Ananya Samrat - newly wed couple Hire a photographer for nude photos on Honeymoon

[ashuezy2]

Scene 1

The late afternoon of Kabir’s South Delhi studio. Samrat and Ananya sat opposite him, a mix of eagerness and slight nervousness on their faces. Kabir, lean and intense, fiddled with a lens cap, his expression unreadable.

Samrat: "Kabir, listen. We’re not looking for… typical honeymoon photos."
Kabir, suno. Hum koi… aam honeymoon ki tasveerein nahi dhoond rahe hain.

Ananya: "We want something real. Something… us. Raw."
Hum kuch asli chahte hain. Kuch… hum.
Kabir finally looked up, his gaze sharp, moving between them.

Kabir: "Real can be many things. Nude photography is a commitment. It’s not just about taking clothes off. It’s about vulnerability."
Asli kai cheezein ho sakti hain. Nude photography ek commitment hai. Sirf kapde utaarne ki baat nahi hai. Yeh vulnerability ki baat hai.

Samrat: "We understand that. We’ve discussed this extensively. Mauritius, just the two of us, and you."
Hum yeh samajhte hain. Humne is par khoob baat ki hai. Mauritius, bas hum do, aur aap.

Ananya: "We don't want posed smiles. We want the passion, the intimacy. The… erotic journey of being newly married."
Humein banaawati muskurahatein nahi chahiye. Humein woh passion chahiye, woh nazdeeki. Nayi shaadi-shuda hone ka woh… erotic safar.
Kabir leaned forward, placing the lens cap down. His voice dropped, a hint of challenge in it.

Kabir: "Are you sure you’re ready for that? For me to capture every glance, every touch, every unguarded moment? It can be intense. Uncomfortable, even."
Kya aap pakka hain ki aap uske liye taiyaar hain? Mere liye har nazar, har touch, har bekhabar pal ko capture karna? Yeh tez ho sakta hai. Asahaj bhi.
Ananya met his gaze, her chin lifting slightly.

Ananya: "We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t. This isn’t a whim, Kabir. This is about capturing the essence of our love, in its most unfiltered form."
Agar hum nahi hote toh hum yahan nahi aate. Yeh koi achanak aaya khayal nahi hai, Kabir. Yeh hamare pyaar ke saar ko pakadne ke baare mein hai, uske sabse unfiltered roop mein.

Samrat: "Think of it as an art project. With us as the canvas. Mauritius as the backdrop. And you as the artist."
Isko ek art project ki tarah sochiye. Humare saath canvas ke roop mein. Mauritius backdrop ke roop mein. Aur aap artist ke roop mein.
Kabir was silent for a moment, processing their words, his eyes still scrutinizing them. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

Kabir: "This could be something extraordinary. But it will require absolute trust from your side. And complete creative freedom from mine."
Yeh kuch as extraordinary ho sakta hai. Lekin ismein aapki taraf se poora bharosa chahiye hoga. Aur meri taraf se poori creative freedom.

Ananya: "Agreed."
Sehmat hain.

Samrat: "Completely."
Poori tarah se.

============================NUDE PHOTOSHOOT TEST==========================

Kabir: "Alright then. Let's test this theory here in the studio. We need to see how comfortable you both truly are. Just the two of you, and me. Let's start." Achha theek hai. Toh chalo is theory ko yahan studio mein hi test karte hain. Humein dekhna hoga ki aap dono kitne comfortable hain. Bas aap dono, aur main. Chalo shuru karte hain.

He picked up his camera, a weighty, professional model, and clicked a lens into place with a definitive snap. His gaze, now purely professional, focused on Ananya.

Kabir: "Ananya, if you could… lose the jacket. And perhaps unbutton your shirt a little. Let's ease into this." Ananya, agar aap… jacket utaar sakti hain. Aur shayad apni shirt ke kuch button khol sakti hain. Dheere-dheere shuru karte hain.

Ananya hesitated for a fraction of a second, then her hands went to the buttons of her delicate silk shirt. She slowly unbuttoned it, revealing the soft swell of her cleavage. Samrat reached out, his hand gently resting on her lower back, a silent gesture of support. Kabir's camera was already up, a low, continuous whirring sound filling the quiet studio.

Kabir: "Good. Now, Samrat, hold her. Like you would when no one is watching. Ananya, lean into him. Feel him. Look at him." Achha. Ab, Samrat, use pakdo. Jaise aap tab pakadte jab koi nahi dekh raha hota. Ananya, uski taraf jhuko. Use mehsoos karo. Uski taraf dekho.

Samrat’s arms wrapped around Ananya, pulling her close. His lips found hers, a tender, slow kiss that deepened with each passing second. The camera clicked, a series of rapid-fire shots.

Kabir: "Excellent. Now, Samrat, move your kisses. Down her neck. To her collarbone. And then… to her cleavage. Ananya, arch into him. Let him explore." Shaandaar. Ab, Samrat, apne kisses ko neeche le jao. Uski gardan par. Uski collarbone par. Aur phir… uske cleavage par. Ananya, uski taraf arch karo. Use explore karne do.

Samrat’s lips trailed a path of fire down Ananya’s neck, his breath warm against her skin. He lingered at her collarbone, and then, slowly, deliberately, his mouth descended to the valley between her breasts, his lips pressing softly against the soft skin there. Ananya’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping her. The camera was relentless, capturing every subtle shift, every flush of skin.

Kabir: "Ananya, your nipples. I need to see them. Let’s remove the shirt completely. Or unbutton enough for them to be free. Don't be shy." Ananya, aapke nipples. Mujhe unhein dekhna hai. Shirt poori tarah utaar do. Ya itne button kholo ki woh free ho sakein. Sharminda mat ho.

Ananya’s breath hitched, but she met Kabir’s gaze, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. With a decisive movement, she pulled her shirt open wider, letting it fall from her shoulders, baring her big 34 E breasts to the studio lights. Her nipples, already firm, stood proud. Samrat’s eyes darkened, and he instinctively pulled her closer, shielding her slightly, but Kabir’s voice cut through.

Kabir: "No, Samrat. Don't shield her. Let me see her. And now… Samrat, I want you to suckle her. Like she’s the only source of life. Ananya, wrap your hands in his hair. Own this moment." Nahi, Samrat. Use mat chhupao. Mujhe use dekhne do. Aur ab… Samrat, main chahta hoon ki tum use chooso. Jaise woh zindagi ka akela srot ho. Ananya, apne haathon ko uske baalon mein lapeto. Is pal ko apna banao.

Samrat’s gaze locked with Ananya’s, a primal hunger reflected in his eyes. He lowered his head, his mouth closing over one of her aroused nipples. Ananya gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper. A low moan rumbled in her throat as his tongue swirled, suckling gently, then with more intensity. Her body arched, pressing against his, a natural, ancient rhythm taking over.

The clicks of Kabir's camera were the only other sound in the studio, a rhythmic accompaniment to their escalating intimacy. He moved around them, capturing angles, expressions, the raw, unfiltered passion that had ignited between them. He zoomed in on Samrat’s mouth on Ananya’s breast, on Ananya’s flushed face, on their entwined fingers. This wasn't just a test; it was an unfolding.

Kabir: "Yes. This is it. This is what I need. The honesty. The surrender. Don't stop. Just let it happen." Haan. Yeh hi hai. Mujhe yeh hi chahiye. Sachchai. Surrender. Ruko mat. Bas hone do.

To be Continued....

[magneticpersonality]

If you are writing something in Hindi, then it is better to give an English translation of that in brackets. Otherwise, create a full story in Hindi and post it in the Hindi Sex Stories section. There are many English Sex Stories readers who don't understand Hindi.

[ashuezy2]

Would you like me to remove Hindi dialogues ?

[Rocky@handsome]

Would you like me to remove Hindi dialogues ?

No, please!  I request you— not to remove Hindi dialgues... with hindi dialogues , Erotism reaches next level.. please continue with hindi dialogues 
❤️

[Kalyan143]

Continue bro

[ashuezy2]

Scene 2

Ananya was still pressed against Samrat, his mouth leaving her breast, both of them breathing heavily. The only sound was their ragged breaths and the sharp, decisive click-whirr-click of Kabir's camera.

Kabir: "Very good. Now, Samrat, remove your pants. Ananya, touch him down there. I want to see your hand on him." Bahut achha. Ab, Samrat, apni pant utaaro. Ananya, use neeche chhuo. Main tumhara haath us par dekhna chahta hoon.

Samrat didn't break eye contact with Ananya as he unbuckled his belt, the metallic sound loud in the silence. He kicked off his shoes and slid his trousers down, stepping out of them. He stood before them in just his underwear. Ananya’s hand, hesitant at first, moved down and rested on the strained fabric of his underwear, feeling the heat and hardness beneath.

Click. Click-click.

Kabir: "Ananya, now put your hands inside his underwear. Feel him. Samrat, react to her touch." Ananya, ab apne haath uske underwear ke andar daalo. Use mehsoos karo. Samrat, uske touch par react karo.

Ananya’s fingers slipped beneath the elastic waistband. Samrat sucked in a sharp breath as her cool fingers wrapped around his erection. His hips gave a slight, involuntary jerk forward. Kabir captured the micro-expression on Samrat's face—a mixture of shock, pleasure, and raw vulnerability.

Kabir: "Yes, that's it. Now Samrat, it's your turn. Remove her underwear. Slowly. Then, I want you to touch her ass. Cup it. Own it." Haan, bas yahi. Ab Samrat, tumhari baari. Uska underwear utaaro. Dheere se. Phir, main chahta hoon ki tum uski gaand ko chhuo. Use haathon mein bharo. Us par apna haq jatao.

Samrat’s hands moved to Ananya’s hips. He hooked his thumbs into the sides of her lace panties and slid them down her legs. She lifted one foot, then the other, to let him pull them free. She was now completely nude before them. His hands found her buttocks, squeezing gently at first, then more firmly, pulling her flush against his groin. Ananya gasped, her head falling back.

Kabir: "Perfect. Samrat, you also remove your underwear. Let me see everything." Ekdum sahi. Samrat, tum bhi apna underwear utaaro. Mujhe sab kuch dekhne do.

With one fluid motion, Samrat pushed his underwear down. He was fully, powerfully erect. There was no hiding the intensity of his arousal. The sight was primal, electrifying.
Kabir lowered his camera for a moment, his eyes intense.

Kabir: "Now... I want you to have sex. Right here. Standing. Samrat, lift her. Ananya, wrap your legs around his waist. I want to capture the moment you become one." Ab... main chahta hoon ki tum sex karo. Yahin par. Khade hokar. Samrat, use uthao. Ananya, apni taangein uski kamar se lapet lo. Main us pal ko capture karna chahta hoon jab tum ek ho jaoge.

Samrat didn't need to be told twice. He gripped Ananya by her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, her arms locking around his neck. He positioned himself at her entrance, their eyes locked in a silent, urgent communication.

Kabir: "Don't look at me. Look at each other. This is for you. I'm just a witness. Now, Samrat. Enter her." Mujhe mat dekho. Ek doosre ko dekho. Yeh tumhare liye hai. Main toh bas ek gawah hoon. Ab, Samrat. Uske andar jao.

With a powerful thrust, Samrat pushed into her. Ananya cried out, a sharp, breathless sound of pure pleasure, her nails digging into his shoulders. Their bodies moved together, a raw, desperate rhythm in the stark light of the studio. The camera became a blur in their periphery, its shutter a frantic heartbeat documenting their union, capturing not just the act, but the absolute, unfiltered essence of their passion.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 3

The studio was filled with the slick sound of their bodies moving together and Ananya’s soft, unrestrained moans. Samrat held her tightly, his face buried in her neck, lost in the rhythm. The camera's shutter was a constant, almost frantic counterpoint to their movements.

Amidst the haze of pleasure, Ananya’s eyes fluttered open. Her gaze drifted past Samrat’s shoulder towards the figure of the photographer. Kabir was moving with them, his eye pressed to the viewfinder. But as he shifted his stance, Ananya’s eyes caught something else. Through the thin fabric of his trousers, it was impossible to miss. Kabir was also fully erect, a stark, rigid line betraying the professional calm he projected.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Ananya’s face. It was a smile of power, of shared, illicit knowledge.
The clicking stopped.

Kabir had lowered the camera. He saw her smile, and he knew that she had seen him. Their eyes locked over Samrat's heaving shoulder. The professional barrier between them evaporated in an instant, replaced by a raw, palpable tension. The air crackled.

Samrat, feeling the subtle shift in Ananya's body, the slight change in her rhythm, slowed his thrusts. He pulled back just enough to look at her face.

Samrat: "Ananya? Everything okay?" Ananya? Sab theek hai?
She didn't answer him. Her eyes were still fixed on Kabir. Then, slowly, she turned her head and kissed Samrat deeply, a silent reassurance. But the energy had changed. They all felt it.
Kabir raised the camera again, but his voice, when he spoke, was different. It had lost its clinical detachment. It was deeper, huskier.

Kabir: "Stop. Hold that position." Ruko. Usi position mein raho.
They froze, Samrat still buried deep inside her, their bodies slick with sweat.

Kabir: "Good. Now, Samrat... let her down. Slowly. Lay her on the floor. Right here." Achha. Ab, Samrat… use neeche utaaro. Dheere se. Use farsh par lita do. Yahin par.

Samrat, caught in the intensity of the moment, obeyed without question. He gently lowered Ananya to the cool, smooth studio floor. She lay on her back, exposed and vulnerable, looking up at both men. Kabir moved closer, crouching down, his camera aimed like a weapon. The evidence of his arousal was now even more obvious.

Kabir: "Spread her legs, Samrat. Wider." Uski taangein phailao, Samrat. Aur chaudi karo.

Samrat knelt between her legs, pushing her thighs apart. Ananya’s breath hitched, her gaze flickering from her husband to the photographer who was now just a few feet away.

Kabir: "Now, go down on her. I want to capture the pleasure on her face when your tongue touches her. Don't look at me, look at her. But know that I am watching everything." Ab, us par neeche jao. Main uske chehre par khushi capture karna chahta hoon jab tumhari zubaan use chhuegi. Mujhe mat dekho, use dekho. Lekin yeh jaan lo ki main sab kuch dekh raha hoon.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 4

Samrat knelt between Ananya's thighs, the stark studio lights making her skin seem luminous. He was about to lower his head, to follow Kabir’s command, when his gaze shifted to the photographer. Kabir was adjusting his focus, and in that moment, the tension in the fabric of his trousers was unmistakable, impossible to miss. A slow, incredulous smile spread across Samrat's face, mirroring the one Ananya had worn just moments before. This wasn't just a photoshoot anymore. This was something else entirely.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against Ananya’s ear, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper.

Samrat: "He's erect." Woh bhi khada hai.
Ananya's eyes, which had been watching him, flickered with a triumphant spark. Her own whisper came back, breathless and thrilled.

Ananya: "Yes, I saw." Haan, maine dekha.

A shared, silent understanding passed between them—a jolt of pure, unadulterated excitement. The last vestiges of nervousness evaporated, replaced by a bold, thrilling complicity. With a renewed sense of purpose, Samrat lowered his head and his tongue met her skin.

Ananya gasped, her fingers immediately tangling in his hair, her hips beginning to move with an instinctive, urgent rhythm. The camera, which had been silent, roared back to life, a rapid-fire succession of clicks capturing every nuance of her expression as pleasure began to build within her.

Kabir shot for a solid minute, his movements economical, his focus absolute. Then, just as Ananya’s breathing became shallow and ragged, he spoke again, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room.

Kabir: "Now I leave it to you both, if you want to climax or not. The choice is yours. Show me what you want." Ab main yeh aap dono par chhodta hoon, ki aap climax karna chahte hain ya nahi. Faisla aapka hai. Mujhe dikhao ki aap kya chahte hain.

Samrat paused, his mouth hovering just above her. He looked up at Ananya, his eyes asking a question. Her answer was in the way she arched her back off the floor, her hands tightening in his hair, pulling him back down to her. It was an undeniable command.

He obeyed.

He devoted himself to her pleasure with a focus that blocked out everything but her, her sounds, her scent. He could feel the tension coiling in her body, hear her moans grow louder, less controlled. She was close, so close. The camera shutter seemed to beat in time with her frantic heartbeat.

"Samrat!" she cried out, her voice breaking as the first wave hit her.
Her body convulsed, her hips bucking as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. Samrat stayed with her, holding her firmly as she rode the peak, her cry echoing off the studio walls.

The camera clicked one last time, then fell silent.
In the ringing quiet that followed, there was only the sound of three people breathing in the thick, charged air. The test was over. And they had all passed.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 5

Ananya lay on the floor, Samrat's arm protectively over her, his hand gently stroking her hair. Kabir stood a few feet away, slowly lowering his camera, letting the strap hang around his neck. The intensity of the last few minutes seemed to hang in the air like a physical presence.

Kabir was the first to speak, his voice a low, calm murmur.

Kabir: "There's a washroom through that door. Freshen up. We can talk after." Us darwaaze ke peeche washroom hai. Fresh ho jao. Hum baad mein baat kar sakte hain.

He gestured towards a frosted glass door at the back of the studio. Samrat nodded, helping Ananya to her feet. They moved together, a silent, intimate unit, and disappeared into the washroom. They emerged a few minutes later, looking flushed and vibrant. As instructed, they had put on only their underwear, their bodies still glowing from their recent exertion. They sat on the plush sofa where this had all begun, a new, easy comfort between them and the man opposite.

Kabir: "So… how was that for you?" Toh… kaisa laga aapko?
Samrat looked at Ananya and then back at Kabir, a genuine smile on his face.

Samrat: "Intense. Way more intense than I expected. But… good. Really good." Tez. Meri ummeed se kahin zyada tez. Lekin… achha. Bahut achha.

Ananya: "I've never felt so… exposed. But also, so free. You were right about the vulnerability." Main kabhi itna… beparda mehsoos nahi kiya. Lekin saath hi, itna azaad bhi. Aap vulnerability ke baare mein sahi the.
Kabir nodded, his gaze analytical yet appreciative, lingering on Ananya.

Kabir: "You are both incredible subjects. You have a fire between you that is rare. And Ananya… you are magnificent. Your breasts, your nipples… they are a work of art." Aap dono kamaal ke subjects hain. Aapke beech ek aisi aag hai jo kam dekhne ko milti hai. Aur Ananya… aap shaandaar hain. Aapke breasts, aapke nipples… woh ek kalaakrti hain.

Ananya felt a blush creep up her neck, but she didn't look away. She held his gaze.

Kabir: "What is your size, if you don't mind me asking?" Aapka size kya hai, agar aapko bura na lage?

Ananya: "34E."

Kabir: "And your nipples… are they always so perfectly erect?" Aur aapke nipples… kya woh hamesha itne aakarshak roop se khade rehte hain?

Ananya: "Yes." Haan.

A slow smile touched Kabir's lips. His eyes dropped to her chest again, where her prominent, dark nipples were clearly visible, still pebbled and hard.

Kabir: "I can see that. You still haven't worn a bra. Do you mind if I take some close-up shots? Just them. The light is perfect right now." Main dekh sakta hoon. Aapne abhi tak bra nahi pehni hai. Kya main kuch close-up shots le sakta hoon? Sirf unke. Abhi roshni ekdum sahi hai.

Samrat looked at Ananya, leaving the decision entirely to her. Ananya leaned back into the sofa, a look of bold confidence on her face. She didn't just agree; she issued an invitation.

Ananya: "Go ahead. Get as close as you want." Le lijiye. Jitna paas aana hai aa jaiye.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 6

Kabir wasted no time. With Ananya's explicit invitation, a spark of renewed intensity lit his eyes. He picked up his camera, not bothering to change lenses, clearly wanting the raw, unfiltered detail. He moved closer to Ananya, circling her as she reclined on the sofa, her posture relaxed yet subtly provocative. The continuous clicks of the shutter filled the air once more, now focused solely on her exposed upper body.

Ananya held his gaze, her expression a mix of challenge and pleasure. While Kabir’s lens devoured the curves of her breasts and the perfect prominence of her nipples, her own eyes were drawn, almost involuntarily, to the unmistakable bulge beneath Kabir’s trousers. It was still there, as prominent and rigid as before, a silent testament to the effect she was having on him. A thrill, deep and unfamiliar, coursed through her. She consciously pushed her chest forward, subtly arching her back, giving him an even better angle, a bolder display.

Samrat watched from beside her, a look of profound satisfaction on his face. He leaned back into the cushions, his arm resting lightly on Ananya's thigh, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her skin.

There was no jealousy, no discomfort, only a deep sense of shared excitement and enjoyment. He revelled in Ananya's confidence, in the way she held Kabir's gaze, in the silent, electric current passing between them. He felt a surge of pride, watching his wife bask in this uninhibited moment, utterly comfortable and gloriously beautiful.

Kabir dropped to one knee, getting an even lower angle, closer to her chest. He was just inches away, his breath ghosting over her skin with each press of the shutter. The clicks were soft, intimate, almost rhythmic. He captured the intricate network of blue veins beneath her fair skin, the subtle texture of her areolae, the way the studio lights played across the glistening tips of her nipples.

Kabir: "Exquisite. Every curve, every shadow… divine." Sundar. Har curve, har shadow… adbhut.

His voice was a low murmur, almost a whisper, directed more to himself than to them. He moved slightly, changing the angle, bringing the lens even closer. Ananya's eyes never left his, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the unwavering focus of his gaze, which felt less like observation and more like consumption.

Samrat reached out and took Ananya’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He squeezed gently, a silent affirmation of their bond, of their shared journey into this exhilarating, uncharted territory. He was not just an observer; he was an active participant in this daring exploration, completely at ease with the unfolding intimacy. This was exactly what they had wanted: raw, real, and utterly uninhibited.

[sexaddict69]

Nextttttt!!!

[ashuezy2]

Scene 7

The camera clicked, a sound now as intimate as a whisper. Kabir was so close Ananya could see the fine details of the lens, the reflection of her own body in its curved glass. He was completely absorbed in his work, but his body told a different story.

Ananya's smile widened. She shifted slightly, letting her hand fall from Samrat's and rest on her own stomach. She let the silence stretch for another moment before she spoke, her voice calm and laced with a teasing authority.

Ananya: "Kabir, go get in your shorts. I can see you are uncomfortable in those trousers." Kabir, jaakar shorts pehen lo. Main dekh sakti hoon ki tum un trousers mein aaram se nahi ho.

The clicking stopped abruptly.

Kabir froze, his eye pulling away from the viewfinder. He slowly straightened up, his gaze locking with hers. For the first time, a flicker of something other than professional intensity crossed his face, surprise, perhaps even a hint of being caught off guard.

Samrat let out a low chuckle from beside her, the sound rich with amusement. He squeezed her thigh gently.

Samrat: "She has a point, mate. No need to be so restricted on our account." Woh sahi keh rahi hai, dost. Hamari vajah se itna bandhan mein rehne ki zaroorat nahi hai.

The challenge hung in the air, playful but direct. Kabir looked from Ananya's knowing smile to Samrat's relaxed, encouraging expression. He was being invited to drop the last shred of professional pretense. A slow, almost dangerous smile touched his own lips. He didn't offer an excuse or a denial.

Kabir: "Is that what you want?" Kya aap yahi chahte hain?

Ananya: "We want everyone to be… comfortable. Honest. Wasn't that the deal?" Hum chahte hain ki sab… aaram se rahein. Imaandaar. Yahi deal thi na?

He held her gaze for a long moment, a silent negotiation passing between them. Then, he gave a single, sharp nod. Without another word, he placed his camera carefully on a nearby table and walked towards a door that led to a small private room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Samrat leaned over and kissed Ananya, a hard, possessive kiss full of admiration.

Samrat: "You are incredible." Tum kamaal ho.

Ananya: "This is what we came for, isn't it?" Hum isi liye aaye the, hai na?

Before Samrat could reply, the door opened again. Kabir returned. He had changed into a pair of simple, dark grey shorts. He was no longer hiding anything. His arousal was now an open, acknowledged fact in the room, a third presence alongside them on the sofa. The dynamic had irrevocably shifted.

He walked back to the center of the room, standing before them, making no move to pick up his camera.

Kabir: "Better?" Behtar hai?

Ananya’s eyes roamed over him freely, a slow, appreciative look. She leaned forward slightly, her voice a seductive purr.

Ananya: "Much better. Now… where were we?" Bahut behtar. Toh… hum kahan the?

[ashuezy2]

Scene 8

Ananya’s question, "Now… where were we?" hung in the heated air, a direct and undeniable challenge.

Kabir stood before them, and in the focused light of the studio, the thin, athletic fabric of his shorts became almost translucent. It clung to him, hiding nothing. Ananya’s gaze dropped, and she could see the full, thick shape of his penis, heavy and erect, straining against the material. He was completely exposed, a willing participant stripped of his artistic detachment.

A slow, deliberate smile touched Ananya's lips. She shifted, creating a space between herself and Samrat on the wide sofa, and patted the leather cushion.

Ananya: "Don't just stand there. Join us." Bas wahan khade mat raho. Hamare saath baitho.

Samrat, ever in sync with her, dbangd his arm across the back of the sofa behind the empty space, his expression one of open invitation.

Samrat: "The artist should be close to his inspiration, don't you think?" Artist ko apni prerna ke paas hona chahiye, nahi kya?

Kabir’s eyes, dark and intense, flickered between them. He had been given permission, an explicit green light. He moved with a languid grace and sat down between them. The heat from his body was immediate, intense. He was so close that Ananya’s bare thigh brushed against his. The studio, which had felt spacious moments before, now felt incredibly intimate, the world shrinking to the confines of the leather sofa.

No one spoke. The silence was a living thing, filled with unspoken desires and the soft sound of their breathing.
Ananya was the one to break it. She turned her body slightly towards Kabir, her movements slow and measured. She lifted her hand and placed it gently on his thigh, her fingers just inches from the rigid length straining his shorts. She could feel the muscle clench under her touch.

Ananya: "This… this honesty… is this what you wanted to capture, Kabir?" Yeh… yeh imaandaari… kya tum isi ko capture karna chahte the, Kabir?

His voice was a low growl, his eyes locked on hers.

Kabir: "I want to capture what's real. What's happening right now." Main use capture karna chahta hoon jo asli hai. Jo abhi ho raha hai.

Ananya: "Then you won't need this anymore." Toh phir tumhein iski zaroorat nahi padegi.

Her fingers moved from his thigh, hooking under the thin elastic waistband of his shorts. Samrat’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, a silent, supportive pressure. With one smooth, deliberate motion, Ananya pulled the fabric down.
His erection sprang free, hot and heavy. She didn't hesitate. Her hand closed around him, her grip sure and warm.
Kabir’s head fell back against the sofa, a sharp, guttural groan escaping his lips. Samrat’s fingers tightened on Ananya's shoulder, connecting the three of them in a circuit of pure, unadulterated lust. The photoshoot was over. This had just begun.

[ashuezy2]

Scene 9

Ananya's grip on Kabir was firm, her thumb stroking him gently. The raw, shocked pleasure on his face was exactly what she wanted to see. She leaned in, her voice a low, commanding purr.

Ananya: "Just relax and close your eyes. Samrat will take care of you now." Bas relax karo aur apni aankhein band kar lo. Samrat ab tumhara khayal rakhega.

Kabir’s eyes snapped open, a flicker of confusion in their dark depths. He looked from Ananya to Samrat, who was now watching him with an equally intense, predatory gaze.

Kabir: "Meaning?" Matlab?

Ananya’s smile was wicked. She leaned closer, her lips almost brushing his ear as she delivered the final, stunning revelation.

Ananya: "We are bisexuals. Both of us. I hope you don't mind." Hum bisexual hain. Hum dono. Umeed hai tumhein isse koi aitraaz nahi hai.

The statement settled in the charged air, a puzzle piece clicking perfectly into place. Kabir stared at her, then at Samrat, processing the new reality of the situation. A slow, hungry grin spread across his face. He was not just an observer or an addition; he was the bridge between them.

Kabir: "I don't mind at all. As long as I still have access to your breasts." Mujhe koi aitraaz nahi hai. Jab tak mujhe tumhare breasts tak pahunch milti rahegi.

Ananya: "Deal." Manzoor hai.

As she said the word, Samrat moved. He shifted off the sofa, kneeling on the floor before Kabir. Kabir’s breath hitched in anticipation. Ananya released him, allowing Samrat to take her place. While Samrat’s hands went to Kabir's hips, Ananya leaned over Kabir's lap, bringing her breast directly to his mouth.

Ananya: "A promise is a promise." Wada toh wada hai.

Kabir groaned, his mouth closing eagerly over her nipple, suckling hard. At the exact same moment, he felt Samrat’s warm mouth envelop him. A shudder wracked Kabir’s entire frame. He was trapped in a vortex of pleasure, his head thrown back, his senses completely overwhelmed. Ananya watched them both, her hand stroking Kabir’s hair, the orchestrator of a perfectly executed fantasy.

Ananya: "See? Everyone gets exactly what they want." Dekha? Sabko wahi milta hai jo woh chahte hain.