All characters are above 18 and this story is a work of fiction.
Some clarification: - While some parts of the story series are true, at the end it is a fictionalized story.
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Ch. 10) My own harem
Before climbing the stairs, I leaned against the cool brick wall of the stairwell and checked my phone. My gift, exactly as I had demanded it.
The first picture from Pooja:
Pooja stood in the center of my living room, every light blazing and leaving no shadow. She was naked and not even her glasses on. Her dark hair was unfurled around her face. Her hands were raised in front of her, holding a printed picture--a stark, monochrome portrait of my own face staring back at the camera.
Her body was tense. Her legs were pressed tightly together, the lips of her slit hidden. But she was not alone. Two other women were pressed into her from either side, their bodies flush against hers like a sensual sandwich. Their faces were obscured by curtains of hair deliberately swept toward the camera. From the sides, the swell of a single breast from each woman was visible. Their legs were wrapped around Pooja's knees, locking her in place.
The second picture loaded:
This time, Pooja was on her knees on the floor. She still held my picture in front of her, the paper now just barely shielding her nipples. The other two women were no longer standing. They were on all fours on either side of her, like bookends, the rounded sides of their bare asses pressed firmly against Pooja's upper arms. Their legs were spread wide, offering an unobstructed view of the pink lane between their ass cheeks was fully displayed.
I recognized the ass on the left. Tanya. But the ass on the right was new.
Her skin was shockingly white. Her hair was bleached brassy blonde with roots dark at the scalp. She was thicker than Tanya, borderline chubby in the most generous way. At 5'10", she was towering. Her breasts were massive, easily 38D, with large pink areolae. But it was her ass that commanded the photo. Each cheek was the size and shape of those half-globe models of the Earth they sell in novelty shops.
I took the stairs two at a time, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I reached my door but I didn't use my key. I rang the bell.
Within seconds, the door flung inward.
A blast of bright, white light from my living room flooded the dark hallway and there they were, framed in the doorway like a living portrait of heaven.
Pooja stood on the left, holding the door open. In the center stood Tanya, unabashed and confident. She had one hand on her hip, her posture a challenge and an invitation, the neat strip of brown hair between her legs was on blatant display. To the right stood her cousin, Kajal a gift yet to be unwrapped.
The smell hit me first as I stepped across the threshold: a mingled scent of female perfumes. The room was hot. I didn't speak. My eyes drank them as I moved in and Pooja closed the door to the city that would never know such worship.
I began to undress right there next to the doorway, my jacket dropping to the floor, followed by my jeans. I stood before them in just my t-shirt and trunks, my own excitement already evident.
My gaze shifted to the table in the center of the living room. It was laid out like a perfect gift for me: ten neatly rolled joints lined up like soldiers, three bottles of Johnny Walker Blue Label--a expensive gift only Tanya would provide, a pack of cigarettes, and an absurd array of Lay's chips in every flavor.
I walked over and sank into the deep leather sofa behind the table, Tanya raised her phone, capturing me amid the gifts.
"The gift for tonight is still incomplete," Tanya hissed, her voice a low whip. Her eyes locked onto Kajal. "Go. Sit next to him."
Kajal's lips parted, a silent protest forming. "But..." she mouthed.
Tanya cut the air with her hand. "You wanted to be Raghav's, right? So shut your pretty mouth and do as you're told."
Kajal, still wrapped in a shroud of shame--unaccustomed to this kind of exposed nakedness outside the privacy of a boyfriend--moved toward me with clumsy steps. She lowered herself onto the sofa, her posture stiff, her thighs clamped tightly together, her massive, pale breasts trembling slightly with the motion.
Seeing her discomfort, I decided to melt it away. I slid my arm around her bare shoulders, my fingers tracing the smooth, cool skin of her upper back before drawing her gently but firmly against my side.
CLICK.
The sound of the shutter seemed to break a spell. Kajal relaxed incrementally, her rigid posture softening. The most telling sign was the subtle parting of her thighs. I turned, capturing her gaze. I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs stroking the high arches of her cheekbones, and guided her lips to mine.
I kissed her slowly at first, then with more insistence, sucking her full lower lip into my mouth until a soft gasp escaped her. Her mouth yielded, opening for me, and as it did, her thighs fell open another degree--an involuntary reflex. My free hand drifted from her shoulder, sliding down the swell of her side, coming to rest on the curve of her hip.
CLICK.
Tanya captured the moment.
Without breaking the kiss, I motioned with my other hand. Pooja, needed no further invitation. She slithered onto the sofa to my left, her naked body pressing against me from hip to shoulder.
As my tongue explored Kajal's mouth, my left hand found Pooja's breast. I rolled it between my fingers, and she arched into my touch with a low, approving hum, her own hand coming to rest high on my thigh.
CLICK
I really wanted to bend Kajal over the sofa right then. The urge was a raw ache. But I resisted. Women are gifts to be unwrapped slowly, layer by layer. Too much force too soon, and they spook, retreating back into the safety of their own hesitation. The art is in the unspooling.
So, I beckoned Tanya over with a curl of my finger, forcing her to set the camera aside and join us on the sofa. She moved with a feline grace, the knowing look in her eyes acknowledging the shift in power.
We dimmed the lights until the room was bathed in a soft, amber gloom, shadows pooling in the corners. And the slow dance of intoxication began. We poured expensive honey-colored liquor over ice in thick crystal glasses. I lit a joint, the paper crackling to life, and took a deep pull, holding the smoke in my lungs before passing it to Kajal.
The room soon became a warm hazy cocoon--a cocktail of weed smoke, whiskey's aroma, and the scent of aroused women. Laughter bubbled up, punctuated by the soft, wet sound of thighs shifting against leather.
As the stories and the smoke swirled, my right hand never left Kajal's inner thigh. It was a constant, warm weight. Every few minutes, my touch would drift higher to brush over the damp mound of her pussy. I'd let a finger trace the outline of her clit, or slide lower, along the already-slick seam, gathering the evidence of her arousal on my fingertips. I'd bring those fingers to my nose and inhale her scent. And watch her pupils blow wide with a mixture of shame and hunger.
Conversation flowed into the explicit. Tanya, emboldened by the liquor and the audience, recounted the time she'd put a leather leash on Pooja, the way she'd crawled. She told us how she'd made Pooja arch her back over the edge of the bed while she tasted her from behind, her tongue exploring forbidden territory until Pooja had sobbed with release. Pooja blushed at the memory.
Pooja, in turn, recounted the dares we'd made her do--the time we'd made her walk around the house naked, and made her bend over outside her aunt's room, as her relatives slept oblivious. "I thought my heart would explode," she whispered, "I was so."
I added my own fuel, my gaze locked on Kajal as I narrated the Amar Colony adventure--the way Tanya had been naked in my car, the way I'd peeled her jeans down in the shadow of the college building before taking her raw, the bark of a tree against her back as I took her, the risk of being seen thickening every gasp.
A yearning sigh escaped Kajal's lips. "Ah... it must have been so... fun." The words spilled out unguarded, before her brain could catch them. Embarrassment flooded her features, and she looked down. But it was too late. The lock had clicked.
It had taken twenty minutes of calculated, erotic reminiscing--a verbal striptease--to get her to betray her own deepest want. I'd studied her like a text, noting which stories made her thighs tense, which ones made her bite her lip, where her breath hitched. I knew her desires now.
"Excuse me," I said, my voice rough. "I will go to the washroom."
I stood up. The girls, lost in a shared void of THC, GHB, and blooming serotonin, barely registered my departure.
I took a long piss, a release that was a pleasure in itself. Before going back, I stood before the full-length mirror and undressed. The man staring back was a sculpture of want. My chest muscles were taut, the pectorals sharply defined. Four distinct abdominal muscles stood chiseled beneath smooth skin, a testament to discipline. The biceps and triceps in my arms bulged. I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it to the right, the dark strands falling deliberately, a single defiant lock standing at the center. My jawline pressed against the skin, ready to break through. This was the blueprint of desire, the perfect picture of what women ached for, and it was mine to wield.
Then, I made my move.
I walked back into the living room and the conversation died instantly. Six eyes lifted and locked onto me. I strode directly to where Tanya sat on the sofa, the leather indented beneath her ass. I stopped beside her, my semi-hard cock already beginning to stir.
"Tanya, love," I said, my voice a firm caress. "Would you clean it for me?"
The filth of the request hung in the air. I knew she couldn't resist.
For the first time in front of her cousin Kajal, Tanya's melted into submissive compulsion. Slowly, as if in a trance, her hand moved. Her fingers, wrapped around the base of my cock and she leaned forward, her full lips parting, a bead of saliva glistening at the corner of her mouth.
But my eyes weren't on her. They were locked on Kajal's as Tanya licked my cock.
Soon my head lolled back in pure pleasure, the mental image of the three naked women burning like a brand in the back of my skull. Then, Tanya took me deeper. She relaxed her throat, and engulfed me completely.
It was then, with Tanya's mouth stuffed full, her throat working around my girth, her nose buried in my shaven lower belly, that I raised my free left hand towards Kajal. My palm was open. Without a second of hesitation, her hand slid into mine.
She rose from her place beside Tanya, the movement a slow, letting go of her hand, I instead grabbed the curve of her waist and pulled her close. Our lips met. First, a slow, testing brush. Then, with a sudden hunger, her lips parted.
My hand, around her back, snaked down the smooth plane of Kajal's back, over to her hips. My fingers kneaded the pillowy flesh, then my index finger crept down, seeking the hidden valley between her cheeks. I probed through the sweat-slicked heat, but her asshole remained beyond reach.
Breaking our kiss just enough, I motioned to Pooja and pointed it at the ass cheeks that were refusing to yield.
Pooja understood instantly. A flicker of devotion crossed her face. She came over and knelt behind Kajal on the floor. Her small hands slid beneath the heavy mounds of Kajal's ass, lifting them with a grunt of effort. Then, with careful, almost reverent pressure, she used her thumbs to peel them apart. And there it was. Exposed. The tight anus, nestled in pale flesh.
My index finger found its mark at last, the pad of my finger pressing directly against the tight knot of muscle. Kajal jolted against me as I began to circle the entrance, applying a slow, insistent pressure.
I wanted her to feel the pleasure that came with being in my company so I gave the command that turned Pooja's slave switch fully on.
My voice was a dark growl. "Pooja, make her asshole wet. Soak it. Then put your tongue in. I want you to give her pleasure with your mouth."
I felt it--a half-heartbeat of tense apprehension that tightened every muscle in Kajal's body. Then Pooja's tongue found its target.
With practiced skill, she lapped at the exposed hole, coating the tight ring with saliva. Kajal's apprehension melted, replaced by a gasping intake of breath. The room was filled with symphony of sex: the rhythmic lapping of Pooja's tongue, the choking gags as Tanya took me deep into her throat, Kajal's muffled desperate cries vibrating against my tongue. We were three bodies locked in a web, each experiencing the thing we craved most. Tanya craved filth--the degradation of herself or the debasement of others, Pooja craved subservience and humiliation, Kajal craved to feel pleasure in ways she'd never dared. And I craved worship.
With a firm grip on Tanya's shoulder, I pushed her back, my cock sliding from her mouth with an audible pop. Kajal, lost in the rhythm of her own rising pleasure, opened her eyes with confusion.
I took her damp hand and guided her to the sofa's edge.
"There's more," I promised. "Just wait."
As she sank onto the plush cushions, I stepped closer. I pressed the head of my cock to the curve of her cheek. It left a wet trail as I dragged it slowly up the slope of her face--over the arch of her cheekbone, across her forehead, then back down. I paused, letting the tip rest for a trembling second on each of her closed eyelids, feeling the rapid flutter beneath. Finally, I brought it to rest against her parted lips.
She didn't hesitate. Her mouth opened, and she took me in, her lips closing around the saliva-slicked shaft. My gaze shifted to Tanya, who was kneeling on the floor, watching with eager eyes. "Teach your cousin," I commanded, my tone leaving no room for question. "Show her the art of it. Eat her. Make her forget her own name."
Then I turned to Pooja, "Come here. By my side. I want to taste her on you."
At the motion of my command the tableau shifted.
Tanya moved and lowered herself between Kajal's spread thighs and began skillfully licking.
At the same time, Pooja rose from the floor and came to me. I turned my head, my hand cupping the back of her neck, and captured her mouth in a devouring kiss. My tongue pushed past her lips, and the taste that flooded my mouth was unmistakable, a deeply sour tang, the distinct flavor of Kajal's asshole.
My right hand fisted in Kajal's bleached blonde hair, setting a firm, demanding rhythm for her mouth, while my left roamed over Pooja's back, down to the perfect ass. My finger found her asshole, pressing against it, making her moan into my mouth.
A minute of profound and utter pleasure passed before I felt Kajal's lips loosen around my cock. Her entire body convulsed, release crashing through her as Tanya's tongue continued its ruthless penetration. Her throat contracted around me in spasms. I withdrew my slick cock from her mouth slowly. I nudged her onto her back on the sofa, spreading her thick thighs wide and I positioned myself between them. In one powerful, unbroken motion, I slammed into her, letting the full weight of my body fall onto hers. Her cunt was a hot, thick, velvet vise, clenching down on me with a tightness that bordered on painful.
With both hands, I gripped the back of the sofa above her shoulders, my arms forming a cage from which there was no escape. My hips pistoned, driving into her with punishing strokes, giving her no time to recover from her first shuddering orgasm, immediately building a new wave of sensation within her. Each thrust buried me to the hilt, rhythmic slap of skin on skin echoed in the room, drowning out the sultry jazz playing in the background.
As I drove into her, her knees splayed open wider. The other two girls moved around us like worshipful shadows, their phones raised, capturing every angle. I felt her body begin to tighten again, a second climax building within her. Her eyes, which had been lost to sensation, suddenly sharpened, focusing their gaze on mine with raw lust. I forgot the world--the cameras, the other women, the city outside the windows. With my face now buried in the sweaty hollow of her neck, I fastened the pace of my strokes, turning the rhythm from deep punishment into a relentless pounding.
Her gasps of pleasure began to fracture. Her body seized, her back bowing off the sofa as pleasure detonated inside her again. I didn't stop. I rode her through it, and then into the next one, her pleasure a continuous, rolling beneath me.
After about ten relentless minutes of this--a sustained, animal fuck that left us both slick with sweat I finally pulled out. My release burst from me and splattered across the soft plane of her stomach, painting her skin. I collapsed onto her and we were sealed together.
Once my heart had stopped trying to hammer its way out of my chest, I pushed myself up. I lit another joint from the table and the familiar smoke filled me. Taking my phone from Tanya, I aimed it down at Kajal and clicked a picture--a close-up of my semen pooled in the dip of her navel.
Without a word, Tanya moved. She knelt beside the sofa, her head dipping low. Her tongue swiped through the mess I'd left on her cousin's skin. Kajal barely registered it, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of a dozen orgasms that had rocked her into a state of near-unconscious bliss.
Drinks began to flow again as the joint passed from hand to hand.
I gestured, my voice a low command. "Turn over. All of you." The three women, moving with a languid exhaustion, bent over the back of the sofa, presenting a line of naked curved asses to the me, each uniquely shaped.
"Spread them," I ordered.
Their own hands reached back, pulling themselves.
I stepped behind them, pushed my hand in front of the camera, and bent my index finger at the knuckle--a agreed signal of proof for Saurabh.
Click.
I sent the picture. My claiming of the next girls, done.
As the night dissolved into a deeper, more lust and drugs fueled dream-state, I watched the last vestiges of resistance leave Kajal's bodies.
I directed them to the Kashmiri rug.
They slid from the sofa like spilled liquid, collapsing onto the intricate patterns of the Kashmiri rug.
"Form a circle," I commanded. "Lick each other. Clean each other."
What unfolded was not just an act, but harmony. Pooja buried her face between Kajal's massive thighs. Her mouth sealed over Kajal's cunt, one of her hands gripped Kajal's ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh.
Tanya, ever the serpent, moved behind Pooja. Her tongue began a wet pilgrimage down the delicate Pooja's spine. She pressed her face into her ass, lapping over her asshole.
Kajal, obedient now, turned her head. Her bleached blonde hair fanned across Tanya's thigh as she nuzzled into the heat between her legs. She feasted on her cousin's clit.
I stood over them, a phantom at the orgy. My own arousal was a distant, iron-hard fact, but it was secondary to the expansive power flooding my veins. This was the pinnacle. Not the fucking, but this: the complete obliteration of their individual selves. They were no longer women with names. They were a single, gasping circuit of sensation--a human ouroboros of tongue, slit, and ass, each one both devouring and being devoured. The air thickened with the sounds of wet friction and choked sighs
Whose tongue was buried in whose cunt? Whose choked cry signalled a shuddering, unnamed climax? It was irrelevant. They were one organism, chasing a pleasure whose blueprint existed only in my mind. I was the silent architect. I raised my phone.
Click.
Finally, I descended from my throne. I knelt on the rug before Tanya's face. I guided my cock into Pooja's well-used entrance from behind. I gave a few slow, deep, possessive strokes.
I withdrew.
I repeated the ritual before Kajal. I pushed her head down, her cheek against the rug, and entered Tanya, Kajal being forced to watch from inches away, my balls brushing her nose.
"On your hands and knees. All of you. Line up."
They re-arranged themselves, in a row of arched backs and gaping openings. I moved down the line like a man inspecting his property. I pushed into Pooja's cunt. A dozen deep thrusts. Then I withdrew and sheathed myself in Tanya's tighter warmth. Finally, I took Kajal from behind, her enormous ass bucking against me with each drive, her massive breasts swaying, her cries muffled by the rug. I made three complete circuits.
The digital clock glowed 3:30 AM. Jhanvi's arrival was a distant problem for now.
I let it loose.
I guided Kajal by her hair to the center of the room. "You haven't tasted this yet," I purred, turning my back to her face. She understood. Her tongue, tentative at first, then with a greedy vigor lapped at my asshole. I grunted, a sound of pure approval.
Then, I pushed her down. I spread her ass and buried my face between them, my tongue licking a broad stripe from her dripping pussy up to her quivering asshole. Tanya, following my unspoken order, crawled beneath us, her own tongue snaking up to join mine, both of us feasting on Kajal from below, a double penetration of tongue and worship.
We became a shifting kaleidoscope of perversion. Fingers in asses while mouths sucked cock. A cock in a mouth while a tongue cleaned a cunt. A woman forced to suck her own wetness from another's fingers. There were no firsts anymore, only mores. The virginity of Kajal's ass was breached not with tenderness, but with spit-slicked pressure until she took me whole, her scream swallowed by Pooja's mouth on hers.
I came a final time that night deep in the virgin tightness of Kajal's ass.
When the grey light of dawn finally bled through the curtains, they were collapsed in a heap of intertwined limbs, a ruined mosaic of smeared makeup, drying sweat, and spent desire. Every hole on every body had been tasted, every boundary crossed, every private shade of filth brought into the light and worshipped.
They had tasted everything.
And I had consumed them all.