The washroom's dim, flickering light cast jagged shadows across the tiled walls as Abir and Monika stepped inside, the air heavy with the scent of soap and the electric tension between them. The small space, barely wide enough for two, featured a cracked mirror above a porcelain sink, a single bulb dangling from the ceiling, and a faint hum of the exhaust fan, amplifying the intimacy of their seclusion. Abir's pulse raced as Monika's evil smile lingered, her sweat-soaked t-shirt clinging to her athletic frame, her big breasts straining against the fabric. With a primal growl, he seized the hem of her shirt, yanking it upward with such force that the fabric tore slightly, his fingers hooking into her bra. With a savage tug, he ripped it free, the elastic snapping as it fell to the floor, exposing her full, heaving breasts, their dark nipples already hardening in the cool air.
He descended on her like a man possessed, his mouth latching onto one breast with ravenous hunger, sucking hard enough to leave a red mark, his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak before flicking it with rapid, wet strokes. His other hand squeezed the opposite breast with brutal force, kneading the soft flesh until it spilled between his fingers, his teeth grazing the nipple as Monika gasped, "Ohh, Abir, yes!" He licked the sweat-slicked valley between them, his lips trailing down to suckle the underside, his hands roaming to pinch and twist, eliciting a series of loud moans—"Mmm, harder!"—that echoed off the tiles. Her curvy body trembled under his assault, her athletic thighs quivering as she pressed herself closer, her hands clawing at his shoulders.
His desire surged beyond control, and he shoved her against the sink, the edge digging into her lower back as he hiked her skirt up with rough hands, exposing her damp panties. With a single, impatient yank, he tore them aside, his manhood throbbing as he aligned himself. He entered her with a deep, savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt, the force making her cry out—"Ahh! Abir!"—her voice raw with pleasure. He pounded her with relentless, fast thrusts, each one a brutal collision that drove her hips into the sink, the porcelain creaking under the pressure. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her back to meet every deep plunge, her big breasts bouncing wildly, her moans escalating into loud, desperate cries—"Ohh, yes, deeper!"—her eyes rolling back as her first breaking point hit, her body convulsing, a scream tearing from her throat as she clung to the sink for support.
He spun her around, pinning her against the wall, one hand wrapping around her throat with a firm choke, the other lifting her leg high. He thrust with hardcore speed, each stroke a punishing invasion, her screams growing louder—"Ahhh, Abir, don't stop!"—her eyes rolling back again as her second climax ripped through her, her body shaking, sweat dripping down her face and onto his hand. The tiles vibrated with the force, her nails scratching the wall, leaving faint marks.
He forced her to the floor, the cold tiles a stark contrast to her heated skin, binding her wrists with the remnants of her torn bra. He mounted her from above, his thrusts deep and grinding, each one a violent claim, her moans turning into wild screams—"Yes, Abir, harder!"—her third breaking point a guttural cry, her eyes lost in ecstasy, her body arching off the floor as he spanked her ass with sharp, resounding slaps, the red welts blooming instantly.
Lifting her upright against the door, he held her thighs apart, thrusting with savage depth, his hands gripping her buttocks to pull her onto him with each brutal stroke. Her screams peaked—"Ahhh, Abir, I'm yours!"—her fourth breaking point a hoarse, trembling wail, her eyes rolling back, her legs giving way as she slumped against him, the door rattling with their intensity.
Midway through this relentless assault, Monika's voice cut through her screams, a breathless whisper as Abir's deep thrusts continued. "She's here," she gasped, her eyes flicking toward the cracked door where Isha's shadow loomed, her curiosity palpable. "Fuck me harder, Abir. I said fuck me harder!" Her command fueled his primal rage, and he grew even more brutal, his thrusts accelerating to a frenzied pace, each one a punishing slam that drove her body upward, her screams escalating into ear-splitting cries—"Ahhhh! Yes, Abir!"—her voice breaking with each violent penetration, her eyes rolling back in overwhelmed pleasure, her body shuddering uncontrollably as the washroom filled with the raw sound of their passion.
When Abir finally withdrew, his breath heaving, Monika collapsed against the sink, her legs trembling so violently she could barely stand, her body marked with red welts, sweat, and the faint bruises of his grip. Her t-shirt hung in tatters, her breasts still heaving, her face flushed with exhaustion and satisfaction. After a few minutes of ragged breathing, she managed to slip on a fresh t-shirt, the clean fabric clinging to her curves, though her movements were slow and unsteady. "Abir, carry me," she murmured, her voice weak. "I can't walk." He obliged, princess-carrying her with ease, her soft thighs pressing against his arms, her big breasts brushing his chest, reigniting his arousal almost instantly. The warmth of her body, the scent of her sweat, and the memory of her screams stirred him again, his manhood hardening beneath his pants.
Monika noticed his reaction, a faint smirk crossing her lips. "Wait for some time," she teased, her voice husky. "You'll get another chance." Abir smiled, unable to resist, lowering his head to bite one of her breasts through the t-shirt, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh just enough to draw a sharp moan from her—"Mmm, Abir!"—her body twitching in his arms, a mix of pain and pleasure flashing in her eyes.
They entered Monika's room, the purple sheets and trophies a familiar sight, where Isha sat, her face a deep red, pretending she hadn't witnessed the washroom frenzy. "What happened?" she asked, her voice shaky, her eyes darting between them.
Monika leaned into the lie with a smooth tone. "I fell and got hurt on my back. But I'm fine. Abir insisted on carrying me. I was like, why not?"
Isha tilted her head, her curiosity lingering. "Why did you change your t-shirt, Monika?"
"I just felt like changing," Monika replied, her evil smile hidden behind a casual shrug.
Isha nodded, though her blush deepened. "Okay. Let's continue the game." They resumed playing Ludo, the board set up on the small table, and Isha won again, earning Abir's congratulations with a genuine smile. The lighthearted moment was a stark contrast to the earlier intensity, though his mind still buzzed with Monika's touch. Then Isha stood. "I have to go to the washroom. Wait for me," she said, her voice hesitant.
Monika's evil smile returned, her eyes glinting. "Do you need Abir to go with you?"
Isha blushed furiously, stammering, "Yes… I don't clearly remember where the washroom is."
Monika's grin widened, her tone dripping with mischief. "Sure. Abir, guide the lady to the washroom. Fulfill her desire."
Isha's eyes widened, her voice trembling. "What did you mean by that last sentence?"
Monika's laugh was soft, deceptive. "It's your desire to go to the washroom, right? That's what I meant."
Isha nodded, still unsure. "Okay. Come, Abir."
Abir rose, his body still humming with arousal, and Monika leaned close, whispering into his ear, "I'll be coming soon." Her warm breath sent a shiver down his spine, and he smiled, meeting her wink with a nod of anticipation. Isha and Abir left the room, the tension thick with the promise of what awaited.