03-03-2026, 12:30 PM
It was past midnight now.
I was half-asleep—my mind still looping the same thoughts: the waiter, Neha’s undergarments, the scent of her bra, and all those fantasies that wouldn’t let me sleep.
Suddenly a loud blast of music hit—bass-heavy, proper party stuff.
Probably from the next room… or above.
It was the weekend, and people come to resorts like this for getaways—parties, drinks, late nights.
I kept thinking—if someone is getting disturbed, so what… we ourselves were awake just a while ago. But this music fully woke me up.
I gently separated Neha from me—she was in deep sleep, head resting on my chest, one hand around my waist.
I didn’t want her to wake.
Slowly I got out of bed, still naked.
Went to the bathroom, slipped on a loose nightgown—the thin one that barely covers anything.
Picked up the cigarette pack and walked toward the balcony.
Outside, cool breeze was blowing—night silence, very few cars on the road.
The cold air brushed my face. Felt good.
I lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, blew the smoke upward.
The music now sounded even louder—I could clearly tell where it was coming from.
The adjacent balcony.
Their door was open—lights on, and from inside came music and laughter.
I leaned over to look.
That man was standing there—the same one who had tried talking to Neha at reception.
Tall, dark skin, white hair, late 50s.
Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other.
Leaning on the railing, looking alone, but the music was clearly coming from his room—probably others inside.
He looked toward me—for a second our eyes met.
He gave a small nod, like a casual “hello,” or maybe he recognized me.
I took another drag, blew the smoke in the direction of his room.
My mind started spinning the same thoughts again—this guy… at reception he was staring at Neha for so long.
His eyes sliding from her face downward—over her breasts, her waist.
Probably imagining what it would be like if a woman like Neha was with him.
Or maybe even now he was fantasizing—having heard sounds from our room, or just thinking about Neha.
I thought—if he knew that just a few hours ago Neha was licking my cock, taking it in her mouth, bending near the door and letting me inside her… what would he do?
Maybe he was standing there smoking, thinking the same—her dark brown eyes, those lips, that body.
He was still there—now he raised his glass toward me, like a toast.
I just smiled—a small, but loaded smile.
“How are you, young man?” he said, voice carrying that old-college friendly but slightly naughty tone.
Our balconies were adjoining, but not too close—4th floor, small gap between, cold wind flowing through.
I took another drag, blew smoke upward, and smiled back,
“Good… good.”
“So where are you from?”
“Pune.”
“You?”
“Nagpur.”
“Good… enjoying with friends?”
I knew he wasn’t alone—I had seen at reception, two other men with him. Probably sitting inside, listening to music.
“Yes,” I said lightly.
“Where are your drinks, young man?”
“Finished… I was about to sleep.”
“Too soon… that’s not fair.”
He raised his glass in one quick motion, looked at me and winked—zero shame, completely unapologetic.
“You have beautiful company… I would have stayed up all night if I were in your place.”
Hearing that, a strange thrill ran through me.
I didn’t want to be rude to a stranger, but on the other hand it felt good—when people burn with jealousy seeing Neha, feel that envy on her beauty, and it shows clearly on their faces.
It makes me feel powerful.
Neha is mine, and they can only look.
“What to do… bar is closed, and drinks are over,” I said.
“What were you having?”
“Beer.”
He laughed—a deep, tired but happy laugh.
“Wait…”
He went inside.
I stayed leaning on the balcony, finishing my cigarette.
Few seconds later he came back—holding a fresh cold beer bottle.
He extended it toward me.
“Have it, young man.”
“No, it’s okay…”
“No no… have it.”
He laughed again, “We have godown,” and laughed louder—like he was feeling very cool himself.
I took the bottle—cold, covered in condensation.
We both raised our bottles in the air—“Cheers!”
I took a swig, cold beer sliding down my throat.
He drank too, then smiled and said,
“I’m Alok, by the way.”
“Sam,” I said.
“What do you do, Sam?”
“I’m in IT.”
“Ohhh… so weekend getaway with your beautiful wife.”
“Yes,” I said lightly, smiling.
His comments kept circling back to Neha—casually, without any disrespect.
Like normal conversation, but there was that glint in his eyes that said he had noticed Neha very well.
It felt good—an odd sense of power, that someone else is praising my wife, burning with desire, but can’t touch her.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, keeping the conversation going.
Alok laughed—that deep, tired but fun laugh.
“Hehe… what old guys do with friends… booze, biryani and girl,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing.
The moment he said that, a scene flashed in my mind—the one I had noticed earlier but ignored.
At reception—that “Hiii” voice—young, attractive, a bit playful.
I had thought maybe hotel staff, or another guest.
But now… hearing Alok, curiosity spiked.
Is there really a girl with him?
How young? How attractive?
And what does “girl” mean here—a friend, or something else?
I took another swig of beer, leaned on the railing.
“So… that girl… she’s with you?” I asked casually, like just continuing the chat.
Alok swirled his glass, smiled—a mischievous one.
He pointed toward himself with a naughty grin.
I understood.
“Ohhh… happy birthday!” I said laughing.
We both raised our bottles again—bottoms up.
Cold beer went down, and that chill was now spreading in my brain too.
“So… how old are you?” I asked.
“58,” he said casually, like no big deal.
I mentally calculated—he’s around my dad’s age.
But there was no tiredness on his face—rather an energy, the kind that comes from parties and drinks.
“Thanks for the beer,” I said, finishing the bottle.
Alok smiled again—that smile that was hiding something.
“You can come to our room for more beer… the night is still young.”
“Hmm… but my wife is sleeping,” I said.
He shrugged, then winked—shamelessly.
“So what… I’m not calling her. Anyway, what’s happening in our room is not suitable for a decent lady to see.”
Hearing that, my curiosity shot up even more.
What exactly is going on inside?
Who is that girl?
Is something really hot happening?
My mind started racing.
How young is she? Is she really a “present”—like an escort, or a friend adding extra fun to the party?
And “not appropriate for decent lady”—meaning what?
Dancing? Stripping? Or something… more intense?
My brain was now in overdrive.
Neha was sleeping—calm, unaware.
I was standing on the balcony, two voices fighting inside my head.
One voice screaming—this is wrong, what if Neha wakes up? What will she think? Where did this man go at midnight? I can say I couldn’t sleep, went for a walk… or to the bar… anything. But she might suspect.
The other voice… my cock.
Third time tonight it was getting hard—this was my personal world record.
Whatever fun I got tonight—with Neha—all of it wasn’t because of my brain, it was because of my dick.
The brain would have beaten up the waiter and ruined the weekend, but the cock… the cock knows where the fun is.
Alok was still standing there, waiting for my answer.
There was that glint in his eyes—like he already knew what I was thinking.
I took a breath, and said,
“Okay… what’s your room number?”
“411,” he said smiling.
“Okay… wait, I’ll come in 15 minutes.”
I went back inside the room.
Neha was in deep sleep—naked, sheet slightly slipped, breasts gently rising and falling with her breath.
I carefully pulled the sheet over her properly so she stayed cozy.
Lightly kissed her forehead—she smiled faintly even in sleep.
Then slowly I opened the main door.
Hands were shaking.
Closed the door, stepped into the corridor.
Night silence, only faint AC hum.
Room 411 was right next door.
With trembling hand I pressed the doorbell.
Alok opened immediately.
From inside came loud music—thump chick… thump chick… bass so heavy I could feel it in my chest.
And along with it… loud moans.
A woman’s voice—high, juicy, “Aahh… yes… harder…”
My cock twitched instantly—rock hard again.
Alok gestured me to come in, smiling.
“You came, young man… come in.”
I stepped inside.
Door closed behind me.
And the moment I looked inside… my eyes widened.
Breath stopped in shock.
The room was brightly lit—no dim lights, full on.
Like a stage, everything clearly visible.
On the bed was that girl—very young, very attractive, completely naked.
She was on all fours.
Behind her a brown-skinned thin guy—maybe 45-46—thrusting hard.
With every thrust her body rocked, moans escaping.
In front a short guy—huge pot belly—standing.
His cock was hard, he was just tapping it on her cute face—tip leaking pre-cum, smearing it on her cheeks, lips.
Whisky glass in his other hand.
And the guy behind—whose cock was inside—had placed his whisky glass on her ass.
The glass balanced with her movements, like some trick.
I entered.
Everyone looked at me.
Eyes met.
But no shock, no shame.
As if they were just having coffee or watching TV—not fucking a girl who could be their daughter’s age.
The guy behind lifted his glass toward me and said,
“That’s Vishal,” then placed the glass back on her ass.
The front guy—the pot-bellied one—just raised an eyebrow at me, like a casual “hi.”
His focus stayed on the girl’s face—painting her lips with his pre-cum.
Then Alok looked at the girl and said,
“And this… what the fuck did she say her name was?”
Vishal laughed,
“Sandy… hehe.”
“Yeah Sandy… don’t know if that’s real or just tonight’s name,” Alok said.
By now I understood—this girl is a prostitute.
Paid, called for the party.
Birthday gift.
Probably given by Alok’s friends—or maybe the group is sharing her.
Sandy looked at me—eyes met.
Her eyes were tired but professional—no shame, just doing her job.
She gave a small smile, like saying “join if you want.”
My cock was hurting now—third time, even harder after seeing all this.
Neha’s thought came—sleeping, unaware.
But here… something else was happening.
Alok put his hand on my shoulder.
“Take a beer, Sam. Sit. Enjoy.”
I walked to the table near the bed—full of beer bottles.
But my eyes didn’t leave that girl for even a second.
She was so sexy… so… perfect.
Fully proportioned gym body—thin waist, wide hips, everything balanced.
On all fours, so her breasts hung down—heavy, round, nipples hard and pink.
Milky white skin—like bathed in milk, but now covered in red marks.
Hickeys—on neck, shoulders, above breasts—red-blue bruises.
Bite marks on shoulders and neck—someone had bitten hard.
Her makeup was completely ruined—kajal running down her cheeks in black lines, making her look wilder and more attractive.
Face full of cum traces—white streaks, some dried, some still wet.
On cheeks, corners of lips, chin—everywhere.
She was struggling to maintain position—thrusts from behind, cock tapping her face—but still balancing.
Two cocks—one inside, one near her mouth.
Vishal gave another hard thrust.
Sandy’s body rocked, hanging breasts swayed, a moan escaped—“Aahh… yes… tear me apart…”
David (pot-bellied) rubbed his cock on her lips, spreading pre-cum.
“Open… and suck.”
“Take it, Sam. Sit down. Good show going on, right?”
I took a bottle, but didn’t sit.
Just stood—eyes on Sandy.
Her skin glistened with sweat, hair messy, breathing fast.
She was looking at me—eyes met for a second.
No shame in her eyes—just work, and maybe a little pleasure.
My cock was throbbing painfully under the nightgown.
Vishal placed the glass back on her ass—balancing while thrusting.
I walked to the sofa with the beer bottle.
Alok was with me—he was now only in underwear.
His tent was huge—clearly visible he was fully hard.
I sat on the sofa.
Suddenly Alok’s hand moved toward my crotch.
I became alert—heart started pounding.
But next second relief—he just took my beer.
“Sam… this isn’t cold anymore… leave it,” he said.
I was so lost watching Sandy that I hadn’t even noticed the beer temperature.
“It’s okay… let’s do shots,” I said.
“No no… I’ve already drunk a lot today,” I refused.
“No yaar… it’s my birthday… I insist,” Alok said.
I didn’t say anything—neither yes nor no.
Just stayed silent.
“Sandy… make some shots for us!” Alok shouted loudly.
Sandy immediately became alert—she was still on all fours.
“Arre yaar… don’t… I was enjoying, fuck,” David complained.
“the whole night is yours… if you like her, I’ll book her for the full day tomorrow just for you,” Alok said.
David reluctantly left Sandy—his cock still hard, pre-cum dripping.
Both he and Vishal came to the sofa.
Sandy got up—naked, body full of marks, face ruined makeup, kajal streaked.
She went toward the mini bar.
This time I properly noticed their cocks.
Vishal’s—brown, decent size but thin, matching his body type.
David’s—dark black, purple head, thick and heavy, both leaking pre-cum.
Both sat on the 2-seater sofa—right in front of me.
Alok and I were on the other sofa.
Suddenly she came and stood right in front of me—completely naked.
I was sitting, she standing—so her pussy was exactly at my face level, so close her scent hit my nose directly. Hot, salty, that special woman’s smell—made even stronger by tonight’s work.
Till now in real life I had seen only two pussies—first my college girlfriend’s, second Neha’s.
Both took a lot of struggle—hours of courting, emotional games, acting in love, and still a lot of effort before that moment happened.
But Sandy’s pussy… this was sheer luck.
No effort, no struggle.
Just entered the room, and there it was—naked, ready, spreading scent.
Like a gift received without trying.
I just kept staring—young, hairless, pink, still wet and glistening.
Clit slightly protruding, like it had been worked hard recently.
My cock twitched painfully under the nightgown.
“Sir… shots,” she said softly again.
I looked up—her flat stomach, thin waist, heavy 36-size breasts hanging, nipples hard.
Face—smiling, but kajal streaked, lips swollen, cum marks.
That face… felt vaguely familiar, but in the haze I couldn’t recall.
I was about to reach for the tray when—SLAP! Loud on her ass from behind.
“Is this how you offer to a guest? Where’s the lemon?” Alok said.
“Sorry… sorry,” she said quickly.
Kept the tray on the table, went to get lemon.
Her ass swaying—full of red marks, dancing.
She came back fast, lemon in hand.
She picked up the glass.
I reached out, but she said,
“No no sir… just relax.”
She bent—breasts hung right in front of my face.
Glass to my lips—shot went down, burning.
Then lemon in her mouth.
She bent more—lips met mine.
Squeezed lemon—sour juice in my mouth.
And then deep kiss.
Our tongues fought—along with lemon juice, taste of her lips, salty cum.
I sucked her lips, pushed tongue inside—like we were wrestling.
Kiss ended.
She pulled back, smiled.
“Felt good, sir?”
Alok laughed,
“See… Sandy gives good service.”
Vishal and David laughed too.
Sandy now stood in front—waiting.
My cock was ready to burst.
Neha sleeping in the room…
And I here…
I was half-asleep—my mind still looping the same thoughts: the waiter, Neha’s undergarments, the scent of her bra, and all those fantasies that wouldn’t let me sleep.
Suddenly a loud blast of music hit—bass-heavy, proper party stuff.
Probably from the next room… or above.
It was the weekend, and people come to resorts like this for getaways—parties, drinks, late nights.
I kept thinking—if someone is getting disturbed, so what… we ourselves were awake just a while ago. But this music fully woke me up.
I gently separated Neha from me—she was in deep sleep, head resting on my chest, one hand around my waist.
I didn’t want her to wake.
Slowly I got out of bed, still naked.
Went to the bathroom, slipped on a loose nightgown—the thin one that barely covers anything.
Picked up the cigarette pack and walked toward the balcony.
Outside, cool breeze was blowing—night silence, very few cars on the road.
The cold air brushed my face. Felt good.
I lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, blew the smoke upward.
The music now sounded even louder—I could clearly tell where it was coming from.
The adjacent balcony.
Their door was open—lights on, and from inside came music and laughter.
I leaned over to look.
That man was standing there—the same one who had tried talking to Neha at reception.
Tall, dark skin, white hair, late 50s.
Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other.
Leaning on the railing, looking alone, but the music was clearly coming from his room—probably others inside.
He looked toward me—for a second our eyes met.
He gave a small nod, like a casual “hello,” or maybe he recognized me.
I took another drag, blew the smoke in the direction of his room.
My mind started spinning the same thoughts again—this guy… at reception he was staring at Neha for so long.
His eyes sliding from her face downward—over her breasts, her waist.
Probably imagining what it would be like if a woman like Neha was with him.
Or maybe even now he was fantasizing—having heard sounds from our room, or just thinking about Neha.
I thought—if he knew that just a few hours ago Neha was licking my cock, taking it in her mouth, bending near the door and letting me inside her… what would he do?
Maybe he was standing there smoking, thinking the same—her dark brown eyes, those lips, that body.
He was still there—now he raised his glass toward me, like a toast.
I just smiled—a small, but loaded smile.
“How are you, young man?” he said, voice carrying that old-college friendly but slightly naughty tone.
Our balconies were adjoining, but not too close—4th floor, small gap between, cold wind flowing through.
I took another drag, blew smoke upward, and smiled back,
“Good… good.”
“So where are you from?”
“Pune.”
“You?”
“Nagpur.”
“Good… enjoying with friends?”
I knew he wasn’t alone—I had seen at reception, two other men with him. Probably sitting inside, listening to music.
“Yes,” I said lightly.
“Where are your drinks, young man?”
“Finished… I was about to sleep.”
“Too soon… that’s not fair.”
He raised his glass in one quick motion, looked at me and winked—zero shame, completely unapologetic.
“You have beautiful company… I would have stayed up all night if I were in your place.”
Hearing that, a strange thrill ran through me.
I didn’t want to be rude to a stranger, but on the other hand it felt good—when people burn with jealousy seeing Neha, feel that envy on her beauty, and it shows clearly on their faces.
It makes me feel powerful.
Neha is mine, and they can only look.
“What to do… bar is closed, and drinks are over,” I said.
“What were you having?”
“Beer.”
He laughed—a deep, tired but happy laugh.
“Wait…”
He went inside.
I stayed leaning on the balcony, finishing my cigarette.
Few seconds later he came back—holding a fresh cold beer bottle.
He extended it toward me.
“Have it, young man.”
“No, it’s okay…”
“No no… have it.”
He laughed again, “We have godown,” and laughed louder—like he was feeling very cool himself.
I took the bottle—cold, covered in condensation.
We both raised our bottles in the air—“Cheers!”
I took a swig, cold beer sliding down my throat.
He drank too, then smiled and said,
“I’m Alok, by the way.”
“Sam,” I said.
“What do you do, Sam?”
“I’m in IT.”
“Ohhh… so weekend getaway with your beautiful wife.”
“Yes,” I said lightly, smiling.
His comments kept circling back to Neha—casually, without any disrespect.
Like normal conversation, but there was that glint in his eyes that said he had noticed Neha very well.
It felt good—an odd sense of power, that someone else is praising my wife, burning with desire, but can’t touch her.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, keeping the conversation going.
Alok laughed—that deep, tired but fun laugh.
“Hehe… what old guys do with friends… booze, biryani and girl,” he said casually, like it was the most normal thing.
The moment he said that, a scene flashed in my mind—the one I had noticed earlier but ignored.
At reception—that “Hiii” voice—young, attractive, a bit playful.
I had thought maybe hotel staff, or another guest.
But now… hearing Alok, curiosity spiked.
Is there really a girl with him?
How young? How attractive?
And what does “girl” mean here—a friend, or something else?
I took another swig of beer, leaned on the railing.
“So… that girl… she’s with you?” I asked casually, like just continuing the chat.
Alok swirled his glass, smiled—a mischievous one.
He pointed toward himself with a naughty grin.
I understood.
“Ohhh… happy birthday!” I said laughing.
We both raised our bottles again—bottoms up.
Cold beer went down, and that chill was now spreading in my brain too.
“So… how old are you?” I asked.
“58,” he said casually, like no big deal.
I mentally calculated—he’s around my dad’s age.
But there was no tiredness on his face—rather an energy, the kind that comes from parties and drinks.
“Thanks for the beer,” I said, finishing the bottle.
Alok smiled again—that smile that was hiding something.
“You can come to our room for more beer… the night is still young.”
“Hmm… but my wife is sleeping,” I said.
He shrugged, then winked—shamelessly.
“So what… I’m not calling her. Anyway, what’s happening in our room is not suitable for a decent lady to see.”
Hearing that, my curiosity shot up even more.
What exactly is going on inside?
Who is that girl?
Is something really hot happening?
My mind started racing.
How young is she? Is she really a “present”—like an escort, or a friend adding extra fun to the party?
And “not appropriate for decent lady”—meaning what?
Dancing? Stripping? Or something… more intense?
My brain was now in overdrive.
Neha was sleeping—calm, unaware.
I was standing on the balcony, two voices fighting inside my head.
One voice screaming—this is wrong, what if Neha wakes up? What will she think? Where did this man go at midnight? I can say I couldn’t sleep, went for a walk… or to the bar… anything. But she might suspect.
The other voice… my cock.
Third time tonight it was getting hard—this was my personal world record.
Whatever fun I got tonight—with Neha—all of it wasn’t because of my brain, it was because of my dick.
The brain would have beaten up the waiter and ruined the weekend, but the cock… the cock knows where the fun is.
Alok was still standing there, waiting for my answer.
There was that glint in his eyes—like he already knew what I was thinking.
I took a breath, and said,
“Okay… what’s your room number?”
“411,” he said smiling.
“Okay… wait, I’ll come in 15 minutes.”
I went back inside the room.
Neha was in deep sleep—naked, sheet slightly slipped, breasts gently rising and falling with her breath.
I carefully pulled the sheet over her properly so she stayed cozy.
Lightly kissed her forehead—she smiled faintly even in sleep.
Then slowly I opened the main door.
Hands were shaking.
Closed the door, stepped into the corridor.
Night silence, only faint AC hum.
Room 411 was right next door.
With trembling hand I pressed the doorbell.
Alok opened immediately.
From inside came loud music—thump chick… thump chick… bass so heavy I could feel it in my chest.
And along with it… loud moans.
A woman’s voice—high, juicy, “Aahh… yes… harder…”
My cock twitched instantly—rock hard again.
Alok gestured me to come in, smiling.
“You came, young man… come in.”
I stepped inside.
Door closed behind me.
And the moment I looked inside… my eyes widened.
Breath stopped in shock.
The room was brightly lit—no dim lights, full on.
Like a stage, everything clearly visible.
On the bed was that girl—very young, very attractive, completely naked.
She was on all fours.
Behind her a brown-skinned thin guy—maybe 45-46—thrusting hard.
With every thrust her body rocked, moans escaping.
In front a short guy—huge pot belly—standing.
His cock was hard, he was just tapping it on her cute face—tip leaking pre-cum, smearing it on her cheeks, lips.
Whisky glass in his other hand.
And the guy behind—whose cock was inside—had placed his whisky glass on her ass.
The glass balanced with her movements, like some trick.
I entered.
Everyone looked at me.
Eyes met.
But no shock, no shame.
As if they were just having coffee or watching TV—not fucking a girl who could be their daughter’s age.
The guy behind lifted his glass toward me and said,
“That’s Vishal,” then placed the glass back on her ass.
The front guy—the pot-bellied one—just raised an eyebrow at me, like a casual “hi.”
His focus stayed on the girl’s face—painting her lips with his pre-cum.
Then Alok looked at the girl and said,
“And this… what the fuck did she say her name was?”
Vishal laughed,
“Sandy… hehe.”
“Yeah Sandy… don’t know if that’s real or just tonight’s name,” Alok said.
By now I understood—this girl is a prostitute.
Paid, called for the party.
Birthday gift.
Probably given by Alok’s friends—or maybe the group is sharing her.
Sandy looked at me—eyes met.
Her eyes were tired but professional—no shame, just doing her job.
She gave a small smile, like saying “join if you want.”
My cock was hurting now—third time, even harder after seeing all this.
Neha’s thought came—sleeping, unaware.
But here… something else was happening.
Alok put his hand on my shoulder.
“Take a beer, Sam. Sit. Enjoy.”
I walked to the table near the bed—full of beer bottles.
But my eyes didn’t leave that girl for even a second.
She was so sexy… so… perfect.
Fully proportioned gym body—thin waist, wide hips, everything balanced.
On all fours, so her breasts hung down—heavy, round, nipples hard and pink.
Milky white skin—like bathed in milk, but now covered in red marks.
Hickeys—on neck, shoulders, above breasts—red-blue bruises.
Bite marks on shoulders and neck—someone had bitten hard.
Her makeup was completely ruined—kajal running down her cheeks in black lines, making her look wilder and more attractive.
Face full of cum traces—white streaks, some dried, some still wet.
On cheeks, corners of lips, chin—everywhere.
She was struggling to maintain position—thrusts from behind, cock tapping her face—but still balancing.
Two cocks—one inside, one near her mouth.
Vishal gave another hard thrust.
Sandy’s body rocked, hanging breasts swayed, a moan escaped—“Aahh… yes… tear me apart…”
David (pot-bellied) rubbed his cock on her lips, spreading pre-cum.
“Open… and suck.”
“Take it, Sam. Sit down. Good show going on, right?”
I took a bottle, but didn’t sit.
Just stood—eyes on Sandy.
Her skin glistened with sweat, hair messy, breathing fast.
She was looking at me—eyes met for a second.
No shame in her eyes—just work, and maybe a little pleasure.
My cock was throbbing painfully under the nightgown.
Vishal placed the glass back on her ass—balancing while thrusting.
I walked to the sofa with the beer bottle.
Alok was with me—he was now only in underwear.
His tent was huge—clearly visible he was fully hard.
I sat on the sofa.
Suddenly Alok’s hand moved toward my crotch.
I became alert—heart started pounding.
But next second relief—he just took my beer.
“Sam… this isn’t cold anymore… leave it,” he said.
I was so lost watching Sandy that I hadn’t even noticed the beer temperature.
“It’s okay… let’s do shots,” I said.
“No no… I’ve already drunk a lot today,” I refused.
“No yaar… it’s my birthday… I insist,” Alok said.
I didn’t say anything—neither yes nor no.
Just stayed silent.
“Sandy… make some shots for us!” Alok shouted loudly.
Sandy immediately became alert—she was still on all fours.
“Arre yaar… don’t… I was enjoying, fuck,” David complained.
“the whole night is yours… if you like her, I’ll book her for the full day tomorrow just for you,” Alok said.
David reluctantly left Sandy—his cock still hard, pre-cum dripping.
Both he and Vishal came to the sofa.
Sandy got up—naked, body full of marks, face ruined makeup, kajal streaked.
She went toward the mini bar.
This time I properly noticed their cocks.
Vishal’s—brown, decent size but thin, matching his body type.
David’s—dark black, purple head, thick and heavy, both leaking pre-cum.
Both sat on the 2-seater sofa—right in front of me.
Alok and I were on the other sofa.
Suddenly she came and stood right in front of me—completely naked.
I was sitting, she standing—so her pussy was exactly at my face level, so close her scent hit my nose directly. Hot, salty, that special woman’s smell—made even stronger by tonight’s work.
Till now in real life I had seen only two pussies—first my college girlfriend’s, second Neha’s.
Both took a lot of struggle—hours of courting, emotional games, acting in love, and still a lot of effort before that moment happened.
But Sandy’s pussy… this was sheer luck.
No effort, no struggle.
Just entered the room, and there it was—naked, ready, spreading scent.
Like a gift received without trying.
I just kept staring—young, hairless, pink, still wet and glistening.
Clit slightly protruding, like it had been worked hard recently.
My cock twitched painfully under the nightgown.
“Sir… shots,” she said softly again.
I looked up—her flat stomach, thin waist, heavy 36-size breasts hanging, nipples hard.
Face—smiling, but kajal streaked, lips swollen, cum marks.
That face… felt vaguely familiar, but in the haze I couldn’t recall.
I was about to reach for the tray when—SLAP! Loud on her ass from behind.
“Is this how you offer to a guest? Where’s the lemon?” Alok said.
“Sorry… sorry,” she said quickly.
Kept the tray on the table, went to get lemon.
Her ass swaying—full of red marks, dancing.
She came back fast, lemon in hand.
She picked up the glass.
I reached out, but she said,
“No no sir… just relax.”
She bent—breasts hung right in front of my face.
Glass to my lips—shot went down, burning.
Then lemon in her mouth.
She bent more—lips met mine.
Squeezed lemon—sour juice in my mouth.
And then deep kiss.
Our tongues fought—along with lemon juice, taste of her lips, salty cum.
I sucked her lips, pushed tongue inside—like we were wrestling.
Kiss ended.
She pulled back, smiled.
“Felt good, sir?”
Alok laughed,
“See… Sandy gives good service.”
Vishal and David laughed too.
Sandy now stood in front—waiting.
My cock was ready to burst.
Neha sleeping in the room…
And I here…
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