Rahul weds Anjali : Next morning, Rahul needs more women.

[ashuezy2]

This is a drama series between Rahul and Anjali who recently got married. 
Rahul has a very high libido and Anjali can't make him happy. So both parents get involved where Anjali's mom decides to have sex with Rahul.

Story Build up - Scene 1 to Scene 5
Erotica starts from - Scene 6

==============================================

Scene 1: The Honeymoon Ultimatum

Setting: Hotel Room 401. A luxurious but standard honeymoon suite. A king-sized bed is neatly made, sprinkled with red rose petals. A bottle of champagne sweats in an ice bucket on a small table. Anjali, stunning in a red silk sari, sits on the edge of the bed. Rahul stands before her, already having changed into a comfortable shirt and trousers.

---

Rahul: Anjali, listen. We need to talk.
Anjali: Yes, Rahul? Is everything okay?

Rahul: (He takes a breath and drops the bombshell)
I need  with more women. I have a big libido, I need a new woman daily.

Anjali: (Her smile vanishes. Her face turns pale with shock. She thinks she must have heard him wrong) 
What? What... what kind of joke is this, Rahul? It's our wedding night.

Rahul: (He shakes his head, his expression unchanging. He gestures towards his crotch with a slight, almost imperceptible nod)
This isn't a joke. I'm serious. I have a 9-inch penis and my hunger is immense. You alone won't be enough. It's not your fault, it's just the truth.

Anjali stares at him, her eyes welling up with tears. She wraps her arms around herself, a futile attempt to shield herself from his words. The room, which felt so full of promise moments ago, now feels like a cold, sterile cage.

Anjali: (Her voice is a broken whisper)
Then... then why did you marry me?

Rahul: (He sits down next to her, but doesn't touch her. He keeps a deliberate distance)
Because I wanted a wife, Anjali. A life partner. But my physical needs are different. I just want you to accept this. Let it go. We can still be together, build a good life.

Anjali: (A single tear rolls down her cheek. She feels a wave of inadequacy wash over her. She looks at her husband, a man who is now a complete stranger)
Just accept it? That my husband will sleep with someone else every day?

Rahul: (He finally looks at her with a flicker of something... maybe not sympathy, but understanding)
Yes. And maybe... maybe you'll want to explore too. Once you see this as freedom, everything will become easier.

He stands up and walks towards the window, looking out at the city lights, leaving a shattered Anjali on the bed behind him. The unspoken message is clear: the discussion is over, and she is expected to comply.

---

Anjali, with trembling fingers, unlocks her phone. Her thumb hovers over her mother's contact for a second before she presses it. She pulls the phone to her ear, tears already streaming down her face.

Anjali: (sobbing into the phone as soon as her mother picks up) "Mummy..."

Mrs. Sharma (Poonam): (Her voice is warm and cheerful on the other end, expecting a happy call) Anjali, dear! So late? Is everything okay? We were just talking about you.

Anjali: (Her voice cracks) Mummy... he... Rahul...
Seeing Anjali on the phone, a hard look crosses Rahul's face. He pulls out his own phone and calmly dials his father. He's not going to be caught off guard. He needs to control the narrative.

Rahul: (His voice is low and steady, a stark contrast to Anjali's sobbing) "Dad. It's me."
Mr. Ahuja (Vikram): (His voice is gruff, business-like) "Rahul? Is everything alright? Why are you calling at this hour?"

The scene now splits, with two frantic conversations happening at once in the same charged space.

Anjali's Call
Mrs. Sharma: "Rahul? What did Rahul do? Dear, what happened to your voice? Why are you crying?"
Anjali: (incoherent with sobs) "He said... he... he needs other women... daily... I'm... I'm not enough..."
Mr. Sharma (Sunil): (His voice, now on speakerphone, is booming and angry) "What nonsense! Give the phone to that boy right now! How dare he!"
Anjali: "Papa... please come here... please..."
Mr. Sharma: "We are coming right now. Don't worry. Stay in your room and lock the door."

===

Rahul's Call
Rahul: "There's a situation here. A small problem has occurred."
Mr. Ahuja: "Problem? What problem? Did you two have a fight already?"
Rahul: "It's about my... needs. You know how I am. Anjali is a bit traditional. She's not taking it well. She's crying and calling her parents. It's becoming a scene."
Mrs. Ahuja (Reena): (Her sharp voice cuts in from the background of Rahul's call) "Tell him to handle it! What will the Sharmas think? It's the first night!"
Mr. Ahuja: "Okay, listen. We're coming over. Don't say anything more. We'll handle the Sharmas. Just... manage your wife until we get there.

===

Both calls end almost simultaneously. Anjali drops her phone onto her lap, looking utterly drained. Rahul slips his phone back into his pocket, his jaw tight. He turns from the window to face her, his expression cold and unreadable.

Rahul: "They're coming. My parents."
Anjali: (looking up, her eyes red and swollen) "Mine too."

The silence in the room is deafening. The honeymoon is officially over. The family war is about to begin.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 2: The Showdown in Room 401

Setting: The hallway outside Room 401 is silent for a moment, then two sets of hurried footsteps converge. The Sharmas, looking frantic and angry, and the Ahujas, looking annoyed and stern, arrive at the door at the same time. T

---

Inside, Rahul sighs, and without a word to Anjali, walks to the door and opens it. He stands there, calm and composed, facing the four furious and worried faces of his new extended family.

Mr. Sharma (Sunil): He doesn't wait for an invitation. He pushes past Rahul, his face red with fury. He searches the room, sees Anjali huddled in the chair, and his rage finds its target. "Teri himmat kaise hui, Rahul? What did you do to my daughter? Look at her!" How dare you, Rahul?

Mrs. Sharma (Poonam): She ignores everyone else and rushes straight to Anjali, enveloping her in a hug. The two women begin to cry together, a heartbreaking sound in the tense room. "Meri bacchi... chup ho jaa... main aa gayi hoon." My child... don't cry... I am here now.

Mr. Ahuja (Vikram): He steps inside, followed by his wife, and closes the door firmly. His voice is a low growl, meant to control the situation. "Sunil-ji, please. Aawaz neeche. Let's not create a scene for the whole hotel to enjoy. We are respectable families." Sunil-ji, please. Lower your voice.

Mrs. Ahuja (Reena): She doesn't even look at Anjali. Her eyes are on Rahul, and she gives him a look that's part concern, part "I-told-you-this-would-happen." 

Mr. Sharma: He spins around to face Rahul, jabbing a finger in his direction. His voice is shaking with rage. "I'm not interested in being quiet! I want to know what you said to my daughter on her wedding night to make her cry like this. Jawab do!" Answer me!
All eyes turn to Rahul. He hasn't moved. He meets his father-in-law's gaze without flinching. His calmness is more infuriating than any defense would be.

Rahul: His voice is even, factual, and devoid of emotion. "Maine Anjali ko sirf sach bataya hai. It is better to be honest from day one." I only told Anjali the truth.

Mr. Sharma: "Sach? What truth? Ki tum ek badtameez, behaya insaan ho?" Truth? What truth? That you are a disrespectful, shameless person?

Rahul: "No. The truth about my physical needs. Jo Anjali akeli poori nahi kar sakti. Maine usse shaadi se pehle hi bata dena behtar samjha." No. The truth about my physical needs. Which Anjali cannot fulfill alone. I thought it was better to tell her right after the wedding, not before.

A shocked silence hangs in the air for a second, so thick it's suffocating. Mr. Sharma looks like he might physically strike Rahul. Mrs. Ahuja sighs dramatically, while Mr. Ahuja simply rubs his temples, looking at this not as a moral crisis, but as a negotiation that just got very, very messy.

Mr. Ahuja: "Son, perhaps your timing was... inappropriate."
Mrs. Ahuja: "He is a man with... a strong nature, Sunil-ji. Some women find that difficult to understand."

That last comment from Reena Ahuja slices through the room, a direct insult to Anjali. The battle lines aren't just drawn anymore; the first shots have been fired.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 3: The Undeniable Truth

Setting: The crowded, suffocating atmosphere of Room 401. The argument is at a fever pitch. Mr. Sharma is red-faced, Mrs. Ahuja is dripping disdain, and Anjali is a ghost. The air is electric.

---

Mr. Sharma: "Strong nature"? You call this shamelessness a strong nature? My daughter will not stay with this... this animal for one more second!

Rahul: He lets out a short, sharp laugh. It's not a laugh of mirth, but of pure frustration. He looks around at the five other people in the room, his eyes lingering on his father-in-law's furious face. "You don't get it. None of you get it. You think this is a choice I'm making?"

Mr. Ahuja: "Rahul, bas! Not another word!" Rahul, enough!
Rahul: "No. Words are not working. You want to see the truth? You want to understand the problem? Fine."

Before anyone can react, Rahul reaches down. With two swift movements, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers. There's a collective gasp in the room. Anjali, seeing what's about to happen, lets out a choked sob and buries her face in her mother's shoulder.

Mrs. Sharma: "Hey Bhagwan! Besharam!" Oh my God! Shameless!

Rahul ignores them all. He pushes his trousers down slightly and reaches inside his boxers. He pulls out his penis, which is already thick and semi-erect from the adrenaline of the confrontation. He holds his massive, 9-inch cock in his hand, presenting it to the room like a piece of evidence in a trial.
It hangs in the air, a shocking, undeniable physical fact. The room falls into a dead, stunned silence.

Rahul: His voice is low, intense, and deadly serious. He gestures with his free hand towards his exposed penis. "Dekho. Look at this. This is me. This doesn't change. My body, my needs... they are what they are. I cannot change this any more than I can change the color of my eyes. I have a very high libido."
He looks directly at Mr. Sharma, whose face has gone from red with rage to pale with shock and fury.

Rahul: "Now do you understand? Can she handle this every single day? Be honest."
The silence is shattered by Mr. Sharma letting out an incoherent roar. He lunges forward, aiming to strike Rahul, but Mr. Ahuja, reacting instantly, grabs him by the arms.

Mr. Ahuja: "Mr. Sharma! Pagal ho gaye ho kya! Control yourself!" Have you gone mad!

Mrs. Ahuja: She has taken a step back, her face a mask of pure disgust, though her eyes are clinically assessing the scene. "Rahul, for God's sake, put that vulgar thing away! Have you no decency?"

Rahul looks down at his cock, then back at the chaos he has created. A small, cold smile touches his lips. He has made his point. Slowly, deliberately, he tucks himself back into his pants and zips them up. The damage, however, is done. The room will never recover from the sight of his undeniable, unapologetic truth.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 4: The Cold Negotiation

Setting: The same room. The air is thick. Mr. Sharma has been released by Mr. Ahuja and has stumbled back, looking winded and ten years older. Rahul is leaning casually against the far wall, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with an unnerving detachment. He has zipped his pants back up.

---

The silence stretches for a full ten seconds, punctuated only by Mrs. Sharma's quiet, hiccuping sobs as she strokes Anjali's hair.

Mr. Ahuja smooths down his polo shirt, takes a deep breath, and assumes the role of chairman of this disastrous meeting. He looks directly at a defeated Mr. Sharma.

Mr. Ahuja: "Ab kya karna hai?" What is to be done now?

Mr. Sharma: He looks up, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a despair that has replaced his anger. "Karna hai? Tum mujhse pooch rahe ho karna kya hai? Tumhare bete ne meri beti ki zindagi shuru hone se pehle hi barbad kar di, aur tum pooch rahe ho karna kya hai?"
To be done? You're asking me what is to be done? Your son has destroyed my daughter's life before it even began, and you're asking what is to be done?

Mrs. Sharma: She stands up, pulling a dazed Anjali with her. Her voice is fierce with a mother's protective instinct. "Hum Anjali ko apne saath ghar le jaa rahe hain. Yahan ek pal aur nahi."
We are taking Anjali home with us. Not one more moment here.

For the first time, Anjali lifts her head. Her makeup is ruined, her face is pale and puffy, but a tiny spark of defiance glows in her eyes. She looks at her father.

Anjali: Her voice is hoarse, but steady. "Mummy sahi keh rahi hain. Mujhe yahan nahi rehna."
Mummy is right. I don't want to stay here.

Mrs. Ahuja (Reena): She lets out a short, condescending laugh. It's a sound like ice cubes clinking in a glass. "Ghar? Aur uske baad kya? What will you tell society? That the marriage broke on the first night? Don't be childish, Poonam. Taking her home is not a solution."

Mr. Sharma: "Toh kya hai solution, Reena-ji? That my daughter accepts this... this filth?" Then what is the solution, Reena-ji?

Mrs. Ahuja: She glances at her son, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before turning back to the Sharmas. Her voice is cold and pragmatic. "The solution is to find an... arrangement. A practical way forward. Rahul has been honest about his needs. Now we must all be adults and accommodate them."

The word "accommodate" hangs in the air, a final, chilling insult. The Ahujas are not apologizing. They are dictating terms. The Sharmas are faced with a terrible choice: public disgrace or private hell for their daughter.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 5: The Terms of Surrender

Setting: The same room. The air is stale and heavy with unspoken misery.

---

Mrs. Sharma looks up from her daughter, her face a hollow mask of exhaustion. She looks past her husband, past Rahul, and sets her gaze on her counterpart, Mrs. Ahuja.

Mrs. Sharma: Her voice is flat, devoid of the fight it held just minutes ago. "Mrs. Ahuja, aap sahi keh rahi hai. Solution toh nikalna padega."
Mrs. Ahuja, you are right. A solution must be found.

The words land like stones in a silent pond. Anjali flinches as if she's been slapped, staring at her mother in utter disbelief.

Anjali: "Mummy? Yeh... yeh aap kya keh rahi hain?"
Mummy? What... what are you saying?

Mr. Sharma: He looks equally stunned, turning to his wife.
"Poonam! Have you lost your mind?"

Mr. Ahuja, seeing his opening, cuts them all off. He's impatient. He wants to close the deal.

Mr. Ahuja: He claps his hands together once, a sharp, decisive sound. "Phir wohi baat, kya kare ab batao? Let's not waste any more time on tears."
Again the same thing, tell me what to do now?

This is the moment Mrs. Ahuja has been waiting for. She takes a step forward, her expression calm, reasonable, and utterly terrifying. She addresses the Sharmas, but her words are for Anjali.

Mrs. Ahuja: "The solution is education. Anjali needs to understand that this isn't a threat to her position as Rahul's wife. It is a... supplement. A service."

She pauses, letting the horrible words sink in.

Mrs. Ahuja: "Anjali needs to see how this can work, how it can be managed without emotion. A practical demonstration."

Mr. Sharma: "Demonstration? What are you talking about?"

Mrs. Ahuja: She gives a slight, dismissive wave of her hand. "It's late, but the city is still awake. I know many girls... models, struggling actresses. They are very professional, very discreet. They understand how to please a man with a... strong nature. It would be a simple matter to arrange for someone to come here tonight."

The sheer audacity of the proposal sucks the air out of the room.

Mrs. Ahuja: "Anjali can watch. She can learn. She will see that it is just a physical act, nothing more. It will ease her fears. And Rahul's... needs... will be taken care of. It's the perfect solution for tonight."

She looks at her husband, who nods in grim agreement. He sees the ruthless logic. She then looks at her son, Rahul, who for the first time, unfolds his arms. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. He likes this idea very much.
Anjali stands frozen, abandoned by her own mother, looking at the smiling face of her husband and the triumphant face of her mother-in-law. Her hotel room, on her wedding night, is about to be turned into a stage for her own humiliation.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 6: The Unthinkable Sacrifice

Setting: The room is a pressure cooker. Mrs. Ahuja's monstrous proposal hangs in the air. Anjali is trembling, looking at her husband's smiling face, her future crystallizing into a perfect, unending nightmare.

---

Into this terrible silence, Poonam Sharma speaks. Her voice isn't loud, but it cuts through everything. It's the voice of someone who has walked through fire and come out the other side as something else entirely. She takes a small, steadying step forward, away from her husband and daughter, placing herself in the center of the room.

Mrs. Sharma: "Nahi."
No.
Everyone turns to look at her.

Mrs. Sharma: She looks past her daughter, past her husband, and fixes her gaze directly on Rahul. Her eyes are hollow, but her voice is eerily calm. "Koi bahar ka khoon is ghar mein nahi aayega. Is bistar par nahi."
No outside blood will come into this house. Not on this bed.

She takes another step toward Rahul. Mr. Sharma reaches for her, a strangled noise in his throat.

Mr. Sharma: "Poonam, kya..."
Poonam, what...

She ignores him. She is looking only at Rahul, the man who holds her daughter's entire life in his hands.

Mrs. Sharma: "Aaj mein apni beti ke liye, uski izzat bachane ke liye... Mein Rahul ke saath soungi."

Today, for my daughter's sake, to save her honor... I will sleep with Rahul.

The words drop into the room with the force of a physical blow. For a full three seconds, there is absolute, stunned silence. No one breathes.
Then, a sound rips out of Anjali's throat—not a word, but a high-pitched wail of pure, psychic agony. It's the sound of a soul being torn apart.

Anjali: "NAHIIIII! MUMMY! NAHIIIII!"
She lunges forward, but her legs give way, and she collapses onto the floor in a sobbing, shaking heap.

Mr. Sharma: He rushes to his wife, grabbing her arm, his face a mask of horror and shame. "Poonam! CHUP RAHO! Pagal ho gayi ho kya! Have you lost your mind!"

Poonam! BE QUIET! Have you gone mad!

For the first time all night, the Ahujas are utterly speechless. Their cool, calculated cruelty was for a game they understood. This... this is something else entirely. This is madness. Mrs. Ahuja stares, her mouth slightly agape, the mask of aristocratic control completely gone. This is messy. This is a scandal they can't manage.
But Rahul... Rahul doesn't look shocked. He doesn't look disgusted.
His predatory smile has vanished, replaced by an expression of intense, unnerving curiosity. He pushes himself off the wall and takes a slow step toward his mother-in-law. He looks her up and down, a deliberate, appraising gaze that takes in her mature figure, her dignified face now vacant with trauma. He sees not a broken woman, but an unexpected, taboo offer.
He tilts his head, a gesture of genuine consideration. Anjali's horrifying sobs fill the silence between them.

Rahul: His voice is soft, almost a whisper. "Aap... serious hain?"
Are you... serious?

The question hangs in the air, more monstrous than any command. It implies a door has been opened, and he is considering walking through it.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 7: The Sacrifice

Setting: Room 401 has transformed from a honeymoon suite into a circle of hell. Anjali is a broken doll on the floor, her sobs now just quiet, hitched breaths. Her father is frozen beside her. The Ahujas are statues of horrified disbelief. In the center of it all, Rahul and Poonam Sharma are locked in a silent, terrifying negotiation of wills.

---

Rahul's soft question— "Are you... serious?" — hangs in the dead air. Poonam Sharma's vacant eyes focus on him. She nods once, a small, robotic gesture.

Mrs. Sharma: Her voice is a monotone, completely detached from the world. She is giving an order. "Rahul. Apni pant utaro. Mein sabke samne tumhare saath sex karoongi."
Rahul. Take off your pants. I will have sex with you in front of everyone.

A wave of fresh horror washes over the onlookers. Mr. Sharma lets out a choked, gagging sound. But no one moves to stop her. It's like watching a car crash in slow motion.
Rahul's lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. He has won in a way he never could have dreamed. He looks at his mother-in-law, then glances at his weeping wife on the floor, and finally at his own shocked parents. He is the center of all their worlds.

Rahul: "Achcha..."
Oh... / I see...

He unbuckles his belt, He unzips his trousers and lets them fall to the floor in a heap around his ankles. He kicks off his boxers. His 9-inch cock is now fully, powerfully erect, jutting out from his body—a weapon, a trophy.

Mrs. Sharma does not flinch. With the mechanical grace of a sleepwalker, she sinks to her knees before him on the hotel carpet. She looks up at his triumphant face, her own expression utterly blank.

Anjali: No..." but the sound is so faint, it's barely a breath.

Mrs. Sharma leans forward. She reaches out, her hand steady, and gently closes her fingers around the base of his shaft. Then, she takes him into her mouth.

Rahul's head lolls back, a look of sublime, victorious ecstasy on his face. He places a hand on the back of his mother-in-law's head, not with violence, but with a gesture of calm, absolute ownership. He is feeling a surge of power so immense it's godlike.

For Mrs. Sharma, there is nothing. She is completely dissociated, performing a function, her mind a million miles away from the sordid hotel room.

Mr. Sharma finally breaks, covering his face with both hands, his body shaking with silent, agonizing sobs.
Mrs. Ahuja takes an involuntary step back, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with a horrified fascination. 

Mr. Ahuja just stares, his face pale, his mind unable to compute a strategy for this.

And on the floor, Anjali watches, her eyes open and unblinking, as the last remnants of her world are devoured before her very eyes.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 8: The Performance

Setting: Room 401. The scene continues seamlessly from the end of the last. Mrs. Sharma is on her knees before Rahul, the horrifying act from the previous scene still in motion. The only sounds are Anjali's shattered breaths and the harsh buzzing of the hotel's air conditioning.

---

Rahul’s eyes are half-closed in pleasure, his hand still resting on the back of his mother-in-law's head. He is not satisfied. He wants more. He wants every last shred of her dignity.

Rahul: His voice is a husky command. "Kiss me. Give me your tongue."

Mrs. Sharma complies without hesitation. Her movements are no longer her own. She is lost, an actress in a play she can't comprehend. She raises her head and presses her lips against his. The kiss is deep, an act of total surrender that sends a fresh wave of revulsion through the room.

Rahul breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting their lips. A cruel, triumphant light dances in his eyes. He reaches for the front of her sari blouse. With deft, almost practiced movements, he unhooks the [i]pallu from her shoulder and yanks it free. He then begins unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time.
[/i]
When the last button is undone, he rips the garment from her body and, with a flick of his wrist, throws the flimsy piece of silk. It flutters through the air and lands directly on Anjali’s face, covering her eyes. A soft, pathetic whimper escapes her lips.

Mrs. Sharma is now exposed from the waist up. Her bra is no match for her full, heavy E-cup breasts, which spill from the top and sides. Her nipples, hard and dark with arousal, are leaking small beads of milk, a testament to the hormonal chaos and extreme stimulation her body is undergoing.

She remains on her knees, impassive.
Without being told, her hands move to her own waist. She unwraps the silk sari, letting it pool around her. The petticoat and her simple underwear follow, until she is completely naked before him, her body bathed in the harsh hotel lighting.

Rahul gestures to the armchair he was leaning against earlier. He sits down, his erection jutting proudly from his lap.
Rahul: "Ab mere paas aao." Now, come to me.

He pats his thighs, an invitation. Mrs. Sharma rises and walks to him, her steps steady. He guides her to turn around and sit down, directly onto his lap. With a single, powerful thrust, he impales her. He is inside her.

A loud, sharp cry rips from Mrs. Sharma's throat. It's not a cry of pain or protest, but of pure, overwhelming physical sensation. Her head throws back, her face contorting with an expression of raw, involuntary pleasure.

Her large breasts heave, and something water like leaks from her nipples, tracing paths down her skin. Her vagina, already fully wet, clenches around him.

She is lost. Her mind is gone, but her body has found a terrible, vibrant life of its own, right here in the heart of her family's ruin.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 9: The Conversion

Setting: The scene is one of feverish, terrible motion. Mrs. Sharma is impaled on Rahul's lap, her body wracked with convulsions of a pleasure it hasn't known in decades, and a trauma it will never forget. Every cry she makes is another nail in the coffin of her family's soul.

---

Rahul grinds into her, masterfully controlling the pace, watching her face contort with a detached, scientific interest. He is a connoisseur of her destruction. But then, something changes.

She stops moving with him and pulls her torso back slightly, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Her eyes, which were squeezed shut, flutter open. They are no longer vacant. They are filled with a raw, primal hunger.

Her hands, which were gripping his shoulders, move to her own back. She fumbles for a moment with the clasp of her too-small bra. With a sharp click, it comes undone. She pulls the straps from her shoulders and lets the bra fall to the floor, joining the rest of her discarded life.

Her magnificent, milk-beaded E-cup breasts are now completely free. She looks down at them, then back at Rahul, a strange lucidity in her eyes.

Mrs. Sharma: Her voice is a hoarse, needy rasp, unrecognizable as her own. "Mere nipple chuso."
Suck my nipples.

It is a command. Her first. The first voluntary step into the abyss.
Anjali, on the floor, flinches as if struck. Her mother is gone. This creature has taken her place. Mr. Sharma stares blankly at a spot on the wall, his mind having finally retreated to a place where none of this can reach him.

Rahul lets out a low, dark chuckle. This is better than he could have imagined.

Rahul: "Jo hukum, saasuma."
As you command, mother-in-law.

The mocking formality is a final twist of the knife. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over her skin before his mouth closes over her right nipple. He suckles hard, his tongue laving the sensitive peak.

The effect is instantaneous and electric. A piercing shriek of pure ecstasy rips from Poonam Sharma's throat. Her back arches impossibly, pushing her chest harder against his mouth. Her body convulses violently around him, her inner muscles clenching on his shaft.

The sight is too much for Mrs. Ahuja, who makes a small, gagging sound and turns her head away, finally unable to watch. Her husband, Mr. Sharma, just stands there, his face ashen, witnessing the absolute moral devastation he helped set in motion. He is no longer in control. No one is. The scene now has a life, and a will, of its own.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 10: The Climax

Setting: The air in Room 401 is thick enough to breathe. The only reality is the slick, rhythmic motion in the armchair and the silent screams of the souls forced to watch.

---

As Rahul continues to suckle his mother-in-law's nipple, her body begins to tremble uncontrollably. A low, guttural moan builds in her throat. Her hips, which were moving in time with his thrusts, begin to buck wildly, uncontrollably. Her back arches so far it seems it might snap. Her eyes, wide and unseeing, fix on the ceiling.

Suddenly, her entire body goes rigid. A sharp, piercing scream tears from her lips, and with it, a gushing torrent of clear, whitish liquid erupts from between her legs, soaking Rahul's lap and the expensive fabric of the armchair. Her body convulses around him in the throes of an orgasm so powerful it seems to short-circuit her entire being.

It is this sight—the sight of his wife's undeniable, explosive pleasure—that finally shatters Mr. Sharma's catatonic state. He lurches forward in his chair, his face a twisted mask of pure, undiluted hatred. The words spew from his mouth like poison.

Mr. Sharma: "RANDI HAI SAALI! MAZE LE RAHI HAI LAMBE LODE KE SAATH!"
SHE'S A WHORE! ENJOYING HERSELF WITH THE BIG DICK!

The vulgar slur cuts through the air, a different kind of violation. Anjali flinches, her dead eyes shifting to her father, the source of this new pain. Having spewed his venom, the rage seems to drain from Mr. Sharma as quickly as it came. He slumps back in his chair, spent and empty, his outburst leaving a ringing silence.

But the violent, hateful energy of his words seems to fuel Rahul. Hearing the insult, seeing the proof of his conquest drenching them both, pushes him over the edge. With a guttural roar that is more animal than human, he thrusts into his mother-in-law one last time, driving himself as deep as he can possibly go.

His body shudders as he climaxes. A massive, thick torrent of sperm floods her, so much that it immediately begins to overflow, mixing with her own fluids. Thick, white ropes of his semen spill from between her legs, dripping down her thighs and onto the ruined armchair, a final, definitive mark of his total possession.

He collapses against her, breathing heavily. The act is done. The room falls into a sudden, shocking silence, filled only with the sounds of ragged breathing and the slow drip of fluids onto the floor.

[prasannas2001]

Great start.