Misc. Erotica MILF DOMINATES & COCKY'S LUST

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The elevator dinged.
Shamita dragged him down the hallway, unlocked her door, and shoved him inside.
The moment it clicked shut behind them, she turned the deadbolt.
“Strip,” she said, voice like a whip-crack. “Everything. Fold it neatly. Then kneel in the center of the living room, hands behind your back, eyes on the floor. You have sixty seconds.”
Mohan moved like a man already broken in the best way.
And Shamita watched—smiling—already picturing the marks she was going to leave on that perfect, married body before the night was over.

The door to the inner room swung open with a soft click, and Deepa stepped out—twenty-something, all taut golden skin and reckless confidence. She moved like liquid sin, barefoot on the cool marble floor, her strapless black top clinging desperately to the undersides of her full breasts. The thin fabric was stretched so tight that her dark areolas showed through, nipples already stiff and pressing forward like they were begging for attention. Below, a scrap of black lace triangle—three fragile strings tied at her hips—barely covered her shaved mound. The material was soaked dark at the center; she was already dripping.
She carried a small velvet tray in both hands like an offering.

Mohan was still kneeling exactly where Shamita had commanded—naked, knees spread wide, hands clasped tight behind his back, cock straining upward, flushed dark and weeping at the tip. The wedding band on his finger looked obscene now against his own bare skin.
Deepa stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he could smell her arousal—sweet, musky, unmistakable. She set the tray down beside his knee with deliberate care.
“Eyes up, married boy,” Shamita said from the armchair she’d settled into, legs crossed, one high-heeled foot swinging lazily. “Look at what Deepa brought for you.”