The May sun sat high and merciless by the time Shalini reached the quiet stretch behind the closed stalls. Sweat already ran in thin rivers down her spine, trapped under the thick winter sweatshirt. The thermal leggings clung to her thighs like a second skin. Every step made the too-small panties dig into her wet folds and the cleft of her ass. The fabric was no longer just damp—it was soaked through with sweat and the steady leak of her own juices.
She could still feel the ghost of Anand's tongue from earlier. The unfinished ache pulsed between her legs with every heartbeat.
*Malika's task first,* she reminded herself. *No dick until it's done.*
The place where she had given her first pair of panties to the old beggar that morning came into view. He was still there, sitting in the same patch of shade, thin legs folded, a chipped metal bowl in front of him. His eyes lifted as she approached. Recognition flickered, then something hungrier.
Shalini stopped in front of him. Her heart hammered, but her face stayed calm.
She had decided something on the walk over. Malika's rules were already filthy. She would make them filthier.
*If any of them touch me,* she thought, *I will not stop them until they are finished. Not until they have taken everything they want.*
The decision settled low in her belly like a second pulse.
She looked down at the old man.
"I don't have money," she said softly. "But I have something else."
His eyes narrowed, waiting.
Shalini reached under the sweatshirt, unhooked the tight bra, and pulled it out through the neckline. The sudden freedom made her breasts feel heavy and hot. She held the damp, sweat-stained bra out to him. Then, without looking away, she pushed the thermal leggings and the soaked panties down to her knees.
The morning air touched her bare skin. Her trimmed pussy was already glistening. A thin string of wetness stretched from her folds to the crotch of the panties as she stepped out of them.
She stood completely naked from the waist down in front of the old beggar, sweatshirt still on but riding up, breasts free and flushed.
The old man's mouth opened. His eyes locked on the dark, wet triangle between her legs.
Shalini held the panties out as well.
"Take them."
He reached with both hands. His fingers brushed her thigh as he took the cloth. The contact sent a sharp jolt through her. She did not pull away. She had made the rule herself.
The old man clutched the warm, wet panties to his face and inhaled deeply. A low, broken sound left his throat. Then his free hand rose and cupped the soft weight of her bare breast through the sweatshirt. When she still did not move, he pushed the fabric up and took the naked breast in his rough palm.
Shalini's breath caught.
"Ahh…"
He squeezed, thumb scraping over the stiff nipple. His other hand, still holding the panties, pressed the damp cloth between her legs and rubbed slowly. The rough fabric dragged over her swollen clit.
"Mmmhh—fuck…"
She stayed still, legs slightly parted, and let him. The old man leaned forward and closed his mouth around her nipple, sucking hard while his fingers pushed the panties against her entrance. Two of his fingers slipped inside her along with the cloth. The dual sensation—dry fabric and thick, probing fingers—made her knees weaken.
"Ahhh… yes… take it…"
He fingered her with slow, deep strokes, twisting the wet panties inside her at the same time. His mouth moved to the other breast. Spit ran down the curve. Shalini's hands stayed at her sides. She had promised herself she would not stop him.
He worked her for long minutes until her thighs trembled and soft, helpless moans spilled freely from her lips.
"Ahh—ahh—mmhh—don't stop—"
When he finally pulled his fingers free they were shiny. He licked them clean, then pushed the soaked panties into his pocket along with the bra. Only then did he sit back, breathing hard, eyes still fixed on her exposed body.
Shalini pulled the thermal leggings up with shaking hands. The empty space where the panties had been felt obscene. Cool air moved freely through the wide tear every time she shifted her weight.
One down. Nine to go.
She bought a fresh pair of panties and a new bra from a cheap stall farther along the row, both again one size too small. In another narrow gap between shutters she changed. The new bra immediately began to dampen with sweat. The new panties clung the moment they touched her still-wet skin. She forced her hand between her legs, pushed two fingers inside herself, and rubbed hard and fast.
"Ahhh—fuck—mmhh—yes—"
She took herself right to the edge, hips jerking, then forced her hand away with a broken whimper. The denial left her shaking and even wetter.
She walked on.
The second beggar was younger, maybe thirty, sitting against a closed tea stall. She repeated the process—bra first, then panties—standing naked from the waist down while he stared. When his hand rose and cupped her bare ass she did not stop him. He turned her around, spread her cheeks, and pushed his face between them, tongue dragging over her hole and down to her dripping pussy.
"Ahhh—god—yes—lick it—"
He ate her from behind until her legs threatened to give out. Only when he had taken his fill did he accept the wet clothes and let her go.
Third. Fourth. Fifth.
Each time the pattern repeated. She removed the bra in front of them. She pushed the panties down and stepped out of them. She stood exposed while they looked. And every single time at least one hand or mouth touched her. She kept her own rule: she did not stop them until they were finished.
By the sixth offering her thighs were shiny with her own juices and the dried trails of other men's saliva. The winter clothes were soaked through. Sweat ran into her eyes. Her nipples were raw from being sucked and pinched. Her clit throbbed constantly.
After every exchange she bought new underwear, put it on, and immediately fingered herself to the edge again in whatever hidden corner she could find.
"Ahhh—mmhh—fuck—I'm so close—no—not yet—"
She would stop herself with a sharp bite to her lip, pull the tight new panties back up, and keep walking, the fresh fabric already darkening.
Seventh. Eighth. Ninth.
The ninth was an old woman sitting with a small child. Shalini almost passed her, then stopped. She removed the bra and panties in front of her anyway, standing naked while the woman stared in silence. The woman did not touch her. She only took the clothes with both hands and held them against her chest like something precious. Shalini felt a strange, hollow ache as she walked away.
One left.
She bought the final pair—black, again too small—and put them on. The crotch was soaked within minutes. She found a quiet stretch near the very edge of the fairground where only a few closed stalls remained. A thin, middle-aged beggar sat alone in the shade of a broken cart.
Shalini stopped in front of him. Her voice was hoarse.
"I don't have money right now… but I want to give you something."
She pulled the sweatshirt over her head and dropped it. The tight bra followed. Then she pushed the thermal leggings and the last pair of panties all the way down and stepped out of them. She stood completely naked under the open sky, skin gleaming with sweat, pussy swollen and dripping.
The beggar's eyes went wide.
She held the wet panties out.
"If you know any place hidden around here… we can go there."
She did not finish the sentence.
He understood at once. His hand closed around her wrist and he pulled her without a word into a narrow back alley between two rows of locked shutters. The space was barely wide enough for two people. The air smelled of dust and old urine. No one could see them from the main path.
The moment they were hidden he pushed her back against the rough wall. Shalini did not resist. She dropped to her knees on the dirty ground, opened his lungi, and took his already hard cock into her mouth.
"Mmmhh—"
She sucked him deep, saliva running down her chin, one hand stroking what she could not fit. The bitter taste of an unwashed cock filled her mouth. She moaned around him anyway.
When he pulled free she rose, pressed her sweat-slick breasts around his shaft, and worked him with a slow, tight boobjob. The head of his cock peeked out between her soft flesh on every upward stroke. He groaned and thrust into the warm channel she made for him.
After a minute she lifted one arm, guided his cock into the damp hollow of her armpit, and squeezed. The musky, sweaty skin slid along his length. She moved her arm up and down, giving him an armpitjob while her other hand cupped his balls. His breathing turned ragged.
Finally she turned, braced both hands on the wall, and pushed her ass back.
"Lick me."
He dropped behind her at once. His tongue dragged through her dripping folds, then pushed inside, then moved up to circle her tight hole. He licked everything—pussy, ass, the wet crease between—while his hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise.
"Ahhh—yes—fuck—right there—mmhh—don't stop—"
The pleasure climbed fast. Her thighs shook. She was right at the edge, the orgasm she had denied all day finally rising—
She forced herself forward, away from his mouth, gasping.
*Not yet. Not on his tongue. I want to come on Prayush's dick.*
The beggar made a sound of protest. Shalini turned, dropped to her knees again, and finished him with her mouth. She took every pulse of his release, swallowed, and only then stood up on unsteady legs.
She pulled the thermal leggings back on with no panties underneath. The wide tear left her completely open to the air. She picked up the sweatshirt but did not bother with a bra. Her bare breasts moved freely under the thick fabric as she stepped back into the light.
The task was finished.
Ten bras. Ten panties. All given away while she stood naked in front of strangers. Every edge forced and denied. Her body was a map of sweat, saliva, and her own unspent need.
She walked toward the main path of the fair, thighs slick, nipples rubbing against the rough inside of the sweatshirt with every step, and the only thought left in her head was simple and burning:
*Now I can finally take a dick.*