Chapter 53: take responsibility watchman Pandey
The fall of it, the sheer pleasure of the situation, was the most potent allure she had ever known. She came around the leader's meat rod in a violent, shaking convulsion, her inner muscles clamping down on him like a vise.
Her scream was muffled by Ravi's hungry mouth. The leader grunted, his own rhythm faltering as her climax triggered his, his hips stuttering as he spilled himself deep inside her with a guttural roar.
He collapsed on top of her for a moment, his sweat slicked skin sticking to hers, before pulling out. Kamini gasped at the sudden emptiness, feeling the evidence of their transgression begin to trickle down her thigh.
Before she could even catch her breath, Ravi was moving, swapping places with his spent friend. He wasn't as large, but he was relentless, his hands groping and pinching at her oversensitive melons as he drove into her.
This was a different kind of Facking, frantic and eager. Kamini, still buzzing from her first climax, met his thrusts with a ragged intensity, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. It wasn't long before he too shuddered and cried out, spending himself inside her.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing. The two thieves, their desire sated, quickly disentangled themselves from her and began to pull on their clothes, avoiding her eyes now, the reality of what they'd done dawning on them.
They muttered to each other, and without a backward glance, they slipped out of the room and down the hall. Kamini lay there, sprawled on the ruined bed sheets, gloriously, utterly wrecked.
The smell of pleasure and sweat filled the air. She felt the sticky dampness between her legs. A slow, deeply satisfied smile spread across her face. Listening for the faint click of the front door closing, she finally stirred. Her body ached in a way Suresh could never make her.
This room was heavily filled with the musk of sweat and pleasure. Kamini lay sprawled across the tangled sheets, savoring the delicious ache in her limbs, the sticky, cooling proof of her adventure clinging to her inner thighs.
A deep, primal satisfaction thrummed through her. Suresh's predictable, timid touches could never have made her feel so… used. She never felt this kind was way to be so thoroughly claimed.
She listened to the faint sound of the front door clicking shut, the thieves hurried footsteps fading into the night. Silence descended, broken only by the frantic hammering of her own heart. It's over.
A pang of loss sharpened the air in her lungs. The thrill was gone, leaving only the mundane reality of a half emptied house. With a languid, cat like stretch that made her sore muscles sing, she pushed herself up.
She needed to lock the door. She needed to… a soft scuffling sound from the front gate froze her mid step. Her breath hitched. They came back? A fresh wave of heat, part fear and part wild hope, washed over her.
She crept to the bedroom window, peering through the slats of the shutter into the moonlit street below. It wasn't the thieves.
It was the colony's night watchman not the previous one but another one. There are two watchmen that changes every day taking shifts doing the world. The other one is a Young man buy this was is an old man.
His aged, stooped figure has shuffling past her gate. His flashlight beams cutting a lazy path across the gravel. He was hours late for his rounds. (Useless old man….)The thought was a spark in the tinderbox of her mind.
If he'd been on time, if he'd done his job, her thrilling encounter might never have happened. A new idea, deliciously wicked and utterly perverse, began to uncoil within her. She wouldn't scold him.
She would thank him. In her own way that is… Without a second thought, she let the silk saree, her only garment, fall open. She didn't retie it.
She let it hang loosely from her shoulders, the pale fabric doing little to conceal the heavy, dark curves of her melons or the shadowed triangle between her legs. She padded barefoot down the cool tile hallway to the front door and pulled it open just as Pandey was about to pass.
"Watchman Pandey…?" she called out, her voice a masterful blend of shock and trembling vulnerability. The old man jumped, fumbling with his flashlight before directing the beam toward her.
His eyes widened, first in surprise, then in sheer, unrestrained shock as the light illuminated her state of undress, the saree gaping open to offer him a breathtaking view of her full, pendulous melons and the damp, tangled evidence of recent activity glistening on her inner thighs.
"M-Madam…!" he stammered, his gaze locked, horrified and fascinated, on the creamy slickness she so blatantly displayed. "You… your door…!"
"Oh, old man Pandey, it was terrible!" she wailed, leaning against the doorframe in a show of distress that made her melons jiggle enticingly. She saw his Adam's apple bob as he struggled to look at her face.
"Thieves… they were here! They… they…" She let a tear roll down her cheek for effect. "They forced their way in because the door was unlocked. You… you didn't come on your round. I was all alone."
She shifted slightly, letting the flashlight beam catch the glistening proof between her legs. "See? See what they did to me?" she whispered, the innocence in her voice a stark, thrilling contrast to the blatant display of her well used body.
Pandey's face paled. He was a simple man, bound by duty and a deep seated fear of the wealthy residents he served. The evidence before him was undeniable, and his failure was written across her body in the most explicit terms possible.
"Madam, I… I am so sorry… I was… my wife, she was unwell and I was late… I…" He looked like he might be sick. "You must help me," Kamini insisted, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial husk.
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