Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Indian Erotica,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Filled with sex scenes ready to blow you away.
Pallavi felt Vijay's long, thick cock throb and pulse ominously in her cunt and smoothly accelerated her motions, pushing for an orgasm. He thrust deeply into her, stroking quickly in and out, making her body jerk and snap with his thrusts. With a soft moan, digging her fingers into his shoulders, lifting her hips to his, she arched her back steeply and squeezed her cunt over it several times in quick succession. He gasped and thrust back into her, ramming in hard. Pallavi moaned thickly and began to orgasm. Her cunt convulsed on his penis and he groaned and pushed his cock deep into her and began to come, twitching his hips at hers, making her jerk gently as the spoot geysered into her slit. She moaned again. His orgasm passed in seconds and his cock promptly began to shrink. Grunting, he slid out of her cunt and lay panting beside her. Pallavi snuggled close to him and flung her legs across his hips. She was very horny, very hot. But there was no way he would be able to fuck her again. They had done it three times already. Pallavi sighed. Oh well. Everyone had their limits.
He was an Attorney, a partner in a hundred-year old law firm and they had been lovers for just about a year now, friends for a lot longer. He wasn't the kind she usually fucked. She only did it out of a sense of obligation.
At the time when she was just starting out on her career and the briefs were trivial and far between, Vijay sent her a steady stream of work from his firm. He paid her fees promptly and without question, often paying her more than she billed. At least once a day he came to Court and sat by her while she worked.
He wasn't a bad sort, really, and his intentions were pure in that horrible middle-class way. He came from humble beginnings, the son of a clerk and he had put himself through college and then law school, picking up English on the way. As a result his accent was terribly coarse and he was acutely aware of his serious handicap with the lingua franca of litigation. A few years ago, he had married. He lived in the suburbs in a modest flat in an even more modest housing colony. As far as she knew, his wife was a typical housewife, docile and unambitious, content to spend her time in the house and kitchen and, Pallavi imagined, to allow him to fuck her once or twice a month without complaining or making any attempt to enjoy herself.
At first, Pallavi thought that he was only sexually attracted to her. That was easily met. Still, unsure of his intentions, for he made no proclamations of love or devotion, she hesitated. Then she noticed that he had begun to spend more and more time around her.
He took her to lunch in the bustling South Indian vegetarian restaurant across the street. They had coffee together after Court at a coffee house. If there was a Bar dinner, he never brought his wife but always asked if he could pick her up. Recently, he had taken to dropping in at her Chambers unannounced.
Once, he had almost caught her in flagrante delicto, just as she was undressing for sex with her peon. Fortunately, Anant had the wit to stall Vijay outside while he called in and that gave her just enough time to put her clothes on again. Then he wouldn't leave, said he was free and would sit while she worked, would wait till she was through and walk her to her car. Finally, she had to tell him to go, saying she couldn't concentrate with him sitting opposite her. Of course, she hadn't the heart to be brutal about it and she turned it into a joke, with a veiled innuendo he caught and understood. He fled immediately. Within minutes, Anant had locked and bolted the door and was with Pallavi. Laughing at Vijay and his almost childish innocence, Pallavi and her peon fucked slowly and unhurriedly on the floor of her Chambers. She slipped out of her clothes and knelt before him. Anant was a strong, wickedly handsome youth with a broad-shouldered, lean, muscular body and a handsome cock of sizable proportions. Pallavi loved fucking him. She knelt before him and sucked his cock slowly, with deep enjoyment. He fucked her face happily, his head bent, holding her head and rocking it back and forth before his pumping hips, calling soft obscenities to her. She liked that.
"Mm ... yeh ... suck it ... suck my cock, whore ... yeh ... you give good head, bitch ... keep sucking ... just keep sucking!" It was even sexier in the vernacular. "Hanh... chul... choos,
rundi... choosmujhe! Acchachoostihain, rahnd...
choostireh... chul... jorsechoos!"
When he was ready, he pushed her head away and Pallavi went down on the floor on her back and spread her legs wide, bending her knees. Anant bent over her and slowly squeezed his cock into her cunt. She groaned in pleasure, arching under him, clenching the bulging biceps in his outstretched arms, bucking her hips eagerly under his. He grunted as her cunt convulsed on his throbbing cock and, bending his head, kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She writhed under him, her breasts hot under his chest, caressing the powerful, knotted muscles in his shoulders.
He pushed his cock deeper and deeper into her cunt till it was in the hilt.
"Mm," she murmured. "That's lovely ... c'mon Anant ... fuck me ... slowly ... mm, yes ... that's it... hanh... chul, Anant...
chodhmujhe... ahiste... hanh... aise... chul...
The peon began fucking her unhurriedly, slowly sliding his cock in and out of her cunt, flexing and unflexing his buttocks alternately, moving his hips from the waist in a controlled, exquisitely slow rhythm. Pallavi loved the way his cock surged into her cunt, driving a huge wall of pleasure before it through her body.
"Anant?" she murmured, craning her neck to lick his small, hard nipple, pulled low and wide under his deeply cleaved chest.
"Should I fuck him? Uskomujhechodhnedoonh?"
"Mm. Yes. Should I? Hanh. Karoonkya?"
Anant pursed his lips and thought about it, not stopping his in-and-out motions. Pallavi moved in unison with him. Their orgasms were yet distant, but growing steadily closer.
"I don't know. How d'you think he'll take it? He's in love with you. That's obvious. Wohtohtujhepyaar-mohabbat
She bit her lower lip and moaned thickly as he ground deep into her. Her legs opened wider and her feet rose up the backs of his strong thighs. Her hips arched to meet his in descent. He grunted and, deep in her cunt, held still, moving his hips gently from side to side. The feeling was exquisitely delicate.
"Oh Anant ... that's lovely ... yes ... well ... I don't really know, that's the problem, you see. Wohitoh. I can't decide whether he wants to fuck me - whether it's just lust for my body
- or if he's got some silly notion of a pure and beautiful relationship that will endure forever. You know that kind of thing."
Anant chuckled softly. "Yeah. Hindi movie middle-class. Stupid."
She grinned. "And boring. I mean look at us now. Nothing pure about this, is there?"
"But it's beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes," she laughed. "It's that all right. So. What do you think?"
He shrugged. "Give it a shot. But do it slow. Sort of like a love thing, all that gentle tender shit. Not just the wham-bam scene."
"No, of course not. That'd tear him apart."
"Yeah, I think it would. Imagine if he saw us here now."
"Imagine." She laughed. "Now come on ... I'm getting hot ... fuck me hard! Jorsechodhmujhe!"
Vijay didn't pluck up the courage to come back till the middle of the next week. He wasn't hurt that she'd asked him to leave that day, just terrified. He felt confused and bewildered. He couldn't understand what drew him to her so. He could sit for hours watching her, looking at her face, the way it lit up, her bright smile, her infectious laugh, the way her little nose-stud winked and the pretty birth marks danced on her face and throat. And yes, he'd found himself watching her body, too, her firm, curved belly when she wore a sari and the way her breasts jumped when she moved, but it was a tender, concerned interest, not that he wanted to sleep with her, no, nothing like that, she was too good and too decent even to imagine any such thing.
With his wife, he was suddenly and unwontedly hungry, and Deepika didn't know what to make of it when her husband wanted to fuck her two nights in succession. Since their honeymoon, a fifteen day period when they'd fucked every night, he never turned to her more than once or twice a month. It was almost as though he had been under some sort of sex stress before his marriage, and vented everything during the honeymoon. After that, he seemed to lose interest - almost as if having sex with his wife was just part of his marital obligation and nothing more.
Though his cock was adequately sized - eight inches long and over an inch thick, and he knew the usual routine, fucking her mouth, licking her slit and so on - he lacked imagination and power. She always let him fuck her when he wanted, doing as he instructed, playing the obedient acolyte and, usually, there was a small element of genuine pleasure in the sex - she had an orgasm occasionally - but nothing that was really satisfying. Still, he was a kind, gentle soul, did nothing to hurt her and made no demands. Of course, there were other men around - servants and so on, but Deepika didn't have the heart to upset him.
She fought the temptation valiantly. For a while.
And kept the truth from him.
Deepika loved sex. She'd loved it ever since she was sixteen when she lost her virginity to the family servant's son, a boy she'd almost grown up with. He was a couple of years older than her and, as it turned out, already sufficiently experienced to guide her.
She was lovely at sixteen, slender and fair-skinned with finely chiselled features, lovely eyes, a slim, straight nose and full lips, clear skin, a long neck, full breasts, a narrow waist and bell-shaped hips, elegant legs and arms with slender ankles and wrists. Her body had begun to torment her with strange, exciting, frightening sensations and she found herself looking at Mohan out of the corner of her eye and feeling curiously light-headed by the sight of his body. They lived in a small two-room apartment, she and her parents and elder brother. Mohan lived nearby and worked in a motor garage. She passed it on her way from school and always stopped to chat with him.
One afternoon she found him alone. There was not much work in hand and he suggested they go to a chai shop at the corner. They had tea, sitting in the half-empty place, laughing and chatting and he said he'd walk her home. It wasn't far. On the way, they passed a cluster of huts by the road.
"You live here now, don't you?" she said.
Mohan had moved out of their house when he was seventeen and, with a loan from her father, Mohan and his mother had got themselves a ramshackle tarpaulin covered tin hut in this almost-slum.
"Yes." They walked on a bit. Suddenly, he said, "Would you like to see it?"
She looked at him and, slowly, nodded. He smiled and took her arm in his hand. She thrilled at the touch of his hand on hers. She looked at him and flushed as his eyes drilled into her. He turned down a cramped alley between a row of huts. It was reasonably clean, but very noisy. The lane ended in a gutter running hard by a bramble. He turned the corner and led her to a small hut with a sloping tin roof and a rickety wooden door with a padlock. Mohan unlocked the door and pushed it open.
It was very spare, almost Spartan. One chair, a little table, a kerosene stove in a corner, a few pots and pans on two wooden shelves. A cheap calendar on the wall by a small mirror. Clothes hung on a line, a tin chest. A hemp charpoy with a thin pillow and sheet and sagging mattress. A cheap novel lay on the floor by the charpoy.
"Well," he said. "That's it. Home. My mansion. Merihaveli."
Deepika looked around. "It's ... it's very nice. Acchahai."
Mohan looked at her and she went very still. Time stopped and the sounds of the city faded. He came closer. And closer. And closer.
Took her face in his hands. His head bent. Hers tilted. Her lips parted. She could feel his breath on her face, smell the warm musk of his body, feel its warmth. His lips came closer.
In that afternoon of heat, Deepika experienced an explosion of joy she had never imagined possible. Mohan was tender and gentle and his body was wonderful and when his cock surged into her flesh,
Deepika almost fainted with ecstasy. She wanted more, more, more, wanted it never to end. He fucked her on the charpoy, taking her slowly and deeply and then faster and faster as she bucked and heaved and writhed desperately under him, her teenage body tossing and jumping and jerking in an uncontrollable fever, her cunt convulsing and spasming on his thrusting cock which was so big, so thick, so hard, so hot, so good, so very good. Her nipples ached with the sweet tension of it and when he sucked and licked them and crushed them in his hands she felt the heat flood her from head to toe. On and on he went and the charpoy creaked and her voice was ragged and hoarse from calling and moaning. She came in an explosion of bliss, the breath shooting from her throat.
The next afternoon, he fucked her again.
She baulked at nothing, absolutely nothing. When she had his cock in her mouth, it was the most wonderful feeling. He fucked her mouth slowly and happily and she wouldn't have minded if he'd gone on all night.
Then he turned her on her front, kneeling on the floor and bent over the bed and entered her from behind, straddling her hips in a low crouch and pushing his cock in and in and in till she thought it would rip her in two, it was so big, so thick, so hot, so hard.
He fucked her hungrily then, thrusting greedily in and out of her cunt and she came again, long and slow and this time he came too, his cock buried deep in her cunt. Deepika never forgot that first exquisite feeling of hot jizz spurting and spurting and spurting into her cunt.
After that, they met in his hut every afternoon. She was naturally curious and adventurous in bed and willing to try anything so long as it felt good. She never tired of sex. When he suggested anal sex, she didn't hesitate and as his cock ground into her anus, she felt no pain, just a glorious, stinging exhilaration that made her call out to him for more in the gutter words he had taught her.
A few weeks later, he introduced her to his friends from the garage, Dinesh and Deepak, both lean, hard-bodied youths with quietly handsome faces. Now she was 'his', Mohan's, his woman, his mate, his keep. She didn't mind living the lie, somehow it had a nice feeling to it. She played her role dutifully, almost like his wife. Without his asking, she dressed in saris when they were together, changing out of her school tunic.
In his hut, she made tea for all of them and served the men. She noticed how Dinesh and Deepak followed her with their eyes and knew, with a woman's instinct, that they wanted her, too.
Deepika had a natural streak of exhibitionism in her and she knew with a clarity unusual for a teenager that she didn't love Mohan, that it was the sex that drew her, that and the additional exciting fillip of doing something secretly and on the sly, something risky. Danger was a powerful aphrodisiac. If she had more than one lover, the risk was magnified and so the temptation.
She teased Dinesh and Deepak, giving them glimpses of her breasts under her low-necked blouse, moving sensually around the hut, letting her eyes smoulder on theirs.
The men finished their tea and stepped out for a smoke. Deepika sprawled on the hemp cot with a magazine, waiting for Mohan to come back.
"Deepika," Mohan said softly as he returned.
She was lying on the charpoy now on her side, her head propped in her hand, her elbow bent, leafing through a trashy magazine.
Her sari had slipped into the crook of her arm. In the heat, two or three of the buttons down the front of her tight blouse were open and her breasts strained at the cloth, showing a lot of her deep cleavage and luscious breasts. Mohan sat behind and leaned over, an arm in front of her belly. She didn't look up at him.
"What is it?" she murmured.
He cleared his throat. "Deepika, I ... um ... Dinesh ... that is,
Dinesh and Deepak..."
"They ... um ... they would also like..."
He didn't reply. There was a soft rustle as Mohan's chums came in again. She glanced at them, saw the looks on their faces, and turned back to Mohan.
"What, Mohan? What would they like?"
He looked at her nervously and swallowed. She smiled.
"They'd like to fuck me, isn't that it?"
There was a little silence. Then Mohan stared, nodded glumly.
"Well, you don't have to look so downcast about it, Mohan," she grinned. "Of course I'll fuck them. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, as they say, and if I can't please your friends,
I'm not a good friend to you, right?"
The men stared at her, dumbfounded. She closed the book and flipped on her back on the charpoy.
"On one condition, though," she murmured, reaching up and unbuttoning his shirt slowly. "Before they fuck me, they must sit here and watch you fuck me. Then they can fuck me and you've got to watch. Okay?"
Mohan grinned in excitement and pulled her blouse open and squeezed her naked breast. She was wearing nothing under it.
Smiling, she hiked her sari up to her hips and pulled Mohan down over her, unbuttoning his shirt and trousers.
Squatting on the beaten dirt floor, Deepak and Dinesh watched in excited fascination as their friend fucked his girl on the
charpoy, taking her furiously. His buttocks danced over her lap, bobbing and bouncing up and down and they could see his cock plunging and pistoning in and out of her cunt. Her hips heaved and pumped under his, and her cries rang in their ears. Their erections, when Mohan finished, were monstrous. Deepika smiled in pleasure.
Deepika never wanted for a lover after that. One of the three was always available to take her to Mohan's hut and fuck her. On good days, she had all three together. Dinesh was good, as good as
Mohan, but Deepak was terrific. He had a round, sweetly handsome face, a dark, wiry, strong body and an absolutely magnificent cock she loved. It wasn't long before she tried taking all three simultaneously in her cunt, mouth and ass.
She finished school, and grew lovelier, her breasts filling out, her curves getting more accentuated. In college, she took a polytechnic course in hotel management and did reasonably well.
There were other lovers now, for she had greater freedom and was out of the house a lot longer. There was her trainer, a handsome
Goan who took her to his house and fucked her all afternoon. There were a couple of her fellow-students with whom she had torrid sex in squalid little suburban hotels that rented by the hour.
She graduated and, for a few months after that, waiting for a job offer and replies to her applications, she spent time fucking with what she called her three musketeers, long afternoons of glorious sex in Mohan's hut. The days passed and she got no response but letters of regret. Deepika grew morose. Finally, it was Deepak who broke through and took her into a whole new world.
They were fucking one afternoon, and she was astride his hips on the charpoy. He groaned and bucked his hips under her, sliding his hands up her body to cup her breasts.
"Got a job offer yet?"
"You know I haven't."
"How would you like to do this for money?"
She stared down at him. "You must be joking." She bent over and kissed him, her lovely, sloping breasts pressing against his chest, her tongue slipping in and out of his mouth. He squeezed her breasts and pressed a fingertip to her anus. Her cunt was really incredibly hot and tight. He grunted as it convulsed on his penis.
"No. I'm serious," he murmured, licking her stiff nipple. "Think about it."
"You want me to whore?"
"Why not? It's not like anyone's forcing you into prostitution, you know. You'd whore because you want to. And the money's good.
"Oh yes? And how would you know?"
He grinned. "I've been meaning to tell you. I've been working at this place, this hotel downtown."
"I thought you were working as a peon. A peon-cum-chauffeur."
"That was before."
"You never told me."
"No. I didn't. Anyway, this hotel's not just a hotel. It's a world-class, high-quality whorehouse, too. Top five, six floors.
I've got in as a stud."
She stared down at him. "A stud?"
"Yeah. Stud. Gigolo. Dame comes in, needs a fuck, I fuck her. I get paid."
"Women come into this whorehouse?"
He grinned. "What's the matter, women don't fuck?"
"No, it's not that. It's just that, I mean..."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I was surprised, too, at first. But there's a whole load of women out there who like a good fuck with a stranger. Any number of reasons. Nowhere to go, no one to go with, many of them are married, too, husband's not interested, whatever."
"So they come to you and you fuck them."
"They don't come to me. They come to the hotel where I work. If my name's up, I fuck them."
"And they pay you for this?"
"Very well. Ten grand a pop. Minimum. My take's seventy five percent. Excluding tips and gifts and shit. Like this watch. See?
Solid gold bracelet."
"You must have done some fucking for that."
"Yeah," he chuckled. "Fucked her brains out. She said she never knew it could be that good. So I fucked her again - hard and rough this time."
He grinned. Her eyes were glittering with excitement. He knew she had taken the bait.
"Last couple of months, they've taken me off the stud-roll," he continued.
"I'm heading a talent scout unit now. We have several. I'm head of one."
"Yeah. They found I had a knack of getting with dames and scoping them out. Brought in a couple who've turned out to be great whores. Customers love 'em and they make great profits for the hotel. So I was put in charge."
"And now you're scoping me out?"
He laughed. "No, idiot. I scoped you out years ago. I'm only recommending you try it. With you it's different. We don't have to play catch and all that. I don't have to - seduce you, see? You're right here, doing it already. Tell you what, why don't I set it up for you, try it, see if you like it, then decide. The girls tell me it's quite a kick having a stranger come in and fuck you and leave and pay good money for it. They're very well looked after, too. Interested?"
But he knew the answer to that already. She was looking down at him with a deep glitter in her dark eyes, and her face was flushed with excitement.
"Yes," she murmured. "When can we go?"
"No," she groaned. "Not now ... after we finish ... come on Deepak
... fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me!"
That afternoon, Deepika started whoring at the hotel where Deepak worked. She was told that for the first week, she was on probation while they assessed her capabilities to decide her grade. Before doing anything else, she would have to sit for a photo-shoot.
Deepika didn't know what to expect when they led her to an airy studio. There, the makeup crew went to work on her face while the costumes staff measured her and quickly altered several outfits.
She was photographed fully clad by a quietly handsome young man with a completely professional approach. She was wearing a simple
churidar and kurta ensemble, the kurta with a low V neck. He took shots of her in different positions from different angles.
Then he switched off the lights and nodded to the prop crew. They re-did the set and re-did her hair and re-did her make-up and got her into another outfit. This one was more revealing, showing a lot of breast and leg and Deepika felt strangely aroused by it.
She returned to the floor and the photographer went to work again and this time he made her bend in different, distinctly sexual positions, kneeling, tilting her face up, leaning forward, showing her cleavage.
They went through several more costume changes, each more revealing than the last, including a zipped up black leather jacket that was left undone to the crotch with nothing under it, and a houri outfit, transparent harem pants with deep slashes outside and inside to the crotch and a ridiculously small and tight top out of which her breasts squeezed invitingly. The last was a completely see-through fishnet and now the photographer made her get into blatantly sexy positions, on her front, looking over her shoulder with her legs spread so that her anus and cunt showed; on her back, her legs lifted and parted, showing the moist flesh of her cunt.
Deepika got steadily hornier through the shoot, her natural exhibitionist streak subduing any hesitation she might have had.
She found she enjoyed showing off her body and the appreciative smiles from the crew gave her a special thrill.
They weren't finished yet. Now a handsome young man stalked in to the studio and spoke quietly with the photographer.
He turned to her and smiled. He was devastatingly sexy. "Deepika," he said. "Good afternoon. My name is Hemant and I run the photo and film divisions of this company. My compliments. You've done very well so far. Exceptionally so."
Deepika smiled shyly. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
"Now what we want to do is a little more complicated. We want to do a longer shoot, first of you masturbating and then of you fucking. Are you ready for that, or would you like to come back tomorrow? You could even stop now and leave, if you prefer."
Deepika looked at him, suddenly hit by a twinge of nervousness.
This was very dangerous. It was one thing to sneak off and fuck a guy. It was another thing to be filmed doing it. There would be
Hemant saw her hesitation. He cupped her face in his hand gently.
"Deepika. Think about it. Take your time, there's no rush. But you shouldn't be made to do something you don't want to do. But let me tell you this. From us, you have nothing to fear. If you stay on, the prints and films will be locked in a vault abroad. We will use the footage very discreetly only in select films that screen in foreign countries, never here. If you leave, we return everything to you and you can keep it or destroy it, as you wish. We do not run to blackmail, though some of our lesser competitors do and so give us a reputation we don't deserve."
He watched her in silence. Deepika looked at him and at the quiet set waiting expectantly. She was feeling very horny. She smiled.
"I ... I'll do it now, sir," she said softly.
He grinned broadly and pecked her on the cheek. "That's the spirit. Never give up. Come on, we'll get things set."
The next session was the sexiest thing Deepika had done in her life. She was put into a diaphanous gown and photographed masturbating. First she used her fingers only. Then she used the lovely toys they gave her, dildoes and vibrators that she ran in and out of her cunt and ass till she orgasmed with surprising satisfaction.
And then her lover stepped onto the set. He was a gorgeous black man with rugged, handsome features and a stunning body. He was wearing an eye-mask and a black leather cod-piece and nothing else. He had the most awesome cock Deepika had ever seen. Her body crackled with lust.
Minutes later, they were having sex under the hot lights and the photographer and three assistants was scurrying around them, taking them from every angle, calling instructions softly. The man fucked her mouth and just went on and on and no matter what she did it didn't make him blow. Deepika had never imagined a man with such power and control. He fucked her face for as long as the photographer wanted him to and then, quietly and without sign of emotion, stepped away.
"Fuck her on her back first," the photographer said softly. "And mind you spread your legs good and wide. I want close-ups of your cock in her slit. And Deepika, just keep it going for as long as you can, okay? Call if you want a break. Set?"
It was the most glorious fucking Deepika had ever known. She went down on her back and the huge cock crushed into her cunt slowly and heavily and the big man grunted softly as he flexed his buttocks and pushed his hips down, squeezing his cock deeper and deeper into her cunt. She gasped and moaned, biting her lower lip, her hips bucking eagerly, her breasts hot and swollen and dug her fingers into the immense, bulging biceps in his outstretched arms.
Her legs split wider and wider as he levered them apart with his thighs.
"Oh uhhh oh ma uhhhhhh OHHHHHHH!" Deepika called, arching steeply under the masked black man.
In and in his penis went. Deepika had never been fucked like this.
His cock was impossibly big, ten inches long, nearly three inches thick, with a gorged, bulging cock-head. Deeper and deeper he went and the breath rattled from her throat as she thought it would surely rip her in toe. The man buried his cock in her and paused.
She heard the soft whir-click, whir-click of the camera shutters and motor-drives, the shuffle of the photographers moving around them. The hard lights and reflectors burned her skin.
The black man bent his head and kissed her slowly, deeply. His tongue was thick and heavy as he pushed it gently into her mouth.
He began to fuck her.
Deepika felt giddy. She had never been fucked like this, never with such mastery and control. The man raised his hips smoothly, drawing his cock up and out further and further, making her gasp at the sudden release in pressure in her cunt, till just his cock-head was in her cunt. Then, with a slow, skewering, spiralling action, he thrust down into her, driving his cock relentlessly into her cunt and, before it, a huge tidal wave of pleasure that rocked her body and made her groan and cry out and curl up on the small of her back. Again he drew out, and thrust down into her, and yet again. Deepika moaned feverishly. Her loins blazed with lust. His cock was incredibly heavy and hot and hard and it mashed and pulverized her inflamed clitoris in its passage.
On and on he went, his cock rising and falling, rising and falling, his buttocks flexing and unflexing, his immense muscles rippling smoothly and effortlessly. Deepika's hips bucked and writhed in a frenzy under his.
"Steady," he grunted. "Steady. Keep it steady!"
Deepika moaned. He wasn't even out of breath! She arched under him, her cunt convulsing on his cock and tried to match his rhythm. Her fingers dug into the thick pads of muscle in his shoulder and she gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold back.
"Better," he said softly. "Much better. Keep with me."
He kept up the rhythm for several minutes, moving effortlessly.
Deepika felt dazed, her mind a numb effusion of pure, unbridled pleasure as the lust-heat swamped her body.
"Yes," she moaned. "Oh god yes ... fuck me ... fuck me please ... yes ... oh god yes ... ohh that's so good yes!" She squeezed her breasts erotically, pinching the stiff nipples and heard him and the photographer chuckle softly.
"Okay, Joe. Go for it," the photographer said. "Then lick her slit, sixty-nine and from behind. Got all that?"
"No sweat," the man said.
"What's she like so far?"
"Damn good for a first timer. Needs practice with big cocks, but terrific for a fresh chick."
They were talking about her as if she didn't exist. Deepika whimpered. This was how it was to be, then, she was to be used like this, like any common whore. Somehow, she found it very sexy.
The man was moving faster now, slowly gathering speed. She groaned and looked at him. He was breathing harder, but still in complete control, his muscles cording smoothly. She gasped and whimpered as the huge cock crushed her cunt-flesh without respite, running deeply in and out of her cunt in a steady, sawing motion. Deepika groaned. It felt wonderful. Her body writhed and jerked, her breasts jumping and jiggling with his thrusts, her gold necklace tossing and slapping on her creamy, fair skin.
Faster and faster he went and now his cock was ramming into her with deep, stabbing thrusts that forced the air from her lungs each time. Deepika's head swam and she began to orgasm violently.
"OH! UH OH UH OH UH OH UH OH MA UH OH MA OH MA OH MA UHHH
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she called as her cunt convulsed frantically on his pistoning penis.
Her orgasm intensified as he kept thudding into her, lengthened, slowly ebbed. The man slid out of her and, before she could react, was bending his head to her breasts, sucking them sharply, letting go, biting her long, stiff nipples, scraping them across his white teeth and gums and the roof of his mouth, squeezing both together and sucking simultaneously. Deepika gasped as the lust-fires built and spread again. His finger slid into her slit and he began finger-fucking her slowly, jabbing his finger into her cunt, pressing the hard knuckle to her throbbing clitoris, twisting his finger this way and that, rocking his hand back and forth. She moaned and cried out, her fingers scrabbling at his body. And then he went down and drove his face into her crotch.
Deepika loved being tongue-fucked, but she had never been tongue-fucked like this. Joe's tongue was long and thick and heavy and it jabbed deep into her cunt, found her clitoris, whipped it rapidly, drew back, pressed into her cunt-flesh, probing the flesh, tasting her flowing juices and then returned to torment her clitoris.
"OHHHHHH uhh OH uh OHHHH uhh Oh yes oh yes oh god yes!" she called, her body flecked with sweat. "Oh ma uhh ahhhh uhhhhh yes!"
The man slid his finger into her cunt and began to finger- and tongue-fuck her simultaneously. Deepika cried out, her face twisting and contorting in an agony of lust and suddenly his erect cock was hovering over her face. Instantly, her mouth opened and she moaned as the huge cock filled it, distending her face. Their bodies rocked and writhed in a sixty-nine.
It ended with him taking her from behind, kneeling behind her and, holding her hips, rocking her body back and forth before him, dragging her cunt up and down the length of his shaft. Deepika gasped, her mind whirling. His cock filled her cunt and he went on and on and on, whacking his thighs at her buttocks, in no apparent hurry, his hands everywhere, on her buttocks, on her breasts, his tongue in her ear, at the nape of her neck, in her mouth. She orgasmed again and he began moving faster, thudding into her heavily, his balls slapping at her cunt-lips, his thighs bouncing off her buttocks.
"Come when set. Call of two," the photographer said.
Smoothly, the black man levered himself into a squat astride her hips and began to fuck her rapidly, stabbing his cock into her cunt, lifting his buttocks high, then rocking them forward in deep, rushing, piercing thrusts. Beneath him, Deepika gasped and cried out, her breath coming in rattling, heaving sobs as the huge penis plundered her cunt-flesh. On and on he went, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out.
"One! Two!" she heard him call as she tottered into another orgasm.
And then he rammed hard into her once, twice, three times and began to come. Deepika moaned. She had never known a cum-flood so prodigious. His cock just would not stop spurting. It filled her slit and overflowed in a sticky trickle down her thighs. He slid out of her and more jizz spattered her back and buttocks, dribbled into the cleft between them. Slowly, he squeezed his cock back into her cunt and began to fuck her again.
The photographer killed the lights. Joe slid out of her. Deepika sank down on the bed, exhausted, her chest heaving, her body trembling. Joe got off the bed.
"Thanks. That was a very decent fuck," he said to her.
Deepika moaned, her fingers still clawed on the sheets. She heard a soft, dry chuckle and her eyes fluttered open. The photographer had finished packing up. He grinned at her and began to take off his clothes as he came to the bed.
"S.O.P., around here," he said. "Standard Operating Procedure. I get to fuck the models as a bonus. You don't mind?"
Deepika didn't care any longer, numb and dizzy with what Joe had done to her.
"Good," the photographer cackled. "And there's others, too, waiting, if you'll have them."
An hour later, she was still at it, this time with a young spot-boy, a teenager with a wiry body and long, thick cock in a room with four glass walls. She knew, instinctively, that even here she was being filmed. By now, she was totally spent, completely exhausted, drained, her limbs trembling. The photographer had fucked her for over half an hour. He, too, had a big cock and he had fucked her mercilessly in every orifice, even taking her ass.
Then the spotboy came in, turned her over, cleaned her up with a damp towel, gave her a drink. She felt better after that, and distinctly horny. The spot boy grinned at her and pushed his cock into her mouth and his tongue into her cunt. He fucked her rapidly, taking her twice before he was done, coming explosively in her slit.
Deepika looked up with dull eyes. Hemant was moving towards her, concern on his face.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "Was it too much?"
She shook her head. "Yes ... no ... I don't know..." Her speech sounded slurred and heavy.
"You'll have to learn to deal with that kind of demand, if you want to be in a decent grade here," he explained softly. "Do you understand me? If I wanted to fuck you now, I should have an immediate yes. Do you follow?"
Deepika was too far gone to respond. Hemant snapped his fingers.
Someone hurried forward with a drink in a plastic bottle. He pressed the tube straw between her lips.
"Here. Take this. It helps. And don't let it worry you. Many girls need it still, even after years here. It's no sign of failure."
Deepika sipped the drink and closed her eyes and sank back into the pillows. There was a drug in the drink obviously. Slowly, it powered through her body and, ten minutes later, she was on fire again, her mind clear as a bell.
"I want to fuck," she heard herself say to Hemant, getting up and looking at him with a hunger glittering in her eyes. "Can I?"
He chuckled. "Of course. We have someone waiting. Your very first client."
She was taken to a richly appointed suite. A stranger was waiting.
He smiled when he saw her. He was obviously rich and quite handsome. Deepika couldn't have cared less if he was an ogre. She was burning with lust.
Within minutes, she was on her knees before the man, sucking it feverishly. The man groaned in pleasure as he fucked her face.
"Mm ... yeh ... fuck you're good, bitch ... suck it! C'mon ... suck it harder ... oh fuck yes!" he gasped, pumping his hips to and fro, pushing his cock in and out of her distended face, rocking her head back and forth in one hand.
Deepika moaned deep in her cock-filled throat, working his cock-head with her tongue, sucking sharply, letting go, sucking hard again. She loved sucking cock, and did it very well. The man gasped at her cunning and prowess. His cock spurted pre-cum gunk and she gasped, opening her mouth under his cock and letting him watch it spurt into her throat, spatter her breasts and face. He pushed her head away. Deepika groaned and, moving to the bed, went down on her back, spreading her legs and clawing her cunt-lips open for him.
"Fuck me," she gasped. "Take me, lover! Fuck me hard! Do what you like with me! I'm want to be fucked!"
The man stared down at her. He was handsome and well-built, in his late thirties, obviously very rich.
"How old are you, bitch?" he said softly.
"Seventeen," she gasped. "Almost."
"My god," he breathed, a grin splitting his face as he moved up over her. "Oh my god."
Deepika pushed her hand between their bodies and guiding his cock to her cunt. He paused and then, with soft cry, drove his cock deep into her cunt.
It took an hour for him to finish and then she was taken off.
Deepak was with her when the manager, Santosh, asked her to confirm her willingness to join service. She agreed without hesitation and Deepak smiled and kissed her.
The next day, she was told, she would have to do a screen test.
For a porn film. With a small smile, Santosh told her the salaries and perquisites she would get. Deepika's jaw dropped. It was more money each night, in the lowest grade, than her father made in a month. She could hardly wait to begin.
Deepika returned home in an euphoric mood. She told her family she'd got a job at the hotel in reservations. The hotel was well-known as among the city's finest, swankiest, most respectable business establishments. Her parents were overjoyed. Her father took them out to a restaurant to celebrate and her mother fed her sweetmeats in thanksgiving. If only they knew.
The next day, Santosh escorted her to the sound-stage. There would be no client today, he said, since she was doing a screen test and that might require several takes. The clients would begin the next day when her evaluations came in, and the next week she'd be asked to do a live show. She could refuse, of course - but no one did, he said with a hint of warning, implying that refusal would inevitably result in a lowering of her grades and consequently the money she made and the kind of client she was offered to.
"I hope you're not going to refuse?" he asked as they pushed through a padded door into a sound-proof, cavernous film-set.
Deepika smiled. "No, I don't think so. I love fucking and I love being watched so that seems to be a good way to do it."
Santosh smiled. He was stocky, but handsome all the same. "You're lovely," he murmured. "Very lovely. We must fuck some time."
The screen test was a dream. Deepika was alone on stage. First, one hugely endowed man fucked her, then another, then a third.
They looked like rough labourers or workmen, which they probably were. They had hard, lean, sinewy bodies. All three began in tight-fitting sleeveless under-vests, the kind that clung to their frames, necks scooping down low on their broad, deeply cleaved chests, and cut way in at the back. Even with them on, it was apparent that these were tough men. The exposed portions of their torsos were sexily hairless, with even their armpits shorn, and even under the vests, the hard ridges of musculature were apparent. Their trousers, when they came on, were baggy, but with prominent bulges in their crotches. They soon discarded these - but kept the vests on - and they wore nothing under them and their cocks were huge.
At the end, they took her together in her cunt and mouth and ass, fucking her slowly and heavily while she thrashed in a frenzy of delight between them, the magnificent penises sawing rhythmically and unhurriedly in and out of her orifices, plundering her flesh.
All three men came. There were no retakes and, as the lights died, the unit applauded. Deepak, Santosh and Hemant came down to the set, grinning hugely.
"Well done, Deepika," Deepak said. "Congratulations. That was incredible."
She smiled at him. "What, did I make it?"
Hemant laughed. "Ducky, you're one of the few to jump straight into the number four slot. Most first-time whore-cunts start at
nine or ten."
"Yes, it's quite an achievement," Santosh chimed in. "The boss graded you himself. And that's really something."
"And that entitles you to a chauffeur-driven car and a flat of your own. If you want it. The chauffeur is a good fuck, incidentally."
Deepika panicked. "No, no," she said. "No flat. No flat. I can't leave home."
"No sweat," Santosh said. "You don't have to take it. It's there when you want it. Take the car, though. Commuting can be a bummer."
That much was true though Deepika sometimes enjoyed being pawed in a crowded train. Still, she could do without the stench.
"When do I start?" she asked.
"Oh, we'll just have you on ice for a few months before we..."
Deepika laughed and flung a pillow at him. Santosh bent and kissed her gently, cupping her breast.
"You want to start now? You haven't had re-takes, and I've got guys waiting. If you want to."
"I do," Deepika said, her eyes filled with excitement. "I do."