The old storehouse at Rovery College loomed in the afternoon haze, its abandoned walls cloaked in vines, the air thick with dust and forbidden promise. Inside, the dim room where Abir and Joita stood with the five female students—Riya, Kavya, Sneha, Nisha, and Ananya—held a tattered bedsheet spread across the dusty floor, a silent stage for the escalating tension. The five girls' eyes gleamed with hunger, their earlier demand hanging heavy in the air. Riya, her cropped hair glinting, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. "Abir, you should start now. You have to fuck all five of us until each begs to stop."
Abir's pulse raced, his mind a whirlwind of shock and arousal, but he nodded, his voice steady. "Alright."
Joita, her black kurta clinging to her voluptuous curves, smirked and moved closer, her eyes alight with mischief. "Let me prepare you for this," she purred, dropping to her knees before him. Her fingers deftly unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing manhood, its length glistening with anticipation. She leaned in, her tongue tracing its tip with slow, deliberate licks, savoring the taste as she sucked gently, her lips wrapping around him with a hungry intensity. Her head bobbed, taking him deeper, swallowing almost his entire length, her throat constricting around him as she moaned, the vibrations sending shivers through his core. Abir's hands tangled in her dark hair, his breaths ragged, lost in the passionate rhythm of her mouth, her saliva coating him in a glistening sheen.
Kavya, her doe eyes narrowing, interrupted with a playful pout. "Don't suck everything from him before we get our chance!" she teased, her voice sweet but edged with impatience.
Joita pulled back with a wicked smile, wiping her lips as she rose, leaving Abir's manhood slick and ready, pulsing with need. "So, who's first?" she asked, her tone daring the girls to step up.
Nisha, her long braid swinging, stepped forward quickly. "Me," she declared, her tall, commanding frame radiating confidence.
And so, the dances began.
Nisha's figure was striking—tall and lean, her long legs accentuated by a fitted maroon salwar, her full breasts straining against the fabric, her skin a warm olive tone that glowed in the dim light. Abir approached, his desire reignited, and pulled her close, her braid brushing his chest. He lifted her against a rickety shelf, her legs wrapping around his waist, her back pressed to the wood as he thrust upward with deep, rhythmic strokes, the shelf creaking under their weight. Her moans filled the room, her nails digging into his shoulders, then then lower, teasing her arousal with featherlight touches that sent shivers through him.
He lowered her to the bedsheet. She arched her back, propped on her elbows, her hips raised, and he entered from behind, his hands gripping her hips, thrusting with a slow, grinding force that made her breasts sway, her cries escalating. The intensity built as he lifted her legs over his shoulders, her body folded against a crate's edge, his thrusts downward and brutal, the wood groaning. Nisha's screams peaked, her body trembling. "Abir… stop… please!" she begged, her voice hoarse, but he pressed on, driven by the demand, her pleas fueling his dominance until her body shuddered with a final climax.
He pinned her between two crates, her back against one, his body pressing her tight as he thrust with relentless force, her breasts bouncing, her cries sharp. Nisha's screams turned desperate, her olive skin flushed, her long braid whipping as she thrashed, the brutality of his slams—each one a bone-jarring collision that stretched her limits—pushing her to the edge. The girls watched, transfixed, understanding why she begged: the unyielding depth, the bruising grip on her hips, the way Abir's thrusts claimed every inch of her, leaving no room for breath or mercy. But Abir didn't stop, his hips pounding until her climax ripped through her again, her screams echoing like a plea surrendered.
They seated on the bedsheet, legs spread and interlocked, face-to-face, he thrust with a grinding intensity, her breasts pressed against his chest, her moans a constant echo. Nisha's body quaked, the relentless friction and depth making her beg anew, the brutality in Abir's unstopping rhythm—each grind a torturous twist that filled her completely—leaving her exhausted, her screams fading to whimpers as another wave crashed over her, the girls nodding in understanding of her surrender.
Sneha's petite frame was a burst of energy—curly hair framing her freckled face, her small but perky breasts hugged by a yellow kurti, her hips rounded and inviting. Abir turned to her, his hunger unabated. He sat on a crate, pulling her onto his lap, her legs held up as she faced him, his thrusts upward deep and steady, her freckled cheeks flushing with pleasure. They shifted to the floor, legs interlocked, her hips rocking against him, the friction intense, her moans soft but growing louder.
He pinned her between two crates, her back against one, his body pressing her tighter as he thrust with relentless force, her breasts bouncing, her cries sharp. Sneha's screams turned desperate, her petite body jolting with each brutal slam, the unyielding depth and bruising grip on her rounded hips pushing her to the edge. The girls watched, transfixed, understanding why she begged: the way Abir's thrusts filled her completely, each one a punishing collision that stretched her limits, leaving no room for breath or mercy. But Abir didn't stop, his hips pounding until her climax ripped through her again, her screams echoing like a plea surrendered.
She arched her back, propped on hands and feet, her body a bridge as he thrust from above, the angle savage, her curly hair spilling, her screams echoing louder. The brutality in his unstopping rhythm—the deep, slamming force that made her petite frame quake—left her begging again, her freckled skin flushed, her climax a shuddering wave.
On her side, one leg raised, he spiraled into her, the twisting depth making her scream, her rounded hips jolting with each thrust. The relentless brutality—each pull and slam claiming her—pushed her to exhaustion, her pleas fading as another climax washed over her, the girls nodding in empathy.
Kavya's soft, curvaceous figure was a vision—her blue dupatta draping over ample breasts, her hips wide and inviting, her skin a creamy pale. Abir pulled her into his arms. They sat face-to-face, her legs wrapped around him, his thrusts slow and intimate, her moans a sweet melody. He twisted her onto her side, one leg raised, penetrating at an angle, her breasts jiggling with each thrust, her cries rising.
Saw her arching back on the bedsheet, propped on hands and feet, Abir thrusting from above, his hands gripping her hips. Kavya's screams peaked, her curvaceous body trembling. "Abir… stop… please!" she begged, her voice hoarse, but he pressed on, driven by the demand, her pleas fueling his dominance until her body shuddered with a final climax.
They sat, legs spread and interlocked, face-to-face, he thrust with a grinding intensity, her ample breasts pressed against his chest, her moans a constant echo. Kavya's screams turned desperate, the relentless friction and depth making her beg anew, the brutality in Abir's unstopping rhythm—each grind a torturous twist that filled her completely—leaving her exhausted, her climax a shuddering wave.
She was lying back as if in water, her legs spread wide, he thrust with deep, rhythmic force, her wide hips jolting, her screams echoing. The unyielding slams—each one a punishing collision that stretched her limits—pushed her to the edge, her pleas fading as another climax washed over her, the girls nodding in understanding.
Riya's athletic build was a powerhouse—her green kurti outlining toned muscles, her breasts firm, her legs strong and defined. Abir faced her with renewed vigor. He held her hands, her legs up as he thrust from behind, her athleticism shining, her moans loud and fierce. He lifted one leg high, penetrating deeply, her balance tested, her cries echoing.
Her legs wrapped around him, his thrusts wild and deep. Riya's screams peaked, her athletic body trembling. "Abir… stop… enough!" she begged, her voice hoarse, but he pressed on, driven by the demand, her pleas fueling his dominance until her body shuddered with a final climax.
She gets on his top, spinning atop him, the motion acrobatic, her firm breasts bouncing, her screams a crescendo. The brutality in his unstopping rhythm—the deep, slamming force that made her toned frame quake—left her begging again, her climax a powerful release.
Pinned between shelves, her back against one, his body pressing her tighter as he thrust with relentless force, her strong legs jolting, her screams sharp. The unyielding depth and bruising grip on her hips pushed her to exhaustion, her pleas fading as another climax washed over her, the girls nodding in empathy.
Ananya's slender, bold frame was magnetic—her tight top highlighting perky breasts, her hips swaying, her skin a golden hue. Abir turned to her last. She straddled him on the bedsheet, facing away, riding with fierce control, her moans sharp. On her side, one leg raised, he spiraled into her, the twisting depth making her scream, her perky breasts jolting with each thrust.
He lift her standing, her legs around his waist, thrusting with brutal depth. Ananya's screams peaked, her slender body trembling. "Abir… stop, please!" she begged, her voice desperate, but he ignored her, driving deeper until her climax overwhelmed her, her body limp in his arms.
She arched her back, propped on hands and feet, her body a bridge as he thrust from above, the angle savage, her golden skin flushed, her screams echoing louder. The brutality in his unstopping rhythm—the deep, slamming force that made her slender frame quake—left her begging again, her climax a shuddering wave.
Twisted on her side, one leg raised, he penetrated at an angle, her hips swaying with each thrust, the twisting depth making her scream, her perky breasts jiggling. The unyielding slams—each one a punishing collision that stretched her limits—pushed her to the edge, her pleas fading as another climax washed over her, the girls nodding in understanding.
Abir collapsed onto the bedsheet, his body drenched in sweat, his chest heaving from the marathon. The five girls lay scattered around, marked with red handprints and bite marks, their breaths ragged, their pleas fading into satisfied silence. But Joita, her eyes burning with desire, shed her kurta and pants, revealing her full, curvaceous figure—breasts heavy, hips wide, skin glistening. She straddled him, guiding his still-throbbing manhood inside her, and began riding with dominant force, her hips grinding, her hands pinning his shoulders. "My turn to lead," she growled, her pace relentless as she dominated him, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her moans a command.
Joita's ride was extended, her dominance a symphony of control. She started slow, her hips rolling in deep circles, taking him fully, her inner walls clenching around him as she leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest, her nails raking his skin. Her moans were low, throaty, building as she quickened, bouncing with fierce intensity, the bedsheet bunching under them, her big butt slapping against his thighs with each downward slam. She ground harder, her hands choking his neck lightly, her eyes locking on his as she rode him to the brink, her climax crashing first, her screams echoing as she convulsed, her body quaking. But she didn't stop, flipping to reverse, her back to him, riding with renewed vigor, her ass bouncing, her hands reaching back to squeeze his balls, drawing a groan from him. Her dominance peaked as she slammed down one final time, her second climax pulling his release, their bodies locked in a shuddering, sweat-soaked embrace.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the storehouse, followed by a stern voice. "Who's in there?" it demanded.
The room froze, all eyes wide with shock. Sneha whispered, her voice trembling, "It's Miss Monika, the leader of this college."