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Author’s note: This story contains some dialogues in Hindi. For non-Hindi speakers, I’ve provided English translations in brackets. Hope you have a good experience reading this. I look forward to your feedback in the comments section. Thanks.


It’s drizzling outside. The streets are muddy and the glass walls are misty. Rain droplets are dripping down the glass.

I’m sitting in the waiting area outside a restaurant in the up-market area of the city. The day has been wet with intermittent showers, and I’m waiting for you. I’m wearing a cream cotton-satin shirt and a dark blue stone-washed pair of jeans, with brown loafers and a thick metallic dial wristwatch on my left hand. I’d trimmed my facial hair this morning. Together with the homemade facial, it’s giving a bright, clean look to my face. The hair, cropped close on both sides and the back, is side-parted.

The restaurant is on the 37th floor of a 70-storey complex. There are three lifts for commuting. I’ve been keeping an eye on them for signs of your arrival, but so far, twenty minutes since you said you’ll be here, you haven’t arrived.

The lift at the center stops and opens, and I see you walk out. For a fraction of a second, I’m blank, not knowing what to do. I’m sitting there on the chair, while another guy, who’s coming out of the lift that is to the far side, looks at me and can’t suppress a smile. He has noted that I’m looking — no — staring at you, while you’re gliding through the 8 paces between the lift and my chair. He’s noted how my eyes look big enough to be a pigeon’s eggs.

You are unaware of all this, meanwhile, or are pretending to be. Of course, you know the effect you’re having on me. Always have known.

You walk up to me, standing tall above where I’m sitting, which is when I realize how dumb I look. I stand up, giving you a broad smile. There is a moment where you crane your neck from bottom to top as I get up, feeling the contrast in our heights. But it passes away in the face of my goofy smile.

“Hey, uh…you look fabulous,” I say as I offer my hand.

You shake it and reply, “Hi. Thanks. You look fine too,” flashing that high-wattage smile, then immediately narrowing your eyes and half-pursing your lips in the way you do when you are amused by the circles your appearance is running around my head.

My heart skips another beat.

“Stop gawking,” you rebuke me as you hit playfully on my shoulder. I feel the touch of your soft fingers on my skin, through the shirt.

“So, are we going inside or will you stay ‘out’ all night?” You wink at me.

I will myself to come back to this world and regain my senses as I reply, “Sure, m’lady, after you.” I half-bow and motion forward with my right hand for you to lead the way. I walk right behind you, taking in the sight presented by your booty, having so far feasted on the front view.

I hold the door open for you and we walk in. I gesture to the head waiter for our seat.

He notices you, because how can he not, and then he turns around and leads us around a bend in the seating, across the counter, to the other side of the hall.

We sit at a corner table, with the rest of the tables occupied. The tables are roughly three feet away from each other, with crimson, shiny clothes covering each of them.

The restaurant’s music system is playing a soft romantic number. We sit down, and this is when I really look at you.

There’s your hair, slightly off-center parted, with the bouncy curls resting on both sides of your shoulders, framing your face. You have on thin, golden strip earrings, coming halfway down to your shoulder, in both ears. The eyelashes are curled outside, creating an exciting dark path to the forbidden kingdom of your body. The eye shadow is a matte gradient of red, with the darkest part under your perfectly arched brows. Your wide specs cover those dreamy eyes. The bright red, glance-holding lipstick on your lips is daring me to shift my gaze from them.

As you walked ahead of me into the restaurant, I saw that you’re wearing the red lace dress I gifted you last autumn, coming halfway down your thigh, with its neckline stopping where the slightest hint of cleavage starts, and its back, plunging below your shoulder blades, enticing me into holding you there. You’re probably wearing strapless bra, I’m guessing, because I’m unable to make out your nipples. I’m guessing what the bra colour is. I’m also guessing what the colour of your panty is, when I notice you wearing black lace stockings, with garter belt and suspenders under the dress, I’m sure. You have your latest black stilettos on, with the four-inch heels accentuating your sultry walk and making your shapely calves and toned ass stand out.

You’re dressed to murder, and I’m feeling that. I know that. The best thing is, you know that I know, and your smile as you’re sipping the cocktail, playing with my eyes, tells me that you’re enjoying this early control.

I clear my throat. You’re continuing a cycle of looking at your drink, then on to me, bursa escort and then back. All of a sudden, you stop sipping the drink as you realize that my right foot is rubbing your left ankle and foot.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“Decent. Been waiting all day for this “meeting.””

“Umm hmm.”


“So, what were you thinking when I walked out of the lift?”

“You really want to know?”




My voice slows down to a whisper as I lean across the table, “I was thinking, “I need to fuck you right now.””

“Such a dog!” you chuckle.

I make my best impression of a dog face and let out a soundless growl.

Some heads turn nearby, which makes you self-aware.

“Behave yourself!”

I shrug, then smile, a wry one that tells you I know I’m making up lost ground.

“So, where did you think you would be doing that?” You ask.

“Doing what?” I ask, genuinely confused for a second, then feeling a jolt to my dick as the realization dawns on me that you’d made another double entendre. My wicked smile appears.

“Well, uh, maybe in a good hotel room.”

My leg is rubbing your calf, playing with your skin over the lace of the stocking.

“Stop.” Your voice isn’t a murmur.

My foot stays where it is, but your eyes suddenly turn from friendly to fiery.

“What?” I try to sound innocent.

“I don’t like this. Take your foot off.” You lower your voice to a whisper and tell me, after having half the people around us glancing at your previous comment.

“You don’t like PDA, is that what you’re saying?”


“Really? And who was tickling my side and pinching my thighs when we went to the chaat bazaar last time?”

“Chup raho (Shut up).” You mock-rebuke me, again.

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“So, just be sure, do you want to be bossy like this, or do you think behaving yourself would be a better option?”

“Get your foot down, now,” you grit your teeth.

I climb down from your calf, knowing full well that I’m going to climb higher than that not too long from now. I nod vigorously. I open my mouth to speak when I see the waiter arrive.

He brings our orders — Lasagna and cheese pasta.

We eat in silence for a while when you speak.

“What were you going to say when the waiter arrived?” You inquire.

“Um, oh that! I was going to ask whether I should book a room.”


“For us, you know.”

“No need.”

I’m shocked as you take another sip from your drink. I resume eating too.

A little while later, you speak, wiping your fingers on the napkin, the red nail polish looking every bit the killer.

“There’s no need to book a room, because I’ve already done that.” Your turn to give the wicked smile.

I beam too.

We finish our dinner, settle the bill, and walk out towards the lift.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“You’ll know, don’t worry. Be patient.”

“You’re being quite bi…er, bossy today. You know that, right?”

We get into the lift. We’re the only two people in there. I try to press the button for the basement parking when you tap my hand away.

You press the button marked 69, and smile at me. I nod slightly, and smile back. I am standing to your left, and I slip my right hand to your waist, letting it rest there for a moment before grabbing a handful of your ample ass.

“Kya gaand hai (what an ass)!” I whisper in your ear.

You don’t react.

We come out of the lift on the 69th floor, my hand now resting on your waist. You take out the key as we enter the room. You enter first, and I lock the door behind me. The room is big, with a king-size bed in the centre, and floor-length glass window covering the wall, behind which lies the balcony. The curtains that cover the wall are drawn to the side. There’s a black leather couch right by the main door to the room.

I go through different lighting options, finally settling for the soft, indirect yellow lighting that lets us see each other while also keeping the room relatively dark.

We stand there, looking at each other. You drop your purse on the couch. I walk up to you, and slip my hands behind your back. Your hands come up to rest on my shoulders.

We’re taking in each other. I feel the blood rush to my groin as the heartbeat starts rising, and I feel your breath quicken too, the colour rushing to your cheeks. We lean towards each other. The first contact is light, almost a brush of skin, before I kiss you on the full, and you kiss me back. My lips cup your lower lip while your lips are on my upper lip. You rub your tongue on my upper lip, which sends another jolt to my dick. I like the taste of your lipstick, and make a mental note to clean it up from both lips. Your hands are in my hair, holding me. My left hand is on your waist, holding it, while the right one slowly comes up to your left boob, cupping it. We continue kissing each other, feverishly, until we can’t breathe anymore, which is bursa escort when we come up for air.

After a few deep breaths, accompanied by involuntary smiles, we kiss again. This time, the kiss is slower, with our mouths more open, lapping each other, and our tongues fighting with each other.

At length, you break the kiss.

“I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

I nod, still smiling.

As you turn, I grab your hand and turn you back towards myself, tugging you to myself.

“Aesa chodunga tumhe aaj… (I’ll fuck you so bad tonight…).”

You slap me lightly on the cheek, and turn around towards the bathroom.

“You’re a fucking dog,” you comment as you go inside and lock the door.

I know the night is going to be wild. You need to be reminded of your manners.

I look around the room, at the comfy-looking bed, out the window where the traffic is winding down for the night, with high-rises in the distance twinkling. I look at myself in the big mirror on the wall outside the bathroom, adjusting my shirt’s collar and running my hands through my hair. That’s when I hear the bathroom door unlocking, and on a whim, I step to the side, letting you come out.

You take a step out, gazing into the room but not seeing me, when I turn right in front of you. You’re taken aback.


I grab your waist and pull you up in my arms, turning around to throw you on the bed, before jumping right on between your legs. I love the way you’re looking in the dress, with the high heels. I kiss you again, before proceeding to take out a tie from the back pocket of my jeans, tying your hands above your head on the headstand.

“Hey, what are you doing?” There is a slight trepidation in your voice, mixed with enormous excitement.

“I want you to behave.”

“Ooohhh, is that it, baby? Have I been bad, baby?”

I don’t reply, tying the hands tightly enough so that you can’t untie the knots, but not so tight as to hurt you.

“Now, lassie, you have two choices. Either I tie a blindfold across your eyes, or I tie up your mouth. Which one do you want?” I ask, towering over your body.

“Do you really want to do that, baby?”

I lean down, grab your face in both hands, and kiss you hard, biting softly on your lips.

“Choice?” I ask.

You blink, implying you’d prefer moaning and crying out my name, between abuses.

I take the spare handkerchief I have in the pocket, and tie it across your eyes.

“Spread your legs.”

You comply.

I go down between your legs, and rub the thighs with my fingertips. I can feel goosebumps forming over your skin. I raise your dress above your waist, letting your black thong-covered pussy come out in the open, as well as the garter belt and suspenders. I unhook the stockings, and take out the belt, making sure there are half-touches galore to the pussy and the area around it, leading to plenty of oohs and aahs from you.

“Do you want to get fucked?” I ask as I rub my fingers over the pussy.

You stay silent.

“I asked you something,” I add some nastiness in my voice. I also rub your pussy with a bit more pressure. Your excitement and discomfort are now visible, as you try to close your legs, and bite on your lower lip. I’m sitting right between your knees, so you’re unable to close the legs. I offer a finger to your lips, which you take inside your mouth. I push it in and out, as if it’s my dick, and I rub it on your teeth and tongue.

The finger is wet with your saliva when I take it out and take it down to your snatch, sliding your thong aside and rubbing your pussy with it.

“What do you say to that, bitch?” It is the first time I’ve used that word today, and I can feel your pussy jerking in response. Or maybe that’s because I’m now two fingers deep inside your pussy.

I lean over your face.

“I asked you something.”

“Aahhhh.” You let out a long sigh.

I push both fingers deeper inside your pussy and rub your clit with my thumb. With the other hand, I rub your titties.

“I asked you something,” I repeat, as I start mauling your left boob.

“I, aah, I like it.”

A smile forms over my lips, and I ask, “What do you like?”

“I like what you’re, ummmmmm, doing to my pussy.”

“What am I doing?”

“You’re rubbing my pussy.”

“You think I’m just rubbing?” I mock as I push a third finger inside.

“Ouch, aah, aah, no.”


“You’re fucking my pussy, with your fingers.”

“You like finger-fucking?”

“Ummm, aah, yes.” Your breath is getting heavier, shallow breaths with your mouth open and drying fast.

“Why do you like it?”

“Because, because…”

“Bolo (Say it).”

“Because I’m your bitch.”

“Do you like being my bitch?”

“Yes, I love it. I’m your bitch, your slut.”

“That’s good.” I pat your cheeks.

“Do you know what I’m doing to your lips now?” I ask, as I go down and start licking your pussy with my tongue, without interrupting the bursa eskort fingers’ work.

“Aaahhhhhhh, aaaahhh aaahhh, ummmm, ummm, yes, umm, yes, I love it.”

“Hindi me bol, kutiya (Speak Hindi, bitch).”

“Chaato meri choot. Aur chaato (Suck my pussy. Suck it more). Please. Make me cum.”

I’m grinning, enjoying this transformation of my beautiful girl from bossy bitch to total slut.

“Chudwana chahti hai (Do you want to get fucked)?” I feel you getting wetter.

“Haan, yes.” You gulp, running your tongue over your dry upper lip.

I increase the intensity of licking, alternating between licking and sucking, making vacuum-like state around your pussy by putting my lips around it and drawing a deep breath in. You arch your back.

“Randi hai tu meri, hai na (You’re my bitch, aren’t you)?”

“Haan. Main tumhari randi hoon. Meri choot ka paani nikaalo (Yes, I’m your bitch. Make me cum).” Your body is arching at smaller intervals now, as your hands struggle against the knotted tie.

I rub your pussy with the top half of my tongue, making horizontal and vertical laps of it, also lapping up your pussy juices.

“Teri choot bahot paani chhod rahi hai aaj. Bahot tharak hai chudwane ki aaj, randi (You’re leaking extra tonight. Too horny, bitch)?”

“Haan (Yes).”

I rub your perineum, the area between the choot (pussy) and the gaand (ass), with my right index finger, making sure your juices go down to your gaand as well. Then I start rubbing your asshole. All this while I’m also sucking your pussy.

You shudder for an instant, not sure whether you should allow me to work on your rear entrance or not.

“Gaand maarunga aaj teri, madarchod (I’m going to fuck your ass tonight, motherfucker).” I growl.

“Aah,” is all you cry out.

“Marwaegi gaand mujhse, bol (You want me to fuck your ass, huh)?”

“Uh, umm, haan. Main tumse gaand marwana chahti hoon (Yes. I want to get ass-fucked by you).”

I push the index finger inside your ass, which is when you tremble. Your first orgasm hits, and you squirt a single shot inside my mouth. I rub the insides of your ass, and draw more juices there with my other fingers, using them to get deeper inside your rear hole. Your pussy is also widening after the initial shock.

I keep pushing the finger inside, and lap up more juices, biting softly around your pussy.

“Lund chahiye (You want cock)?” I ask. And for some reason, the combination of all three, the action on your pussy, inside your forbidden asshole, and this language, take you to a place from where you can’t come back. You arch your back as much as possible, and I put my left hand under your ass, balled into a fist, to support you.

“Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” is the cry that leaves your lips, when you squirt 3-4 mini-jets on my mouth. The rest of your orgasm erupts as a fountain. You try to turn to a side and close your legs, but I make sure to drink as much of your cum as possible.

“I like this, darling. I want you to decide ki tumhe mere laude se pehle apne muh ki chudwai karwani hai ya apni choot marwani hai? Ya apni gaand? Soch, tabtak main bathroom se aata hoon (I want you to decide whether you want my cock to first fuck your mouth or your pussy. Or your ass? Decide by the time I return from the bathroom).”

I climb off the bed, my dick straining inside my trousers, and my shirt sticking to the body with sweat, despite the AC being set at 22 °C. You’re lying almost-lifelessly on the bed on your back, with your legs slightly curled to the right and your face turned to the same side. Your chest is heaving with long, deep breaths. You’re thinking, I’m sure.

When I return, I unscrew the cap of a water bottle, take a few swigs, and take the bottle to you. I raise your head, your eyes still covered, and bring the bottle to your lips. Neither of us speaks a word. You gulp down some water, allow your mouth and throat to feel the moisture, and then take another sip.

I put the bottle on the nightstand and lean down, biting your left earlobe and neck.

“Kya socha (What did you decide)?”

“Jo aapko achha lage wo karo (Do whatever you feel like doing).”

I throw my head back and laugh out, knowing fully well that you are avoiding having to make any decision. But that’s not how it’s going to go down tonight, is it?

I smack your ass. You moan softly. Then I grab the back of your head with my right hand, coming close to your ear before grunting, “Kis chhed me daalu lauda, bol (Tell me, which hole should I thrust my cock in)?”

“Choot me chahiye, mujhe (I want it in my pussy).”

“Saali behen ki lodi, pehle nahi bol sakti thi (Fucking slut, couldn’t say this earlier).” I smack your ass again, twice each on both cheeks.

“Muh me legi (Want to suck it)?”

“Haan. Pehle muh me do mujhe lauda. Mujhe lund choosna hai (Yes. First give it in my mouth. I want to suck your cock).”

“Good. Sahi randi ban gayi hai tu haraamkhor. Sali kutiya (You’re learning the ropes as a whore nicely. Fucking bitch).” I untie your hands, and watch with amusement as they go towards my waist, even with the eyes in the dark. You unbuckle my belt and let the jeans fall to my knees. You rub the dick over the underwear.

“Can I suck this?”

“What? Hindi me bolo (Ask in Hindi).”

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