The door clicked shut with finality behind them.
The moment they stepped inside the quiet, dim cottage room, something shifted in the air—thicker than the heat, heavier than anticipation. Shalini didn't speak. She didn't look at Prayush. She simply walked forward, her soft sneakers brushing against the old wooden floor.
No fan. No AC. Just silence and slow, rising warmth.
Prayush closed the door behind them, his heart thudding, his breath already shallow as he watched her move. The weight of what was coming settled low in his belly—desire, reverence, need.
Shalini stopped in the middle of the room.
Still facing away.
And then—slowly, deliberately—she turned.
Prayush's breath caught.
Her face was flushed, cheeks slightly pink from the trapped heat in her outfit. A faint sheen of sweat glowed at her temples, and her lips curved into a wicked, soft smile.
"I've been cooking in this for hours," she whispered, voice low and sultry. "You asked for sweat. I made sure you'd get it."
She reached down and tugged her black ribbed turtleneck up just enough to reveal the deep, darkened fabric beneath her arms. Sweat soaked through the cotton, clinging to her like a second skin.
The scent drifted across the space—warm, musky, real.
His mouth fell open. His knees went weak.
She looked at him and said, simply:
"Come here."
He didn't walk—he dropped.
Right to his knees in front of her.
He reached out, hands trembling slightly, and gently lifted the edge of her shirt. Her skin was damp—slick with warmth. He pressed his nose under her arm and inhaled deeply, shuddering as the scent of her raw sweat hit his brain like a drug.
"God… ma'am…" he moaned into her, his tongue flicking out to taste the heat.
Her taste was perfect—salty, earthy, feminine, strong. He licked slow circles into the slick hollow of her armpit, his tongue dragging along the curve, his moans muffled into her skin. His hands gripped her thighs for balance.
She tilted her head back and let out a soft gasp. "Yesss… that's it…"
He moved to the other side, equally soaked, equally irresistible. His lips kissed along the edge of her shirt, tongue working deeper into her skin. He wasn't just turned on—he was devoted, obsessed, drunk on her natural scent.
"You haven't even seen how soaked I am underneath," Shalini whispered.
She turned and sat slowly on the bed, her thick grey leggings clinging tightly to her hips, the sweat having dampened the fabric all across her waistband and down between her thighs.
She spread her legs slightly.
"Strip," she ordered, her voice soft but commanding.
He obeyed immediately—ripping off his shirt, stepping out of his pants, his cock already hard and dripping.
"Good boy," she purred, dragging one sock-covered foot up his chest. "You know where to start."
He got on all fours and leaned in, pressing his face to her inner thighs, licking the damp fabric slowly, reverently. The scent that radiated off her was thick and intoxicating—her body had been building it for hours.
He peeled the leggings down slowly—inch by inch—revealing soft, sweat-slick skin that glistened in the dim light. Her thighs shimmered. The curve of her hips was glistening with salty heat, and between her legs…
She was soaked.
Not just wet. Drenched.
Sweat and arousal had mingled and dripped down her slit, pooling at the curve of her thighs.
Prayush's mouth fell open.
"I made this mess for you," she whispered. "Now lick it up."
He dove in like he couldn't breathe without her.
His tongue spread her folds gently, dragging upward, scooping the thick taste into his mouth. Her sweat mingled with her slickness, and he moaned into her, eyes fluttering closed as he licked harder, deeper, hungrier.
She gasped, head tilting back, hand threading through his hair. "Mmm… just like that, baby…"
He licked up her inner thighs, then down again, circling her clit with slow, reverent strokes. Her flavor was rich, intense, addictive. He couldn't stop—his lips wrapped around her, his tongue lapping in eager, rhythmic waves.
"You like it, don't you," she said breathlessly. "Licking me when I'm soaked and filthy."
He nodded, still eating her like he was starving.
"I wore every inch of this heat for you. Made myself into your perfect sweat-dripping whore… and you didn't even have to beg."
He moaned into her harder, his hips twitching from the raw stimulation of her words.
Shalini grinned down at him, wicked and glowing.
Then she leaned back, reached for her thick wool socks, and lifted one foot to his chest. "Take them off."
He pulled one sock down slowly—moist, heavy with sweat. The smell was strong—trapped inside the thick wool—and he inhaled it like it was perfume.
Then the other.
And without hesitation, he took her foot into his hands, lifted it to his face, and kissed her damp, sticky sole.
He licked up the arch of her foot, then slowly sucked her toes into his mouth, moaning as he tasted the salty sweat built up from hours inside her sneakers. She watched him with gleaming eyes—her foot gliding across his tongue, his face flush with obedience.
"You really do love every drop of me," she whispered.
He looked up, lips still wet. "I worship you, ma'am."
She cupped his cheek, pulled him up over her, and kissed him hard—tongues tangling, sweat smearing between their mouths.
Then she whispered:
"Lie down."
He obeyed.
Flat on the bed, cock hard, chest rising and falling like he was about to explode.
Shalini climbed on top, still dressed in her sweaty turtleneck, still glowing from heat. She straddled him slowly, her soaked slit sliding over his length—not taking him in yet, just grinding—letting her sweat drip onto his chest.
His hands reached for her.
She pinned them above his head.
"You don't move," she said. "You don't fuck me."
She leaned in, her sweat rolling off her face, dripping down onto his lips.
"You receive me."
Then, in one long, wet slide, she took him inside her.
They both gasped.
She was scorching. Tight. Slippery. Drenched. She began to ride him—slow and deep, her thighs grinding, her hips rolling, sweat falling in soft drops onto his chest and stomach.
His eyes rolled back. "Ohh—ma'am—fuck—"
Her body clapped softly against his as she moved, hips building speed, moans growing louder. Her heat soaked him, covered him. Every inch of him was coated in her scent, her taste, her sweat, her power.
And when they came—together—it wasn't wild or explosive.
It was slow, deep, and utterly consuming.
A long moan. A hard pulse. Their bodies shuddering in rhythm as they let go into each other, sticky and soaked, panting in the thick, steamy room.
When it was over, Shalini collapsed onto his chest—still clothed, still soaked—and whispered into his neck:
"This was your reward, baby."
And Prayush, eyes closed, heart pounding, held her tight.
"You're everything," he whispered. "Every drop."
Their bodies were still trembling.
Shalini's head rested against Prayush's sweat-slicked chest, both of them panting, spent… but not finished.
Not yet.
A soft hum left her lips as she slowly sat upright, her body still straddling him. Her face was flushed, hair damp and wild, and her black turtleneck clung to her skin, soaked entirely down the back and under the arms. The sweat that had pooled at her waist had soaked through the leggings, now half-pulled down and hanging on her thighs.
She smiled down at him—lazy, glowing, wicked.
"Now, baby…" she whispered. "Time to taste me again."
Prayush blinked up at her, still breathless, cock twitching despite just releasing deep inside her. His chest rose and fell rapidly as Shalini reached for the hem of her shirt, and this time she peeled it all the way off.
The air hit her soaked skin immediately. Her breasts glistened with sweat, nipples hard, trails of moisture running from her neck down between the curves. She stood slowly over him—tall, commanding, radiant.
Then she pushed her leggings and damp panties the rest of the way down and stepped out of them. She was completely naked now—drenched in heat, her entire body slick with moisture, especially beneath her breasts, between her thighs, behind her knees.
"Look at what you did to me," she said, arms slightly raised, sweat dripping from her elbows.
Prayush didn't need another word.
He sat up instantly and wrapped his arms around her thighs, kissing the inside first—tasting where her sweat had dripped down and mixed with his own release.
Then he moved higher.
His mouth met her center again—soaked, puffy, twitching with aftershocks. He licked her with renewed hunger, gentle but greedy, his tongue moving through every inch of her folds like she was an offering meant only for him.
Shalini moaned—loudly this time, her head tipping back as her hands slid into his hair.
"Fuuuck, yes—my boy…"
He kissed up her belly, licking the sweat there. He ran his tongue between her breasts, across her collarbones, up to the hollow of her throat, where sweat had pooled.
She trembled beneath the worship.
He took her breast in his mouth, licking the salty underside, sucking gently as his fingers moved back down to her thighs.
His lips never stopped moving—trailing, kissing, cleaning her skin one lick at a time.
And then—
Shalini turned around, slowly, revealing the full curve of her soaked, sweaty backside to him. Sweat had trickled down the crease, gliding along her peach and soaking the backs of her thighs.
She bent forward slightly—just enough to present herself completely.
Then looked back over her shoulder, smiling through her sweat-slicked hair.
"Now," she said, voice low, breathy, almost trembling, "I'm letting you take the leash."
She arched her back just a little more, giving him everything.
"For the next two hours, I'm yours," she whispered. "Do whatever you want to me, baby. Every inch. Every drop. Take it."
Prayush's mouth parted, his chest heaving.
He stood slowly, his eyes wide, his hands shaking with desire and disbelief.
Then he stepped forward, placed his hands gently on her hips, and moaned:
"Yes, ma'am."