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cutekomal · 16-09-2025, 11:52 PM

This is a true story, meticulously crafted by a curious mind, born from the intimate WhatsApp chat conversations between two individuals. Their journey began in the digital realm, much like many modern romances, when Priyanka candidly revealed, "Tinder. I swiped right." From that initial connection, their comfort level blossomed so profoundly that it became arduous for them to envision a life apart, their souls intricately woven through shared desires and unspoken understandings.

This story series is a vivid exploration of a passionate fantasy, a life both protagonists meticulously planned to live, where every kinky dream and profound connection would manifest into a shared reality. However, fate, as it often does, had other intentions. Life, with its unpredictable turns, intervened, and one of the protagonists in this story tragically lost their life during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Praveen84 · 17-09-2025, 08:23 AM

(16-09-2025, 11:52 PM)cutekomal Wrote: This is a true story, meticulously crafted by a curious mind, born from the intimate WhatsApp chat conversations between two individuals. Their journey began in the digital realm, much like many modern romances, when Priyanka candidly revealed, "Tinder. I swiped right." From that initial connection, their comfort level blossomed so profoundly that it became arduous for them to envision a life apart, their souls intricately woven through shared desires and unspoken understandings.

This story series is a vivid exploration of a passionate fantasy, a life both protagonists meticulously planned to live, where every kinky dream and profound connection would manifest into a shared reality. However, fate, as it often does, had other intentions. Life, with its unpredictable turns, intervened, and one of the protagonists in this story tragically lost their life during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Tell us brother story we are ready for listening your lover romance pain ......

cutekomal · 20-09-2025, 01:46 AM

Act 1

Late Night Phone Call - Sameek is away from home, on a work trip. Priyanka is at home.

Sameek: (Voice husky, a soft sigh) "Priyanka… I miss you. It's late here, and all I can think about is you."

Priyanka: (A slight pause, a playful tone) "Oh, my 'Devil Partner' is missing me? What makes you think of me so late tonight, Sameek? Are you not sleeping?"

Sameek: "Sleep is a luxury I can't afford when my mind is racing with thoughts of you. I was just lying here, and all I could picture was our last meeting. Your eyes, the way your lips parted slightly when I spoke… I remember it all so vividly."

Priyanka: (A soft chuckle) "You're always so observant. Tell me, what about our 'soft sex' made such an impression? Was it my lips that still ache, or something else?"

Sameek: "Everything, Priyanka. Every single detail. I can still feel your soft boobs in my hands when I bit your nipple through your t-shirt. The way you held onto Dojo, almost milking him, that was a marvelous job, sweetheart."

Priyanka: (Her voice drops a little, a hint of heat) "And your tongue… playing with mine. I remember the saliva, Sameek. You felt it, didn't you? A little bit of me, just for you."

Sameek: "Yes, I literally ate your saliva, Priyanka. I remember your taste. My nipples were hard, protruding from my t-shirt because of your constant teasing. I was having such a hard-on that I wanted to pull Dojo out and give him to you completely. To feel you suck him like a banana, devour him till your throat, just as we've fantasized."

Priyanka: (A slight gasp, then a whisper) "That night, when I held Dojo, I desperately wanted to suck and kiss him softly. I wanted to take his full length in my mouth. But then…..”

Sameek: "The line that drives me crazy, Priyanka. It makes me want to tie you up, just as you fantasized, and make you surrender. I dream of torturing your body, kissing you all over, biting your neck, your swollen belly, licking your navel. Turning you around, taking your ass cheek in my mouth, slow bites… I know you love that pain, my Devil Partner."

Priyanka: (Her breathing becomes a little heavier, a playful challenge in her voice) "You think so? You think I'd endure 'any kind of torture' from you? What if I only allow it if you promise me that deep fuck I crave? That intense, merciless thrusting you always talk about?"

Sameek: " I'll give you deep strokes, Priyanka. I will fill you up, jam your pussy with my meat. I'll make you scream with pleasure and pain when Dojo fills your tiny ass hole. I want to see you hold the corner of the bed for support, wanting more, crying out my name."

Priyanka: (A soft moan) "Ummmmm… Your words, Sameek, they are exceptionally good. They make me feel wet, instantly. I am lying on my bed, feeling the wetness already. It smells seductive. Just thinking of you rubbing Dojo, that wetness starts."

Sameek: "I need to taste that fluid, Priyanka. I want to shut all those juices from your hand, from your dripping pussy. It’s our heavenly juice, and I want to suck it directly from you.”

Priyanka: "Ummmmmm. And it will be followed by a hardcore blowjob in a 69 pose, where I taste your cum on my mouth. I'm strong enough to handle it, Sameek. My mouth is born to suck and eat your Dojo."

Sameek: (A deep sigh, a shift in his tone, more earnest) "Priyanka, you know my life is a bit complicated. But you're the one woman I was seeking for. My heart beats for you, your mind, your body, your soul, your perfume… every damn thing about you. No one can take away your spot from my mind."

Priyanka: "I know, Sameek, you possess a special place in my heart too. My liking is more than just mere physical connectivity. I accepted you with open-heart even after knowing your family, your marital status, and everything about you. It's enough to prove that I'm tied to you, irrespective of all ifs and buts."

Sameek: (A moment of silence, then a raw plea) "Then why do you push me away sometimes, asking me to go to the other women? It hurts me, Priyanka. I don't want to replace you. You're my fantasy; I see you in everyone."

Priyanka: (Her voice softens, filled with genuine emotion) "I do that because I know our reality, Sameek. I know I will never be your life partner permanently, and I don't want you to be unhappy or restricted. I want you to be joyful, as you were always. My dream is to see you happy with your family. But when I say those things, I miss you terribly too. I sometimes see your face in people on the roads, I get your smell from people around me. I like you, and I will keep doing that even if we don't get physical any day."

Sameek: "I understand, Priyanka. And I treasure that honesty. It makes our bond even stronger, even when it feels like torture being so close yet so far. My world has been cruel to me, but you stay by my side, at least."

Priyanka: "Always, Sameek. And know this, I'll never go to someone else for bodily pleasures. That's a principle I follow. My husband has to trust me on this. My dedication is not to impress you; it's the truth."

Sameek: (He chuckles, a wistful note in his voice) "You really are my devil partner, full of surprises and unwavering convictions. Maybe one day, we can fulfill that dream of ours... being married, sharing a bed, and having our baby. You'd be the hot and sexy mommy, and I'd be the father of our child."

Priyanka: (A genuine, warm laugh) "I'd kill you if you didn't allow me to fuck you even after the kid is born! Love-making is eternal, Sameek. And I'd definitely let you suck my boobs and drink my milk. So, yes, if that was a reality, I would love you wholeheartedly. And I'm sure you would be a faithful partner, and your sex desire would be satisfied."

Sameek: "And that, Priyanka, is the most erotic thing you could say. It gives me goosebumps, even now. I can literally visualize it all. The shared dreams, the raw fantasies, the unwavering loyalty… that's our mutual maturation, isn't it? Learning to love and lust, even within our limits."

Priyanka: "Yes, Sameek. It is. It's a complicated, beautiful mess. Now, go to sleep, you crazy man. And dream of me."

Sameek: "Only if you promise to dream of me too, my Queen."

Priyanka: "Always. Good night, Sameek."

Sameek: "Good night, Priyanka. My one and only."

cutekomal · 20-09-2025, 01:49 AM

Act 2:

Late Morning - Sameek and Priyanka are both at work, sneaking in private messages during a lull.

Priyanka: (A series of rapid texts, almost breathless) "Sameek, I swear, I can't focus today. Every single meeting, every email… my mind just keeps drifting. All I can think about is you. And what we could be doing right now."

Sameek: (A brief, knowing reply) "Oh? And what exactly is 'what could be' occupying your thoughts, my Devil Partner? Enlighten me."

Priyanka: (Her messages come faster, more intense) "Your mouth, Sameek. That's what. I'm craving it so badly, I can almost taste it. I want to feel your lips on mine, a deep, raw kiss, where my tongue just plays with yours. I'd draw out every drop of your saliva, just to taste you, to know you're completely mine. It's so addictive, Sameek.”

Sameek: "My saliva? You're starting with that? You have a memory for detail I must say."

Priyanka: "Of course, I do. Each and every detail. And once I've had my fill of your mouth, my hands would be all over your chest, searching for your nipples. I remember how hard mine got just from your teasing through my t-shirt that day. But I don't want to feel them through clothes now. I want them bare. I'd pinch them, gently at first, then harder, taking them between my teeth, just like I fantasize about you doing to mine. I'd suck them, Sameek, until they're red and swollen, and you're moaning my name, begging me to stop."

Sameek: (A low, suggestive tone) "My name, huh? You think you could make me forget everything else, everything around me, just with your mouth and hands?"

Priyanka: (A confident, almost predatory edge to her voice) "Oh, I know I could. I'd pull you so close, Sameek, that our bodies would be flushed, skin to skin, barely any space between us. I can already feel the heat spreading through me, making me wet just thinking about it. That seductive fluid, my own juices… I want it all over me, want to rub it onto your skin, inhaling your scent, that raw, pungent smell of you mixed with my desire. It drives me absolutely wild."

Sameek: "Your seductive fluid does have that effect on me, too. So, if your mouth is so busy, and your hands are occupied, what about your body, Priyanka?"

Priyanka: "My body, Sameek? My body would be on yours. I'd straddle you, riding you, hard and fast. Making those deep, merciless thrusts myself. I want to feel every single inch of you filling me, knotting us together. I’d love to ride on you, circling round, making you go crazy and beg for a fuck. And even if you ask me to stop, to ease up, I'd never, never, never do it. I want to see you holding onto the bed for support, groaning my name, just as I'd do for you. That mix of pleasure and pain… it’s exactly what I crave from you, my sweet tormentor, my love."

Sameek: "You truly are my hungry lioness, aren't you? The way you describe it… I can almost feel every thrust."

Priyanka: "And Dojo… my beautiful Dojo. He wouldn't stand a chance. After I’ve ridden you senseless, I'd take him in my mouth again, Sameek, whole. Suck him like a banana, deeply, till my throat aches, till I'm gasping for air. You think I'd choke? Maybe, a little, but I'd never let go. I'd swallow every single drop of your cum. You know I'm born to suck and eat your Dojo, Sameek. It's my purpose, my dedication to you. I want to feel him grow hard again in my mouth, only to soften once more after he's spilled himself completely into me."

Sameek: "Priyanka… you make me utterly speechless. And completely, irrevocably hard. Right here, right now, just hearing your words.

Priyanka: (Her voice, through text, practically vibrates with her excitement) "Speechless, are we, my love? Good. Because I'm far from finished. You think you're hard now? Wait until I tell you about the rest of the night I've planned for us. After I've ridden you till you're begging, and swallowed every last drop of Dojo, I'd lift myself off you, slowly, just enough so I can see you, still panting, eyes glazed over. I'd lean down, just a hair's breadth from your ear, and whisper all the dirty things I want to do next."

Sameek: (Typing slowly, almost deliberately) "And what exactly would those whispered secrets entail, Priyanka? My 'Devil Partner' is full of wicked surprises, I know."

Priyanka: "Wicked, indeed. First, I'd want to feel you all over again, but differently. My fingers, remember how I told you I'd pinch your nipples? I'd take them, not through a t-shirt this time, but naked, wet with our shared sweat. I'd twist them, Sameek, hard, until you writhe beneath me, until your moans are thick and desperate. I know you love that pain, my love. That exquisite, sharp pleasure that makes you forget everything but me. And then, I'd let my hands roam, tracing the lines of your chest, feeling those chest hairs you have, so delightfully masculine. I'd rake my nails gently through them, just enough to scratch, to tease, to make you shudder."

Sameek: "You're painting a very vivid picture, Priyanka. My body is already responding. Those scratches sound… intoxicating."

Priyanka: "Oh, they will be more than intoxicating. And my mouth wouldn't be idle. While my hands work their magic on your chest, my lips would travel down, over your swollen belly, teasing that navel you adore so much. I'd use my tongue, slow and deliberate, swirling around it, making you tense and squirm. And then, when you're almost bursting, I'd roll you over, and it would be time for your gorgeous ass. I remember how I fantasized about biting your ass cheek, slow, deliberate bites. I'd make good on that promise, leaving red marks on your soft flesh, making you gasp with each nip. You'd love the sting, the raw sensation, knowing it's my teeth on your skin."

Sameek: (A pause, then a text with a single, almost breathless word) "Priyanka..."

Priyanka: "Yes, Sameek? Are you with me? Can you feel it? Because I can feel you. Every word I type makes me wetter. My red maxi, it's practically sticking to me. I'm craving that deep penetration, feeling you jam my pussy with your meat, filling my tiny ass hole until I can't take anymore, but desperately want more. I want to feel the pain, the tearing pleasure, and then the complete release. I want to see myself reflected in your eyes as you fill me up, mercilessly, relentlessly."

Sameek: "My God. You are… boundless. You really do turn me inside out. So, after all that… what then? Is there an 'after' to this beautiful, brutal fantasy of yours?"

Priyanka: "Always. After all that, when we're both spent, breathless, drenched in sweat… that's when the true intimacy would begin. We’d be tangled together, exhausted but utterly satiated. I’d lean my head on your chest, feeling your heartbeat, listening to your breathing. And I'd whisper how much I love you, how much you mean to me. How you, Sameek, are the only one who can make me feel this way, who sees this 'Devil Partner' in me and loves her completely. It’s not just the physical connection, Sameek, it's how you accept me, every crazy, kinky part. That’s where the real maturation happens, isn't it? Finding someone who embraces every facet of your being, even the ones you thought were shameful."

Sameek: (His reply is softer, more tender, a slight tremor even in text) "Priyanka, my sweetheart. You truly are the woman I was seeking for. My heart beats for you, your mind, your body, your soul… every damn thing about you. And you know, the way you speak, it isn't just erotic, it's deeply… connecting. I can almost feel you here, next to me, whispering all this. And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. You're my one and only.".

Priyanka: (A final, triumphant message, tinged with affection) "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere. Now, go back to your work, my love, and try to focus. But don't be surprised if I sneak into your thoughts again. This 'Devil Partner' always finds a way."

cutekomal · 20-09-2025, 01:51 AM

Act 3 :

Early Morning - A quiet moment, a weekend, with both Priyanka and Sameek exchanging messages, the world outside still softly stirring.

Priyanka: (Her texts come in a rapid fire, almost vibrating with unspoken desire) "Sameek… I woke up with such a strange, insistent ache this morning. It’s not just a physical thing, though my body is definitely humming. It’s a craving for… us. For all the things we keep locked away in our minds. I dreamt of you, just as you dreamt of me."

Sameek: (A soft, knowing reply) "Oh, my Devil Partner is feeling restless early this morning? What kind of dreams were they, my Queen? Did they leave you with a sweet pain in your lips, like they did mine after our 'soft sex'?"

Priyanka: "More than just my lips, Sameek. My whole body is alive with it. I could feel your breath, hot on my skin. I woke up thinking about how you said you’d just pull my panty down as I made my way to enter the bed, and then you’d pull yours down too. I want that freedom, Sameek. I want that raw, unapologetic start to a day with you. Imagine, no clothes, just us. My pussy, already so wet, just from thinking of you. I tasted my fluid today with my finger, imagining it was 'OUR MIXTURE!' I loved it, honey!"

Sameek: "Your honesty, Priyanka, makes me impossibly hard, even now. I love that wetness you carry for me. It’s truly heavenly juice. So, if you're thinking of such raw beginnings, what would be the very first thing that 'raw, unapologetic' morning would entail, my demanding Queen?"

Priyanka: "You, Sameek. Always you. I want to wake you up, not with words, but with my mouth. I’d kiss your lips, softly at first, tasting your morning breath, and then trace my way down, slowly, gently, until I reach Dojo. He needs my care, you know, especially when he’s just woken up and is still a little soft. I’d suck him, Sameek, so tenderly, until he’s hard and throbbing in my mouth, filling my throat. I want to feel him awaken fully, just for me. And while I’m doing that, I want to feel you playing with my breasts, squeezing them, telling me I’m yours."

Sameek: "My mushroom eating woman. That sounds like heaven. To have you devour Dojo completely in your mouth, feeling the pressure build. And then, when he’s fully aroused, what happens next in your wicked little morning ritual?"

Priyanka: "Then, Sameek, comes the part that truly binds us in our kinky world. I want you to pee right into my mouth. Just as we’ve talked about, my golden nectar. I’d tilt my head back, my eyes locked on yours, and gulp down every single drop, like mahaproshad. I want to quench my morning thirst with your warmth, your essence, feeling it flow right down my throat. It’s so vulgar, so bold, so raw, and I just love it like crazy. I’ll suck Dojo even after you’ve emptied yourself, just to ensure not a single drop is wasted, eager to extract some more from inside."

Sameek: (A deep sigh, his reply slow and husky, mirroring her desire) "To have my Dojo pee the whole inside your mouth which quenches your morning thirst… ummmmm… You make me imagine it so vividly, Priyanka. I remember how you said you’d make my mouth your urinal, and that my golden nectar was your fantasy. To feel you, so completely dedicated to me, drinking me in… it’s intensely arousing. I remember when I first told you that I wanted to pee into your mouth, my golden nectar, just as we've talked about so many times. It’s truly our heavenly juice."

Priyanka: "Yes, Sameek. It’s ours. And it makes me feel utterly connected to you, knowing I embrace all of you. But that's just the start, my love. Once I've had my fill of your nectar, I want us to get truly intimate. I remember telling you how much I’d like to see you doing potty on my body while you play with Dojo. I want that, Sameek. I want to spread my legs, feel your weight on me, and allow you to fully complete your morning ritual, intimately, on me. To feel that warmth, that raw, primal connection. I remember how I loved the feeling of hot pee on my body and the smell that remained. I want to take it all, every part of you, just as you take every part of me. It’s bold, it’s crazy, but it’s us, isn’t it? Two crazy people, crazily in love and doing crazy bold things that normal people don’t even imagine."

Sameek: (A prolonged pause, then his text comes, heavier with emotion and raw desire) "Priyanka… my Devil Partner… my hungry lioness. You are truly boundless. I remember how you even fantasized about our baby doing that to me. It's a testament to how deeply we've explored these desires together. To actually feel your soft body beneath me, hearing your panting and little gasps as I… as I surrender to that raw, animalistic urge. To complete my morning ritual on your body, feeling your skin, inhaling every scent, knowing that this is the ultimate act of trust and intimacy between us. And after, my hand would reach for yours, and your fingers would entangle with mine, pressing tight, just like you love. And I would make sure to tell you that you are the queen and ruler of my heart, that I am so possessed by you that I can't have you replaced with anybody else."

Priyanka: (A final, triumphant and deeply affectionate message) "Yes, Sameek. Always. That is how I want to be loved. To be your shameless self, to dare to explore everything with you. And once you've done that, once we've fully indulged in every single raw, beautiful moment, I would take you in my arms, cover us with the sheet, and kiss you like there’s no tomorrow. We would simply lie there, tangled, exhausted, utterly connected, whispering how much we love each other. Because that’s our love, Sameek. It's in the deep strokes, the merciless passion, and in the raw acceptance of every single part of each other’s being. That is our mutual maturation, isn't it? Knowing this connection transcends everything else."

cutekomal · 21-09-2025, 04:17 PM

Act 4: Rainstorm at Dusk – Their Bodies Become One

The storm was merciless that night. Potholes had punished Sameek’s car until it finally crawled into the basement, his body drenched, every step heavy with fatigue. He sneezed his way up the stairs, each breath shuddering with exhaustion.

The door opened before he could reach for the bell. Priyanka stood there — barefoot, hair loose, wearing nothing but his oversized T-shirt. She had waited all evening for this moment, her chest buzzing with the familiar ache of longing.

She expected his arms. Instead, his palm landed sharply on her ass, a wet slap echoing in the hallway. Even half-dead with weariness, he hadn’t lost his hunger.

Priyanka: (mocking, but her lips already curved) “That’s the welcome I get?”

Sameek: (hoarse, eyes blazing despite his exhaustion) “Couldn’t resist. You look… indecently perfect.”

She loved that — how he could be bone-tired, sneezing, water dripping from his hair, and still find the strength to desire her. Desire was his language of love.

The electricity failed as he stripped his shirt, leaving the room in darkness. The pale LED from his phone stretched shadows across his chest hair, his broad shoulders glistening with water.

Priyanka fetched a towel, pressing it to him gently, motherly, even as her eyes feasted on the lines of his body.

Priyanka: “Here. Dry off. You’ll catch cold.”

Sameek: (sniffing, rubbing his hair) “Got a tee for me?”

Priyanka: (steady, almost stern) “No. I don’t want you clothed tonight.”

The firmness in her voice surprised even her. But it was true — she wanted him bare, vulnerable, hers.

He asked for food, his voice gravelly with hunger. She rushed to the kitchen and returned with a single plate, steam curling into the damp air. Instead of sitting opposite, she lowered herself onto his lap. Eating together from one plate was her ritual, her declaration: This is love. This closeness. This surrender.

Their fingers brushed, lips brushed, morsels passed back and forth. Rain drummed louder outside, their silence filling with intimacy.

When the plate was empty, he washed his hands, and she cleared the dishes. Their bodies moved with unspoken choreography — both knowing exactly what came next.

The towel he had used lay forgotten in the sitting room. Priyanka, following him toward the bedroom, tugged her T-shirt over her head and dropped it like a breadcrumb for morning laundry. Entering the room, she found him at the window, naked, watching rain pound the roof. The faint glow of his vape flared in the dark, then dissolved into smoke.

She crossed silently, nude now, and pressed her body against his back. Her breasts flattened first against his cold skin, then her stomach, her thighs. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging, warming him. In her mind, she whispered: *I will always be the fire when you return frozen.*

He took two more puffs, then turned. His back met the window, his hands found her ass, his lips found hers.

Their mouths opened, tongues tangled, saliva spilled. She tasted his day — the bitterness of vape, the salt of rain, the faint musk of his exhaustion. She drank it all because it was him.

Her body lifted naturally, legs wrapping around his waist, his grip steady. He carried her to the bed, laid her down, and descended to her breasts.

Priyanka gasped when his mouth clamped down, sucking with desperation. His teeth grazed her nipples, his tongue circled them endlessly. She arched, hair splayed on the pillow, and thought: *This is how he says he missed me. Not with words, but with hunger.*

Her hand slid to his Dojo, hot and stiff. She stroked him once, then twice, before guiding him into her mouth. She loved this part — not just the act, but the power of it. To take him whole, to control his trembling, to bring him to the edge. She swallowed him deep, her throat opening to house him fully, her hand cupping his sacks, her fingers teasing his ass the way she knew drove him wild.

She felt him arch — a silent signal. She pulled back just as he erupted, ropes of cum painting her chest.

She didn’t flinch. She smiled. She gathered the hot fluid in her palms, rubbed it into her breasts, into her cleavage. She inhaled deeply. To her, this was holy: his scent, his essence, his claim on her skin. She wanted to smell of him when she woke, to carry his mark into the morning.

But he wasn’t done.

He bent lower, kissed her ass, spread her wide, and licked from her tight hole up to her slit. His tongue was deliberate, patient, tormenting. When he circled her clit, sucking, lapping, she shivered violently. She reached for his vape, drew a puff, and exhaled smoke into the dark, moaning as the rain thundered harder.

Priyanka: (whispering, almost lost in sound) “Take me… from behind.”

He obeyed. He pulled her onto all fours, spread her, spat to wet her, and thrust in hard. She yelped, the pain sharp — but then it turned into fire. She clawed the sheets, her body rocking back to meet his merciless rhythm.

He was ruthless: one moment his fist twisted her hair, the next it cupped her breast, then slid to her chin, forcing her to look at him. She cried out, each thrust splitting her open wider, deeper.

Her orgasm tore through her like lightning. She collapsed, trembling, Dojo still iron-hard inside her. She turned, spread her legs, begged him into her pussy.

He entered without hesitation. No barriers, no shields. Just trust. Just raw, complete surrender. Their rhythm built again, sweat and rain mingling, moans syncing with thunder. She wrapped her legs around him, thinking: If this is sin, then let me never be holy.

When his body tensed, he pulled out, spilling hot cum over her chest again — her throat, her breasts, her cleavage.

Priyanka laughed softly, gathering it, smearing it into her skin like perfume. Mine. My man. My scent.

Outside, the storm raged. Inside, they lay tangled, breath slowing. Tomorrow was a working day, but dawn would bring their ritual. Good morning sex — their way of saying, Love does not pause, even for life.

rinxox · 21-09-2025, 04:33 PM

Intresting , looking forward for next update

Praveen84 · 21-09-2025, 06:00 PM

(21-09-2025, 04:17 PM)cutekomal Wrote:
Act 4: Rainstorm at Dusk – Their Bodies Become One

The storm was merciless that night. Potholes had punished Sameek’s car until it finally crawled into the basement, his body drenched, every step heavy with fatigue. He sneezed his way up the stairs, each breath shuddering with exhaustion.

The door opened before he could reach for the bell. Priyanka stood there — barefoot, hair loose, wearing nothing but his oversized T-shirt. She had waited all evening for this moment, her chest buzzing with the familiar ache of longing.

She expected his arms. Instead, his palm landed sharply on her ass, a wet slap echoing in the hallway. Even half-dead with weariness, he hadn’t lost his hunger.

Priyanka: (mocking, but her lips already curved) “That’s the welcome I get?”

Sameek: (hoarse, eyes blazing despite his exhaustion) “Couldn’t resist. You look… indecently perfect.”

She loved that — how he could be bone-tired, sneezing, water dripping from his hair, and still find the strength to desire her. Desire was his language of love.

The electricity failed as he stripped his shirt, leaving the room in darkness. The pale LED from his phone stretched shadows across his chest hair, his broad shoulders glistening with water.

Priyanka fetched a towel, pressing it to him gently, motherly, even as her eyes feasted on the lines of his body.

Priyanka: “Here. Dry off. You’ll catch cold.”

Sameek: (sniffing, rubbing his hair) “Got a tee for me?”

Priyanka: (steady, almost stern) “No. I don’t want you clothed tonight.”

The firmness in her voice surprised even her. But it was true — she wanted him bare, vulnerable, hers.

He asked for food, his voice gravelly with hunger. She rushed to the kitchen and returned with a single plate, steam curling into the damp air. Instead of sitting opposite, she lowered herself onto his lap. Eating together from one plate was her ritual, her declaration: This is love. This closeness. This surrender.

Their fingers brushed, lips brushed, morsels passed back and forth. Rain drummed louder outside, their silence filling with intimacy.

When the plate was empty, he washed his hands, and she cleared the dishes. Their bodies moved with unspoken choreography — both knowing exactly what came next.

The towel he had used lay forgotten in the sitting room. Priyanka, following him toward the bedroom, tugged her T-shirt over her head and dropped it like a breadcrumb for morning laundry. Entering the room, she found him at the window, naked, watching rain pound the roof. The faint glow of his vape flared in the dark, then dissolved into smoke.

She crossed silently, nude now, and pressed her body against his back. Her breasts flattened first against his cold skin, then her stomach, her thighs. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging, warming him. In her mind, she whispered: *I will always be the fire when you return frozen.*

He took two more puffs, then turned. His back met the window, his hands found her ass, his lips found hers.

Their mouths opened, tongues tangled, saliva spilled. She tasted his day — the bitterness of vape, the salt of rain, the faint musk of his exhaustion. She drank it all because it was him.

Her body lifted naturally, legs wrapping around his waist, his grip steady. He carried her to the bed, laid her down, and descended to her breasts.

Priyanka gasped when his mouth clamped down, sucking with desperation. His teeth grazed her nipples, his tongue circled them endlessly. She arched, hair splayed on the pillow, and thought: *This is how he says he missed me. Not with words, but with hunger.*

Her hand slid to his Dojo, hot and stiff. She stroked him once, then twice, before guiding him into her mouth. She loved this part — not just the act, but the power of it. To take him whole, to control his trembling, to bring him to the edge. She swallowed him deep, her throat opening to house him fully, her hand cupping his sacks, her fingers teasing his ass the way she knew drove him wild.

She felt him arch — a silent signal. She pulled back just as he erupted, ropes of cum painting her chest.

She didn’t flinch. She smiled. She gathered the hot fluid in her palms, rubbed it into her breasts, into her cleavage. She inhaled deeply. To her, this was holy: his scent, his essence, his claim on her skin. She wanted to smell of him when she woke, to carry his mark into the morning.

But he wasn’t done.

He bent lower, kissed her ass, spread her wide, and licked from her tight hole up to her slit. His tongue was deliberate, patient, tormenting. When he circled her clit, sucking, lapping, she shivered violently. She reached for his vape, drew a puff, and exhaled smoke into the dark, moaning as the rain thundered harder.

Priyanka: (whispering, almost lost in sound) “Take me… from behind.”

He obeyed. He pulled her onto all fours, spread her, spat to wet her, and thrust in hard. She yelped, the pain sharp — but then it turned into fire. She clawed the sheets, her body rocking back to meet his merciless rhythm.

He was ruthless: one moment his fist twisted her hair, the next it cupped her breast, then slid to her chin, forcing her to look at him. She cried out, each thrust splitting her open wider, deeper.

Her orgasm tore through her like lightning. She collapsed, trembling, Dojo still iron-hard inside her. She turned, spread her legs, begged him into her pussy.

He entered without hesitation. No barriers, no shields. Just trust. Just raw, complete surrender. Their rhythm built again, sweat and rain mingling, moans syncing with thunder. She wrapped her legs around him, thinking: If this is sin, then let me never be holy.

When his body tensed, he pulled out, spilling hot cum over her chest again — her throat, her breasts, her cleavage.

Priyanka laughed softly, gathering it, smearing it into her skin like perfume. Mine. My man. My scent.

Outside, the storm raged. Inside, they lay tangled, breath slowing. Tomorrow was a working day, but dawn would bring their ritual. Good morning sex — their way of saying, Love does not pause, even for life.

Outstanding update....... mind-blowing story....sex is good for health...... continue

Praveen84 · 21-09-2025, 06:03 PM

(20-09-2025, 01:49 AM)cutekomal Wrote:
Act 2:

Late Morning - Sameek and Priyanka are both at work, sneaking in private messages during a lull.

Priyanka: (A series of rapid texts, almost breathless) "Sameek, I swear, I can't focus today. Every single meeting, every email… my mind just keeps drifting. All I can think about is you. And what we could be doing right now."

Sameek: (A brief, knowing reply) "Oh? And what exactly is 'what could be' occupying your thoughts, my Devil Partner? Enlighten me."

Priyanka: (Her messages come faster, more intense) "Your mouth, Sameek. That's what. I'm craving it so badly, I can almost taste it. I want to feel your lips on mine, a deep, raw kiss, where my tongue just plays with yours. I'd draw out every drop of your saliva, just to taste you, to know you're completely mine. It's so addictive, Sameek.”

Sameek: "My saliva? You're starting with that? You have a memory for detail I must say."

Priyanka: "Of course, I do. Each and every detail. And once I've had my fill of your mouth, my hands would be all over your chest, searching for your nipples. I remember how hard mine got just from your teasing through my t-shirt that day. But I don't want to feel them through clothes now. I want them bare. I'd pinch them, gently at first, then harder, taking them between my teeth, just like I fantasize about you doing to mine. I'd suck them, Sameek, until they're red and swollen, and you're moaning my name, begging me to stop."

Sameek: (A low, suggestive tone) "My name, huh? You think you could make me forget everything else, everything around me, just with your mouth and hands?"

Priyanka: (A confident, almost predatory edge to her voice) "Oh, I know I could. I'd pull you so close, Sameek, that our bodies would be flushed, skin to skin, barely any space between us. I can already feel the heat spreading through me, making me wet just thinking about it. That seductive fluid, my own juices… I want it all over me, want to rub it onto your skin, inhaling your scent, that raw, pungent smell of you mixed with my desire. It drives me absolutely wild."

Sameek: "Your seductive fluid does have that effect on me, too. So, if your mouth is so busy, and your hands are occupied, what about your body, Priyanka?"

Priyanka: "My body, Sameek? My body would be on yours. I'd straddle you, riding you, hard and fast. Making those deep, merciless thrusts myself. I want to feel every single inch of you filling me, knotting us together. I’d love to ride on you, circling round, making you go crazy and beg for a fuck. And even if you ask me to stop, to ease up, I'd never, never, never do it. I want to see you holding onto the bed for support, groaning my name, just as I'd do for you. That mix of pleasure and pain… it’s exactly what I crave from you, my sweet tormentor, my love."

Sameek: "You truly are my hungry lioness, aren't you? The way you describe it… I can almost feel every thrust."

Priyanka: "And Dojo… my beautiful Dojo. He wouldn't stand a chance. After I’ve ridden you senseless, I'd take him in my mouth again, Sameek, whole. Suck him like a banana, deeply, till my throat aches, till I'm gasping for air. You think I'd choke? Maybe, a little, but I'd never let go. I'd swallow every single drop of your cum. You know I'm born to suck and eat your Dojo, Sameek. It's my purpose, my dedication to you. I want to feel him grow hard again in my mouth, only to soften once more after he's spilled himself completely into me."

Sameek: "Priyanka… you make me utterly speechless. And completely, irrevocably hard. Right here, right now, just hearing your words.

Priyanka: (Her voice, through text, practically vibrates with her excitement) "Speechless, are we, my love? Good. Because I'm far from finished. You think you're hard now? Wait until I tell you about the rest of the night I've planned for us. After I've ridden you till you're begging, and swallowed every last drop of Dojo, I'd lift myself off you, slowly, just enough so I can see you, still panting, eyes glazed over. I'd lean down, just a hair's breadth from your ear, and whisper all the dirty things I want to do next."

Sameek: (Typing slowly, almost deliberately) "And what exactly would those whispered secrets entail, Priyanka? My 'Devil Partner' is full of wicked surprises, I know."

Priyanka: "Wicked, indeed. First, I'd want to feel you all over again, but differently. My fingers, remember how I told you I'd pinch your nipples? I'd take them, not through a t-shirt this time, but naked, wet with our shared sweat. I'd twist them, Sameek, hard, until you writhe beneath me, until your moans are thick and desperate. I know you love that pain, my love. That exquisite, sharp pleasure that makes you forget everything but me. And then, I'd let my hands roam, tracing the lines of your chest, feeling those chest hairs you have, so delightfully masculine. I'd rake my nails gently through them, just enough to scratch, to tease, to make you shudder."

Sameek: "You're painting a very vivid picture, Priyanka. My body is already responding. Those scratches sound… intoxicating."

Priyanka: "Oh, they will be more than intoxicating. And my mouth wouldn't be idle. While my hands work their magic on your chest, my lips would travel down, over your swollen belly, teasing that navel you adore so much. I'd use my tongue, slow and deliberate, swirling around it, making you tense and squirm. And then, when you're almost bursting, I'd roll you over, and it would be time for your gorgeous ass. I remember how I fantasized about biting your ass cheek, slow, deliberate bites. I'd make good on that promise, leaving red marks on your soft flesh, making you gasp with each nip. You'd love the sting, the raw sensation, knowing it's my teeth on your skin."

Sameek: (A pause, then a text with a single, almost breathless word) "Priyanka..."

Priyanka: "Yes, Sameek? Are you with me? Can you feel it? Because I can feel you. Every word I type makes me wetter. My red maxi, it's practically sticking to me. I'm craving that deep penetration, feeling you jam my pussy with your meat, filling my tiny ass hole until I can't take anymore, but desperately want more. I want to feel the pain, the tearing pleasure, and then the complete release. I want to see myself reflected in your eyes as you fill me up, mercilessly, relentlessly."

Sameek: "My God. You are… boundless. You really do turn me inside out. So, after all that… what then? Is there an 'after' to this beautiful, brutal fantasy of yours?"

Priyanka: "Always. After all that, when we're both spent, breathless, drenched in sweat… that's when the true intimacy would begin. We’d be tangled together, exhausted but utterly satiated. I’d lean my head on your chest, feeling your heartbeat, listening to your breathing. And I'd whisper how much I love you, how much you mean to me. How you, Sameek, are the only one who can make me feel this way, who sees this 'Devil Partner' in me and loves her completely. It’s not just the physical connection, Sameek, it's how you accept me, every crazy, kinky part. That’s where the real maturation happens, isn't it? Finding someone who embraces every facet of your being, even the ones you thought were shameful."

Sameek: (His reply is softer, more tender, a slight tremor even in text) "Priyanka, my sweetheart. You truly are the woman I was seeking for. My heart beats for you, your mind, your body, your soul… every damn thing about you. And you know, the way you speak, it isn't just erotic, it's deeply… connecting. I can almost feel you here, next to me, whispering all this. And honestly, I wouldn't want it any other way. You're my one and only.".

Priyanka: (A final, triumphant message, tinged with affection) "Good. Because I'm not going anywhere. Now, go back to your work, my love, and try to focus. But don't be surprised if I sneak into your thoughts again. This 'Devil Partner' always finds a way."

Conversations between both are to good...... conversations before and after sex is make sex life more interesting

cutekomal · 22-09-2025, 01:10 AM

Act 5:

Dawn After the Storm – A Morning of Warmth

The rain had stopped sometime before dawn. I knew it before my eyes opened, because the rhythm of the world was different. No more pounding against the glass, no more endless roar on the roof. Just silence. Damp silence, the kind that leaves the air heavy and cold.

When I finally blinked awake, the first thing I felt was the chill. The sheets were tangled around us, heavy with our sweat from the night before, but the morning had slipped into the room through the half-open window. The breeze carried the scent of wet earth, the faint rustle of dripping trees, and the unmistakable smell of sex that clung to our bed — musky, salty, intoxicating.

I lay still for a while, breathing it in, because it was his scent. It was him. My skin still carried the dried traces of his cum from last night, streaks that I hadn’t bothered to wipe away. I loved that about myself, loved the idea of waking up with his essence marking me. I wanted to belong to him even in my sleep.

I turned my head slightly. Sameek was beside me, still asleep. His hair was messy, dark strands stuck across his forehead. His chest rose and fell in steady waves, a soft snore humming from his throat. His arm was sprawled across my stomach, heavy, protective. Even in sleep, he held me as though letting me go would mean losing a part of himself.

I smiled. My man. My man's dick whom i fondly call Dojo. My everything.

The blanket had slipped low on his body, exposing the ridges of his abdomen, the faint trail of hair that led downward. I couldn’t resist looking further. His cock lay against his thigh, heavy, thick, already twitching with those half-awake dreams men have. Just the sight of him made warmth spark in my belly despite the cold air.

I bit my lip. God, I could live forever in mornings like this.

I shifted closer, careful not to wake him yet. My body curled into his side, my breasts pressing against his ribs, my thigh brushing the heat of him. The chill outside couldn’t touch me when I was against him. His warmth seeped into my skin, and still, it wasn’t enough.

My hand moved almost on its own, tracing patterns on his chest. The rise of muscle, the tickle of chest hair, the dip of his collarbone. I let my fingers drift lower, grazing the trail of hair down his stomach, pausing just before I reached his cock.

He stirred. A small groan escaped him, half-asleep, half-aware.

Sameek: (husky, eyes still closed) “Priyanka… you’re up already?”

I smiled against his shoulder. “Mmm. Couldn’t sleep. Too cold.”

Sameek: (his arm tightening around me) “Then come closer. Warm yourself on me.”

His voice was gravelly, thick with sleep. God, that voice. It made me wet instantly.

“I am close,” I whispered, letting my hand slip around his shaft finally, wrapping my fingers around him. He was warm, heavy, already stiffening in my grip. “But you know, there’s only one way I get warm properly.”

That woke him. His eyes fluttered open, dark and hooded, a smile tugging at his lips.

Sameek: (half-laughing, half-groaning) “You devil. You won’t let me rest, will you?”

I kissed his chest, slow, teasing. “Rest later. Right now, I need your heat.”

His cock hardened fully in my hand, pulsing against my palm. I slid lower, under the blanket, nestling between his thighs. My lips found him before he could say another word. The taste of him was still familiar from last night — salty, raw, uniquely his. I took him into my mouth, slow, deliberate, savoring the way his body tensed beneath me.

Sameek: (low moan) “Fuck, Priyanka…”

I licked along his shaft, swirled my tongue over the head, then slid him deep into my throat, gagging just slightly but refusing to pull back. I wanted him to wake with my mouth, to know that I worshipped every inch of him.

He gripped my hair, guiding me, but I didn’t let him take control yet. I set the rhythm — slow pulls, deep thrusts, saliva dripping onto his balls. My other hand cupped and massaged him, fingers teasing the sensitive skin behind.

His hips jerked, breath hitching. I pulled off with a pop, stroking him as I looked up. His eyes burned into mine now, fully awake, desire written across his face.

“Good morning,” I whispered, lips brushing his tip.

Sameek: (voice rough) “Best morning. Come here.”

He pulled me up, kissing me hard. His tongue invaded mine, and I let him taste himself in my mouth. It was messy, wet, exactly how I liked it.

I straddled him then, sliding over his stomach, pressing my soaked pussy against his cock. I was dripping already, the cold morning forgotten, replaced by the fire in my core.

“You see what you do to me?” I whispered against his lips. “I wake up needy, wet, desperate. And only you can fix me.”

His hands found my breasts, squeezing, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened. I moaned, grinding against him, coating his length with my wetness.

He lined himself at my entrance, but I held still, teasing him. “Not yet. I want to feel you slowly.”

I lowered myself inch by inch, gasping as he filled me. The stretch was delicious, my walls clenching around him, my body adjusting to the fullness. I closed my eyes, savoring it, until he was buried completely inside me.

“God…” I moaned, leaning forward, resting my forehead against his. “You’re perfect.”

Sameek: (gritting his teeth) “You’re driving me insane, Priyanka.”

I began to move, rolling my hips, grinding down on him. The blanket covered us, trapping the heat of our bodies, turning the cold room into a cocoon of sweat and moans. My breasts bounced with each thrust, his hands clutching them, squeezing as though they were his lifeline.

The rhythm was slow, deliberate. I wanted to savor every drag, every push, every pulse of his cock inside me. Our lips kept finding each other between gasps, our tongues tangling, saliva dripping.

The sound of our bodies filled the room — wet, rhythmic, primal.

I came first. My orgasm ripped through me suddenly, my walls clenching violently around him. I cried out his name, collapsing against his chest, shuddering with aftershocks. He held me through it, his hands stroking my back, whispering, “That’s it, my love. Let it out.”

But I wasn’t done. I wanted more.

He flipped me gently, laying me on my back, spreading my legs wide. His cock slid back into me with ease, the wetness obscene, my juices coating him. He began to thrust, deeper now, his eyes locked on mine.

There was nothing gentle about it anymore. He was relentless, pounding into me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my breasts. I clawed at his back, my moans filling the room.

The second orgasm built quickly, harder, fiercer. I screamed, nails raking down his spine as I shattered again.

He groaned, his thrusts faltering. “I’m close, Priyanka. Where do you want me?”

“On me,” I gasped. “Mark me. Make me yours again.”

With a final grunt, he pulled out and erupted over my breasts, thick ropes of cum splattering my skin, my nipples, my neck. I cupped my tits together, letting it pool, rubbing it into myself with a moan.

I looked up at him, smiling wickedly. “Now I’m warm.”

He collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms. The blanket wrapped around us, cocooning us in the aftermath. His heartbeat was a drum against my ear, steady, grounding.

I traced circles on his chest, breathing him in. “This… this is what I live for, Sameek. Not the nights. The mornings. Waking up next to you, smelling of you, knowing I’m yours.”

He kissed my forehead, voice soft now, almost tender. “To the moon and back, Priyanka. Always.”

We lay there in silence, the world outside still damp and cold, but inside, we were fire.

cutekomal · 22-09-2025, 03:39 PM

Act 6: Sameek’s Dark Fantasy – Rahul Between the Shadows

From Sameek’s Perspective

The first time I ever saw it was back in my second year of college. I had a cheap phone, a thin mattress in my hostel room, and far too much time on my hands. While the others snored or snuck off to smoke, I lay in the dark scrolling through porn. At first it was the usual girl-on-guy, the moans of strangers on tinny speakers. But then, one night, I stumbled onto something different. A woman bent forward, lips stretched around one cock, while another man drove into her from behind. Their bodies moved in sync, her muffled screams vibrating against the shaft in her mouth.

I watched, frozen, my hand tight around myself. Something about it — the way her body was claimed from both ends, the way she seemed overwhelmed, stretched, helpless but eager lodged deep in my brain. That night, I came harder than I ever had, and in the weeks that followed, I chased the same kind of videos, and later, the stories cuckold fiction, wife-sharing erotica, tales of women torn between lust and loyalty.

I never said a word of it to anyone. How could I? In real life, men pretended they only wanted their woman for themselves, and I knew most would brand me crazy for even thinking of sharing mine. But inside, the seed grew. Quietly. Secretly. I told myself I might never live it, but I wanted to taste that madness once before I died.

Then Priyanka happened.

She was nothing like the women in those videos. She was softer, more grounded, a city girl raised with rules but with enough curiosity to break them when she wanted. We spoke about everything our desires, our weaknesses. I even slipped hints of my fantasy once or twice into late-night chats. She would laugh, or shake her head, or type:

“No, Sameek. I could never let another man touch me. Don’t even think of it.”

She was firm, her tone final. And I respected that. I told myself it was enough to have her to feel her mouth, her breasts, her body that fit me as though sculpted for me alone. But somewhere, a part of me kept that fantasy alive, tucked away, waiting for a spark.

That spark came on an ordinary night.

Priyanka was on her knees before me, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders, my cock buried in her mouth. She had stripped naked like she always did, saying she wanted no barrier between us. I watched her lips stretch, her throat open, her tongue swirl as she swallowed me whole. God, she was perfect. She gagged, pulled back, drooled down her chin, then went again, faster, her hands pressing against my thighs.

Her eyes flicked up, glistening. She loved making me watch.

I leaned back, groaning, letting her set the rhythm. I thought of nothing else until she shifted slightly, arching her back as she bent deeper. And in that moment, I imagined what it would look like if someone else slid into her from behind, filling her ass while her lips worked on me.

The thought hit me like lightning. My fantasy. Right here. Right now.

I gripped her hair tighter, thrusting into her mouth, almost desperate. My breath grew ragged, and I felt the words trembling on my lips. God, I want to see you taken, Priyanka. I want another man behind you while you choke on me.

Before I could say it, she pulled back suddenly, eyes wild, lips swollen. She wiped saliva from her chin and climbed onto me in one swift movement. Her legs spread wide, her wet pussy hovering over me.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice husky, needy.

In a flash, she sank down, my cock filling her entirely. She cried out, head thrown back, hair whipping across her face. I grabbed her breasts, those perfect 36DDs, and squeezed, pinching her nipples until she moaned louder.

She rode me hard, hips slamming against mine, our bodies clapping in the dim light. Sweat slicked her skin, her breasts bouncing in my hands.

“Who are you fucking tonight?” I growled, my hands bruising her flesh.

Her eyes glazed. Her lips parted. And then, from somewhere deep in her subconscious, the name slipped out.

“Rahul…”

Time stopped.

The sound of it cracked through me like a whip. My chest tightened, my mind spun. Rahul. A real name. Not a fantasy, not a stranger. Rahul.

Jealousy and desire collided inside me, violent, intoxicating. I gritted my teeth, squeezed her tits harder, and thrust upward with all my strength. She gasped, shocked, but then she moaned again, louder, matching my rhythm.

“You’re fucking Rahul in your mind?” I snarled, pounding into her.

“Yes!” she cried, her nails digging into my shoulders. “But I feel you ! God, Sameek, I feel you!”

Her pussy clenched around me, milking me, pulling me deeper. I drove into her harder, the bed shaking, our sweat mixing. She rode me back with equal force, her tits slapping against my chest, her moans filling the room.

I was lost to anger, to lust, to the thrill of hearing that name. Every thrust became a battle, every squeeze of her nipples a punishment and a reward.

Her orgasm hit first. She screamed, clutching my hair, pulling my head against her breasts as she convulsed. Her pussy tightened, gushing around me, soaking my thighs.

I followed seconds later, growling, flipping her onto the bed, and pumping my cum across her belly in hot, thick streams. My chest heaved, my cock twitched, my vision blurred. She laughed breathlessly, watching the semen drip down her skin, her stomach glistening with my release.

“Look at you,” she teased, voice shaky. “Panting like a beast.”

I collapsed beside her, gasping, my heart hammering. But the name echoed in my head still. Rahul. Rahul. Rahul. Rahul. Rahul….

Later, I dragged myself into the washroom, splashing cold water on my face, trying to calm the storm inside me. My reflection stared back, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes too bright.

The door creaked. Priyanka walked in, naked, her body glowing with sweat and cum. She sat on the toilet casually, peeing as though nothing had happened.

I turned, watching her, my heart still racing. “Priyanka,” I asked quietly, “were you ever… serious with Rahul? In the past?”

She flushed, wiped, and looked at me. Her eyes didn’t flinch. Her lips curved into a small, almost guilty smile.

“Yes.”

The word landed heavy, final.

I stared, stunned. A strange mix of rage and excitement twisted in my gut. The fantasy I’d carried for years suddenly had roots, flesh, history. Rahul wasn’t just a name in my imagination, he was real. He had touched her once. Maybe more.

She stood, washed her hands, and leaned against the counter. “Let me freshen up. Then I’ll tell you the story.”

I nodded slowly, my mind on fire. Part of me wanted to demand every detail immediately, to hear how he kissed her, how he fucked her, how she moaned for him. Another part of me wanted to punish her, to fuck her again until she forgot Rahul ever existed.

But above all, one truth pulsed through me: this was the high I had craved. The line between fantasy and reality was blurring.

And I was ready to fall.

He asked me to do something dangerous.

Not in the big, obvious wayno knife-edge choices, no life-or-death gambits. He wanted me to retell it all as if it were happening now: every kiss, every hand, every little sting of guilt and pleasure. Sameek’s voice had been soft when he said it, the kind of softness that felt like permission and hunger at once. “Relive it for me,” he had whispered into my ear as we lay tangled in sheets that still smelled of rain and sweat. “Tell me like it’s happening. I want to hear the sound of your breath change when you remember. Show me.”

There was a tremble in my chest the moment I agreed. Memory is a dangerous tool; it can cut you open or stitch you closed. I had always loved the idea of memories that held you like a warm shawl; I had never wanted to pull one off and present it as a raw thing. But this offering, this brutal honesty was how we were making ourselves whole. So I nodded and took a breath, letting the room around us recede until it was just me and the voice that began to speak.

“Sit up,” I told him, my voice calm but pressed with the pulse of what I was about to do. He obeyed, naked and steady, his eyes soft at first and then sharpening with curiosity. He sat cross-legged on the bed like a child waiting to be told a bedtime story, except there was desire burning behind that patience, and that made my confession both apology and arousal.

“This is going to sound stupid,” I started, and then I let myself be foolish. “Tinder. I swiped right.”

Sameek cracked a smile, incredulous, and the small sound made my throat ache with something like relief. “Of course you did,” he said, and the fondness in it steadied me. “What came next?”

“What came next was an ordinary kind of charm,” I said, remembering. As I spoke, I guided his hand to my waist and let him press there, where Rahul’s fingers had first found me. “His name was Rahul. He messaged quickly, charmingly. He was… confident in a way that looked practiced. We talked for a few days easy banter, jokes. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only one in the room.”

I watched him as he listened. He leaned in. He moved his palm across my hip in the exact tempo my words set. It was a small, intimate theft; he was learning the shape of my past with his present fingers.

“Our first date was casual,” I said. “A café near my office. I wore a skirt because it was warm and my thighs were showing and I wanted to feel something light for once. He was there early—he always liked to be the first, that was one of his habits. When he stood, his smile hit me like an offering. He hugged me like we’d known each other forever. His hand rested at the small of my back and didn’t move much, and that felt safe for a second.”

I inhaled a memory of cologne—strong, citrus with a bitter base—and the scent rose inside me like a tide. Sameek’s fingers found my collarbone and his thumb brushed, mimicking the brush of Rahul’s palm on my back. He watched my face for the flicker of shame, of nostalgia, and met it steady with his own claim.

“After coffee, he walked with me,” I continued. “We talked about music, about nothing. He was open in a way that made me drop walls without realizing. At the gate, he kissed me. It started soft—testing the water—but then his tongue found mine and his hand slid from my back down to my hip, then to my ass, cupping through the skirt. It was bold. I gasped, surprised, and he said, ‘You’re so beautiful when you’re surprised.’”

Sameek’s hand tightened where it rested on my hip. He kissed the place where I said Rahul’s palm had cupped me, and it sent a sharp current through me, a present reclamation layering over the story. “I can do that,” he murmured, his mouth hot and immediate against my skin.

I closed my eyes and let the images pour out. “We went back to his place that night. It was ‘just to watch a movie,’ he said, but he dimmed the lights before the film even started. His hands were everywhere on the couch slow on my thigh, tracing lines up my skirt, slipping past the seam of my top. He kissed me with more force than I expected and then, when I tensed, he smiled too smooth and slid his hand under the strap of my bra. He jerked it up hard enough that it stung.”

At the memory of the sting, I slid my fingers to the strap of the bra I’d worn that night, the one I still had tucked in the drawer and my palm brushed against him. “It hit like a note,” I told him. “An elastic sting. I flinched. He laughed and said I made a nice noise. He liked that I was told I sounded good. It made me feel seen. It made me feel small.”

Sameek’s mouth closed on my shoulder, slow and possessive. He kissed as if smoothing away the memory, pressing his tongue where the elastic had bitten. His breaths were shallow and hot. I felt him there present, anchoring. That was the point of the whole exercise: to turn the phantom into something my real man could touch and overwrite.

“He started taking pictures,” I said suddenly, and my voice snagged on the sound as if I were swallowing glass. I watched Sameek’s face change concerned knitting his brow, the faint edge of something like anger creeping into his jaw. But he stayed quiet, listening, handing me back the space to say it.

“At first they were little things,” I told him. “A selfie, cute angles. But the tone shifted. I was on the bed, just in my bra, and he said, ‘Hold that look. Just like that.’ He’d tell me to arch, to tilt my head, to bite my lip. He’d say, ‘Give me a shot for when I miss you,’ and I’d laugh and do it. Later he’d ask for more. ‘Lower your panties a little,’ he’d say, and I’d hesitate and then I’d let him. He told me it was because I was beautiful and that he wanted to remember me. In small moments, it felt flattering.”

I could feel the warmth of shame flush my face as the chronology unspooled. Sameek’s hand slid lower now, cupping the hollow of my hip, then moving to my thigh and resting there like a sentinel. “Then,” I went on, “one morning he texted me: ‘I jerked off to your pictures last night. I made a mess.’ He didn’t phrase it like a confession. He said it like a boast.”

A cold knot tightened under my ribs at the memory of that message. I had frozen in the kitchen, the mug clutched at my chest, the words small and impossible on my phone screen. I remembered telling myself I should feel flattered; a small, perverse part of me wanted to feel it. But mostly I felt used like I had become an object to be consumed and discarded.

“I cried,” I said, and the word trembled out of me. “Not in front of him not then. I cried later, in the shower, imagining how easy it must have been for him to reduce me to images, to take pleasure at night and then go to work in the morning like nothing had happened.”

Sameek’s voice was barely a whisper. “You told me last night that you felt cheap.”

“Yes,” I said. “Cheap, and angry, and small. And then one day he showed off a picture to a friend. He laughed about it. Something in me broke that day. I ended it.”

He cupped my face and drew me into a kiss that tasted like salt and apology and something rawer ownership. “Thank you,” he said when we came up for air. “Thank you for telling me like this.”

There was power in the telling. As if by speaking, I could take the hot iron of the memory and brand it as a lesson instead of a scar. So I kept going. I let my voice drop into the cadence of the room, of us.

“The bad part,” I admitted, “was that he did some things I liked, too. He knew how to find the perfect pressure. He kissed my throat and I liked the burn. He would bite the underside of my breast until the ache swelled into something that felt almost like courage. He could be tender and then he’d be sudden and I’d surprise myself by saying yes when my better judgment whispered no. I used to replay the way he touched me like an addict chasing a rush.”

As I spoke, my fingers moved of their own accord. I took his hand and pressed it to my breast, to the place Rahul’s thumbnail had dug into my skin. His palm spread there and warmed it. His thumb rubbed soft circles, assessing, learning, owning the map of the hurt in the same motion he was soothing it.

“Tell me how he kissed you,” Sameek demanded then, and there was no cruelty in ask only hunger.

“He kissed me like he was eating me,” I answered slowly. “Not all the time just in the best moments. He’d press his mouth against mine, tongue at work, and then for a second he’d pull away and bite the corner of my mouth, like marking me. His hands would roam, always returning to my breasts and then my neck. He loved the spot right below my ear; he’d blow there before a kiss that made my knees go weak.”

He leaned down and blew exactly where I described, a current of breath across my jaw that made every memory flash as present. We both laughed softly at the obviousness and the intimacy: the man I loved now practicing the small cruelty that used to make me bite my lip.

We had slid into a rhythm my words powering his hands, his hands answering my words with touch. It felt like translation. I would say a scene, and he would render it on my body, the present reclaiming the past in heated, tangible strokes.

There was one night I told him about that stuck in my throat for a long time.

“He wanted to make me feel special,” I said. “He said, ‘I want to show you how I want you.’ I was naïve. I let him, and then he told me to pose. ‘Tilt your face,’ he said. ‘Arch your back. Let your hands rest there, like you’re someone else.’ I felt ridiculous, and at the same time I did what he asked. He photographed me in ways that make me cringe now my breasts in full displayed, my legs spread in a way I would never do for anybody else. He said it was art.”

Sameek’s hand tightened around my wrist when I said that last part, not from anger more like steel to steady me. “He promised it was private?” he asked.

“He promised.” The memory flashed again, ugly and bright. “Then he posted them anonymously, later. He said it was to get more attention. I felt violated, beyond words. I felt like I had been taken advantage of in a way that laughed at me. He watched me as if my humiliation was a plot twist he enjoyed. That’s when I realized he hadn’t loved anything about me except the way I could be used for his nights.”

I began to cry when I said this. Not dramatic sobbing, just the small wetness I’d been carrying, finally spilling out. Sameek’s lips found mine and his mouth fit like a hand over a bruise. He kissed me like he meant to heal. “You are not any of that,” he said into my mouth. “Not art, not pixels. You are my face when I wake. You are my breath.”

We quieted for a moment, letting that be true. Then, softly, almost mischievously, he said, “Show me how he made you pose. Let me see your memory, and then let me make my own picture.” There was a question in it, an invitation, not a demand and the layered intimacy of it made my pulse thud in my throat.

“That’s how it began to become something else,” I said, feeling the heat of the moment shape itself into courage. “Telling you. Letting you touch me in the same ways but with a different intention. Where Rahul’s touch had been possessive and performative, yours was claiming. Rahul wanted proof; you want me.”

He pressed me back against the pillow and started slowly. “Tell me the way he took you out of yourself,” he murmured, the voice of a man who wants to learn the map of his woman.

I obliged. I began to speak of the small violences that were delivered like tenderness: how he would unzip my dress with a gentleness that felt deliberate; how he would slide a thumb along the seam of my panties and watch my breath hitch; how a pinch to the nipple could be both a statement and a question. With each recollection, Sameek’s hands moved—first to demonstrate the tenderness I had described, then to obliterate the memory with a better, truer version of the touch.

When I spoke of Rahul saying things like, “Pose for me, baby, just like that,” Sameek’s mouth moved in time to mine, shaping the words on my lips into something that belonged to us. He kissed me hard and then, with a grin, he whispered, “Now pose for me.” He guided my body into a flattened arch, my back on the mattress, my legs parted. It felt ceremonious and also utterly normal. The present folded over the past like warm hands covering a wound.

As I described how Rahul liked to tug and make the strap of my bra snap and sting, Sameek did it softly and then harder, watching my reactions like a scientist tracking a result. His actions were delicate and then demanding; he was a man who knew the difference between making me flinch and making me remember the sting as pleasure. He kissed every flare of red afterward, as if to anesthetize my skin with his mouth.

“Tell me of the worst,” he said then, voice small with something like reverence for my courage. “Tell me where it hurt the most.”

“It hurt here,” I said, cupping my sternum. “Where I’d look at myself and think of the pictures, of his comments, his taking something private and exposing it like he owned me. I’d wake and feel like a liar to myself.”

Sameek’s forehead pressed into mine then. The sliver of vulnerability between us felt sacred. “You are not a liar. You are a survivor,” he said simply. “And I love you.”

It was as if saying that aloud gave me permission to let the erotic thread through the confessional one. My voice softened and the admission found a sexiness of its own. I told him about the things that had felt good at the time the way Rahul’s hands could find an ache and soothe it; the way his mouth could learn the cadence of my breath until he could press the place just so and make me lose my composure. But I layered the memory with my reaction now: how those moments felt adulterated because they were bracketed by objectification and an absence of actual care.

While I spoke, I touched him. I ran my fingers along his ribs and let them dip lower, to the place where a man feels the echo of a kiss like a memory warming flesh. I traced where his muscles flexed when he tightened, and I watched how he absorbed the map I was making on him. Sometimes I would guide his palm to my thigh and whisper, “Like this,” letting him recreate those old touches but with the soul of a man who wanted to possess me wholly, righting the past.

We moved, gradually, toward something more immediate. His breath warmed the hollow of my ear as he asked, “Do you want me the way you wanted him? Rehabilitation, or more like revenge?”

I laughed soft, incredulous wanting both. “Repair me,” I whispered, “and then take pleasure in what you repair.” I wanted him to know that I craved restitution as much as desire.

He kissed my palm and his hands were careful but sure. He cupped me, pressing, pulling, exploring the places that had once been a battlefield and turning them into altars. The room filled with new sounds soft chuckles, gasps, the minimal symphony of two people reacquainting their bodies.

“You realize,” he murmured as his mouth trailed down my neck to the cup of my breast, “that I can keep you in my hands forever. I can photograph you with my eyes.”

“I know,” I said. And I believed it then the fierce certainty seizing my chest. “I want your picture to be the one I remember.”

He smiled against my skin and then did the thing I had been waiting for: he kissed the exact place Rahul had kissed me before. He kissed it not like a private trophy but like worship, pressing his teeth and then sucking gently, mapping the scar and healing it with his tongue. I arched into him, the sensation blurring memory and present until I could no longer tell which was which. The flashbacks pulsed into a present that felt better and truer.

By the time we were both undone breathing, slick and spent, a tangle of limbs and soft laughter my story felt like a thing I had offered up and received back, purified by love. We lay together, his arms a band across my ribs, my head cushioned against his shoulder. The silence afterward was thick and comfortable, and then he broke it with a declaration so simply fierce it could have been carved into the wood of the headboard.

“You belong to me, Priyanka,” he said. There was no command in it, only a claim wrapped in tenderness. “You belong to me in the way that matters your breath, your mornings, your messy, dizzy nights. And if the world comes with scars, I will kiss them until they stop hurting.”

I laughed, because suddenly everything felt lighter: the shame, the ache of being seen by a man who hadn’t existed for me anymore. “Then kiss me,” I said. “Not to make it disappear, but to make it mine again.”

He obliged, and we kissed until our mouths were clumsy and tender and the only language left was the press of lips and the soft scbang of stubble against lips. Then he took me again, slowly, deliberately, his hands charting a path of reassurance that ended inside me. I felt him fill me, not as an act of ownership but as a covenant an exchange of tenderness and insistence until I believed, fully, that there was no place for Rahul but the memory I had just narrated.

And when he came, spilling himself into me and across my skin, I felt every small historic indignity fold into a present that was unapologetically ours. My body, which had been a site of commerce and display in a way I hated, felt sovereign again anchored by a man who kissed each bruise and honored the truth beneath the ache.

We slept for a while after, and in the small hours when dawn smudged the sky gray, Sameek woke and wrapped his arms around me. He murmured my name and in the shy, sleepy hush I told him: “Thank you for listening. Thank you for touching my past into something different.” He answered with a kiss to my hair and then said, low and certain, “There’s nothing here for anyone else. Tell me what you want tomorrow. Tell me what you dream and I’ll try to give you pieces of it.”

That was the promise. Not a tidy erasure of what had happened but an honest, daily repairing. Not a denial of the past but a commitment to be a better present.

I let the memory of Rahul exist as I had just retold it no longer a blemish but a chapter I could close. I had given it language, and then I had let it be overwritten by the warmth of the man who had asked me to speak it. He took each painful fragment and made it tender with his breath and his palms.

When I finally drifted back into sleep, it felt different. Not empty, not luminous. Just right. Full of the hard, honest work of being loved after being hurt: telling the story, watching it change as you speak, and letting someone you trust prove, touch by touch, that you are not defined by what someone once used you for.

Sameek’s arms tightened around me in sleep, and I nestled into the curve of him, the soft weight of his body a punctuation that read: You are home. The storm was still a part of us, the rain a memory on the glass, but in the quiet after the retelling, everything felt recalibrated. I had relived the past and turned it into a tether to the future a future where my body belonged only to the man beside me, and where every look and touch had the kind of reverence Rahul had never known.

When morning came, it did so in the ordinary way: pale light, the distant hum of someone making tea in the building next door, the mild obligations of an ordinary day. But inside our bedroom the aftertaste of confession was warm, and the promise of belonging felt like a curtain drawn tight against the cold. I looked at Sameek in the half-light at the small scar on his wrist, at the way his breath stilled in sleep and thought, with a calm that had no sharpness left, that sometimes the hardest things to do were also the ones that re-made you.

I had told the story and it had returned to me different, made better by being witnessed and reclaimed. I had let myself remember Rahul with detail and then let Sameek taste those details and make them his. And in the process, I had learned the strange alchemy of confession: how saying something aloud can empty it of shame and fill it with something else—ownership, fidelity, and the slow, tender reclamation of what is truly ours.

cutekomal · 25-09-2025, 03:11 PM

Act 7: Priyanka accepts the salary of surrender.

The rain had washed the night clean, leaving the world outside damp and hushed. In the bedroom, the single lamp on the side table cast a golden circle, warm against the dark edges of the room. Priyanka paused at the doorway, already feeling her pulse quicken. He was waiting for her, just as he had promised. The chair at the edge of the bed was no longer just a chair—it was his desk, his throne, the place from which he would question her until she was stripped bare of everything but the truth.

Sameek sat in it like an interviewer at the head of a long conference table, legs parted with deliberate ease, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to tempt her eyes toward the dark skin of his chest. He didn’t smile. He didn’t soften. His gaze tracked her every movement, weighing her, assessing her, as if she were no more than a candidate sitting nervously in front of him.

“Sit,” he said.

Her feet carried her forward even as her mind screamed with anticipation. She perched at the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting in her lap. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, voice a low rumble.

“You know the rules.”

Her throat was dry. She swallowed, forcing words out. “I have to answer honestly.”

He nodded slowly. “And if your answer requires proof?”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Then I… show you.”

His lips twitched but he didn’t laugh. “And hesitation?”

She lowered her eyes. “Punished.”

His voice softened but carried weight. “Exactly. Do you accept the terms?”

“I do.” The words slipped out in a whisper.

Silence fell between them, thick enough to feel. Then his eyes hardened. “Let’s begin. First question: why do you want this job?”

Her nervous laugh broke the tension for only a moment. He didn’t react. “Convince me,” he pressed, “why I should keep you naked in my bed every night, when there are thousands of other applicants waiting outside this door?”

Her lips parted, but nothing came out at first. He waited, patient but unyielding. She thought, really thought, about the answer. “Because,” she began slowly, “no one else makes me ache just by looking at me. Because when I’m with you, there’s no space left inside me for anything else. Because I would give everything I have to stay yours.” Her voice trembled, honesty peeling her open.

His eyes lingered on her face, dark and satisfied. “Better. But don’t hesitate again.”

The next question was sharper. “How often do you touch yourself when I’m not here?”

Her stomach dropped. She shifted on the bed, pressing her knees together. His expression didn’t change. “Answer.”

Her voice cracked. “Three… maybe four times a week.”

“Maybe?” His eyebrow lifted.

She closed her eyes. “Five.”

His mouth curved but not in kindness. He stood, towering over her, then leaned down until his shadow fell across her. “Show me.”

Her fingers trembled as they slipped between her thighs, moving in hesitant circles over the thin cotton of her shorts. He watched, his breath audible, his eyes heavy.

“That’s how you do it alone?”

She nodded quickly.

“Remove them.”

Her pulse stumbled. Slowly, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband, tugging the shorts down her legs. Cool air hit her bare skin and she shivered, every nerve alive. She glanced up at him, embarrassed, aroused, helpless.

“Good,” he murmured, stepping closer. His hand captured hers, guiding it away from herself, placing it flat against his chest.

“Hold it. Two sentences. Tell me what this part means to you.”

Her lips parted. The warmth of him pulsed against her palm. She hesitated, then whispered, “Your chest is where I hide when I’m afraid. And it’s also where I feel trapped when you hold me down… and I love both.”

A sound rumbled in his throat, approval laced with hunger. He moved her hand lower, sliding it across the fabric of his shirt until it rested on his thigh.

“Speak.”

Her fingers pressed gently, trembling. “Your thighs… they scare me. Because when you spread them, I know you’re already hard. And I can’t stop staring.”

His breath deepened. He shifted her hand again, this time to his arm, where muscle flexed under her touch. She looked up at him nervously.

“Say it.”

Her cheeks burned. “Your arms… they make me feel small. And safe. And like I’m caught, whether I want to be or not.”

He grunted softly, pleased, then guided her hand lower, pressing it against the plane of his stomach. She inhaled sharply at the firm ridges beneath her palm.

“Speak.”

Her voice quivered. “Your stomach… it’s where I feel you tighten before you lose control. And I love that I’m the reason you can’t hold back.”

The words made him close his eyes for a second, breath heavy. When they opened again, they were darker. He guided her hand around him, pressing it against the curve of his ass.

Her gasp filled the room.

“Well?”

She squeezed lightly, heat flooding her face. “Your ass… I think about holding it when you’re inside me. Pulling you deeper. Never letting you leave.”

His nostrils flared. Finally, his hand moved hers forward, pressing it against the outline straining at his trousers. She froze, air trapped in her lungs.

“Say it,” he ordered, voice rough now.

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Your cock is the only thing I crave when I’m alone. It’s the only thing that silences my thoughts. It owns me.”

He let out a low sound, something between a growl and a sigh. Her hand stayed there, trembling against him, feeling him pulse beneath the fabric.

When he stepped back, she felt both relieved and desperate. He returned to his chair, settling with deliberate calm, as though nothing had happened. “Now, situational questions,” he said smoothly.

Her chest rose and fell, her body hot and restless. She nodded.

“What if,” he began, “I came home drunk and wanted you immediately—no kisses, no words. Just raw need. What would you do?”

She thought hard, biting her lip. “I’d… help you to bed. And then give you what you wanted. Even if I wasn’t ready yet. Because you’d make me ready in seconds.”

His smirk betrayed his approval. “What if I told you to kneel in the kitchen while I cooked, open your mouth, and take me there?”

Her eyes widened, face burning. “I’d… blush. And obey. Because I’d want you even if the stove was on.”

He leaned back, his gaze never wavering. “What if I blindfolded you, tied your hands, and made you wait to know which part of you I’d taste first?”

Her body shuddered at the image. “Then I’d beg you to start with my lips. Because I’d want one kiss before I couldn’t think anymore.”

He paused, studying her as though reading her soul.

She licked her lips nervously, unable to bear the silence. “Ask me another.”

His mouth curved. “What if I told you to climb into my lap during a meeting with others in the room, and stay still while I worked?”

Her pulse jumped violently. “I’d… I’d try to sit quietly. But I’d fail. Because I wouldn’t be able to hide what you do to me.”

The hunger in his eyes deepened, though his voice remained composed. “And what if I forbade you from touching me for a whole week, just to test how much you could endure?”

Her throat closed. “I’d cry. I’d beg. I’d promise anything. Because I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

His jaw tightened, as though her answer struck him deeply. He rose again, walking slowly until he stood before her. His hand cupped her chin, tilting her face up.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured. “But the interview isn’t over.”

Her body trembled, caught between pride and arousal.

His eyes roamed down her, then back up. “Remove your top.”

Her breath hitched. She hesitated, then obeyed, peeling the fabric up over her head until her breasts spilled free. She sat naked before him now, every inch of her vulnerable, his gaze devouring her.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He reached for her hand again, this time placing it on his chest once more. “Tell me again. But slower this time.”

Her fingers curled against his skin. Her voice shook. “Your chest… it’s where I collapse when I can’t carry myself. And when you hold me down with it, I feel yours completely.”

He exhaled hard, and she could feel his heart hammering beneath her palm.

Then he lowered her hand again, to his thigh, his eyes fixed on her. “Slower.”

She bit her lip, voice a husky whisper. “Your thighs… they remind me how strong you are. They remind me how easily you could pin me open and keep me there.”

Her own words made her shudder.

When her hand returned to the bulge between his legs, she squeezed gently this time, her eyes lifting to his with a daring spark. “And this… this is the only reward I’ll ever need.”

His control cracked just for a moment in the dark fire of his gaze.

And then he stepped back again, letting her ache with need, leaving her trembling in anticipation of what the next questions might demand.

She sat trembling, every nerve raw, her bare skin tingling where his eyes lingered. The silence stretched like a wire between them, taut and dangerous. He didn’t move for a long time, only watched her, letting her squirm under the weight of his stillness. When he finally spoke, his voice was rougher than before, gravel dragged across velvet.

“You’ve answered well,” he murmured. “But an interview is about pressure. About what you reveal when the weight is too much to bear.”

Her lips parted, though no words came. She could only nod.

He reached down, undoing the button of his trousers with deliberate slowness. Her eyes followed the movement helplessly, her breath catching. He lowered the zipper, the sound loud in the quiet room, and then guided her hand forward again, this time inside the loosened fabric. The heat of him pulsed against her palm, and she let out a soft, startled sound.

“Hold it,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

Her fingers closed around him, tentative, reverent. Her throat was dry.

“Now say it.”

She swallowed hard, searching for words. “This… this is the center of my hunger. The part of you that ruins me and saves me in the same moment. I think of it when I’m alone, I crave it when I’m with you, and I’ll never be free of it.”

The breath he drew in was sharp, his chest rising hard against the open fabric of his shirt. Her honesty shook him as much as it shook her.

His hand tightened over hers, guiding her slowly up and down. “You’re learning,” he said quietly, though his jaw clenched with restraint. “But there’s more.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her lips trembling. “Ask me,” she whispered.

He tilted his head, studying her as if weighing his next move. “What if I kept you like this all night,” he said softly, “just holding me, stroking me, never allowed to stop, never allowed to finish me?”

Her breath hitched. She thought, really thought, her body quivering with both dread and desire. “I’d do it,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I’d do it because you told me to. Even if my arms ached, even if I cried, I’d do it until you let me rest.”

His eyes flared with something raw, something darkly pleased.

“And what if,” he pressed, his voice lower now, “I told you to mount me right here, take me inside you, but not move a muscle until I commanded it?”

Her body clenched with need at the image. “I’d obey,” she whispered. “And I’d break apart from waiting. But I’d wait. Because the first thrust you gave me after holding me still would tear me in two.”

Her words made his restraint falter. He pulled her up suddenly, so she was standing before him, completely bare, her skin glowing in the dim lamplight. He ran his eyes over her slowly, as though cataloguing every inch for the record.

“You’ve stripped well,” he murmured. “Now the final question.”

Her breath caught. “What is it?”

He leaned back in the chair, legs spread, his hand wrapping around himself where she had just touched him. He stroked slowly, deliberately, his eyes locked on hers. “What,” he asked softly, “do you expect for salary and benefits?”

For a moment she didn’t breathe. The words seemed absurd and obscene, wrapped in the pretense of their game. But the way he said them—low, dangerous, loaded with promise—made her knees weak.

She dared to smile, though her cheeks burned. “Well,” she whispered, “every job has them. What does this one come with?”

The smile that curved his mouth was feral. He stroked harder, his breath quickening, his eyes never leaving hers. “This is your salary,” he rasped. “This is what you earn for your honesty, your obedience, your surrender.”

She knelt there for a long moment, chest rising and falling in uneven waves, her breath mingling with the warmth of his thighs. The taste of his nearness lingered in the air, thick and heavy, and though he had just given himself to her, she knew by the trembling in his muscles that he wasn’t finished. Neither of them ever were.

When she finally raised her eyes, his gaze pinned her — dark, feral, still burning. He cupped her chin in one rough hand, tilting her face upward, thumb grazing the corner of her lips as though sealing the contract he had just written on her skin.

“You think the interview ends here?” he asked softly, almost a growl.

Her voice broke into a whisper. “Doesn’t it?”

He shook his head slowly, deliberately. “No, Priyanka. This is where the real job begins.”

Before she could answer, he tugged her up into his lap. The motion was sudden, her knees straddling him, her breasts pressed flush against his chest, her skin alive under the heat of his hands. He guided her, hips finding their alignment without thought, as though they had been carved for this moment.

She gasped at the contact — not yet inside, but pressed against him, his arousal already swelling again, demanding her. The sensation of him thick and heavy between her folds sent a sharp current racing through her body.

“Sameek…” she whispered, half-plea, half-warning.

His hand tightened on her waist, his other sliding up her back, fingers spreading over her nape, grounding her. “Say it,” he demanded, voice husky.

Her lips trembled. “Say what?”

“What you want.”

She closed her eyes, forehead pressed to his. “I want… all of you.”

That was all it took. With a controlled thrust of his hips and the downward pull of his hands, he buried himself inside her in one long, deliberate motion. Her cry broke in the hollow of his throat, her nails clawing into his shoulders as her body stretched around him, took him, welcomed him.

For a heartbeat, they stilled. Her breath came ragged, his chest heaving under her palms. The sensation of fullness was so complete it bordered on unbearable, yet it was exactly the ache she had begged for with every whispered answer, every blush, every surrender.

He kissed her then — not soft, not tender, but deep and claiming, their mouths colliding in the same rhythm their hips soon found. She rocked against him, slow at first, her body relearning the cadence of his possession. His hands gripped her harder, guiding her motion, lifting her only to pull her down onto him again, each thrust dragging a moan from her throat.

Her words slipped out between gasps. “Every… every question you asked me… this was the answer.”

He growled low, teeth grazing her lip, and thrust up harder, sharper, until she broke into a sob of pleasure. “And this,” he rasped against her mouth, “is your raise.”

She laughed through the tears in her eyes, then gasped again as his pace built, her breasts pressed against his chest, nipples grazing his skin with every movement. She could feel the tension coiling inside her, the unbearable tightening that begged for release.

But he didn’t let her fall easily. His hand slid between them, finding her with ruthless accuracy, his thumb circling where she was most sensitive, drawing a cry that tore from her lungs. Her head fell back, throat bared, and he took the opportunity to drag his mouth down her neck, biting, marking, worshipping.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She forced her heavy lids open, meeting his gaze through the blur of ecstasy.

“Come for me, Priyanka.”

The words tipped her over the edge. Her body clenched violently around him, her cry filling the room as wave after wave tore through her, her nails raking down his back. He held her through it, thrusting deep, prolonging her ecstasy until she was limp against him, trembling, gasping for air.

And still he wasn’t finished. With a growl, he lifted her, turning, laying her back onto the bed without ever leaving her. His weight settled over her, his thrusts resuming with a force that stole her breath. She welcomed it, legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper, her voice breaking on his name again and again.

“Sameek… oh God…”

Her plea was his undoing. He drove into her with raw hunger, his control snapping, his groans filling her ears as he spilled inside her, claiming her all over again in the most primal way. She clung to him, her body shuddering as his release triggered another tremor through her own.

When the storm finally ebbed, he collapsed against her, chest heaving, their sweat-slicked bodies tangled in exhaustion and heat. She stroked his hair, her lips brushing his temple, her heart still racing with the echo of everything they had just unleashed.

Neither spoke for a long time. Only the sound of their breathing filled the quiet, slow and steady, like two survivors washed ashore after a tempest.

Then, softly, she whispered, “So… now I know what the benefits are.”

He lifted his head just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes dark but softened with something deeper. “That was just your signing bonus,” he murmured, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

She laughed weakly, hugging him tighter, her body still trembling from the force of it. “Then I can’t wait to see what promotion feels like.”

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking gently. “Stay with me long enough, Priyanka, and you’ll own the whole company.”

She gasped softly, her hands resting against his thighs, her whole body trembling from the force of his release. She closed her eyes, letting it mark her, letting it sink into her bones as something more than lust. Something eternal.

For a long moment there was only the sound of their breathing, harsh and uneven in the heavy air.

Then she laughed softly, breathless and trembling. “So… does that mean I’m hired?”

When the heat had ebbed into a softer warmth, she tilted her head back, her lips brushing the line of his jaw. “You know,” she whispered, “every company talks about growth. Promotions. Next-level roles. Do I get that here too?”

His chuckle was low and rough, vibrating through his chest. “What are you applying for now?”

She pretended to think, her eyes sparkling though her voice was husky with exhaustion. “Maybe… senior partner. Someone who doesn’t just obey but helps set the rules.”

His gaze darkened, amused and aroused all over again. “Ambitious,” he murmured. “You think you’ve earned that?”

Her lips brushed his ear. “I think I’ll earn it every night until you can’t imagine not giving it to me.”

He growled softly, pulling her tighter. “Careful what you wish for. The next level has harder tests.”

She smiled, eyes closing as sleep tugged at her, her body sore and sated. “Then test me,” she whispered. “As many times as you want.”

He kissed her temple, his hand stroking her hair, his voice a rumble in the quiet. “I will. And you’ll pass. Every single time.”

And in the golden hush of that room, with the world outside still damp from the rain, they lay tangled together, two souls who had turned an interview into a ritual of possession, of love, of desire that knew no ceiling and no end.

cutekomal · 28-09-2025, 07:50 AM

Act 8: The Fantasy jar

Priyanka had been fidgeting all evening, her eyes flicking toward the corner table as though something hidden there pulsed with its own quiet heartbeat. Sameek noticed, of course. He always noticed. His gaze lingered on her face while she folded clothes too carefully, while she pretended to check her phone, while she walked to the kitchen without really needing to.

Finally, when he leaned back in his chair and said, “What are you hiding?” she froze.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she said quickly, too quickly.

He arched an eyebrow. “Priya.”

Her lips curved nervously. She crossed the room, bent down, and from beneath a scarf brought out a glass jar. It was heavy enough that her hands shook as she carried it. She set it on the bed between them, the sound of the glass against wood soft but loud in the hush of their room. Inside were small slips of folded paper—dozens of them, each hand-written in her careful script.

“What’s this?” Sameek asked, his tone amused but curious.

“A game,” she murmured, sitting on her heels, fingers playing with the jar’s lid. “I… made it for us.”

His gaze sharpened. “Explain.”

Her throat worked. “Twenty slips. Each one has… a fantasy. A dare. Something we’d never try otherwise. Tonight, or any night we choose… we draw one. And whatever’s written, we have to do it.”

His eyes dropped to the jar, then back to her. A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “You wrote them all?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“And we have to do them?”

“Rules are rules.” She tried to sound playful, but her pulse betrayed her in the jump of her voice.

He leaned forward, hand brushing hers as he unscrewed the lid. “You surprise me every day, Priyanka.” His tone was low, dangerous. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

Her stomach clenched. She wanted him to draw the first chit and feared it all the same.

His fingers rustled among the papers, selecting one at random. He unfolded it slowly, his eyes scanning the neat handwriting. Then he laughed under his breath.

“‘Sit in my lap while we eat dinner from the same plate.’” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You call this a fantasy?”

She flushed. “It’s… intimacy. I like when we share food.”

“Intimacy,” he repeated, savoring the word. “Get the plate.”

Her laugh was shaky, but she obeyed. She returned with rice and curry, still steaming, and settled on his lap, facing him. The chair creaked under their combined weight. He held the plate steady in one hand, spoon in the other, feeding her first before tasting himself. She leaned against him, the warmth of his body seeping through her. Each time their lips brushed the same spoon, her stomach fluttered.

“This feels like love,” she whispered once, unable to stop herself.

His lips brushed her ear. “That’s because it is.”

By the time the plate was empty, her heart was pounding in a rhythm that had little to do with food.

“Next,” he said, setting the dish aside.

She reached into the jar this time, her hands trembling as she pulled a slip. She unfolded it and groaned.

“What is it?” Sameek demanded.

Her cheeks flamed. “It says… ‘Kiss me like you did the first time we ever kissed, but don’t stop.’”

His smirk was slow, dangerous. “Come here.”

She slid off his lap only for him to pull her into his arms again, this time with deliberate force. His lips found hers, not tentative like that first kiss had been, but with the hunger that memory had carried all these years. He kissed her until she was breathless, until her body melted against his, until she clutched his shirt as though she’d drown without him.

When he finally pulled back, she was trembling. “That chit should’ve had a warning label,” she whispered.

He only chuckled and reached for the jar again. Another slip, another unfolding. “‘Stand naked at the window while I watch you.’”

Her breath caught. “Sameek…”

“You wrote it,” he reminded her.

She swallowed hard, then slowly rose. With fumbling fingers she pulled her kurti over her head, let her shorts fall, discarded bra and panties in a pile on the chair. The cool air licked her bare skin as she walked to the window. She pulled the curtain aside just enough, standing with her back to him, goosebumps rising along her arms.

She felt his gaze burn hotter than the night air.

“Turn your head,” he ordered.

She did, their eyes meeting in the glass’s faint reflection. His hand stroked himself lazily through his pants, not hiding it. The sight made her thighs press together involuntarily.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Every inch.”

Her cheeks burned, but pride flared in her chest too. She turned back, closing the curtain at last, her body tingling as she returned to him.

When she reached for the jar, he caught her wrist. “You enjoyed that more than you admit.”

She smiled shyly. “Maybe.”

The next slip she drew made her laugh nervously. “‘Climb onto the kitchen counter and touch myself while you watch.’”

Sameek’s eyes darkened. “Let’s go.”

The kitchen was dim, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. She hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling, the cold granite against her skin. Her fingers slid down her body, finding her heat as his eyes devoured her. She gasped softly, arching, knowing he was watching every flick of her wrist, every shudder of her breath.

“You’re glowing,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Stop staring,” she managed.

“I’ll never stop.”

Her moan filled the kitchen, bouncing off tile and steel. When she finally slid off the counter, her legs were weak. He caught her, steadying her against his chest, his lips brushing her temple.

They returned to the bedroom in silence, both breathless.

He drew the next chit. His laugh was deep, vibrating in his chest. “‘Wear only a towel and fetch clothes from the balcony.’”

Priyanka groaned. “You’re cruel to me.”

“You’re cruel to yourself,” he corrected. “Go on.”

She wrapped the towel tight, heart pounding as she stepped into the night air of the balcony. The city murmured below. She bent to pick up the dry clothes, the towel threatening to slip. A laugh bubbled from her throat as she rushed back inside, slamming the balcony door shut.

“See?” Sameek teased. “You love being dared.”

“I hate it,” she argued, but her smile betrayed her.

They took turns, slip after slip, each one peeling another layer from them. One dared them to whisper their dirtiest story while the other listened with hands tied behind their back. Another demanded a selfie taken on the terrace, their bodies hidden but obvious in their nakedness. The risk sent jolts of adrenaline through her veins, the laughter mixing with moans, the playfulness with raw heat.

And still, the jar sat heavy with unopened slips.

At last, Priyanka’s hand brushed against one folded paper that felt different—thicker, as though she had pressed too hard when writing it. She knew before she even unfolded it. Her stomach dropped, heat rising in her chest.

Sameek noticed her stillness. “Read it.”

Her lips parted. “I… can’t.”

“You wrote it. You follow the rules.” His voice was steady, commanding.

Her hands trembled as she unfolded the paper. The words stared back at her, her own handwriting suddenly foreign. She looked up at him, eyes wide, heart hammering.

His brows furrowed. “What does it say?”

She swallowed, her voice a whisper. “It says… ‘Let me tell you the darkest fantasy I’ve never dared to speak. And then… make me live it.’”

The room went silent.

Her breath came shallow, the jar forgotten between them. His eyes were locked on hers, searching, weighing, hungry.

“Then speak,” he said softly, dangerously.

Her body quaked. She knew what she had written, knew what it meant to bring it into the air. But the rules were rules. And more than that, she trusted him. With everything.

She licked her lips, gathering courage. “Sameek…” Her voice cracked. “It’s not something I’ve ever admitted. Not even to myself. But when I wrote this slip, I knew… one day, I’d want you to hear it.”

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her trembling skin. “Tell me,” he murmured.

Her breath shuddered out. “Sometimes… when I’m touching myself… I imagine being… used.” Her voice cracked on the word, shame and arousal tangling in her throat. “Not gently. Not tenderly. Just… owned. Taken. Like I don’t get a choice. Like I’m just… yours to do anything with.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Her eyes flew open, searching his face for disgust, for judgment. But all she saw was hunger — raw, startled hunger — and something else, something that steadied her: pride.

“You want to be broken open by me,” he said slowly, voice thick.

Her face burned. “I know it sounds ugly.”

“It doesn’t.” His grip tightened on her jaw, not painful but firm, grounding. “It sounds like trust. It sounds like you giving me the deepest part of you.”

Her eyes filled with tears she hadn’t expected. “I was scared you’d think less of me.”

“Never.” His lips brushed hers, feather-light. “Priyanka, you’re the only woman I’ll ever worship. And if part of that worship is owning you the way you crave… then that’s what I’ll give you.”

A sob of relief slipped from her throat. She collapsed into his chest, arms around his neck, trembling with the release of the secret she had held too long. He held her tightly, one hand stroking her hair, whispering against her ear.

“Say it clearly. I need to hear you ask me.”

Her breath shuddered. She pulled back enough to meet his eyes, her lips trembling. “Sameek… I want you to use me tonight. I want you to make me yours in every way. No gentleness. No hesitation. Just… take me.”

Something inside him snapped. His mouth crushed hers, a kiss of possession, of answered prayers. He lifted her easily, tossing her onto the bed, her hair spilling across the sheets. She gasped as he loomed over her, stripping his clothes in sharp, decisive motions until he was bare and hard and magnificent.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head, his body covering hers completely. “You trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“Then tonight, you’re mine.”

His mouth descended on her throat, biting, sucking, marking her until she writhed beneath him. His hands roamed her body with a roughness that made her gasp, squeezing her breasts, tugging at her nipples until she cried out. He forced her legs apart with his knee, grinding against her heat until she moaned helplessly.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice ragged.

“I’m yours!” she cried, arching against him. “Do anything you want!”

Her words unleashed him. He released her wrists only to flip her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up, pressing her face into the sheets. She moaned into the fabric as his hand spread her, his breath hot against her ear.

“This is what you wanted?” he growled, thrusting hard into her, filling her in one brutal stroke.

Her scream was muffled by the pillow, her body clenching violently around him. “Yes!”

He slammed into her again and again, his hands gripping her hips, his pace merciless. Her breasts bounced against the sheets, her nails clawing at the fabric as pleasure and pain blurred into one overwhelming tide.

“You’re mine,” he groaned, thrusting deeper. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”

“Yes, Sameek, yes!” she sobbed, her body quaking, her hair sticking to her damp face.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so her cries spilled into the air. He bit her shoulder, his teeth sinking just enough to make her gasp. His other hand slid beneath her, finding her clit, rubbing harsh circles that sent her spiraling.

Her body convulsed, the orgasm ripping through her so violently she screamed his name, her vision blurring with tears of release. He didn’t stop. He pounded into her trembling body, chasing his own climax, his grunts filling the room.

When he finally let go, he roared her name, his body shuddering as he poured himself into her, collapsing over her back, his chest heaving against her slick skin.

For a long moment, neither moved. The only sounds were their ragged breaths, the pounding of their hearts, the hum of life outside their cocoon.

At last, he kissed her damp shoulder, gently this time. “Are you okay?”

Her answering laugh was broken but bright. “More than okay. I’ve never felt so… free.”

He rolled her onto her back, brushing damp hair from her face, his eyes softer now, filled with something that made her chest ache. “You scared me for a second,” he admitted. “Not because of what you asked. But because I realized… there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you.”

Her tears spilled then, unashamed. She cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss that was tender, unhurried, the opposite of the frenzy that had just consumed them.

“I gave you the darkest part of me,” she whispered. “And you turned it into love.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “That’s all I ever want to do.”

They lay tangled together, her leg dbangd over his, his arm tight around her waist. The jar still sat on the bedside table, half full of unexplored slips, but neither reached for it again.

“Sameek?” she murmured after a while.

“Mm?”

“Why do you think I wrote that chit?”

He kissed her hair. “Because you wanted me to see all of you. Even the part you were afraid of.”

She nodded against his chest. “And you still chose me.”

“I’ll choose you every time,” he said simply.

Silence settled again, warm and safe. She smiled into his skin. “Next time we open the jar… maybe we start lighter again.”

He chuckled. “We’ll see. I like surprises.”

She pinched his side weakly. “You just like seeing me squirm.”

“That too.” His grin was audible in the dark.

Her laughter faded into a sigh of contentment. Sleep tugged at her, but before she drifted, she whispered the words she hadn’t dared write on any slip of paper, words too big for paper, too fragile to risk in ink.

“I love you, Sameek.”

His arms tightened around her. “I know. I love you too, Priyanka. To the moon and back.”

And as the night deepened, with the jar of fantasies waiting for another day, they surrendered to the sweetest one of all: the fantasy that wasn’t fantasy at all, but the life they were building together, slip by slip, night by night, forever.

cutekomal · 12-10-2025, 12:00 AM

Act 9: making love under the stars

The humid night air hung still, but anticipation made the atmosphere electric. Sameek leaned against the shadowed doorframe, looking up at the steps leading to the terrace.

“You’re sure about this, Devil Partner?” Sameek whispered, the thrill evident in his voice. “Remember you worried about people seeing us before.” He was thinking of how she had previously noted their terrace was the sexiest place, but questioned what if people saw.

“I know, Sameek,” Priyanka replied, her voice low and husky, “but tonight the darkness is thick, and the stars are out. It’s what we deserve. We need this complication, this beautiful mess, outside of whispers and screens”.

Sameek nodded, a determined look on his face. “Right. Give me five minutes. I need to scope out the perimeter. I don’t want anyone to even think we are here, or visible from the neighbourhood”.

He moved silently up the steps, his bare chest absorbing the cool night air. The terrace was expansive and still. Sameek crouched low, checking the height of the boundary walls and the line of sight to the nearest opposing balconies. The shadows were deep, the neighbouring windows mostly dark. He circled the open space once, satisfying himself that they were hidden enough by the geometry of the surrounding buildings and the late hour.

Sameek returned to the stairs and gave a soft, pre-arranged cough.

Priyanka emerged, dressed only in a light nighty. She looked up at the vast expanse of the night sky, taking a deep breath. She glanced towards the nearest, still-lit window in the distance—her ‘reality check’ complete. The excitement overwhelmed the fear, as always.

“No going back now, Sameek,” she muttered, a slight tremor in her hands. With a decisive tug, she pulled the thin fabric over her head, letting it drop to the floor. She stood completely naked, her silhouette barely visible in the dark.

Sameek swallowed hard. “Priyanka,” he breathed, moving towards her, feeling the truth of his dedication: “My heart beats for you, your body, your soul, your perfume… every damn thing about you”.

He kicked off his shorts and moved closer. Their bodies met beneath the silent sky, skin to skin, just as they had only dared to dream of.

“Touch me, Sameek,” she instructed, leaning back slightly, letting her chest brush his. “Let me feel those hands, the ones that have traced my body a thousand times in text”.

Sameek placed his hands on her waist, drawing her close until their hips were locked together. He lowered his head and took her nipple gently in his mouth, pulling lightly.

Priyanka gasped, her fingers immediately sinking into his chest hair. “That pain, my love. It’s exactly what I crave from you, my sweet tormentor”. She pinched his nipple hard through his skin, until he writhed beneath her, the exquisite, sharp pleasure making him forget everything but her.

“Yes, Priyanka,” Sameek groaned, releasing her breast only to lock his lips fiercely onto hers. It was a raw, deep kiss, their tongues wrestling, extracting every drop of saliva just to taste the essence of the other.

Priyanka pulled back slightly, looking down. “I feel it already, Sameek. Your seductive fluid is working its effect on me”.

He traced a finger along her jaw down to her neck. “I need to taste that fluid, Priyanka. I want to shut all those juices from your hand, from your dripping pussy. It’s our heavenly juice, and I want to suck it directly from you”.

Priyanka guided him down to the rough, bare floor of the terrace, urging him onto his back. “Then take it. And hurry, because I am craving for a deep fuck right now”.

Sameek shifted, pulling her over him. He kissed her wetness deeply, savoring the taste. His tongue worked fiercely, demanding a response.

Priyanka moaned loudly, grasping the nape of his neck and urging him closer. Her hips bucked violently, chasing the pleasure he was delivering. “Ummmmmm. It feels so raw, Sameek. So wild.”

After several intense minutes, she pushed herself up, straddling his waist.

“My turn, Sameek,” she declared, her eyes burning with desire. “My mouth is born to suck and eat your Dojo”. She leaned down, taking his erection, Dojo, deep into her mouth. She applied herself with passion and speed, the eye contact confirming her intensity.

Sameek arched his back, lost in the sensation, whispering her name as she worked. After a few minutes, he pulled her back up until she hovered above him.

“I need to be inside you, Queen. Now.”

Priyanka grinned, a look of fierce dominance on her face. “Then climb inside, partner. I want to ride you, hard and fast. Make those deep, merciless thrusts myself”.

Sameek positioned his hard shaft and slid into her tightness. She immediately took control, beginning a slow, circling grind before escalating into powerful, rhythmic thrusts. She rode him hard, feeling every single inch of him filling her, knotting them together.

“Don’t you dare stop, Sameek! I’ll never let you!” she whispered fiercely, enjoying the mix of pleasure and pain that she inflicted upon herself with her relentless movement.

Sameek reached up, pinching her nipples hard, twisting them until she gasped, clutching his shoulders for support as she groaned his name into the cold night air. Their bodies shone slightly with shared sweat.

Priyanka increased the pace, rocking back and forth in a frantic motion. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed softly in the private space under the stars. She kept going, relentlessly, for over thirty minutes, both dominating and accepting the deep penetration.

Finally, sensing the coming storm, Sameek flipped them over, pinning her beneath him. He grabbed her hips, driving into her with rapid, fierce strokes, emptying himself completely inside her pussy.

Priyanka’s fingers dug crescents into his back, screaming his name as her body convulsed in a violent wave of pleasure and contentment.

Exhausted, Sameek collapsed heavily onto her, his arm becoming a weight pinning her in place. Their frantic breathing slowly settled back into deep, ragged gasps. The air conditioner hummed softly from a nearby window below, joining the quiet echo of their exertion.

Priyanka squeezed him tight, feeling the heavy beat of his heart against her ear. “You really are insane, you know that?”.

Sameek chuckled lazily, kissing her shoulder. “Insane? Or just honest about what I want?”.

She stroked the damp hair on his head. “Always. I’ll never go to someone else for bodily pleasures. That’s a principle I follow, Sameek”.

“I know, my Queen,” he murmured. “I know.” He lifted his head slightly and kissed her softly, tasting the mixed fluids of their desire on her lips. “Good girl.”.

Lying tangled together, utter silence finally reigned beneath the immense, unblinking stars, feeling utterly satiated and connected.

cutekomal · 19-10-2025, 10:30 PM

The air in the hired room was thick with unspent tension, heavy with the perfume Sameek loved so fiercely, and the faintly seductive musk that clung to Priyanka's skin. They had finished a hurried dinner, the quiet conversation masking the erotic earthquake constantly rumbling beneath their measured actions. Sameek had pushed her back onto the large, impersonal bed, not in passion, but with a deliberate, commanding gesture, pinning her there with his gaze.

"Tell me the truth, Priyanka," Sameek began, his voice low, demanding, cutting through the silence like velvet-wrapped steel. He was perpetually haunted by the ghosts of her past, particularly one ghost whose name had slipped from her lips in a moment of fantasy-induced delirium: Rahul.

Priyanka, his 'Devil Partner', knew this territory well. It was the dangerous intersection where his absolute possessiveness met her unwavering principle of fidelity. "The truth about what, Sameek? My body is here. My mind is here. What truth do you still seek?" she asked, her own voice betraying a mix of defiance and deep surrender.

He leaned in close, forcing her to confront his blazing eyes. "The truth of the past. The one you surrendered to. I want to see him, Priyanka. I want to conjure Rahul right here, in this moment, and watch him beg for the privilege I already take for granted."

A tremor ran through her body. "Sameek, you know my belief. I accepted you even knowing your complications. I will never, never go to someone else for bodily pleasures. That is my truth. You are the only man—"

"I know your principle," he interrupted, his hands sliding up her bare arms, firm but not cruel. "But tonight, your principle serves *me*. Tonight, your fidelity is proven not by denying the past, but by recreating it, commanding it, and then taking it back, dripping with my ownership."

He had brought her to this point before, playing the line that drove him crazy, demanding her surrender not just in the present, but of her very history. This, he knew, was the highest form of torture she desired—to be utterly violated by his command, only to be utterly saved and claimed by his love.

"You want me to endure this torture, just for your satisfaction?" she challenged, the heat rising in her voice now, fueled by the psychological cruelty of his request.

"I want you to admit that even the ghost of Rahul cannot move you the way I do," Sameek growled. "I want to watch him give you the pleasure you crave, only for you to scream *my* name when you break. Tell me, Priyanka, what did he crave most?"

Her breath hitched. She closed her eyes, letting the memory blend into the present command. "He craved the unspoken. The taste of my wetness. The softness of the skin between my legs that few men get to know so intimately."

"Then let's bring him here," Sameek whispered, running a finger along the wet outline of her outer labia, drawing forth a sharp, involuntary gasp. "And you, my Devil Partner, will describe every single, heavenly detail to me, while I hold you prisoner to your desire."

***

## The Taste of Reclamation (An Exercise in Surrender)

Sameek moved away, just enough to let the mental image form, yet close enough to remain the director of this perverse play. Priyanka lay naked beneath the thin sheet, her legs slightly parted, glistening faintly where his finger had trailed.

"Imagine the room is dark," Sameek commanded, his voice now a mesmerizing drone. "Only the shadows shift, allowing only enough light to define the landscape of your desire. He is here now, Priyanka. He has obeyed my summons, and he kneels before you, utterly consumed by the sight of your womanhood."

Priyanka's breathing accelerated. She lifted her arms above her head, grasping the plush pillow, accepting the tableau. "He is breathless," she narrated, her voice trembling, forcing the words out. "He moves slow, Sameek. Like a man approaching a sacred offering. He doesn't touch me yet. He only stares at the wetness that pools, glistening in the darkness—that seductive fluid I carry only for you."

"He sees the heavenly juice dripping from you, drawn out just by his presence," Sameek murmured, reaching out to pinch her left nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger. The instant, sharp pain grounded her in the present, reminding her who was truly inflicting this pleasure/torture.

"Yes! He sees it," she gasped, writhing slightly under his grasp. "He inhales the scent, Sameek. That raw, pungent smell of me mixed with desire. It drives him wild, just as you said. He leans in, slowly, his hair brushing my inner thighs, warm against my wetness."

Sameek maintained his painful grip on her nipple. "Tell me about his lips, Priyanka. Are they soft? How does he claim that piece of you that belongs only to me?"

"His lips… they part just barely," she breathed. "He doesn't rush. He only presses the very edge of his mouth against my swollen labia, tracing the contours, wet and soft, tasting the salt, the warmth, the essence of me. It’s subtle, Sameek. So light that it tortures me. He uses just the corner of his lip, dragging it gently across the most sensitive skin." Her hips involuntarily tilted, seeking pressure that wasn't yet there.

Sameek leaned closer, his free hand stroking the curve of her hip, just where the soft flesh began. "He is licking you now, isn't he? Tell me how his tongue moves. Is it slow, deliberate? Or frantic to drink your heavenly juice?".

Priyanka bit her lip, forcing the confession of the fantasy. "It starts slowly, Sameek. He moves his tongue in deep, concentrated strokes. Not licking the entire area, but focusing entirely on the outer lips first, soaking them, drenching them in his saliva, making them even slicker. I feel the friction, the warmth, and the sudden chill of the air immediately after. It's exquisite. His tongue slides into the folds, seeking the tiny pearl. He doesn't rush, taking agonizing minutes just to map out the terrain."

Sameek slid his free hand under her back, lifting her slightly, forcing her to present her body fully. He moved his head down and sank his teeth lightly into her inner thigh, drawing a sharp cry of mixed pain and arousal.

"I command him to speed up," Sameek growled, his mouth near her ear. "He cannot deny my will. Tell me he finds your clit now, Priyanka, and tell me how his tongue devours it."

Priyanka writhed, the dual sensation of his bite and the imagined assault overwhelming her. "Yes! His tongue—it flicks out, fast and hard, finding the core. He sucks it then, pulling it deep into his mouth, applying a desperate vacuum pressure. It's ruthless, Sameek! He uses his tongue tip to finger the area vigorously, drawing forth that heady gravy. He wants to drain me, consume all the fluid I carry for you. It’s intoxicating, making me feel that wetness spread all the way to my entire asshole. He is relentless."

"And does he use his teeth, Priyanka?" Sameek demanded, twisting her nipple harder, pushing her toward the edge. "Does he dare bite the queen's jewel? I know you crave that pain, my Devil Partner."

The image shattered her composure slightly. "Yes," she choked out. "He uses his teeth—tiny, gentle nips around the swollen skin, punishing and pleasing me all at once. He keeps sucking, never pausing the pressure, always demanding more fluid. He pulls my womanhood deeper into his mouth, licking and sucking with a ferocity that threatens to tear me apart."

She confessed the physical effects that only this raw fantasy, fueled by Sameek's intensity, could induce. "My whole body is humping, Sameek! I am rocking against the mattress, pulling my knees up, begging him to stay. The muscles are seizing up... I want him to taste every drop of that heavenly juice. I want him to know it’s for you, Sameek, even as his mouth is full of me!"

Sameek, watching her face twist with simultaneous pleasure and psychological torment, understood he was reaching the precipice. Her surrender was absolute. She was living a past intimacy under his control, confirming her present dedication.

He reached down, pressing his thumb deeply into her pussy, finding the exact spot where Rahul's tongue was (in fantasy) driving her mad.

"You see his lips stretch now, Priyanka," Sameek dictated, his voice raspy with control. "You hear his frantic noises. But tell me, who is really causing this, my love? Who owns this surrender?"

She shuddered violently beneath him, clinging to the reality of his touch, needing the validation that this raw act was, ultimately, for him.

"You," she screamed, the word ripped from her throat. "Only you, Sameek! This is your torture! Your pleasure! It's your fingers that pierce me, commanding this climax! I want your meat inside me! I beg you to fuck me, Sameek! I beg you!"

She bucked uncontrollably against his thumb. The muscles of her inner thighs tightened, trapping his hand deeply inside her wetness. Her breath came in shattered sobs, the fantasy achieving a peak so high and cruel that it broke her concentration. She finally reached the orgasm, a violent, consuming seizure that shook her entire frame.

Sameek did not insert Dojo. He merely watched, pinning her down with his gaze, his hand working furiously to prolong the exquisite, tearing pleasure until she was limp and gasping beneath him, drenched in sweat and the heavenly juice that now freely flowed.

***

## The Aftermath of Ownership

Sameek quickly removed his hand, shifting to lie beside her, pulling her close. He drew her wrist to his mouth and kissed the pulse point fiercely. "Mine," he declared, his voice thick with triumph. "Always and forever mine. Every memory, every past touch, is only prologue to me."

Priyanka’s heart hammered against his chest. She buried her face in the curve of his neck, inhaling the pungent scent of his body mixed with the ghostly residue of their dark fantasy.

"You truly are a merciless torturer, Sameek," she whispered, exhausted but fiercely satisfied. "Why must you always push me to that edge? Why must you bring him here just to make me scream your name?"

"Because your love is not simply fidelity," he explained, stroking her damp hair. "It's devotion. And devotion means acknowledging the pain, the history, the darkness, and handing it over to your ruler. That little piece of history now belongs to us, Priyanka. It is consumed by our bond."

She traced the outline of his lips with a trembling finger, acknowledging the depth of his desire and the power of their shared, shocking honesty. "You know, when I tasted my own fluid this morning, imagining it was 'OUR MIXTURE!' I loved it, honey. But this… this act of being ravaged by a ghost under your command… this is the deepest shame. And the deepest love."

Sameek chuckled, raw and pleased. "Shameful, indeed. Just as I love to tie you up, bite your ass cheek, and lick your navel, all while maintaining that beautiful brutality. You accept it all. That is why you are my Queen, the only one who can make me feel this way. My heart beats for you, your mind, your body, your soul… every damn thing about you."

Priyanka shifted, pressing her full weight against him, feeling the firmness of his body. The raw, intense fantasy had momentarily satisfied the gnawing physical ache she constantly experienced in his absence.

"But know this, my master," she murmured, claiming a small piece of control back. "If this had been real, if you had *actually* shared me, I would have been destroyed. I will never allow any second man in my life, no matter what. My desire is only for Dojo, only for your meat, whether in my mouth or my pussy. You are the only one who can fill me, Sameek. No other touch compares to the intense, merciless thrusting you promise."

He squeezed her tight, completely accepting her boundary. "I know, my devil partner. And that conviction, that fierce loyalty in the face of my dark demands, is why you are the ruler of my heart. We are two crazy people, crazily in love and doing crazy bold things that normal people don’t even imagine. And now, my queen, since you begged for it so beautifully... it's time to silence this hunger properly. It's time to jam your pussy with my meat. And you will squeeze me tight, only calling my name."

Priyanka smiled, the last trace of the imaginary Rahul dissolving under the weight of Sameek’s promise. "To the moon and back, Sameek. Always."

He flipped her over, claiming his space, beginning the real initiation that was always, finally, required after the mental games were done. The true act of fidelity began now, erasing the ghost with the fierce, possessive reality of his body.

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