Misc. Erotica Vikram's Porn Addiction comes true

[Mohit.Kumar]

This story is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age.

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The screen flickers to life, revealing a sumptuous, dusky woman with a voluminous bottom. Her skin glows with the warmth of a freshly baked roti, each curve and contour a testament to her ample figure. She's bent over a chair, her plump breasts swaying with each forceful thrust from the hulky young man behind her. The woman's eyes are squeezed shut, and her mouth forms a perfect 'O' of pleasure, her teeth biting into her lower lip. Her moans fill the room, the name "Aditya" slipping out between gasps.

 

Vikram's heart skips a beat as he leans closer to the monitor. There's something eerily familiar about her. The way she arches her back, the jiggle of her soft belly, the mewling noises she makes as she's filled with cock. It's almost as if he's seen her before, somewhere in the distant recesses of his memory. His hand strays to his crotch, the fabric of his pants growing taut as his cock swells with interest.

 

He adjusts the angle of the laptop, his eyes never leaving the screen. The woman in the video is taking it like a champ, her round ass cheeks clapping together with each deep penetration. The camera zooms in, giving him a clear view of her gaping asshole, a ring of dark flesh around the base of the invading cock.

 

Vikram's cock hardens further, straining against the fabric of his briefs. He reaches down and pulls it out, stroking it gently as he watches. The young man in the video, presumably Aditya, grabs her hips with a ferocity that makes her squeal. She's begging for more, her voice thick with lust. "Harder, Aditya. Yes, just like that," she pants.

 

Her dark, wavy hair falls over her face, obscuring her features for a moment before she tosses her head back, exposing her neck, dotted with beads of sweat that glisten under the artificial light. Vikram's mind races, trying to piece together the puzzle. He's seen that neck before, those same sweat-kissed skin folds that now quiver with each impact of the man's pelvis against her round, plush ass.

 

He moves closer to the screen, his breathing quickening as he scrutinizes the scene. The woman's face is still mostly obscured, but he catches a glimpse of her profile—the tip of her nose, the fullness of her cheek. But he still can't put a finger on her.

 

The porn scene unfolds with a raw, carnality that mirrors the tumultuous rhythm of his own hand. Aditya's cock, thick and veiny, pulls out of her pussy and slams back in, painting her inner thighs with her own juices. The woman's eyes flash open, revealing a spark of recognition. It's a look of pure ecstasy, a look that sends a tremor through Vikram's core.

 

He gasps, his hand faltering on his cock as he finally sees her face fully. The resemblance is uncanny. It's definitely someone he knew. But who?

 

Her eyes are almond-shaped, fringed with thick lashes that fan out like miniature ravens' wings. Her nose is slightly upturned, giving her a look of perpetual surprise—or in this case, ecstasy. Her full lips are parted, and her teeth bite down on the corner of her mouth, a gesture that seems to be a silent scream of pleasure.

[Mohit.Kumar]

As the scene reaches its crescendo, the woman in the video cries out, "Oh, Aditya! Yes, yes, I'm coming!"

Vikram feels his own climax approaching, his balls tightening with every stroke of his hand.

The woman's cries of pleasure grow louder, more desperate, as the man behind her, this Aditya, shows no signs of relenting. He's pummeling her with a primal force that seems to echo in the very core of Vikram's being. The sound of their bodies slapping together is a symphony of passion, and he can almost feel the heat radiating from the screen.

Her breasts bounce in time with the relentless rhythm, the dark areolae puckering with each impact. Vikram's eyes are glued to the scene, his hand moving faster now, matching the tempo of their frenetic lovemaking. He can't believe what he's seeing, yet he can't tear his gaze away.

The woman's cries of "Aditya" grow more frantic, her body quaking with the force of her impending climax. It's as if she's calling out to him, beckoning him to join in her pleasure. The room is thick with the scent of his own arousal, mingling with the sweat that's starting to bead on his forehead.

He can almost feel her wetness, the way her pussy clenches around the man's cock. He imagines it's his own, plunging deep inside her, claiming her as he's always wanted. His strokes become more urgent, his hand a blur as he watches her succumb to the waves of pleasure washing over her.

Her ass ripples with each powerful thrust, her cheeks spread wide to reveal the pink, stretched star of her anus, winking at the camera. The sight of it sends a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he wonders what it would feel like to be the one to claim that untouched part of her.

The woman's voice rises in pitch, her cries now a series of sharp, staccato exhalations that punctuate the air like gunshots. Her eyes roll back in her head, and her whole body tenses as the orgasm crashes over her. It's a moment of pure, unbridled passion, captured in high definition for the world to see.

Vikram's hand is a blur now, his grip tight on his swollen shaft. He can feel his own release building, a tingling heat that starts in his balls and races up his spine. He watches, transfixed, as the woman's pussy contracts around the cock, her whole body shaking with the intensity of her climax.

Her cries of "Aditya" turn into a chant, a mantra of pleasure that resonates deep within him. The name alone is a trigger, sending bolts of electricity through his veins. It's all he can do to keep his eyes on the screen, to not to get lost in the haze of lust that's enveloping him.

The room feels like it's spinning, the walls closing in as he watches the woman's body convulse. She's lost to the world, a slave to her own pleasure, and it's a sight that's both mesmerizing and maddening. He's so close, so very close to his own release, and he knows that when it hits, it's going to be like nothing he's ever felt before.

The sound of Aditya's hips smacking against her ass is the only thing that grounds him, that keeps him tethered to reality. He focuses on that, letting it build within him until it's all he can hear. His hand moves in a blur, a silent testament to the years of practice he's had in the art of self-pleasure.

Her eyes finally open, and she looks directly into the camera, as if she's looking into his soul. Her gaze is hazy with desire, her pupils blown wide with the intensity of her climax. It's as if she knows he's there, watching, and she's performing just for him.

Vikram's breath hitches in his throat, and his hand moves even faster. The room seems to fade away around him, leaving only the pulsing light of the computer screen and the wet sounds of their lovemaking. His vision tunnels, the only thing he can see is the woman's face, contorted with pleasure.

Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are glazed over with lust. Her hair sticks to her forehead in sweaty strands, and her teeth are bared in a silent snarl as she rides the wave of ecstasy. He can feel his own orgasm approaching, a tightening in his gut that tells him he's almost there.

The man, this Aditya, shows no signs of slowing down. His hands are like vises on her hips, guiding her, holding her in place as he drives into her. The woman's tits are bouncing wildly, slapping against the chair with every thrust. Vikram's eyes dart to her nipples, which are so dark and hard they could cut glass.

He can see the sweat glistening on her body, the sheen of it making her skin look like it's been dusted with gold. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and with each exhale, her chest heaves, those beautiful tits jiggling in a way that makes his mouth water.

Vikram's cock feels like it's going to burst. He's so close, so unbearably close to coming. The woman in the video, his mysterious doppelgänger, starts to push back into Aditya's thrusts, meeting him halfway, her hips moving in a sinuous dance of wantonness.

Her pussy is a wet, pink cavern, swollen and eager for more. Each time Aditya pulls out, it grips onto his cock like a greedy mouth, desperate for the taste of him. The sight is intoxicating, and Vikram's breathing becomes ragged, matching the tempo of their fucking.

The room is a cocoon of sensation, the only sounds the slap of flesh and their mingled cries. The woman's eyes lock onto the screen, and for a moment, it's as if she's staring directly into his soul. Her gaze is a challenge, a silent invitation for him to come closer, to claim her himself.

Vikram can feel the warmth of his own release building, a pressure that's been building since the moment he clicked play. His hand is a blur on his cock, his thumb circling the head in time with the rhythm of their fucking. His hips buck in time with the thrusts on the screen, his body mimicking Aditya's as if they're joined in some primal dance.

The woman's eyes seem to bore into him, urging him to let go. Her moans grow louder, more demanding, and he feels his own orgasm building. It's as if she's begging him to fill her up, to claim her in the most carnally satisfying way possible.

Her breasts are a mesmerizing sight, jiggling in a hypnotic dance of desire with each powerful thrust. The way the light plays off her glistening skin, the way her nipples stand tall and proud, it's almost too much for him to handle. He squeezes them in his mind, imagines how they would feel between his teeth, the taste of her flesh on his tongue.

The sound of their fucking fills the room, a symphony of need and want that crescendos with every stroke of his hand. His cock is a hot, pulsing rod of flesh, desperate for release. He can feel the precum beading at the tip, a slippery promise of what's to come.

Her cries of "Aditya" are drawing him closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are glued to the screen, watching as she's claimed over and over again. The sight of her stretched asshole, the way it clenches around the base of the invading cock, sends a shiver down his spine. He wonders what it would be like to see that firsthand, to feel the heat of her body against his own, to hear her moan his name instead of Aditya's.

The room is a blur of shadows and light, the only focus the woman's voluptuous form and the relentless pounding she's receiving. Vikram can feel the tension in the air, a palpable force that seems to coil around him, tightening with every stroke of his hand. The head of his cock is slick with pre-cum, and he knows he won't last much longer.

The woman on the screen throws her head back, her cries of pleasure echoing through the small, enclosed space. Her eyes seem to bore into his very soul, a silent demand that sends shivers down his spine. "Fuck me, Aditya!" she screams, and something inside Vikram snaps.

[Mohit.Kumar]

With a growl, he gives in to the overwhelming need to climax. His hand moves in a frenzied blur, his hips bucking wildly. The image of her gaping asshole, her body trembling with each violent thrust, sends him hurtling over the precipice. His orgasm crashes over him like a tidal wave, a hot, wet explosion of white-hot pleasure that leaves him gasping for breath.

Vikram's vision blurs as ropes of cum spurt from his cock, painting his stomach in sticky arcs. He watches the video, the woman's eyes still locked onto his, as if she can feel his release through the screen. Her cries become his, their shared pleasure resonating through the room in a symphony of desire.

The intensity of his climax subsides, leaving him panting and weak, his hand still wrapped around his slowly softening cock. He can't believe what he's just experienced, the raw power of the woman's sexuality and the way it's consumed him. His heart is racing, his chest heaving with the exertion of his own orgasm.

As the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through him, he finally pulls his gaze away from the screen, his eyes blinking to clear the haze of desire. The room seems too bright, too stark in comparison to the shadowy embrace of the porn video. The sight of his own cum, a sticky mess on his stomach and chest, brings him back to reality with a jolt.

Vikram's hand lingers on his cock, now a limp testament to the frenzy he's just endured. His breathing is still ragged, his heart pounding in his chest as if it's trying to break free. He reaches for his phone, his thumbs moving almost of their own accord as he opens the camera app.

With trembling hands, he captures the essence of her orgasm, her face a canvas of raw, unfiltered pleasure. The screenshots are a frozen moment in time, her eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. The way her features contort, the sheen of sweat on her skin, it's all so,familiar. He stares at the images, his mind racing. Who is she?

Her dark, wavy hair frames her face like a halo of sensuality, each strand a silent storyteller of the passion she's just experienced. He zooms in, scrutinizing the curve of her cheek, the tip of her nose, the way her eyebrows arch in the throes of pleasure. It's like looking into a mirror, yet the reflection is hauntingly different. The woman's eyes, so familiar and yet so foreign, seem to beckon him into the depths of the screen.

Vikram snaps the first shot, capturing the moment of her climax. The screen blurs with the speed of his hand, the digital camera shutter echoing the final beats of his own pulsing orgasm. Her face is a portrait of ecstasy, a masterpiece of desire that he can't help but immortalize. He takes another, and another, each one a little closer, a little clearer, until her features are burned into his retina.

He saves the images, his cock still pulsing with the aftermath of his release, and opens his Whatsapp. The groups light up with notifications as he sends the photos—his friends' eyes will surely widen when they see who he's been watching. The thrill of sharing this secret, this forbidden fruit, is almost as potent as the act itself. He selects a few of the most explicit ones, the ones where she's begging for it, where she looks the most like a wanton whore.

The first group chat is a bunch of his college buddies. They're always eager for a bit of naughty fun, sharing their latest conquests and porn finds. He sends the pic with a caption, "Who does she remind you of?" He knows the reactions will be explosive. The second group is from his old neighborhood, the guys he grew up with. They've seen it all, done it all, but even they might be surprised by this twist.