MY RED HOT Indian Babe PART -2
Title: “Indian Heat: A Spicy Encounter with the Bhabhi Next Door”
In the sultry, humid streets of Kolkata, where the air is thick with the aroma of spiced Indian cuisine and the cacophony of honking rickshaws, I found myself entangled in an unexpected liaison with the hot, naughty bhabhi next door. Her name was Priya, a sizzling bombshell with caramel skin, captivating dark eyes, and luscious, Coca-Cola bottle curves that defied gravity.
It all started when Priya and I, friends of late, decided to catch up over chai one lazy evening. As the tea service got us warmed up and the conversation flowed freely, Priya revealed an intriguing tidbit: she was an aspiring actress, but had been sidelined by industry bigwigs tickling her fancy in exchange for plum roles. I, a hotshot film producer myself, was astonished at the blatant misogyny and decided to make things right.
Priya and I shook on it – I would produce a web series centered around her, showcasing her fiery talent in all its glory. But as discussions ran late into the night and the chai turned muscly jack, Priya seemed to have something else on her mind. With a mischievous glint in her eye and a coy smile, she inched closer to me, her soft hand grazing my thigh.
Dizzy from the alcohol and intoxicating chemistry, I went with the flow. Our faces grew closer, our lips hovering inches apart. I could smell the sweet tea on her breath, feel the heat radiating from her voluptuous frame. Unable to resist, I leaned in and captured her plush lips in a searing kiss.
Priya responded enthusiastically, her tongue dancing with mine in a passionate waltz. Her hands wandered, exploring the hard planes of my chest and abs. I cupped her full, round breasts, thumbs strumming her pebbled nipples through the thin fabric of her sari. She let out a breathy moan, pressing her lithe body against mine.
Finding a free moment, I switched on the camera phone, desperate to capture this aphrodisiac moment. And so, in a haze of lust and liquid courage, we filmed ourselves – our movements raw, primal and uninhibited. There was no doubt this video would be our best work yet.
Priya shed her sari in one fluid motion, revealing her naked glory – perky tits, a toned midriff that would put yoga models to shame, and a bald, glistening pussy that was begging to be devoured. She pushed me down onto the plush sofa, unbuttoning my pants with deft fingers. My cock sprang forth, rock hard and throbbing with need.
She licked a stripe up my shaft, teasing the sensitive underside. Her tongue swirled around the head, flicking the leaking slit. I groaned in ecstasy, fisting her raven hair. She took me all the way down her hot, sweet throat, deep throating like a champ. I thought I would blow my load then and there, but I resisted, wanting to prolong this blissful torture.
Priya straddled me, guiding my hard, engorged shaft to her dripping entrance. She slid down inch by excruciating inch, enveloping me in her tight, velvety heat. We both cried out as she bottomed out, her ass pressing against my thighs. She rode me hard, bouncing on my cock with wild abandon.
I bucked up into her, meeting her every thrust. Her tits bounced hypnotically, the dusky nipples puckered and begging for attention. I played with them, pinching and tugging, sending shuddering waves of pleasure through her body.
I flipped us over, climbing on top to take control. I hammered into her relentlessly, grunting with every plunge of my hips. She wrapped her legs around my waist, nails digging crescent moons into my flesh. Her pussy clenched my cock, milking me for all I was worth.
“Fuck me, harder!” Priya demanded breathlessly, her voice echoing through the room. I obliged, slamming into her so hard the couch creaked ominously. Sweat poured down our bodies, our skin slapped together audibly, obscenely.
I felt my orgasm building, my balls drawing up tight. Priya’s walls fluttered around me, her impending release simmering just under the surface. I reached down, rubbing her clit in fast, furious circles. She came with a scream, hitting her high with the force of a shaken soda.
I followed soon after, erupting like a geyser deep inside her quivering cunt. I filled her to the brim, coating her insides with thick ropes of cum. We shook and spasmed in the aftermath, our bodies limp and sated.
Afterwards, we fucked like rabbits – on the coffee table, against the wall, on the kitchen counter. We took breaks only to rehydrate and recharge. Dusk turned to dawn, and our skin was chafed red and our bodies sore, but we fucked until there was nothing left to give.
By the time we finally drifted off, we were a sweaty, sticky mess – proof of our bacchanalian celebrations still glistening between our thighs. And on my phone sat a valuable, incriminating piece of evidence – the ultimate “audition tape” that would seal Priya’s fate as the next Indian starlet.
As if things couldn’t get any more scandalous, the next morning brought an unexpected visitor – Priya’s husband, Rakesh. Thankfully, a quick pan-out and discrediting of the video (“Oh, we were just dancing! You know how these thing look different when filmed!” – classic!) diffused the situation.
Rakesh shook his head disapprovingly but let it slide, content to chalk it up as a harmless exercise in self-expression. What a naive, goody-two-shoes! No one with a pulse could deny the sizzling sexual tension between his wife and I.
As I hung up the phone after the call, I came to a decision – I would cast Priya in my next production, and in between shoots, we would embark on a torrid affair. No one would ever catch wind of our trysts – it would remain our furtive, dirty little secret.
For now though, it was time for a victory smoke and a well-deserved nap. After all, a porn producer’s work is never done.
THE END
