Chapter 4: Sweat Sex Teens

Anuja saw the ball early. She drew her right arm well back, the wrist cocked, the racquet head above her wrist. On the clay court, the ball rose high and she had to spring off the balls of her feet as she struck it. She took it early, her body twisting as she rolled her wrist and the racquet over the ball in a vicious top-spin. The ball zipped back across the net, keeping low, skimmed the cord, and bounced just inside the line. On the other side, her opponent saw her return in good time, too, and was already racing across the court. He got to it in time and, whipping his hand across the ball, drove it down the line to her backhand. Anuja rushed for it and, slicing it powerfully, put it over the net in a controlled drop-shot and followed it by racing to the net. Her opponent raced to the ball, tried to scoop it over the net. It caught the top cord and fell back on his side of the net. Anuja whooped in delight and flung her racquet in the air, jumping up and down, laughing and grinning. Her opponent laughed, gasping and panting, and offered his hand. She pumped it eagerly.

“I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it! I beat you! Three sets to two!”

“Congratulations, Anji. Great game.”

“Yeah, it was fabulous. Thanks.”

“You’ve improved since we last played.”

“I’ve been taking lessons.”

“It shows. But next time we play, it’ll be in Aurangabad. Before my home crowd. See if you can beat me there!”

“Hah! I’ll crush you!” she said, wrinkling her nose and sticking her tongue at him. “Just watch!”

“That’s a promise to come to Aurangabad?”

“Oh yes. Bombay, Aurangabad, the moon, wherever you like.”

“My, my, someone’s becoming really arrogant.”

“Just kidding, love,” she said softly, laughing and making him grin.

They walked to the benches at the far end of the court to collect their kit. Jayant and Anuja were first cousins and childhood sweethearts. As children, they played together constantly and, over time, their friendship matured. They confided freely, though there were matters each had not revealed.

Anuja was already fucking Baban and the other servants almost daily. In college, she was fucking Dinkar, a lower-middle-class youth of extremely modest means and poor English. He was diffident and shy in a predominantly wealthy crowd fluent in English and foreign languages. Anuja first seduced him more out of sympathy than anything else and was delighted to discover that, not only did he have a good, hard, lean body and a sizeable cock, but he was also an imaginative and demanding lover. He especially enjoyed raiding her ass. Her delight grew when she found he had an elder brother who was even better and, before long, she was fucking both youths, often together.

She told Jayant none of this. For his part, he kept from her his naked lust for her body and how she frequented his fantasies and tormented him as he masturbated, how he longed to see her naked body, to plunge his flesh into hers. He did not tell, too, of his sexual experience, of the dark and smooth-skinned maidservant who had, over the past year, taken his sexual education in hand and offered him the pleasures of her flesh.

Jayant was eighteen, too, just a few weeks older than Anuja. He was a tall, handsome youth with a muscular build. He had a rugged, manly face with a fine, straight nose, thick hair, a wide brow, dark eyes, a hard jaw, wide, slim lips, and strong teeth. Anuja had seen him at the swimming pool and knew that his body was muscular and sexy. Broad-shouldered and strong, he had a V-shaped torso with a deep, cleaved chest, a flat, hard belly, and a narrow waist. His hips were high and lean. His torso was hairless and smooth, which she found sexy. His arms and legs were thick with muscle. She knew that he worked out regularly, and the results were impressive. Anuja, too, harboured erotic fantasies about him, and that they were cousins and the knowledge that their relationship could not be seen to anything but a purely platonic one of siblings only made her sexual dreams more piquant. In his swimming trunks, she had often let her eyes linger on the thick bulge in his crotch and tried to visualise his cock, its length, and thickness. She imagined it would be an imposing organ; she longed for it.

When her parents said they planned to visit his in Aurangabad while he was in Bombay on a short holiday after finishing his final exams, Anuja wondered if she would be able to entice him to fuck her. The stars seemed to be favourable. She had no way of knowing that he, too, was aching for just such an opportunity. Ignorant of her sexual history, he hesitated; a scandal in the family was the last thing he wanted.

Anuja sat on the slatted wooden bench and bent over to open her sports bag. She was wearing a fine white T-shirt with a collar and three buttons and a handsome, short, white pleated skirt. Her long hair was braided and coiled double, held with a thick Turkish towel hair-ring. She wore wristbands, thick socks, and expensive tennis shoes.

She had not buttoned her T-shirt. Her legs were bare high up her thighs, and Jayant noted that they were firm, trim, and supple. As she bent over, the lapels of her T-shirt swung low, and he saw the luscious swell of her breasts, her long gold necklace glistening on her dusky skin, nestling in her deep and inviting cleavage. She wore a pretty brassiere, cut fine and thin, that seemed to only just cover her nipples. He ogled her unabashedly, enjoying the sight. He noticed a sexy little dark beauty spot on the inside of her left breast.

Anuja knew that he was watching her and, for a minute, thrilled with excitement. Perhaps, after all, things would work out for them. She dawdled, rummaging pointlessly in her bag. Finally, she straightened, pulling out her zip-up full-sleeved sweat-shirt. The T-shirt was damp with sweat, and he could clearly see the sharp stubs of her nipples and the dark shadows of her aureoles. She slipped into the sweat-shirt, and he watched her breasts move. Zipping it up to just below her breasts, she rose and collected a towel from the rack. He took one too, and they rubbed themselves dry. Jayant retrieved his sweat-shirt and zipped it up. Discarding their towels in a plastic bin, they hoisted their kit bags on their shoulders and walked off the tennis courts together.

At the clubhouse, they sat chatting on the lawn and sipped tall, icy cold fresh lime sodas. When they had finished, they strolled out and walked the short distance down the road to her house.

She opened the door of the flat with her latch key, and they dumped their kit bags in their rooms. He came into hers a few minutes later. She selected a tape and slotted it into her expensive stereo. Bright pop music pulsed through the high-fidelity speakers mounted at the corners of the room.

Anuja’s room was bright and spacious. It opened off the corridor just inside the entrance foyer. This was an advantage to her because it enabled her to slip in and out of the house without alerting anyone. She had often returned late from an assignment with one or another of her several lovers when her parents were asleep and shamelessly lied about the lateness of her return the next morning. At other times, while they slumbered, she slipped out to fuck one of the servants on the landing or up the two flights of stairs that led to the terrace, where there was a convenient little room that housed the water pump and building maintenance gear. In the three-bedroom apartment, this was easily the best suited to Anuja’s peculiar needs.

Just inside the bedroom door, ranged along the left wall was a deep walk-in closet. To the right of the door stood her desk, with an angled poise lamp, a bulletin board, and shelves for books and files.

On the other side of the desk was a handsome rocking chair with a matching footstool and a floor lamp with a pretty shade. A brightly patterned rug was arranged in the centre of the floor, and another, smaller one at the foot of the rocking chair. Another armchair stood opposite, across a small wicker stool and a low glass-topped coffee table.

Opposite the door, just where the walk-in closet ended, was a full-length mirror with a dressing table beneath it. Beside it was a bed that served as a couch during the day with plump bolsters along its back and low, smart shelves with books and magazines above it. A large window swept along the wall above the bed to the opposite wall, where a door opened to the attached bathroom.

A fan whirred overhead, and the lighting was soft and gentle. The bedspread was bright and cheerful, as was the upholstery on the armchair. The desk was neat and clean. There were colourful posters on the wall above the seating arrangement and on two of the louvered closet doors. The bulletin board above the desk was a jumble of photographs, notes, memos, and postcards.

Jayant loved the room. It had a soft feminine touch with the fluffy stuffed toys on the shelf above the bed, the sleek music system on the rack above the desk, and the colourful magazines and pictures.

As Anuja turned from the stereo, he sat down in the rocking chair and, kicking off his shoes and tugging off his socks, perched his feet on the footstool. Anuja grinned at him, lowered the volume slightly so they could converse, and perched on the low wicker stool by the coffee table. She, too, was now barefoot. She sat casually, her legs spread, one foot crossed over the other. It was an unusual position for a woman, but Anuja tended to do things like this, without a hint of being self-conscious. Jayant couldn’t help noticing that her skirt had slid up to her thighs, almost to her crotch. She noticed his gaze and smiled inwardly, making no attempt to adjust her clothing. He could see the white flash of her panties.

They chatted, and she leaned forward on her elbows, and the lapels of her sweat-shirt and T-shirt swung low again, giving him another glimpse of her splendid breasts. The neck of the T-shirt pulled to one side, and he could see the thick gold necklace against her dusky skin, curving sexily over the hollow in her collarbone. Her skin was smooth and clear, soft, yet firm, silky, like a ripe grape.

Anuja felt his eyes on her and waited for him to make a move. He did nothing. She sighed to herself and discreetly lifted her skirt higher, bent lower, giving him a better look at her crotch and breasts. Still, he did nothing.

“My god, it’s hot,” she said. “Look at us both sitting under this fan and still sweating!”

“Yeah. And it’s the humidity that gets you in Bombay.”

“Shall I get you a towel?”

“Yes, please.”

She smiled and got up and went into the bathroom.

When she returned a minute later with two thick towels, he stiffened and sucked in his breath sharply. She had taken off her T-shirt, and she was wearing just the sweat-shirt now, the zip closed to a point just below her breasts. He could see the heavy mounds pushing at the cloth and the tempting valley of her cleavage, the gold necklace glistening on her flesh.

“It’s too hot. I just had to take off my T-shirt,” she said, handing him a towel.

He took it and watched as she mopped her neck and face. Strands of hair clung to her brow and the nape of her neck. Her skin looked hot and flushed. She bent to straighten the carpet, and now, as her sweat-shirt swung low, he could see more of her breasts, even the shadows of her aureoles and the stiff point of one nipple. She sat in the chair opposite him, her legs apart in what looked to be a wanton pose, and with her skirt riding high on her thighs, he thought he could make out that she had taken off her panties too, caught a glimpse of the darkness of her pubic thatch. She leaned back in the deep chair, and her sweat-shirt strained and opened, and he studied the bulge of her breasts, the exposed flesh at the V where the zip stopped.

Jayant was perspiring, and only part of it was due to the tennis game. He rocked back and forth for a minute, then rose and unzipped his sweat-shirt.

“It really is hot in your Bombay,” he said.

“Big talk from the Aurangabad types again?” she laughed.

He grinned and shrugged off his sweat-shirt. Crossing his arms, he pulled the T-shirt off his head. Anuja’s pulse quickened with excitement as she saw his naked torso, V-shaped, hard, strong, hairless, the flat belly, the deep, cleaved chest with small, hard nipples pulled wide and low on either side of the thick pectorals. Jayant slung the towel across his neck.

“That’s better,” he sighed and stood under the fan.

“You’ll catch a cold. Switch off the fan.”

“Don’t be daft. I’ll melt.”

“You’re mad. Then you’ll get a temperature and sniffle all day long, and I’ll have to sit here and look after you and pamper you like a baby.”

“I can look after myself.”

“What rubbish. Remember the last time you fell ill? A poor little cold, and you acted like you were dying or something.”

“I just wanted some tender, loving care.”

“Which you got.”

“Not from you. As I remember, you came in and shouted at me and told me to stop being such a ninny.”

Anuja grinned. “But it worked, didn’t it? You were out of bed like a shot.”

He is very close to her, in nothing but his shorts, and the proximity of his sexy, masculine, sweating body so close -- and yet so far -- thrilled her. She felt her breasts swell with excitement, her nipples stiffening, her cunt beginning to ooze the first, delicious drops of cunt-juice.

He laughed softly and, hands on his hips, tossed his head back with a sigh of relief as the cool breeze from the fan fluttered over his half-naked body. He was so close to her that Anuja had only to turn her face to touch his crotch with her lips; and, for a second, she was indeed tempted. But she hesitated, still unsure of his reaction, still waiting, groping.

He bent his head and smiled down at her. She had leaned back in the chair, her eyes closed, and now he had a perfect view down her cleavage. He wondered whether he should make the move; but he, too, hesitated. Instead, he stepped back a pace. He went into the bathroom. Anuja sighed softly as she heard the door click, and then, a minute later, the soft gurgle of the toilet flushing.

“You know what, we should have gone for a swim,” Jayant said coming back.

Anuja opened her eyes and looked at him. “We could, still.”

“Nah, forget it. Too much of a bother, going all the way back and changing all over again. Next time.”

Anuja smiled suddenly, brightly. “Oh come on, Jay, don’t be so dull. Let’s go, it’ll be such fun! And I’ve got this lovely new swimming costume I’m just dying to wear.”

Jayant grinned. “Simpler just to shower.”

“Let me show you my new costume. You’ll love it. Just wait a sec, I’ll change.”

“What for? We’re not going anyway.”

Anuja pouted. He really was infuriating. “But I want to show it to you, do you mind?”

“No,” he laughed. “Go, put it on.”

“That’s better. Now don’t you go away.”

“And where would I go?”

“God knows. You’re always rushing around.”

She brushed past him and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Inside, she pulled out her new, skimpy string bikini from a low cabinet and put it on. It was devastating. The bikini bra was the size of a Band-Aid, narrow strips of cloth that barely covered her nipples. The panties were small and tight; behind, there was nothing, and her buttocks were completely exposed; in front, it tapered to such a narrow triangular strip that only her cunt-lips were covered. Studying herself in the mirror, she adjusted the panties just so; pubic hair spread on either side of the bikini panties. As she turned to leave, she noticed his underpants hanging on the hook on the inside of the door and stopped in her tracks. Her pulse quickened. He had nothing on under his shorts, she realised. Her lust flared. She opened the bathroom and stepped out.

Later, she regretted not catching his reaction on film. It was absolutely priceless. His jaw literally dropped, and he froze. She pirouetted prettily, her breasts bouncing, and sashayed towards him. His eyes devoured her body.

“Like it? Do you like it? Isn’t it sexy?” she sang.

“Fuck!” she heard him gasp under his breath. “Oh fuck!”

Yes, please, she wanted to say. God, yes, and quickly, I’m hot. She smiled and twirled around.

“Well? What do you think?”

“My god ... it’s ... you’re ... fantastic!”

“You really think so? You really mean it?”

“God, Anuja, yes!”

She pouted before the mirror on her dressing table. “You don’t think my tits are too big?”

She slid her hands up under her breasts and lifted them in the bikini top. He followed her, standing behind her, gulping, his erection raging. He watched as she cupped her breasts, the little fingers and edges of her palms meeting in her cleavage, then slowly squeezing them in an utterly erotic action.

“Tell me, Jayant,” she murmured. “I want to know.”

“They’re ... perfect ... just perfect ... lovely...”

“You’re just teasing me.”

“No ... no ... honestly, I mean it.”

“What about my ass? Do you like my ass?” She turned around and pushed her buttocks towards the mirror, her hands on her butt-cheeks. “I think it’s too big. Just look at it!”

“It’s beautiful. Anuja ... you’re ... gorgeous!”

She was facing him now, her back to the mirror, leaning forward with her buttocks thrust back at the glass. Her head was on level with his chest. Her breasts swung heavy and low, her nipples barely concealed by the thin strips of her bikini bra. Her gold necklace glistened against her tawny skin.

“You really mean that?” she whispered, lifting her eyes and looking at him. “You really mean it?”

“Yes ... god yes ... every word, Anuja!”

She was right next to him, her body almost touching his. Their eyes locked and, in that instant, each knew what the other wanted more than anything else in the world. Her eyes smouldered; her lips parted; her hands slid up from her buttocks, over her flanks and pendulous breasts, touched his hard belly, crawled up to rest on his deep chest as she straightened and stood upright before him. He cupped her neck in his hands.

“Jayant...”

“Anuja...”

“Oh god,” he moaned. “Oh dear god,” and his lips hovered over hers.

Then his lips touched hers, fled away, returned, fled, and then they kissed with a fierce hunger. Her lips, soft and full, flowered open under his and her tongue arched into his mouth. Her body was warm and moist against his, and he could feel the fullness of her breasts on his chest. Her fingers roamed his naked torso tenderly, her very touch inordinately erotic.

He caressed her smooth, naked back tenderly, his hands roaming her arms, her shoulders, her hips, down to her buttocks. She squirmed against him, her fingers trickling over his thick biceps, over his chest and belly, running along the upper hem of his shorts.

“Oh god, Anuja,” he moaned softly, and she silenced him with another kiss, fiercer, harder, her desire naked and apparent.

“Are you sure my tits aren’t too big?” she murmured huskily.

“They’re perfect.”

“Do you want to feel them?”

His fingers worked into the string straps of her bikini bra and slid them off her shoulders. Anuja arched her face slowly, her expression suffused with lust, her eyes closed, her neck craned, her lips parted, as he pulled the bra off gently and slid his hands down over her breasts. They were firm and full and high, and he groaned softly when they filled his palms. Anuja whimpered, her breath warm and sweet on his face.

“Oh Jayant, yes,” she gasped. “Oh god, yes!”

Her nipples were nut-hard already, he noticed, her aureoles puckered with excitement. He squeezed her breasts gently, marvelling at their fullness and weight and the perfection of their form. His hands slid down, and he caressed her naked buttocks, and she murmured softly, her breathing heavy, her nostrils flared. He squeezed her buttocks, and she ground her crotch against his, gasping as his fingers dug into the cleft between her buttocks.

“You really like my ass, Jayant? Really, truly?”

“God, yes, Anuja, yes!”

“Do you ... do you ... want to fuck it?”

Jayant looked at her stunned, and for one terrible instant, Anuja thought she had self-destructed. Suddenly, his lust erupted, and he squeezed her buttocks hard and kissed her fiercely, and she responded in like fashion.

“Oh god, oh god,” he muttered. “God, I want to fuck you so hard!”

“Yes!” she gasped, thrilled by his words. “Fuck me, Jayant! Fuck me hard!”

“Tell me,” he whispered, his tongue in her ear.

“What?”

“About the others.”

“What others?”

“The other guys who’ve fucked you.”

“You’re upset.”

“No.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to know, then?”

“Curious.”

“Just curious?”

“Yes. And turned on.”

She smiled. “Will it turn you on more if I tell you?”

“Yes.”

Anuja bent her head and slowly licked his nipple. Jayant gasped softly.

“You’re right, though I don’t know how you know. There’ve been lots of guys. Lots and lots. The servant. Baban. His friends. Many of them. Servants. Drivers. Cooks. Anyone I find sexy. A guy in college. Dinkar. His brother. Some of their friends.”

“My god! Anuja!”

“Mm,” she mumbled, licking and sucking first one nipple, then the other.

The sensations were exquisite. Her tongue whipped his nipple delicately, rapidly, her teeth scraped across them, her lips clamped around them and she sucked sharply, let go, sucked again. He gasped and arched his back. She slithered lower, going down to her knees before him. Gently, she opened the clasp of his shorts, unzipped them. His penis bounced out. It was big, bigger and thicker than she had dared hope, at least seven inches long and correspondingly thick, and not yet fully erect. She expected it would finally be at least nine inches long, nearly two inches thick. His balls were heavy and low. His shaft was shorn smoothly down to the hilt.

“I love being fucked,” she murmured. “I love it more than anything else. The guys are great when they fuck my mouth ... lick my slit ... fuck my cunt ... sometimes even my ass ... I like that a lot, a hot cock in my butt ... sometimes I have two or three of them fuck me together ... that’s heaven ... they fuck me so nice and hard ... I love it when they shove their fat long cocks into my mouth ... or my cunt ... and best of all in my ass ... it’s wonderful ... the best thing...”

“Oh fuck!” he gasped.

“And I love sucking their cocks ... having them cum in my mouth ... you should see us ... it’s so sexy ... just imagine one of them fucking me ... me kneeling before him just like this ... sucking his cock ... licking it ... or him fucking me ... his body over mine ... his hips rising and falling ... his cock going in and out of my cunt ... in and out ... fucking me from behind ... hammering his hips at my buttocks ... my tits jiggling...”

She murmured the words and Jayant closed his eyes and visualised the images ... Anuja moaning and gasping, panting and writhing erotically as she sucked a servant’s cock ... Anuja’s body heaving and thrashing as he fucked her slowly and deeply and heavily, bent over her ... Anuja gasping and crying out, her face turned up, a vision of lust, her body rocking back and forth as the servant held her hips and fucked her rapidly and hard from behind.

The images were incredibly erotic, fulfilling his every fantasy. His cock quivered and swelled and he gasped sharply as she took it in her fingers and ran the foreskin back over the thick ridge of his cock-head. Her pointed, cunning tongue swirled lasciviously over the thick knob.

“Like it?” she murmured softly, lifting her large, lovely eyes to his, her face suffused with lust, caressing her cheeks with his cock-head. “Tell me you like it. Talk dirty to me, Jayant ... it turns me on.”

Holding his shaft in one hand, she parted her lips and slipped them around his cock-head. Anish gasped, his head jerking back. Her mouth was wonderful, soft and warm and wet and her tongue worked his cock-head wickedly. Groaning, he held her head and pulled it deeper into his crotch, pushing his hips forward at the same time, his buttocks flexing taut.

“Oh fuck yes!” he gasped. “C’mon ... suck it! Suck my cock! Suck it hard!”

Bending his head, his mouth hanging open, he looked down. Her face was distended with the size of his cock. Her tongue worked his cock-head with a deft cunning that could only have been gained with considerable experience. Her head rocked back and forth between his thighs as she sucked his cock greedily and heavily. Jayant gasped and grunted, fucking her face in wonder and joy, rocking her head in his hands, pumping his hips to and fro.

“Yes! Ohhh yes! That’s it, baby ... yes ... suck it ... oh fuck yes! C’mon ... suck it harder ... c’mon Anju! Suck my cock! Ohhh uhhh yes uhh yes!”

Anuja paused briefly, rose slightly, nuzzled his hard belly, swirled her tongue through his navel, and squeezed her breasts in a sheath over his cock. Jayant groaned thickly at the warmth of her breast-sheath, the gentle scraping of her nipples over his throbbing shaft. Dipping her head, she ran her tongue down over his shaft, his cock-head, down the lower side to his balls, gently licking and sucking them by turn. She caressed her face with his penis and then took him gently in her mouth again, more deeply this time.

“Jayant ... cum in my mouth if you want to,” she murmured. “I like that.”

For a minute, he was tempted. The fires in his loins were raging, unbearable. But he hesitated, unsure of his abilities, eager to satisfy her.

“Later,” he gasped. “Not now. Later, maybe.”

Anuja did not reply, just took his cock deep in her mouth again and sucked it rapidly, her head rocking swiftly back and forth between his thighs. Jayant groaned as he fucked her face, his head arched, his hands moving her head, his hips pumping. He dropped his head and looked down at her and then at their reflections in the full-length dressing table mirror. The sight was undeniably erotic. Anuja on her knees, her pretty face distended with the size of his cock, her head moving back and forth, her ringed fingers pumping his shaft, her heavy breasts wobbling with her motions, the gold chain glinting on her tawny skin, her small nose-stud gleaming, her naked buttocks resting on her heels. Her head rolled from side to side as she licked and sucked his cock from every angle. Pre-cum gunk spurted from his cock-head and she opened her lips wide under his cock-head, letting him see his jizz sputter into her mouth. She swallowed it lasciviously, caressed her face, her cheeks and lips sticky and slimy with his tangy, heady gunk.

At last, he pushed her head away and she rose slowly, licking his torso wantonly, sucking his nipples till she was on her feet and in his arms. They kissed fiercely and she ground her crotch against his, her hands working his cock-shaft, pressing it to her cunt-lips through the thin cloth of her bikini panties. That he had not come in her mouth thrilled her; older men and more experienced had succumbed far sooner at far less. Evidently, Anuja’s cousin was no novice. She wondered who his mentor might be -- his obvious skill could only have come with experience. Anuja reasoned that it had to be an older woman, one capable of guiding and instructing a virile, handsome youth in the art of sex.

His hands roamed her body, sliding from her shoulders to her breasts, down her back to her buttocks. She groaned as his fingers dug into the cleft between the smoothly curved lobes. Slowly, she turned around in his arms, her back to him, facing the mirror. His hands slid up her torso, lifted and weighed, and cupped her heavy breasts. He smiled at her reflection. She tilted her face back, and he nuzzled the nape of her neck, tongued her ear.

“You really like my tits?” she murmured.

“Mm. Very much.”

“I like it when you squeeze them.”

“They’re lovely.”

His throbbing erection pressed to her buttocks, and, reaching behind, she moved it to the cleft between them.

“God, I love your cock,” she murmured, turning her face over her shoulder as he nuzzled the nape of her neck, his lips hot on her flesh. “You know what?”

“Wha?”

“

“I really want...”

“What?”

“I really want your cock in my butt. I love being fucked in the ass.”

“I like fucking ass.”

“Will you do it? Please?”

“Later,” he said.

“Promise?”

“Yes. Now I want to lick your slit. You like that?”

She smiled at him in the mirror, her dark eyes flashing. “I just love being fucked, Jayant ... fuck me any way you like ... just fuck me...”

He smiled and his hands slid down from her breasts to her bikini panties, his fingers crawling into the long, narrow triangle of cloth covering her cunt-lips. His fingertips brushed her downy pubic hair and he pushed the cloth and twirled it into a single thick strand that ran down her slit. Now her cunt was fully exposed. Her cunt-lips were dripping wet. He pulled them open gently and she gasped, writhing against him. Slowly, he slid a finger into her cunt. It was hot and wet and tight and she groaned, her hips twitching.