Shreya was rubbing Bilal’s dick as he was riding his bike to Nungambakkam. It’s a 20-minute ride, but Bilal was impatient. He was riding so fast. At the Gemini junction, he pulled the brakes so hard. He was about to hit a mini-truck. Shreya jerked and fell forward. Her head hit Bilal’s helmet. It was painful.
“Slow the fuck down, Bilal. I am all yours for today. I won’t say no if you reach your place a little late, also. I don’t want to die on the road.” She pulled out his helmet, leaned forward and kissed his cheeks and his earlobes. In the most crowded junction in Chennai, Bilal was getting licked up by a hot Mallu chick.
He couldn’t stand the seduction. He jumped the red light and rode faster to his place. His room was lit up to receive Shreya. The warm lighting had set the mood. The songs from the movie Kadal were playing in the background. Shreya had already started stripping Bilal. He was shy.
The witty, warm, impressive man who charms his way into women’s hearts. He was shying away in front of Shreya. She liked how she could control him. He was not letting her kiss his ears. He was playing hard to get. Or maybe he was just shy. “Thappad”. Before he knew, Shreya slapped him so hard.
“You’re mine, and you shall listen to what I say.” Her bangles clanging, the upbeat music, her slap. Everything just flashed in Bilal’s mind in the flash of a second. Shreya was clearly establishing who she is and what she wants. She wants a lover boy.
Somebody who will cling to her. She wants Bilal on a leash. Love, trust and control. She was everything in one package. Bilal knelt in silence. Shreya smiled. “Eat me, baby.” She put her skirt over his face. Standing, she had Bilal’s head around her wet pussy.
He brought his hands up. Cupped her small, cute ass in his hands. Pulled down her panties. Started kissing her thighs around her pussy. He played it slow. He didn’t want to give her the pleasure of his tongue right now. He wanted her to ask for it. He wanted her to beg for it.
She can command and make him do it. But he wanted something else. He wanted the more gullible Shreya to come out. He was making her pussy wetter every second. His hands were having their best time. It was all over the place. They fell onto the bed.
He had already pulled down her skirt and her panties. She threw away her crop top. Down she lies, without a shred of cloth on her. Bilal felt a sense of victory. He has got what he wanted. He pulled out a small vodka bottle from the side shelf. He poured a little on her breasts and started eating it up.
Her neck. Her belly button. Her ass. Her thighs. Her calves. Her toes. He dropped a few drops of vodka everywhere and licked her everywhere. She was arching her back in joy. This was something Sam could never give her. What a loser.
Bilal is the real man. And how can I ever repay him? Shreya was losing patience. She wants to take back control. He was enjoying her body too much. She’ll do almost whatever he wants at this point. She’s losing her senses in pleasure. She didn’t want that.
She wanted Bilal to be hers and not the other way round. He is my bitch. And he shall remain so. Bilal didn’t even understand what happened. She clasped her thighs over his head, flipped him over to the bed and got on top of him. She knew that he had not come to his senses about what had happened.
She wanted it to remain so. She slapped him once again, so hard. It was to remind him of who the boss here is. When Bilal came to his senses, Shreya had already bitten his nipples and was pushing his pants down with her legs. She has fully taken control.
Kisses, bites, pinches. All of it was landing on Bilal in microseconds. She was showing him what a horny woman can do to him. Shreya pulled up his legs. She was giving him a foot job. He was on cloud nine. She didn’t care whether it was dirty. She didn’t care about all the sweat and dirt on his leg.
He was hers to play with. “Turn around, Bilal. I want to kiss your back.” Shreya commanded. She was running her fingers on his back. Scratching it. Pushing her nails down his back. Marking her territory. Her lipstick was getting spread all over his fair back.
She liked his back muscles. He’s not very ripped. But he has a very attractive back. It has a curve that is not very noticeable. She found it beautiful. She kissed him exactly at that midpoint. “Aah, Shreya,” Bilal moaned. He was feeling loved.
She was feeling respected. She was feeling obedient. She showered kisses on him. She slowly moved down to his ass. He was shown how painful it is when a woman’s nails go down a pound of flesh on his ass cheeks.
From behind, she licked his ball sack. She took his balls inside his mouth and pulled back. He felt like a part of his body had just been cut off. He gasped. Shreya had her tricks in her quiver.
She turned him around again. She couldn’t withstand her pussy anymore. She wanted to stick it in then and there. But she wanted his dick to feel her mouth.
She played a hard move. He flicked her finger on his dick. It was so much pain. He cried in pain. “Aaaah.”
“Hahaha. Look at you, Bilal. The man who can get women into his bed in a few hours of charming talk, crying when his dick is flicked on. Poor boy,” Shreya teased Bilal. “Eat my dick, you bitch.” The man in Bilal was waking up. The masculine. The rude, angry man.
He has always felt that women around him are inferior to him. His mother had a docile, yet beautiful body, subservient to his father. His sisters are weaker women. They laugh silently in their Hijab. That’s how they are supposed to be. That’s what makes them more attractive. And they should remain so.
That’s why men of other faiths want them. Bilal liked it when his friends tried to get a glance at his sisters. He knew how they looked at them. They had a secrecy to their bodies. And men wanted to know them, know their docile bodies. That’s how he saw women. That’s how he wanted them.
On his feet. Under his command. Under the garb of a pretentious male feminist was a hypocrite. A true Muslim. He knew where he wanted his women. Shreya broke the pattern, and he wanted to bring her back to where she should remain.
He pushed his dick into her mouth. He pulled her hair in a second and got hold of it and brought it under control. Her eyes popped out as he pushed his dick into her mouth. Tears rolled over her face. He didn’t give space for her gag reflex to work. She was his to control.
She gasped. One second break, and he thrust his cock into her mouth again. Shreya understood that she had lost. The man. His power. She can’t resist him with all her power. The subservient woman is what she is at this moment. She can attend to his dick or lose out on that little pleasure she is getting.
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She chose to continue. She sucked harder. Took the dick inside as much as possible. She wanted it to block all the air that goes inside. Bilal was also not able to keep things together. His legs were getting weaker. He couldn’t stand it anymore.
At some point, Shreya understood that the only way to bring Bilal down was to defeat him in his own game. He can pull her hair as much as he wants. He can cause as much pain as he wants to her. He can choke her throat as much as he wants.
But after a point, his legs might not stand. Bilal was falling. Shreya was gaining back control. She pulled him down, back in the game. He fell onto the bed. She has taken control. She has pushed his dick into his pussy. She’s feeling this pleasure for the first time. There’s a lot of pain. She was almost crying. It felt like the world was tearing apart. All the porn that she watched for this many years didn’t prepare her for this. Bilal’s dick pierced her pussy walls.
Shreya moaned. She was grinding her pussy over his dick. Finding a better way to ride his dick. It’s more difficult than getting fucked in missionary position. She got the hang of it. Bilal’s dick was hitting all the right spots. Shreya was losing control over herself. Her senses were fading. She kept moaning.
Bilal, at the peak of his pleasure, brought out his phone. He was clicking, how a senseless Shreya was riding his dick. Her pussy is pounding his dick. Her breasts are jiggling. What a view. Lights flashed. Different filters. The Malayali chick on his dick. A dream comes true.
And her nude photos are forever his property. Fuck me, Bilal. Shreya was begging Bilal. He slowly brought her down and started fucking her in missionary. Slow. Steady. Firm. Stroke by Stroke. No condoms. No birth control. Nothing. She had already reached her peak and had lost her senses.
She told him to come closer. She started kissing his face as he fucked her. Her maternal instincts seemed to have come out. She was caring for him. She wanted his love. Not just thrusting. Bilal also kissed her a lot. Her neck was already all red with a hell of a lot of hickeys.
His hands were fondling her breasts.
“Give me a little love, Bilal. Tell me you love me, please.”
“I love you, Shreya,” Bilal said. He shot his cum inside her as he showered kisses on her face. He felt like he had run out of energy. He fell on her. She kept kissing him, stroked his head, and put him calmly beside him.
“Please don’t take this joy away from me, Bilal. Keep loving me like this. Keep fucking me like this.” Shreya said.
“Forever,” Bilal said.
They smelled of each other. She wanted a shower. Bilal took her to the shower. They clicked their pictures together while in the shower.
“Aftercare, Bilal, you’re so good at this.”
Shreya knew that in some time, Bilal’s roomies would turn up. Her pussy still wants more. But for today, she was not ready to take another dick in.
She asked for a shirt. Bilal offered a white shirt. It doesn’t go well with the yellow skirt. “Who do I have to impress. I am getting the best fuck now. I am better than everyone.”
She put on the shirt. Before leaving, Bilal got her a bunch of flowers. He was making a point that he is a gentleman who knows exactly what a woman needs after a good fuck session. A good shower, clean clothes, warm coffee, lovely flowers, and a forehead kiss.
“I like your pussy more than you, still, I think I love you. Keep giving me more of what you gave me.”
Bilal dropped her off at the station and saw her off on the next local train to Tambaram. Shreya hugged him and gave him a peck on his cheeks before she got on the train.
The super crowded 6 PM local. That’s Chennai’s lifeline for passengers cruising the city post-work.
“Stupid Bilal, he should have gotten me on the ladies’ coach,” Shreya told herself. Thoughts were flying in her mind. She has spread her legs for a Muslim man. She was happy. Bilal was good at his game.
A shock passed through her spine as she came out of her thoughts. Somebody was holding her waist. A dark man in the crowd. She can feel his arms. She can see him standing beside her. He is much taller. The train is too crowded to understand things clearly.
Is it this man, or someone else? He saw her kissing him on the platform. He noticed her hickeys. He saw that she was lost in thought. He knows that she’s back from a fuck fest. He’s slowly pressing her waist. He reeks of alcohol. His shirt is dirty.
For a few moments, she was stuck. She was afraid. By her bare looks, the man knows that she’s coming out of a good fuck session. Her hickeys. Her smell. He saw her with Bilal. He might have understood, and he’s taking his chances.
“I shouldn’t be standing just like this. I should react.” But Shreya was failing. She couldn’t move. She understood that elderly men are not like Bilal. They’re not concerned about what the woman feels. In the crowd, in the stinking train, the elderly dark man brought his hands up through her shirt.
He was touching her breasts. His face was emotionless. “What a bastard, acting like he doesn’t even know what is happening!” Shreya was not ready to let it go. She can make a scene out of it. Or she can live in fear. The man can push her, and she will fall off the train.
Or she can teach this man what a woman like her can do. The man was closing in on her. She was pushed to a corner. A small portion of the train’s door. That’s all she was leaning on to. And the man is leaning on her. He is fondling her breasts. People are facing the other side.
Nobody can see what’s happening. It’s as if all the men around are setting a stage for this man to assault her. She wanted to be in control. She wanted to show this man who she actually is. She looked around once more, making sure nobody was watching.
He is wearing a lungi. She can catch him by his balls if she wants to. She wants to break his balls. But that will create a scene. She doesn’t want that. It might create more problems. She took a deep breath and reached her hand out into the man’s lungi. Yes. She got hold of his balls.
She wiggled her hand, and he got his black dick. The man was shocked. She stared into his eyes. He was shocked. He was shivering. He knew if she shouted, people would beat him up. She can just press harder, and he won’t be able to fuck anyone ever in his life. Her nails are rightly placed on his balls.
She stared into his black face. He was getting palpitations. Shreya knew she was in control. He enjoyed his fear. She smiled at him. A smile of pity. A smile that emboldened her. A smile of full control. He started fondling his dick. His eyes were rolling up. He has lost control over his body.
He was a weak man, despite his large body. He was in heaven or hell. A young child. Just 20 years old. She has taken his manhood in his hands. She stroked his dick so hard, so fast. She wanted to assert her control over the man. She was liking.
While she started off to teach the man a lesson, the man was growing on her. His smell, the cheap alcohol, the dirty sweat, the unwashed sweaty clothes, the black dick, the yellow teeth. Another kink in her mind just unlocked. Poverty is sexy in its own ways. He might be jerking off in his shanty somewhere alone.
Today, he gets to be shagged by a 10/10 Mallu baddie. The train was approaching Tambaram. He was about to cum. The man leaned on her in an attempt to gain control. Over his shirt, he bit his man boobs, exactly on his nipples. He gasped in pain.
Shreya felt a splash on her hands. He has cum. His leg got weak. He would have almost fallen on the floor. She held him with his other hand and balanced him. He got to know what a young woman can show him. An assaulter was experiencing something like a reverse Stockholm syndrome.
It was like Shreya made her assaulter fall in love with her. He adored her at this point. She pulled her hand off, pulled out tissues from her sling bag, and wiped his hands off. His lungi had spots of his cum, and she smiled seeing it. She looked at him and winked.
He knows now that Shreya is the boss. She put on a little sanitiser to get her hands clean. The man deserves no aftercare. All he deserves is her pity. The train pulled over at Tambaram. Both of them got down and climbed the stairs.
She asked him as both of them climbed the stairs- “Neenga okay thaane?” (You’re okay, right?). He replied, “Ellaame okaythaan madam. Ungalude number kodukka mudiyuma?” (I am all okay. Do you mind giving your number?)=
Shreya knew that she had taught him a lesson. But maybe she was ready to explore more. She took his phone, tapped her number. “Appuram Paakkalam” (See you later), she said. She walked away to East Tambaram, where her college is.
The man stood there on the stairs, clueless, thinking about the jackpot he just hit. A young, hot, fiery chick who just jerked the life out of him. Shreya, the new whore in town, has arrived.
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