As the month passed, it started feeling like time had frozen. Shivam’s work in Bengaluru kept increasing; every time he called, he’d say, “Bro, just one more week… then I’m coming back.” And I would smile to myself. Amrita had now completely become mine. During the day, we played our games in every corner of the house; the nights felt like a journey through paradise. There was no more shyness in her eyes, no anger—just an insane thirst for me.
One morning after breakfast, Amrita was making coffee in the kitchen. She was wearing only a thin silk short nightie that barely reached her thighs. She had nothing on underneath. I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and whispered in her ear, “Want to try something new today?”
She smiled, handing me the coffee mug, and said, “What’s the naughty boy thinking?”
I lifted her in my arms and carried her to the backyard. There was Shivam’s private gym—large glass walls showing the lawn outside, but no one could see in. Inside was a full mirror wall and soft mats on the floor. I laid her down on the mat.
“Today we’ll do it while watching ourselves,” I said, pointing toward the mirror.
Amrita blushed, but her eyes sparkled. I stripped off my shirt and shorts, becoming completely naked. She slid her nightie up and started running her fingers over her pussy, looking at me. I went to her, spread her legs wide, and buried my mouth in her pussy. It was already wet that morning, as if it had been craving me all night. The moment my tongue touched her clit, she shivered. Then I pressed my whole mouth against her and sucked. She was watching herself in the mirror—how her breasts bounced, how her waist trembled.
“Saajan ji… look… how slutty I look…” she panted.
I pulled her up and crushed her pink lips with mine, exploring every corner of her mouth with my tongue, as if I wanted to drink all her sweetness. Her breathing quickened, hot air hitting my face. I placed my swelling cock in her soft hand, and she began stroking it—fingers slowly sliding up and down, caressing it like a precious jewel. The warmth of her palm made my cock even harder; veins bulged, pre-cum dripping from the tip.
Then I gently made her kneel right in front of the mirror. Her eyes fixed on her own naked image—her heavy breasts hanging and swaying, nipples hard like small pink pearls. She held my cock with both hands, brought it to her mouth, first teasing the head with her tongue like licking a sweet candy. Then she took the entire head inside, lips tightly wrapped around it, sucking. Her saliva glistened on my shaft, dripping onto her breasts. She tried to take it deeper, gagging—“gluck… gluck…”—the sound echoing in the room like some deep music. I grabbed her silky hair and slowly pushed deeper into her throat. Her face turned red, eyes teary, but she didn’t stop—instead she sucked even harder, as if desperate to drain every drop. In the mirror I could see her arched back, swaying ass, and the sight of herself sucking cock made her tremble with extra excitement.
Hearing her moans, I couldn’t hold back. I lifted her, pressed her against the mirror—her back sticking to the cold glass. I pulled her nightie up—she was bare underneath, her pink pussy already glistening and dripping. I rubbed my cock along her pussy lips, teasing her clit, and she shuddered, thrusting her hips. Then with one hard thrust I buried myself completely inside her hot, wet cunt—“fachak”—like a hot knife sliding into butter. We both watched in the mirror—my strong waist slamming against her ass, her round 36-inch ass rippling with every thrust, breasts bouncing wildly like waves. I grabbed one breast—full, soft yet firm—twisting the nipple like squeezing juicy fruit. With the other hand I rubbed her clit in circles, and she screamed—“Aahh… Saajan ji… look… how I’m getting fucked… like your whore… your cock is tearing my pussy… uffff… harder…”