Misc. Erotica Swati's Downfall (Original Story)

[S Darko]

Hi all. This one has been long in coming, but finally I got it started. Here's the first installment. It was started for on a specific request; if you're here, you know who you are, and I hope you enjoy it. The broad categories this story will have are exhibitionism, non-consent, light BDSM, humiliation, taboo, inter-racial (insofar as the different areas of India have races; more properly, I suppose inter-class) and so on as the fancy takes me and any specific requests. Please forgive any spelling and grammar errors.

Swati's Downfall

Swati Mishra settled down to a leisurely session of “polishing the pearl” as she liked to call it. She had already had a long day, very long, and needed some relief. And given the fact that she had the office to herself, there would be no interruptions. 

This could be a big session, well, at least a biggish sessions. Not the furtive, in the toilet, furious relief-seeking sessions that seemed to be the norm these days, but a comfortable, relaxed, session. 

The door to her office was unlocked and she rose to lock it. Then, feeling naughty, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, she took off her salwar bottoms, and then her panties and tossed them on the floor next to her desk. It wasn’t much of a risk, but it made her giddy with excitement nevertheless. 

Half-naked, she sat on her comfortable leather chair, took out her personal laptop and logged in. It was a complex password that she had committed to memory, a combination of letters and numbers and special characters like the best security people recommended. The leather felt cool on her bare bottom in the air conditioned office, and sent goosebumps along her smooth flanks.

Oh yes, she thought, and undid her bra by slipping her hand under her top and freeing the hooks. She brought the bra out by pulling them alternately out of her loose sleeves. She tossed the bra on the pile of clothes next to her desk. She felt almost giddy with naughtiness. 

After making sure making sure she was logged on to the company wifi network, she clicked on her VPN program. When that was up, she opened a browser in incognito mode and went to her favorite website, yourkinksexposed.com, and checked for new content. 

The site loaded quickly, showing several small windows of kinky sex acts in progress. Quickly, she checked for her favorite scenarios and found one she could masturbate to.

Then, and only then, did she rise to lock the office door. Her Kameez hung over her naked bottom as she padded shoeless to the door. She opened the door a crack and peeked out into the hall. There was no one there. She closed the door, softly like a thief, locked it, and went back to her desk. The frosted glass walls of her office would allow no voyeurs to peek in, and besides, it was after eight in the evening. 

Subconsciously she must have known what she was doing was wrong because she tiptoed back to her desk. She unlocked and opened the bottom drawer and withdrew a small pink vibrator with a G-spot and clitoral stimulator and made sure it was working fine.

As project leader, Swati had let everyone go home and volunteered to stay behind and work on the finishing touches herself. Tomorrow the software was supposed to be deployed, and the expectation was that it would be bug free. It was a US corporation that had outsourced the critical part of this operation to their company after all. 

Well, now that she had finished the finishing touches, she was entitled to some play time, something she would not have once she returned home to her husband and five year-old son. And her husband, Ashok… well, the less said about his sexual drive, the better.

There was no need for lube, she was already wet with anticipation, and the widest part of the dildo slipped in without any trouble. She clicked on the video, and it started streaming. 

The scenario started playing. Usually this particular site did not believe in too much setup, and usually got into the action quickly, but some of the anticipation and fun was in the way the scene was actually set up, how the girl got into the situation, and Swati found that really exciting. Part of it was also that she delayed the onset of orgasm by getting into the scene, and as everyone knew, the more delayed the orgasm was, the sweeter it turned out to be. Not all the time, of course, but enough that it was worth it. 

Slowly, lazily, she moved the dildo in and out, turning it a little, coating it in her juices getting it nice and ready for more furious action later. She gazed down at it in affection. She had bought it online, and had it delivered to her office address. Her home address would never do for several reasons, chief among which was that her son would intercept and open it.
The video played before her. 

Four men entered the spooky bungalow where the heroine was supposedly taking shelter from a poorly faked storm. The bungalow was supposedly haunted and the four men were ghosts, only the heroine did not know that. The men converged on her and the woman, a really busty and scantily clad blonde, screamed initially, but soon began to sigh as her clothes were roughly ripped from her. Her thin tee shirt went first and then her short skirt. 

Swati moved her left hand from the space bar to join her right, which was slowly pumping in and out of her inflamed cunt. She rubbed her fingers in the juices and then brought it to her nose. She sniffed deep. The odor of her own arousal was heady, musky and sweaty, it reminded her of a seashell she had found once. A conch. And what could be a more appropriate smell for something that even looked like a conch? She giggled at the analogy her mind had made.

One of the men, one of the two white guys, smacked the actress on her rounded rump repeatedly as it jiggled and started turning red. The Hispanic put a hand into her panties and started fingering her with rough movements. 

The third man, a black guy, got behind her and started mauling her still partially clad breasts, although with the minuscule bra, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. The fourth, another white guy, peeled off his clothes and started rubbing his erect cock on her body and inserted a couple of fingers into her mouth. She sucked greedily as though his hand was a cock. She made gagging noises.

Swati switched on her vibrator and sighed in time with the bimbo on screen, like a synchronized Olympic fuck team. She inserted it deep and the curvy, larger part began to stimulate her G spot. Simultaneously the clit stimulator started strumming her clitoris. A small moan escaped her lips. 

The actress was now down on her knees, sucking each of the now naked men in turn, a circle blow job. As she sucked each cock, the others fondled her tits, and fingered her pussy and ass as they reached individually and together between her widely spread thighs. Each man vied for her oral attentions as she slurped and sucked and gagged on the oversized members. 

Swati had read they used injections and drugs to stay erect for long periods. And, she had read that they used girls called fluffers. These were usually wannabe porn actresses, perhaps the ones with pimples on their asses, rendering them poorly photogenic, so their job was to suck the male actors to make sure they stayed ‘upright standing citizens.’ She giggled again at the pun she had made. She briefly thought about the life of a fluffer and how she might like that.

The circle blow job went on and on. Really, she thought, was this a new director? So many porn-stars started directing or producing when they’d reached their sell by date. Then the scene faded to black. 

Swati knew that big cocks like these men possessed existed only in porn, well, mostly she thought; she had no actual experience. She had fucked only one other man before Ashok, her husband, and neither of those encounters had been particularly thrilling. 

And then she had stumbled onto hardcore porn, with overtones of bondage and submission and become hooked from the first story she read. It was an easy hop skip and jump form stories to videos, but she had to be careful.

A new scene started. The actress was now in full suspension, one of her favorite scenarios. Her arms were bound behind her and her legs separately suspended from the ceiling, widely spread apart of course. Tight jute rope circled her thighs and arms. For the first few seconds of the new scene, she swung freely in her bonds. Swati almost missed the padded box right under her ass. 

Then the Hispanic guy got on the box and stuffed his cock into her ass. The blonde opened her mouth in a silent scream. Simulated of course, but Swati found it arousing anyway. The blonde’s breasts were bound too, and they stuck out like little round rockets. Silicone, of course, but Swati didn’t care. It looked sexy, raunchy, disgusting, and she loved it. Her own were real. She wondered how that would feel, having her tits bound and slapped. 

She reached behind her and pulled her zipper down and pulled her neckline forward. She snaked her left hand inside and started rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb. She gasped as the nipple engorged with blood and stood at attention like a Gurkha guard. 

On screen, the camera panned between the bimbo’s widely spread legs. A great visual of a cock stuffing her asshole and her cunt gaping slightly filled the screen. Swati stiffened slightly, anticipating the double penetration that was going to come. Any minute now. 

Instead of someone stepping forward and ramming their hard-on into pussy, the big muscular black guy walked around and grabbed her head. She turned like an infant seeking its mother’s breast, mouth open, eyes close. She knew what was coming. The black guy thrust his soft-on into her mouth without ceremony.

“Suck that bitch, suck it,” he said.

A third man in the background said, “Tell us what you are, you filthy whore!”

In answer, the bimbo groaned, moaned and gagged as the black guy pushed deeper into her mouth and the hispanic below her thrust upward into her ass. Her inner labia flapped with the jerky motion. 

Swati thought that particular scene was pretty good. The woman’s cunt had a loose look, like she’s been fucked a lot. The inner lips poked out, loose and flappy, looking like the wattle on a rooster. Clearly she hadn’t undergone a labio-plasty like many others in the industry. 

The black guy started slapping her face with slow, deliberate wristy movements even as she sucked him with increasing enthusiasm. She made small muffled screams, moans, groans. 

The black guy said, “Filthy cunt, dirty whore, worthless slut,” over and over like it was a mantra. The bimbo was loving it as she writhed on two cocks, one in her ass, one in her mouth.

Then the white guy stepped forward and started slapping her pussy with a device that looked like a flap of leather stuck at the end of a short stick. Swati had recently found out that it was called a flogger. With every stroke on her cunt, the blonde writhed and moved her hips. Swati wasn’t sure if she was trying to get away from the blows on her pussy or toward it. The white guy slowly masturbated himself with his free hand, keeping himself erect. 

The scene shifted again, and this time the bimbo was air tight. Both her nether holes were stuffed tight with cock. Her glistening flesh was stretched out like a tight rubber gasket around them. Her head was turned to one side, and the black guy was ramming her mouth without mercy, using her face like a cunt.

The fourth guy, the other white guy now stepped forward from the shadows where he had presumably been getting CPR from the fluffer, and started aggressively assaulting the blonde’s tits. He pulled her nipples away from her body as though he were trying to pull them off. 

Swati’s hands started moving with greater rapidity. It might have been an illusion since the vibrator had only one speed, but the vibrations seemed to speed up as well. Her left hand tweaked her nipples, back and forth, cupping, squeezing and kneading ferociously. She was close now.

The white guy kept slapping at the bimbo’s thighs, left, right, now left again, and repeating, “Tell us what you are, you filthy slut, tell us what you are!” Simultaneously, he pumped her cunt as deep as the shot would allow and still present good visuals. Swati giggled. The guy was a true multi-tasker. Maybe she could use him on her team.

The slut on screen wiggled her head from side to side as though trying to answer him, but the cock in her mouth would not let her move very far. Was she trying to answer the repeated questions or was she trying to get away or what? Swati didn’t care. The scene was uber raunchy. 

The black cock pulled out of her mouth, and she gasped, “I’m a filthy whore, I’m a filthy slut! Fuck my holes, I’m a filthy slut!”

Swati’s moans had become more regular, almost keeping time with the white guy banging the blonde whore’s cunt. 
The blonde screamed, “More cock! More cock!”

The guys started spanking her ass, tits, thighs, anyplace they could lay their hands on and the bimbo writhed in ecstasy as though she were loving the treatment. The black guy slapped her face back and forth, holding his enormous member with one hand.

Swati was lost in lust. Her mouth hung open as she furiously worked the vibrator into her cunt. 

“Filthy fuck slut!” The black guy replaced the white guy between her open thighs and pushed in deep. His member was larger than the white guy’s and the whore opened her mouth and cried out. Incredibly, her hips started bucking like a horse trying to throw its rider off. She almost succeeded in dislodging the cocks in her. The guy in her cunt stepped back. 

The camera zoomed into her pussy which was now twitching rhythmically as though it was being electrocuted.

Swati’s own orgasm swelled out like a firecracker from her clit. Waves of ecstasy rippled through her pelvis. She jammed the vibrator deep inside and started to come like she hadn’t for a very long time. A thin wail rose from her throat, rising to a crescendo as she stiffened, her entire body spasming around her center. 

The lock to her office door made a loud click, and the door started to swing open.

[Dorabooji]

Wow great start

[Ragasiyananban]

Interesting, she is going to be fucked by someone in her office.

[S Darko]

Chapter 2

Swati reacted like a flash. Her right hand dropped the dildo, rose and hit the space bar, freezing the on-screen action. Her orgasm abruptly went from a hundred to zero in a nanosecond, way faster than a Porsche in reverse. 


Only then did she look up toward the door to see who was coming in. 

A large, dark man in some sort of uniform was backing into the door, pushing it open against the articulated automatic door-closer with his ass. He was lugging something heavy into the room.

It was the cleaner. Damn! How had she forgotten. The cleaners were supposed to come in after hours to take out the trash, vacuum the carpet, wax the vinyl floors, do general housekeeping, and she had completely forgotten about them. Damn, and double damn! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She looked down and quickly took stock of the situation. She was half naked, sitting on the chair, although ‘sitting’ was probably an overstatement. Her naked ass was hanging off the seat in front, wet and gaping pussy fully exposed, and her head was resting halfway down the backrest. In her excitement, she had almost fallen off the chair. 

The good news was that her entire naked lower half was hidden behind the large panel that covered the generous knee-hole of her desk. The knee-hole was flanked on both sides by built-in drawers and file cabinets. So even if he came as far as her side, she was well concealed. That is if she pulled her chair into the knee-hole as far as it would go.

She sat up gradually, anxious that a sudden movement would catch his attention, her eyes glued to the guy advancing into the room. She flipped the front of her kameez down to preserve some of her modesty. Something was better than nothing, she thought irrelevantly. 

She saw what he was pulling in. It was a large black cart with cleaning supplies. She heard some sloshing and saw the bucket with dirty water in it and a mop sticking out the top. And a canister type thing with an electric cord and a hosepipe. She wasn’t sure what exactly it was, and didn’t give a shit. All she wanted was him gone. 

“Hello bhaiya!”

There was no reply. The guy continued to back into the room lugging his stuff.

It was then that she noticed the earbuds sticking out from his ears. A black wire stuck out from each ear and disappeared into his the pocket of his overall. The guy was listening to music. Or something. She could hear the tinny beats from ten feet away.

“Hellooooo!” she said again, louder this time. And then one more time, louder still. 

The man was now closer, with his large cart that she noticed now had a dome shaped roll-top. She also saw that what she had taken for a large man was actually closer to an average guy, all a trick of the perspective. Sitting up had made a big difference.  The man nodded along to what was almost certainly the trashy Hindi film music. Probably one of those “item numbers” that played incessantly on the music stations, both on radio and TV. 

Finally, the man turned, and did a double take when he saw her. 

By this time Swati was getting a little frustrated, having squeezed herself into the knee-hole as much as she could, and her tits were sitting on the keyboard of her laptop. Unconfined by her bra, and the pressure of the hard surface beneath, they were bulging up and partially out from the low top of her Kameez. 

She was, however, not aware of this, her heart beating wildly with the fear of discovery and possible consequences this might bring. Getting fired from her job was one thing that was uppermost in her mind. She was also getting a little angry at the clueless guy that was now looking at her, mouth agape, doubtless his tiny brain hadn’t yet processed that there was someone in the office and that he should leave forthwith.

“What are you staring at?” she said, her voice a little shriller than usual.

His mouth opened to say something, but nothing came. He gaped at her. 

She could see the pimples on his face, a faint mustache, the beginnings of a beard. He probably shaved once a month if that. His dark complexion and narrow build suggested malnutrition during childhood, but lately he had put on a little meat on his bones, as suggested by the slight stretch in the middle of his shirt. How could she have thought he was large?

She was acutely aware of her clothes in a pile by her desk. She knew the hot pink dildo was there as well, somewhere, and she hoped it was under the desk, and not out in the open. Even if it was, perhaps it wasn’t obvious what it was. Then she thought of its shape and size and knew that was hopeless. And of course, the color. She couldn’t even think of looking down to make sure it was out of sight or not. Her gaze would draw his and the game would be up.

But then, the overhead lights had been dimmed as far as they would go, probably accounting for why the guy hadn't noticed someone was inside. She relaxed a bit. He probably couldn’t see much detail in the room because of the low lighting. 

And then somehow, from somewhere, the idea came in her mind to tease the guy a little. Perhaps give him a little thrill, a little excitement in his mundane day of cleaning and vacuuming. It might have been the situation, the look of the guy, she didn't know what it was exactly but she decided to act on it. 

The guy in the meantime had recovered enough to pull the earbuds from his ears. The faint music now came from the buds that dangled by his waist. His mouth was still agape.

Swati pushed back slightly from the desk, just enough that her boobs dropped down to a more normal position on her chest. She was acutely aware of each small movement as she moved the inch or two. The sag of her boobs on her chest as she moved back, the minuscule movement of her thighs as she pushed away from the carpeted floor, the slight relaxation of her shoulders, she was hyperaware of each of them. It was almost like she were hovering near the ceiling and watching herself play out this little drama with the poor boy from the village.

She took a breath and deliberately looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor. Almost like in a comedy movie where the actor is deliberately trying to draw attention to something. And like a magnet, his eyes followed. Time stood still.

After what seemed a full five minutes, during which time they both stared at the clothes and the hot pink dildo on the carpeted floor—yes the dildo hadn’t rolled under the deck; it was sitting in one of the D cups of her discarded bra. While the dildo might still be mistaken for something else—after all the guy seemed to be an unsophisticated kid just off the bus, so to speak, the bra wasn’t something that could be mistaken for anything other than what it was. 

They looked at each other now, the boy’s face taking on an expression closer to understanding and hers a little more knowing, a little smile perched at the corner of her lips. 
“What’s your name?” she said, adding a little teeth to the smile.

His mouth opened again and after a pause, he said, “Ma’am, Ramesh ma’am.”

She moved her hands and inadvertently hit the space bar. The on-screen action started up again. The blonde was still in mid orgasm and her orgasmic wail resumed. Swati hooked down and hurriedly hit the space bar again and the action stopped. This time she slammed the lid of the laptop down so the accident wouldn’t happen again. 

Heart pounding, she raised her eyes to the guy…Ramesh, to see if he had understood anything. She also realized that her actions had moved her away from the desk a few more inches, and from his vantage, he could probably see some of her naked thighs. Fuck! 

But she decided to brazen it out anyway. She had no idea what, if anything he had understood. For all she knew, he might have decided she was changing her pad or some such thing. Yeah, right, you need to take off your bra as well to change pads, her inner voice said.

“Ramesh,” she said, as sweetly as she could. It was a huge contrast after her initial few words when she had been scared, shocked, and even a little outraged. “Can you come back in a few minutes? I’m almost done with my work here.”

Ramesh nodded vigorously and wordlessly and backed out. The office door clicked shut and Swati breathed out a sigh of relief.

She felt a cold wetness under her buttocks. She had been on the verge of orgasm when the guy had entered, but it had been, in a manner of speaking, aborted at the very last nanosecond. Also, she didn’t usually discharge so much fluid when she did come, even during her solo masturbatory fantasies. It was helpful to keep everything nice and tidy. Have quick orgasm, wipe once with a tissue and pull up her panties and she was done. 

Usually. 

This looked like a three, maybe four tissue job. How? What?

The urge was now gone. She exited her browser, unhooked the computer from power and got dressed again. 

This time she took off her kameez and for a few moments was stark naked in her office. The deliciousness of the danger made her skin prickle as she wondered if Ramesh might come back and catch her fully naked. 

She put on her bra, panties and finished dressing. Picked up her bag with the laptop stowed inside and left the office. 

[Ananthukutty]

Amazing one

[S Darko]

As Swati exited the Gateway building in DLF cybercity, she thought about the brief encounter in the office. She absently waved to the middle aged man in uniform who saluted her from his glass kiosk at the garage exit and drove out into the night. 

Soon she would be home, and Dhruv and Ashok would be home, waiting for her, watching TV or playing something on the Xbox or whatever it was they called the game consoles these days. She wondered what Parvati, he live in maid might have made for dinner.


“Mummy!” Dhruv ran to her as soon as she opened the door and stepped inside the threshold. 

Swati bent and hugged her five-year-old son as tight as she could while he planted sloppy kisses on her cheeks. She set her purse down and picked him up.

“Oof,” she said, “you’re getting so big!” 

Dhruv giggled, and they proceeded into the sitting room where Ashok was lounging on his recliner with a bottle of beer. 

“Hey!” he called. “Worked late huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, “deadline…product launch.”

Ashok nodded and turned back to the television. Some kind of cricket match was on, probably one of those short three-hour versions with international players and millions of rupees in the balance. Also, probably one of those games where people bet their life savings and more likely than not, lost them. 

She threw Ashok a sour look and stalked off to the kitchen to inspect the food Parvati had prepared and left. 

Ashok's lifestyle was enviable. He was the marketing head for a tractor company, recently promoted to VP and he didn’t have to hustle as much anymore. He just rode a bunch of managers and salesmen under him. Every month, he went off for a week, sometimes ten days, to talk to clients, fire up the troops and so on, but otherwise, he was an excel jockey and meeting maven. 

Long liquid lunches, she supposed from his increasing girth even though he wasn’t thirty-five yet, and…could he be sleeping around as well? The thought didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would. Or should. 

Dinner was with Dhruv at the table and Ashok still in front of the TV, so it was mostly kid talk. How had Dhruv’s day gone, what did his friend Shyam say, what happened to that toy and so on. 

Dinner concluded, she gave Dhruv his bath and put him to bed. 

The cricket match was still going on. It must’ve been in the last stages because the excitement was huge. Ashok was sitting at the edge of his seat instead of lounging in it. Three more beer bottles lay by his side. Swati sighed and went to change.

As she removed her bra in front of the mirror in the bathroom, she rolled her shoulders and grunted with the mild relief the movement afforded. The action stretched her spine and also thrust her tits out like some pole dancer in a night club. Her back hurt just like they had ever since Dhruv. Her already large breasts had grown even more and the extra weight pulled on her spine. 

She supposed some yoga exercise or stretch would help and she made a mental note to check it out on google later. Her waist was still slim, although her stomach stuck out ever so slightly. The extra weight had mostly gone to her boobs and hips and her naked boobs went one way and then the other, slapping each other in the process. She tried a little wiggle. Yeah, she was still hot. 

As she lay in bed, images from earlier in the day came back to her. Ramesh standing in front of her, his mouth agape. It was fun teasing him. She decided the thrill of being half naked in front of the help had made her lubricate more profusely than anything she had experienced before, even the most explicit porn. 

She closed her eyes and focused on her sensory feelings during that short interaction. She savored the moments she had prolonged the episode by asking his name. She could have asked where he was from too, she guessed and lengthened the conversation further, adding to the thrill. Ah well. 

Ashok was still watching TV. She wasn’t sure if the damn game was over or if he was watching something else now. Sometimes she wondered if he deliberately didn’t come to bed to avoid her. Even if he did come to bed, he would likely be too drunk to do anything. In any case, even when not drunk, he rarely started anything, and on the occasions she initiated sex, he would make some excuse and beg off. 

Last weekend, with Sunday gloriously empty in front of them, she had reached out to him even though he had come to bed late, almost an hour after she had retired. He hadn’t responded and stayed soft. She tried with her fingers, then guided his hand to her boobs and made some fake moans to excite him, but nothing happened. 

Finally Ashok said, “I’m tired babes, let’s just sleep.” No offer to cuddle, something she would have settle for, or even talk a bit. Nothing specific, just some chatter to fill the space and increase intimacy. But that too was not to be.
 
Their frequency of sex had gone from a few times a week to perhaps once a month. Soon, it would be birthdays and anniversaries only, she thought, and then…well, she didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

Her mind returned to the office. 

Dark but with enough light to see by, especially if one adjusted to them. 

Ramesh stood there with his cart gaping at her, his stupid earbuds hanging from his belt. And she stood there in front of him, bottomless, no dupatta and her unfettered tits straining against the thin material of her kurta. 

Wait, what? That hadn’t happened! Her tired mind, in the twilight before sleep was making up stuff. But still, it would have been fun to give him a little more of a show than the tantalizing glimpse of naked thigh, the big boobs squashed on the keyboard of the laptop. Hmm. Maybe something to think of.

Still savoring the little episode with Ramesh, she drifted off to sleep.

[xbiilove]

sex starved wife ... time for opening the legs to other men. .. super narration

[Hotyyhard]

WOW Amazing start

[Rocky Rakesh]

Start of new adventure for swati

[fuckandforget]

Fantastic. Will Ramesh make frequent visit and fuck swati in her marital bed.

[Sanjjay Rangasamy]

Waiting to see how she turns whore of office.

[S Darko]

Ramesh had the weekend off and as usual, he and Prakash, one of his roommates, decided to get some beer and relax. They had the large bottle of kingfisher set up between them, and were drinking from glasses—small glasses that originally contained tea from the little stall down the lane. 


They made small talk for a while and then Prakash said, “How’s that gori memsaab of yours?”

Ramesh colored and mumbled. He wasn’t drunk enough yet to talk about her. 

He had become friends with Prakash after he had reached the big city. The latter had invited him to share his room that he already shared with Nawaz, another boy from a neighboring village. 

In a previous drunken conversation, after the first time, he had told Prakash how he had seen the gori memsaab in a state of partial undress and how her clothes on the floor, especially the bra, had provoked many nights of cot-shaking masturbatory sessions. 

Before then, he had almost never seen anyone in the office at the time he went in after his daytime job at the Raj Hotel where he worked as  a porter. 

The evening hours were solitary, the offices were usually clean, and didn’t take a lot of effort, and the garbage that had to be collected and disposed of was usually paper which he had to take to the second basement under the building. Besides, it was only a few days a week, one of which was usually a Saturday or Sunday. 

It was therefore quite a shock to him to see a beautiful woman in one of the offices that late in the evening.

“She was so bitchy initially, you know, like a pagal kutti,” Ramesh said, “but then, something happened, something changed in her face."

"She asked my name."

"She smiled at me, Prakash bhai, and oh my god! She had these dimples!” He demonstrated by poking his own stubbled cheeks with his index fingers, “I lost my heart to her that very second.”

“Be careful,” Prakash said with a gravity and wisdom he didn’t possess, “she’s married, and besides, she’s way, way above your league, boy!” 

Prakash was of an age with Ramesh but exuded an air of sophistication and worldly-wiseness. The truth was he had been in the city quite a bit longer than Ramesh and unlike Ramesh had a good idea of what went on in the elevated circles. He and Nawaz had made the rounds of the red-light districts, both in Gurugram and in Delhi and knew a thing or two.

Ramesh had acknowledged the truth in Prakash’s words, but he was smitten. He held his hands out, cupped as though holding large bowls. “Man those boobs!”

There was silence as the two men contemplated the possibilities that presented themselves with an apparently willing if not eager upper class memsaab. 

“I still don’t know what that gulabi thing was,” he said, slurring his words and showing with his hands how large the thing was and the rough shape. 

“Might have been some kind of pen? Computer thing?” Prakash was equally clueless.  He had a similar educational background, class eight pass, although the two men were from different villages in the heartland, but he had an idea about how he might go about finding out what the object was.

“Torch?” said Ramesh, suddenly inspired. “It was dark in there and maybe that’s why…” he trailed off realizing that was a foolish thing to say because there hadn’t been a power failure. No one would use a torch these days if the power was still on. 

He sighed and said, “but her boobs were out of this world, man.” He cupped his hands in front of his chest, then readjusted the cups to be larger, then larger still. In his imagination, Swati’s breasts had grown larger and larger, her face more beautiful and her skin tone whiter. 

Many things had happened in the month or so after that conversation, and now Ramesh looked thoughtfully at Prakash, assessing how much he should tell. There had been developments for sure. And what developments they had been! He could never have imagined such things, even the stuff in the cheap Hindi paperbacks with lurid covers at the bus-station were nothing compared to that.

He decided to give an abbreviated version of the events that had transpired. 

“It was the week after, same day that I’d seen the light under her door. I initially decided to skip her office, but then something made me knock on the door. I didn’t want to surprise her like last time.” 

Prakash nodded with understanding. The power of lust on a young twenty year old was too difficult to overcome. Even if someone had threatened him with job loss, he might have still knocked. Hell, even if they’d threatened to kill him. Prakash had never seen the memsaab, but he would have done the same.

“I heard ‘Come in,’ and so I opened the door—it wasn’t locked like last time—and stuck my head in. By God! The scene was same to same, man! The only thing different was the color of the clothes on the floor.” 

“And the gulabi torch thing?” 

Ramesh shook his head. The pink object he had seen on his previous visit was nowhere in sight. 

“She gazed at me like she wanted something, like I was supposed to do something, so I remembered I was supposed to take out the trash, so I opened the door wider and stepped in, pulling my cart in behind.”

“Then?"

Ramesh took a swig of his drink and motioned Prakash to wait, not to rush him. The story was going well, and he was in no mood now to rush it.

“She said, ‘Oh, Ramesh,’ with another smile that made my heart go crazy, ‘I was almost done. Leaving actually. Come on in.’ 

Ramesh made pumping movements in front of his chest to indicate how fast his heart was going. If Prakash noticed any similarity with his mime of Swati’s breasts and this movement, he didn’t comment on it. 

“She spoke in Hindi or English?” Prakash was a stickler for details. 

Ramesh closed one eye and looked up at the ceiling fan, trying to think. Finally he said, “Hindi I think. But maybe some English word or two.”

Prakash grunted and motioned Ramesh to go on.
 
“Then she pushed back from her chair and I could see her malai-makhan legs completely naked…completely naked! under her kameez which had bunched up from sitting in the chair. As she stood, the garment slowly unfolded and fell to her knees, but not before I got an eyeful of her legs. Those rounded calves, the sexy looking shoes she had on, I was in heaven.”

“Wait!” Prakash almost choked on his drink as he frantically signaled Ramesh. He coughed, snorted, sneezed, and then recovered. 

“Sorry, I just wanted you to tell me again what she looks like. How tall, and how long hair and so on.”

Ramesh sighed. He hated interrupting his narrative, but they were both unmarried, and what was this conversation but for titillation? 

“She’s average height, about five-two, maybe five three, and has hair upto here.” He indicated the small of his back, just short of the waist.

“Heh,” Prakash chuckled. “Good to grab, you know, when doing it from behind. Like a horse?”

Ramesh ignored his uncouth friend, but then chuckled and agreed. “Yeah, that would be good. Anyhow, she’s fair, not like Kartina Kaif, but fair, like a *****, you know, very fair. Very nice skin, no pimples or anything.” He was embellishing somewhat because he really didn’t know all the details, but he went on anyway. 

“She’s slim,” and here he mimed an hourglass with his hands, “and her stomach is flat but with just a little bit of charbi, you know, just something to hold on to…and very very nice and broad ass.” He used the Hindi terms for all the anatomical details. 

“And did I tell you about the boobs yet?” Ramesh raised his eyebrows and made cups of his hands in front of his chest, the fingers spread as wide as they would go, cups that might contain a medium size melon each. 

Prakash put a hand to his heart and sighed theatrically. “Haai! Haai! I’m going to just die! Carry on with the story man.”

[vishuvanathan]

Awesome. Swati has now two new dicks waiting to penetrate and show heaven. These two low class men are gonna make her their slave. Add some bdsm.

[Chitrarassu]

Superbbb

[Vishal Ramana]

Awesome bro

[Joseph Rayman]

Very good

[Nesamanikumar]

hot one

[S Darko]

Ramesh continued his story after a quick handful of peanuts that he chewed noisily and with gusto. The evening was turning out quite enjoyable.


“I walked toward her and stopped at the dustbin on the floor next to the desk. 

She turned her back to me and bent slowly…and picked up something from the pile of clothes. 

She stretched it out as though showing me what it was, a lacy, gauzy piece of clothing that I had a hard time understanding what it was. 

Then I got it! 

Panties! Panties like that? It was like not even enough material for a handkerchief.” 

Ramesh pulled out his grubby one from his pocket to demonstrate. 

“Not even half of this and so thin! I have seen dupattas that are thicker. You could see all through it. I could see her fingers, her whole hand!” 

Ramesh had been actually clueless at the time. It was only with later reflection that he had realized what it must’ve been, but he didn’t want to tell Prakash that. 

“She bent and stepped into them, one foot at a time. She did it slowly, it seemed, not at all like we do it—you know, take bath, pull it on quickly—but she did it slowly so sexy man! I could see the bottom of her ass and the darkness between as she pulled the garment all the way up and the kameez dropped down like a curtain. The kameez was slit high and I could see tantalizing glimpses of her waist as the garment swished open and closed with her movements.” 

“She repeated the performance with the salwar and again, I got a great look at her now translucent red lace-encased butt and naked upper thighs.”

Prakash sighed and put a palm over his heart once again. Ramesh giggled. He was clearly the senior partner in this situation, even though Prakash may have had overall more sexual experience.

“Nangi! When she started, she only had that thin kameez on, bhai! I’m telling you, it was nothing more than a wet dream!”

“Then what happened?” Prakash poured them the last of the rum and added in some tap water. Soda was too expensive.
 
“The there was only one thing left."

"She hesitated when she came to it on the floor, she was bent over, her ass sticking out at me, man, and what an ass it is. Then she made a small sound that sounded like a cry, a cough maybe. 

And she started shaking like she was laughing or maybe crying. 

I was standing like a rock and had no idea if I was supposed to go and help her or not. But the moment passed. After a few seconds, she just picked it up and shoved the bra into her purse. She dropped in her laptop and turned to me with a huge smile. ‘Goodbye Ramesh,’ she said.”

“In English?”

“Yeah, English this time,” Ramesh said.

“And the chunni? The dupatta?” Prakash wanted to know.

Ramesh had to think a little. Where had it been? Had it been on the chair? Draped over the back go it or had it been on the hook behind the door? Or had it been on the floor all along?

“On the chair I think. She picked it up last. Just as she turned for the door.”

Prakash sighed once more. His whole contribution seemed to have been sighs and moans all evening. The drinks were almost over. 

“But wait,” Ramesh said like a salesman on late night TV.  “There’s more. She was almost at the door with me still standing like a fool with the dustbin in my hand when she stopped and said, ‘see you tomorrow then?’”

Prakash roared with laughter and slapped his thigh. “See you tomorrow! See you tomorrow! My God Ramu, it wasn’t even your day! So, what did you say?”

Ramesh grinned crookedly. “What could I say? I’m not a chutiya that I would pass this up! I just nodded.” 

He had actually nodded like a dumb animal, not like the hero he was portraying himself to be in front of his friend, but that was okay. It was his day off, but he was damned if he would miss the opportunity. 

Prakash crammed a fistful of peanuts into his mouth and spoke indistinctly, but with great excitement. He was leaning forward, his hands on his thighs, his eyes shining. 

Clearly he hadn’t anticipated this turn of events. “Then what happened? It’s been a month at least since then, don’t tell me nothing happened! Give me something yaar!”

And what could Ramesh do but oblige? But first, of course, more booze had to be bought. This wasn’t something one did dry.

[Ajay Kailash]

Good oen

[Losliyafan]

Double bonanza waiting for swati