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Shruti Menon
Character Sketch

Shruti Menon

characterSketchactressbollywood

Once upon a time Shruti had nursed very specific, very filthy daydreams. She wanted a man taller - 6'3" at minimum - so that even in her tallest heels she would still have to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, still feel the exquisite humiliation of being smaller. She wanted someone whose cock carried real, brutal promise: thick enough to stretch her open without warning, long enough to bottom out in one ruthless stroke, strong enough to make her come from penetration alone - no teasing tongue, no clever fingers, just the raw, animal slam of him claiming territory she had never fully surrendered. And then there was the darkest want of all, the one she hardly let herself name anymore. She fantasised about tonguing a man’s ass.

Kabir Singh
Kabir SinghRead more
A Quite Awakening
Age GapInterfaith

A Quite Awakening

nsfwcheatingtenant

Radhika - drifting into memory as she continued in a low, intimate voice. "After that first evening - sitting on a quiet bench in the park, him barely speaking but looking at me like I was precious - we couldn't stay away. We'd sneak out after college, pretending I had extra classes or group projects. I'd tell my mother I was at the library studying late, then slip away to meet him at one place or the other. Sometimes he'd wait for hours just to hold my hand for ten minutes before I had to rush back. Once, during a family wedding, I faked a headache and left early so I could spend the afternoon in his tiny rented room, lying on his cot while he read me Urdu poetry he barely understood himself. Another time I lied about visiting a sick friend just to ride pillion on his borrowed bike through empty lanes at dusk, my arms around his waist, feeling his heartbeat through his kurta. Every stolen moment felt dangerous and alive - his rough fingers brushing my cheek, the way he'd whisper my name like a prayer. I lived for those excuses, those little rebellions. They made everything else fade."

Kabir Singh
Kabir SinghRead more
Crimson Corruption
Age GapInterfaith

Crimson Corruption

nsfwcheating

Garima's breath catches at the unfamiliar male voice, deep and laced with a subtle accent that sends an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "Varun? Who's this?" she asks, her tone sharp and opposing, but a hidden curiosity softens the edge. Junaid leans back in the seat, his free hand absently adjusting his crotch, the fabric straining over his shaft. "It's Junaid," he says with a chuckle, his mind flashing to her teenage curves he'd ogled years ago. "Varun's grabbing samosas. He left his phone. But hey, Garima... long time. How's married life treating you? Still as stunning as I remember?" His words drip with lewd intent, unspoken memories of stealing glances at her cleavage during family visits, imagining sucking on those perky tits while she moaned in forbidden ecstasy.

Kabir Singh
Kabir SinghRead more
Ek Adhoori Khwahish
InterfaithCheating Wife

Ek Adhoori Khwahish

cheatingtaboo

भावना को ये सब अजीब लग रहा था लेकिन फिर भी उसने आयशा की बात मानी और साड़ी के ऊपर ही बुर्का पहन लिया और उसके साथ चल दी। दोनों ने ऑटो लिया और फिर मौलवी साहब के पास चल दी। मोहल्ले में पहुंच कर उन्होंने कुछ अगरबत्ती, फूल और मिठाई खरीदी और फिर मजार की ओर चल दी। दोपहर का समय था,वहां उस समय भीड़ नहीं थी। आयशा भावना के साथ मजार में गई। वहां एक 55 साल का आदमी बैठा था, जो कि वहां का मौलवी था। भावना ने उसे नमस्ते कहा तो उसने सिर हिलाकर अभिवादन किया। उसकी नजरें भावना के बुर्के में कैद बदन को निहार रही थीं। भावना उसके आगे हाथ जोड़े बैठी थी और निशब्द थी।

Nishita Shastri
Nishita ShastriRead more
The Best Gift Ever
Fiction

The Best Gift Ever

cuckoldingpublicseduction

The sway of her bare waist looked even better with the jingling of her kamarbandh. When she stood on her toes to stretch her back, her curves became more enhanced due to the saree that fit tightly against her ass. Rahman's fixated stare at her movements showed he was completely captivated with her intentional show. Then, with one intentional sway, the kamarbandh slipped and fell. At that moment, she finally raised the cutlery and glasses. “Found them!”

Riya Jadhav
Riya JadhavRead more
Pleasures of Holding Back
Fiction

Pleasures of Holding Back

cheatingloveTrianglevoyeurism

She was left now with only her black sheer bra and petticoat on. She grabbed the towel off the hook on the wall. Standing in front of the mirror, she started drying herself up—her waist, her arms, her wet legs. She rubbed the towel across her collarbone and over her cleavage and through her long hair. The slow rubbing warmed her up a little, and she found herself admiring her mirror image. Her thin waist, her flat stomach, the 32DD breasts she had maintained so well over the years—not an hourglass figure, but undeniably feminine and attractive. She smiled a little at her own reflection.

Riya Jadhav
Riya JadhavRead more
Woman of the House
Age GapIncest

Woman of the House

daddyKinkoutfitControlslowBurn

Riya's breath caught, a flutter deep in her stomach. They all laughed, half-ashamed of themselves, but beneath the giggles something else beat harder: a longing for deep voices, steady hands, that wicked calm. Riya forced a smile, but inside, heat curled tighter. Unbidden thoughts came: Papa in the morning, shirt damp and clinging faintly to his chest, clean stubble, and the quiet strength of his arms. It felt wrong, but oh, so good.

Riya Jadhav
Riya JadhavRead more
No More Deception
Fiction

No More Deception

cheatingbdsmcorruption

Isha glanced down and laughed a little, which did not quite reach her eyes. “Oh, this? God, no. He wouldn't even hurt a fly.” She looked down the sleeve. “That is simply as a result of messing around. We are a bit intense.” She leaned forward and said, “We have experimented a bit. It is like a desi style of BDSM. It's all about trust, you know? And very addictive.” There was a certain glint in her eyes, as if she truly enjoyed what they were doing and that caught Riya’s attention.

Riya Jadhav
Riya JadhavRead more
Proscribed Usurpation
InterfaithAge Gap

Proscribed Usurpation

nsfwmilfcheating

Javaid leaned back, his eyes locked on hers, a slow smile curling his lips. “I respect you, aunty, and I'd never cross that line with Payal. But I have to say, you don't look like any mother I've ever met. You're stunning-honestly, it's hard to believe you're not her elder sister.” The compliment, laced with a teasing edge, landed like a spark on dry tinder. Sheetal's cheeks warmed, a flush of discomfort rising at the boldness of his words. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the cushion, her saree rustling softly as she shifted in her seat.

Kabir Singh
Kabir SinghRead more

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