One day, at a city carnival funhouse, mirrors reflecting her every move, Sonia wore a sheer black camisole, milk dripping, clit exposed, the plug sparkling. She fucked a carnie, mid-20s, in a back room, his cock in her pussy, cum on her clit, milk trickling. A teen worker, 19, joined, fucking her mouth, cumming on her face, paying ₹500. Arjun and Nia, at the carnival with friends, saw her, Nia giggling, “Mommy’s sparkly!” Arjun asked, “Why’s your face shiny?” Sonia smiled, “Just glitter, kids!” They hugged her, unaware, her heart racing.
At a rooftop fireworks show, the sky bursting with color, Sonia in a sheer white camisole, milk leaking, plug glinting, fucked a technician, late 20s, behind a stage, his cock in her pussy, cum on her clit, milk dripping. A spectator, 19, watched, and she sucked his cock, his cum painting her face. Vikrant’s affair intensified. One afternoon, in a park’s secluded bridge, naked but for the collar and plug, she fucked him, his cock in her pussy and ass, cum flooding inside, milk squirting. “You’re mine,” he growled, unaware of her other lovers. Sonia’s secrets drove her orgasms, her body a temple of lust.
One evening, at their tenth anniversary celebration, the bungalow glowed with marigolds and diyas, rangoli swirling underfoot. Guests—Rohan’s parents, Sonia’s parents, cousins Riya and Sameer, neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Nair and Mr. Gupta—sipped chai, their voices a hum of tradition. Sonia swept in, a sheer red saree clinging to her milk-soaked breasts, her clit peeking out, the “WHORE” collar gleaming, the plug flashing. Mrs. Patel gasped, “What shameless attire?” Mr. Mehra averted his eyes, but Sonia strutted, cum from an earlier tryst staining her saree, her pussy throbbing. “Like my style?” she purred, her clit pulsing. Rohan texted, “Fuck four men, keep their cum, take their money.” Her lust surged, eager to defile the sacred day.
Serving gulab jamuns, Sonia slipped into the garage with Anil, posing as a photographer. She shed her saree, naked save for the collar and plug, fucking him against the scooter, his cock pounding her pussy, cum splashing her clit, milk spraying the floor. He paid ₹2000, tucked into her collar. Nia peeked in, giggling, “Mommy’s with that guy!” Sonia smiled, “He’s setting up photos, sweetie.” Nia hugged her, “You’re so shiny!” and ran off. Anil growled, “Your husband’s clueless,” but Sonia laughed, “I’m a proud whore.” She returned, cum dripping, serving sweets to Mrs. Nair, who stared at her sticky thighs.
During the bhangra, Sonia lured Kabir to the puja room, fucking him against the idol shelf, his cock in her ass around the plug, cum flooding inside, milk staining the tiles. He paid ₹1500. Arjun burst in, “Why’s your face sticky?” Sonia knelt, cum dripping, “Just syrup, honey.” He giggled, “You’re messy!” and hugged her. She rejoined the dance, cum-soaked, Mr. Gupta whispering, “Filthy whore.”
While guests ate paneer tikka, Sonia fucked Vikrant in the bathroom, his cock in her pussy, then mouth, cum painting her face, milk splattering the mirror. He paid ₹3000. Riya knocked, “You okay?” Sonia called, “Just cleaning!” Vikrant whispered, “You’re mine,” but she smirked, her secrets safe. She served chai, cum glistening, Sameer muttering, “What a sight.”