entered the cabin to find Shanti and Meera—both heavily pregnant and glowing with a primal, maternal heat—lounging on the massive circular bed.
"Tonight, there is no mother, no son-in-law," Tilak rumbled, his voice vibrating through the hull of the ship. He stepped toward Shanti, his mother-in-law, his monstrous cock already thumping against his abdomen. "Tonight, you are simply the woman carrying my legacy."
Tilak grabbed Shanti by her thick, mature thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed. At the same time, Subhash moved toward Meera. He didn't hesitate. He hoisted Meera’s hourglass frame onto his lap, his thick, trunk-like member sliding into her seasoned entrance with a wet, heavy squelch.
"Oh god, Subhash," Meera wailed, her fingers digging into the granite-hard muscles of his back. "It’s so thick... you’re stretching me apart."
The Breeding Ritual
The brothers began a synchronized rhythm of absolute filth. Tilak was hammering Shanti with a dominant, BDSM-fueled intensity, his heavy slaps echoing in the cabin. He forced her to look at Anjali, her own daughter, who was kneeling nearby, forced to watch her mother being colonized by the man they both served.
"Look at her, Shanti!" Tilak hissed, his veins popping as he rammed deeper into her. "See how she watches her mother take the load she used to beg for!"
Subhash was equally relentless with Meera. He flipped her over, pinning her pregnant belly against the silk sheets, and entered her from behind. His trunk-like girth was so massive it looked like it would split her wide open. Every thrust sent a wave of pleasure through Meera that made her scream his name, her maternal dignity completely erased by the raw power of his cock.
The Ocean of Seed
As the yacht rocked with the waves, the six of them reached a state of total, animalistic frenzy. The sisters, Priya and Anjali, were brought into the fray, creating a tangled heap of limbs and muscle.
The brothers swapped mid-thrust. Subhash took Shanti, while Tilak took Meera. It was the ultimate exchange—two brothers fucking each other's mothers-in-law while their wives watched and assisted. The air was foul with the scent of sex and the heavy, metallic musk of the two giants.
"Now, Subhash!" Tilak roared.
They both pulled out at the last second, the mothers and daughters huddled together in the center of the bed. A volcanic eruption of hot, thick seed sprayed across them—coating Shanti’s pregnant belly, Meera’s heavy breasts, and the faces of the two sisters.
The bloodline was now a chaotic, beautiful mess of shared DNA. The mothers were breeding for their sons-in-law, the sisters were whores for their husbands, and the two brothers stood tall as the absolute masters of the dynasty.
The day of the births was not a clinical affair; it was a ritual of raw, muscular possession. In the darkened, incense-heavy master suite of the estate, the air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and the primal musk of two men who had completely rewritten the laws of nature.
Shanti and Meera lay on the massive, reinforced bed, their hourglass frames strained to the limit as they brought the next generation of hulks into the world. Subhash and Tilak didn't stand by as observers; they acted as the architects of the delivery, their huge, calloused hands guiding their sons out of the very women they had spent months pulverizing. When the two infants—already broad-shouldered and heavy-limbed—let out their first cries, the brothers didn't offer comfort. They looked at the mothers with a cold, triumphant hunger. The breeding was done. Now, the real filth could begin.
The Grand Swap: Breaking the Final Taboo
One month later, the recovery was complete, and the women were more lush and desperate for the iron than ever before. Tilak, his dominant BDSM streak reaching a fever pitch, declared that the "old roles" were officially dead.
"Tonight, Subhash," Tilak growled, his monstrous, intimidating cock already thumping against his thigh, "we stop pretending. There is no 'your wife' or 'my mother.' There is only the meat and the masters."
In a move of total, vulgar depravity, the brothers initiated the Ultimate Swap.
Subhash and Meera (The Mother Claim)
Subhash didn't just take Tilak’s mother; he treated her like a seasoned, high-priced whore. He dragged Meera to the center of the room, her heavy, milk-swollen breasts swinging. He forced her onto all fours and entered her from behind with one brutal, trunk-like lunge.
"You like this, don't you, Meera?" Subhash hissed, his thick girth stretching her seasoned entrance until she shrieked. "You like being fucked by a man who treats you like a breeding animal instead of a mother." He began to ram her with a dirty, rhythmic violence, his heavy balls slapping against her ass with the sound of wet thunder.
Tilak and Shanti (The Matriarch’s Ruin)
Across the room, Tilak was busy destroying Shanti’s last shred of dignity. He had Subhash’s mother bound in a leather harness, her hips tilted up. He didn't use finesse. He used his long, dominating cock to pulverize her womb, his hands raining down stinging, red-marking slaps on her mature thighs.
"Look at your son, Shanti!" Tilak roared as he hammered her. "Look at how he's ruining my mother while I turn you into a leaking, screaming slut!"
The Kinky Vortex: Wives and Mothers Entwined
Then came the true filth. Tilak commanded the sisters, Anjali and Priya, to join the fray. But he didn't want them with their husbands.
He forced Anjali to serve Subhash and Priya to serve him.
The scene was a chaotic sea of muscle and fluids. Subhash was DP’ing Meera with the help of a massive toy while Anjali licked the sweat off his granite-hard abs. Tilak had Shanti and Priya on their knees in front of him, forcing the mother-in-law and the sister to compete for his monstrous length, their tongues dancing around his pulsing, purple-headed shaft in a desperate bid for his seed.
"Swap again!" Tilak commanded, his voice a guttural explosion.
The rotations became a blur of vulgarity. Subhash was now hammering his own sister, Anjali, with a raw, "dirty-talk" intensity that made her weep, while Tilak took Priya and Meera in a double-header, his dark, commanding energy forcing them to perform acts that would have been unthinkable a year ago.
The Final Explosion
The night reached its peak when the two brothers stood back-to-back in the center of the bed, the four women huddled around them like a pack of thirsty animals.
"Open your mouths, you pathetic, beautiful sluts!" Tilak roared.
He and Subhash let fly. A volcanic, twin eruption of thick, hot, white seed sprayed across the room, coating the mothers, the wives, and the sisters in a unifying layer of filth. They crawled over each other, licking the seed off one another’s bodies, fully broken, fully owned, and fully addicted to the power of the two hulks.
The dynasty wasn't just built on blood—it was built on the absolute, kinky destruction of every boundary. They were a family of monsters, and they had never been happier.
The dynamic of the estate shifted from a private kingdom into a total, depraved arena of muscle when Vikram arrived. Vikram was a man who made Subhash and Tilak look like disciplined soldiers; he was an unhinged, high-octane pervert with a physique that surpassed even the "Hulk" standard. His chest was like a reinforced steel plate, and his legs were like tree trunks, but it was his mind that was truly twisted.
Vikram didn't just love sex; he loved the transaction of it. He was the ultimate Alpha who believed that women—including his own wife, Kavita—were currency to be spent and traded in the pursuit of the ultimate high.
The Arrival of the Lead Alpha
Vikram rolled up to the estate in a matte-black armored SUV, stepping out with a swagger that demanded total submission. Beside him was Kavita, a woman with a lethal hourglass figure, dressed in a transparent silk sari that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"Subhash, Tilak," Vikram rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. He didn't shake their hands; he gripped their traps, testing the density of their muscle. "I heard you two have turned this place into a breeding ground. But you’re still playing by 'family' rules. I’m here to show you how a real Alpha runs a harem."
Tilak’s eyes darkened with respect. "And what’s the first lesson, Vikram?"
Vikram grinned, revealing a row of predator’s teeth. He grabbed his wife, Kavita, by the hair and threw her toward Subhash and Tilak. "The first lesson is that an Alpha owns everything, but shares what he chooses. My wife hasn't been filled by a real man in three days. Show her what your 'hulk' cocks can do while I take a look at these mothers of yours."
The Cuckold King: The Ultimate Trade
While Subhash and Tilak were pulverizing Kavita on the velvet rug—their thick, trunk-like cocks double-plugging her until she shrieked for mercy—Vikram walked into the master suite where Shanti and Meera were resting.
The two matriarchs, still lush and dripping from the morning’s session with their sons-in-law, recoiled at the sight of this new, massive stranger. But Vikram didn't care for modesty. He stripped naked in the center of the room, revealing an organ that was monstrous—a thick, dark, pulsating weapon of war that made even Tilak’s length look standard.
"I’m the new law in this house," Vikram hissed, grabbing Shanti and Meera by their throats and slamming them together. "Your sons gave me their permission. Actually, they traded you for a night with my wife. You’re mine now."
Vikram’s style was filthy, vulgar, and completely devoid of any remaining boundaries. He forced the two mothers onto their knees, making them lick the base of his massive shaft while he described in graphic detail how he was going to ruin them.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)