Continue....
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Shalini stood bent slightly forward, hands on the edge of the bed, her sweat-drenched body glistening in the morning light that bled faintly through the cottage window.
Her peach was flushed and soaked, the heat of her skin steaming slightly in the thick air. A thin sheen of sweat rolled down her spine, tracing every curve, disappearing between her cheeks. She trembled—not from fear, not from fatigue—but from surrender.
And behind her, Prayush stood frozen.
His breath hitched as he stared at her—so open, so vulnerable, so his.
He reached forward, slowly, reverently, and let his hands cup the sides of her hips. Her skin was hot, damp beneath his palms. His fingers slid down to the backs of her thighs, gripping them softly.
Then he leaned in.
His tongue traced the path of a droplet of sweat, licking slowly from the base of her back all the way down to the crease between her cheeks. His breath shook as he tasted her again—salt, heat, skin.
Shalini moaned softly, pushing her hips back toward him.
He spread her cheeks gently, exposing the full glistening heat of her—slick, soaked, inviting.
His mouth moved lower.
He kissed the space between her thighs, then higher, then higher—until his tongue was circling her rim, licking slow, firm, wet strokes into her.
Shalini gasped, her knuckles white on the bedsheet.
"Ohh—fuck, baby… yes…"
He moaned into her, the vibrations buzzing against her most sensitive nerves.
Then, without warning, he slapped her ass—firm, sharp, a loud smack echoing through the cottage.
Shalini cried out—a mix of shock and pleasure. "Ahhh! Yes—again!"
SMACK.
He left a bright handprint blooming across her right cheek.
SMACK.
Another. Her skin jiggled, her breath broke, and her nectar began to drip down her inner thighs again.
"I've never seen anything more perfect," he whispered, voice raw with reverence.
She looked back at him through half-lidded eyes, hair sticking to her cheeks. "Then use it, baby… it's yours…"
He lined himself up, pressing the flushed head of his cock between her folds—already soaked, already warm—and slid into her slowly.
The moan that left her lips was pure surrender.
He filled her inch by inch, her walls clenching around him, still slick and tight, soaked from everything before. The heat between their bodies was overwhelming—skin sliding against skin, sweat mixing, sticking, dripping.
Prayush gripped her hips and began to move—slow thrusts, deep and deliberate.
He watched her peach ripple with every stroke, watched the sweat fly off her back as her body rocked beneath him. His own sweat started to build—along his temples, between his shoulders, dripping down his chest.
They were soaked, together.
Every thrust slapped against her flesh with wet, obscene sounds.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Shalini moaned louder, arching her back deeper, giving him more.
He leaned over her, one hand sliding beneath to cup her breast, thumb brushing her nipple. His other hand reached forward and grabbed her by the throat, softly, gently.
"You're mine right now," he growled into her ear. "You said I could do anything."
Shalini's voice was barely a whisper. "Yes… anything… I'm yours…"
He pulled out slowly, then shoved back in—hard.
She screamed into the mattress, her body convulsing around him.
The rhythm built faster.
Harder.
Sweat poured from them both. Her body shook beneath him, his cock driving into her over and over, her moans turning to gasps, whimpers, begs.
And then—her voice broke:
"Baby—I'm coming—fuuuck—don't stop—"
Prayush gritted his teeth, thrusting faster, harder, skin slapping skin, his fingers digging into her hips.
Shalini's body exploded—her orgasm rippling through her like a thunderstorm. She came hard, shaking, crying out his name as her slickness gushed down her thighs.
He followed with a deep groan, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside her—his release pulsing through her, warm and raw, filling her completely.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of breath.
Heavy. Desperate. Satisfied.
Then Shalini collapsed fully onto the bed, her body trembling, glowing with sweat and love.
Prayush lay beside her, panting, his hand resting on her damp lower back.
She looked over her shoulder, smiling through exhaustion.
They lay tangled together for a long moment—sweat-soaked, skin to skin, breathing in sync.
Shalini's body hummed from the inside out. Her thighs still trembled. Her neck glistened with sweat. Her peach—used, stretched, dripping—still pulsed with aftershocks.
And yet…
She turned her face slightly and whispered, "Still one more hour, baby…"
Prayush sat up slowly, his eyes locked on hers.
"You said I could do whatever I want," he said, voice low but firm.
Shalini nodded slowly. "Anything, baby."
He stood, completely bare, chest rising and falling with steady heat.
Then reached for her hand.
She blinked. "Where are we going?"
His eyes didn't waver.
"The lobby," he said. "I want them to know. I want you sweaty and naked and bent over in that empty lobby like you're mine."
Shalini stared for a moment, heart pounding harder. The idea was outrageous, reckless, unthinkable.
And perfect.
A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. She stood—completely nude, her body dripping with sweat, thighs glistening, chest rising and falling with every breath. Her hair was wild, her eyes bright.
She didn't ask questions.
She just followed.
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The cottage lobby was dim and silent. The old man had long since gone back to sleep behind the partition. The front area was deserted.
Shalini followed Prayush—bare, barefoot, flushed—her feet sticking slightly to the tile with each step. She could feel her slickness trailing down her legs, her body burning with exposure.
When they reached the center of the room, Prayush turned to her.
"Bend over that wooden table," he said, voice thick.
She didn't hesitate.
She walked to the edge, placed both palms flat, and arched her back—offering her glistening, used, sweaty peach to him fully. Her breasts hung forward, nipples hard, drops of sweat dripping from them and hitting the table.
Prayush stepped up behind her.
His cock was already hard again—aching, twitching, pulsing for her.
He grabbed her hips, positioned himself at her entrance, and whispered:
"No moaning this time."
She smirked.
"No promises."
And then—he pushed in.
Hard. Deep. Claiming.
Her entire body jolted forward, her breath catching in her throat.
He began to thrust—fast, punishing, soaked with heat. Their bodies clapped in the silence, skin slapping, echoing against the empty walls.
Sweat poured down his chest.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table.
His fingers dug into her waist.
"You're mine," he growled. "Look at you—so fucking wet, dripping down your thighs, and out here where anyone could walk in."
Shalini gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.
"I want to be seen," she hissed. "I want them to see how filthy I am for you…"
He slammed into her harder.
The table creaked, her moans getting sharper, faster, her feet sliding slightly on the tile with every brutal thrust.
Then he reached down and spanked her—hard.
SMACK.
She bit her lip, shoulders shaking from the sting.
Another.
SMACK.
"Take it," he hissed. "Take all of it."
She did.
Over and over again, her body rocked with his rhythm—sweat flying off their skin, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of skin, sex, and want.
She started to convulse first.
"Ohhh—fuuuck—I'm coming again—"
"Me too," Prayush gasped.
And then—
They came together one final time.
Hard.
His release pumped into her with hot, fast pulses. Hers spilled down her thighs in waves, gushing with each final thrust.
They collapsed forward, both of them panting, still locked together.
The lobby was filled with the stench of sex, heat, and sweat.
And they didn't care.
Because for those two hours—
She belonged to him.
And he worshipped her the only way he knew how.
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