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From: "Mary Jorsay Gandmar" <maryjg@finebody.com>
Subject: {MJG} Obsession : 1 : Past Perfect
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		      Erotica by Mary Jorsay Gandmar

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NOTE: This story may be archived and distributed free, but may NOT be
sold or otherwise distributed for commercial gain/profit.

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by Mary Jorsay Gandmar <maryjg@finebody.com>


			      OBSESSION 1 : PAST PERFECT


Pallavi felt Vijay's long, thick cock throb and pulse ominously in her
cunt and smoothly accelerated her motions, pushing for an orgasm. He
thrust deeply into her, stroking quickly in and out, making her body
jerk and snap with his thrusts. With a soft moan, digging her fingers
into his shoulders, lifting her hips to his, she arched her back
steeply and squeezed her cunt over it several times in quick
succession. He gasped and thrust back into her, ramming in hard.
Pallavi moaned thickly and began to orgasm. Her cunt convulsed on his
penis and he groaned and pushed his cock deep into her and began to
come, twitching his hips at hers, making her jerk gently as the spoot
geysered into her slit. She moaned again. His orgasm passed in seconds
and his cock promptly began to shrink. Grunting, he slid out of her
cunt and lay panting beside her. Pallavi snuggled close to him and
flung her legs across his hips. She was very horny, very hot. But
there was no way he would be able to fuck her again. They had done it
three times already. Pallavi sighed. Oh well. Everyone had their
limits.

He was an Attorney, a partner in a hundred-year old law firm and they
had been lovers for just about a year now, friends for a lot longer.
He wasn't the kind she usually fucked. She only did it out of a sense
of obligation.

At the time when she was just starting out on her career and the
briefs were trivial and far between, Vijay sent her a steady stream of
work from his firm. He paid her fees promptly and without question,
often paying her more than she billed. At least once a day he came to
Court and sat by her while she worked.

He wasn't a bad sort, really, and his intentions were pure in that
horrible middle-class way. He came from humble beginnings, the son of
a clerk and he had put himself through college and then law school,
picking up English on the way. As a result his accent was terribly
coarse and he was acutely aware of his serious handicap with the
*lingua franca* of litigation. A few years ago, he had married. He
lived in the suburbs in a modest flat in an even more modest housing
colony. As far as she knew, his wife was a typical housewife, docile
and unambitious, content to spend her time in the house and kitchen
and, Pallavi imagined, to allow him to fuck her once or twice a month
without complaining or making any attempt to enjoy herself.

At first, Pallavi thought that he was only sexually attracted to her.
That was easily met. Still, unsure of his intentions, for he made no
proclamations of love or devotion, she hesitated. Then she noticed
that he had begun to spend more and more time around her. He took her
to lunch in the bustling South Indian vegetarian restaurant across the
street. They had coffee together after Court at a coffee house. If
there was a Bar dinner, he never brought his wife but always asked if
he could pick her up. Recently, he had taken to dropping in at her
Chambers unannounced.

Once, he had almost caught her *in flagrante delicto*, just as she was
undressing for sex with her peon. Fortunately, Anant had the wit to
stall Vijay outside while he called in and that gave her just enough
time to put her clothes on again. Then he wouldn't leave, said he was
free and would sit while she worked, would wait till she was through
and walk her to her car. Finally, she had to tell him to go, saying
she couldn't concentrate with him sitting opposite her. Of course, she
hadn't the heart to be brutal about it and she turned it into a joke,
with a veiled innuendo he caught and understood. He fled immediately.
Within minutes, Anant had locked and bolted the door and was with
Pallavi. Laughing at Vijay and his almost childish innocence, Pallavi
and her peon fucked slowly and unhurriedly on the floor of her
Chambers. She slipped out of her clothes and knelt before him. Anant
was a strong, wickedly handsome youth with a broad-shouldered, lean,
muscular body and a handsome cock of sizable proportions. Pallavi
loved fucking him. She knelt before him and sucked his cock slowly,
with deep enjoyment. He fucked her face happily, his head bent,
holding her head and rocking it back and forth before his pumping
hips, calling soft obscenities to her. She liked that.

"Mm ... yeh ... suck it ... suck my cock, whore ... yeh ... you give
good head, bitch ... keep sucking ... just keep sucking!" It was even
sexier in the vernacular. "*Hanh* ... *chul* ... *choos*, *rundi* ...
*choos* *mujhe*! *Accha* *choosti* *hain*, *rahnd* ... *choosti* *reh*
... *chul* ... *jorse* *choos*!"

When he was ready, he pushed her head away and Pallavi went down on
the floor on her back and spread her legs wide, bending her knees.
Anant bent over her and slowly squeezed his cock into her cunt. She
groaned in pleasure, arching under him, clenching the bulging biceps
in his outstretched arms, bucking her hips eagerly under his. He
grunted as her cunt convulsed on his throbbing cock and, bending his
head, kissed her deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She
writhed under him, her breasts hot under his chest, caressing the
powerful, knotted muscles in his shoulders. He pushed his cock deeper
and deeper into her cunt till it was in the hilt.

"Mm," she murmured. "That's lovely ... c'mon Anant ... fuck me ...
slowly ... mm, yes ... that's it ... *hanh* ... *chul*, Anant ...
*chodh* *mujhe* ... *ahiste* ... *hanh* ... *aise* ... *chul* ...
*rok* *mut*!"

The peon began fucking her unhurriedly, slowly sliding his cock in and
out of her cunt, flexing and unflexing his buttocks alternately,
moving his hips from the waist in a controlled, exquisitely slow
rhythm. Pallavi loved the way his cock surged into her cunt, driving a
huge wall of pleasure before it through her body.

"Anant?" she murmured, craning her neck to lick his small, hard
nipple, pulled low and wide under his deeply cleaved chest.

"Mm?"

"Should I fuck him? *Usko* *mujhe* *chodhne* *doonh*?"

"Who, Vijay?"

"Mm. Yes. Should I? *Hanh*. *Karoon* *kya*?"

Anant pursed his lips and thought about it, not stopping his
in-and-out motions. Pallavi moved in unison with him. Their orgasms
were yet distant, but growing steadily closer.

"I don't know. How d'you think he'll take it? He's in love with you.
That's obvious. *Woh* *toh* *tujhe* *pyaar*-*mohabbat* *karta* *hain*.
*Zahir* *hain*."

She bit her lower lip and moaned thickly as he ground deep into her.
Her legs opened wider and her feet rose up the backs of his strong
thighs. Her hips arched to meet his in descent. He grunted and, deep
in her cunt, held still, moving his hips gently from side to side. The
feeling was exquisitely delicate.

"Oh Anant ... that's lovely ... yes ... well ... I don't really know,
that's the problem, you see. *Wohi* *toh*. I can't decide whether he
wants to fuck me - whether it's just *lust* for my body - or if he's
got some silly notion of a pure and beautiful relationship that will
endure forever. You know that kind of thing."

Anant chuckled softly. "Yeah. Hindi movie middle-class. Stupid."

She grinned. "And boring. I mean look at us now. Nothing pure about
this, is there?"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," she laughed. "It's that all right. So. What do you think?"

He shrugged. "Give it a shot. But do it slow. Sort of like a love
thing, all that gentle tender shit. Not just the wham-bam scene."

"No, of course not. That'd tear him apart."

"Yeah, I think it would. Imagine if he saw us here now."

"Imagine." She laughed. "Now come on ... I'm getting hot ... fuck me
hard! *Jorse* *chodh* *mujhe*!"

Vijay didn't pluck up the courage to come back till the middle of the
next week. He wasn't hurt that she'd asked him to leave that day, just
terrified. He felt confused and bewildered. He couldn't understand
what drew him to her so. He could sit for hours watching her, looking
at her face, the way it lit up, her bright smile, her infectious
laugh, the way her little nose-stud winked and the pretty birth marks
danced on her face and throat. And yes, he'd found himself watching
her body, too, her firm, curved belly when she wore a *sari* and the
way her breasts jumped when she moved, but it was a tender, concerned
interest, not that he wanted to sleep with her, no, nothing like that,
she was too good and too decent even to imagine any such thing.

With his wife, he was suddenly and unwontedly hungry, and Deepika
didn't know what to make of it when her husband wanted to fuck her two
nights in succession. Since their honeymoon, a fifteen day period when
they'd fucked every night, he never turned to her more than once or
twice a month. It was almost as though he had been under some sort of
sex stress before his marriage, and vented everything during the
honeymoon. After that, he seemed to lose interest - almost as if
having sex with his wife was just part of his marital obligation and
nothing more.

Though his cock was adequately sized - eight inches long and over an
inch thick, and he knew the usual routine,  fucking her mouth, licking
her slit and so on - he lacked imagination and power. She always let
him fuck her when he wanted, doing as he instructed, playing the
obedient acolyte and, usually, there was a small element of genuine
pleasure in the sex - she had an orgasm occasionally - but nothing
that was really satisfying. Still, he was a kind, gentle soul, did
nothing to hurt her and made no demands. Of course, there were other
men around - servants and so on, but Deepika didn't have the heart to
upset him.

She fought the temptation valiantly. For a while.

And kept the truth from him.

Deepika loved sex. She'd loved it ever since she was sixteen when she
lost her virginity to the family servant's son, a boy she'd almost
grown up with. He was a couple of years older than her and, as it
turned out, already sufficiently experienced to guide her. She was
lovely at sixteen, slender and fair-skinned with finely chiselled
features, lovely eyes, a slim, straight nose and full lips, clear
skin, a long neck, full breasts, a narrow waist and bell-shaped hips,
elegant legs and arms with slender ankles and wrists. Her body had
begun to torment her with strange, exciting, frightening sensations
and she found herself looking at Mohan out of the corner of her eye
and feeling curiously light-headed by the sight of his body. They
lived in a small two-room apartment, she and her parents and elder
brother. Mohan lived nearby and worked in a motor garage. She passed
it on her way from school and always stopped to chat with him.

One afternoon she found him alone. There was not much work in hand and
he suggested they go to a *chai* shop at the corner. They had tea,
sitting in the half-empty place, laughing and chatting and he said
he'd walk her home. It wasn't far. On the way, they passed a cluster
of huts by the road.

"You live here now, don't you?" she said.

Mohan had moved out of their house when he was seventeen and, with a
loan from her father, Mohan and his mother had got themselves a
ramshackle tarpaulin covered tin hut in this almost-slum.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes." They walked on a bit. Suddenly, he said, "Would you like to see
it?"

She looked at him and, slowly, nodded. He smiled and took her arm in
his hand. She thrilled at the touch of his hand on hers. She looked at
him and flushed as his eyes drilled into her. He turned down a cramped
alley between a row of huts. It was reasonably clean, but very noisy.
The lane ended in a gutter running hard by a bramble. He turned the
corner and led her to a small hut with a sloping tin roof and a
rickety wooden door with a padlock. Mohan unlocked the door and pushed
it open.

It was very spare, almost Spartan. One chair, a little table, a
kerosene stove in a corner, a few pots and pans on two wooden shelves.
A cheap calendar on the wall by a small mirror. Clothes hung on a
line, a tin chest. A hemp *charpoy* with a thin pillow and sheet and
sagging mattress. A cheap novel lay on the floor by the *charpoy*.

"Well," he said. "That's it. Home. My mansion. *Meri* *haveli*."

Deepika looked around. "It's ... it's very nice. *Accha* *hai*."

Mohan looked at her and she went very still. Time stopped and the
sounds of the city faded. He came closer. And closer. And closer. Took
her face in his hands. His head bent. Hers tilted. Her lips parted.
She could feel his breath on her face, smell the warm musk of his
body, feel its warmth. His lips came closer.

In that afternoon of heat, Deepika experienced an explosion of joy she
had never imagined possible. Mohan was tender and gentle and his body
was wonderful and when his cock surged into her flesh, Deepika almost
fainted with ecstasy. She wanted more, more, more, wanted it never to
end. He fucked her on the *charpoy*, taking her slowly and deeply and
then faster and faster as she bucked and heaved and writhed
desperately under him, her teenage body tossing and jumping and
jerking in an uncontrollable fever, her cunt convulsing and spasming
on his thrusting cock which was so big, so thick, so hard, so hot, so
good, so very good. Her nipples ached with the sweet tension of it and
when he sucked and licked them and crushed them in his hands she felt
the heat flood her from head to toe. On and on he went and the
*charpoy* creaked and her voice was ragged and hoarse from calling and
moaning. She came in an explosion of bliss, the breath shooting from
her throat.

The next afternoon, he fucked her again.

She baulked at nothing, absolutely nothing. When she had his cock in
her mouth, it was the most wonderful feeling. He fucked her mouth
slowly and happily and she wouldn't have minded if he'd gone on all
night.

Then he turned her on her front, kneeling on the floor and bent over
the bed and entered her from behind, straddling her hips in a low
crouch and pushing his cock in and in and in till she thought it would
rip her in two, it was so big, so thick, so hot, so hard. He fucked
her hungrily then, thrusting greedily in and out of her cunt and she
came again, long and slow and this time he came too, his cock buried
deep in her cunt. Deepika never forgot that first exquisite feeling of
hot jizz spurting and spurting and spurting into her cunt.

After that, they met in his hut every afternoon. She was naturally
curious and adventurous in bed and willing to try anything so long as
it felt good. She never tired of sex. When he suggested anal sex, she
didn't hesitate and as his cock ground into her anus, she felt no
pain, just a glorious, stinging exhilaration that made her call out to
him for more in the gutter words he had taught her.

A few weeks later, he introduced her to his friends from the garage,
Dinesh and Deepak, both lean, hard-bodied youths with quietly handsome
faces. Now she was 'his', Mohan's, his woman, his mate, his keep. She
didn't mind living the lie, somehow it had a nice feeling to it. She
played her role dutifully, almost like his wife. Without his asking,
she dressed in *saris* when they were together, changing out of her
school tunic.

In his hut, she made tea for all of them and served the men. She
noticed how Dinesh and Deepak followed her with their eyes and knew,
with a woman's instinct, that they wanted her, too.

Deepika had a natural streak of exhibitionism in her and she knew with
a clarity unusual for a teenager that she didn't love Mohan, that it
was the sex that drew her, that and the additional exciting fillip of
doing something secretly and on the sly, something risky. Danger was a
powerful aphrodisiac. If she had more than one lover, the risk was
magnified and so the temptation. She teased Dinesh and Deepak, giving
them glimpses of her breasts under her low-necked blouse, moving
sensually around the hut, letting her eyes smoulder on theirs.

The men finished their tea and stepped out for a smoke. Deepika
sprawled on the hemp cot with a magazine, waiting for Mohan to come
back.

"Deepika," Mohan said softly as he returned.

She was lying on the *charpoy* now on her side, her head propped in
her hand, her elbow bent, leafing through a trashy magazine. Her
*sari* had slipped into the crook of her arm. In the heat, two or
three of the buttons down the front of her tight blouse were open and
her breasts strained at the cloth, showing a lot of her deep cleavage
and luscious breasts. Mohan sat behind and leaned over, an arm in
front of her belly. She didn't look up at him.

"What is it?" she murmured.

He cleared his throat. "Deepika, I ... um ... Dinesh ... that is,
Dinesh and Deepak ..."

"Yes?"

"They ... um ... they would also like ..."

"What?"

He didn't reply. There was a soft rustle as Mohan's chums came in
again. She glanced at them, saw the looks on their faces, and turned
back to Mohan.

"What, Mohan? What would they like?"

He looked at her nervously and swallowed. She smiled.

"They'd like to fuck me, isn't that it?"

There was a little silence. Then Mohan stared, nodded glumly.

"Well, you don't have to look so downcast about it, Mohan," she
grinned. "Of *course* I'll fuck them. Any friend of yours is a friend
of mine, as they say, and if I can't please your friends, I'm not a
good friend to you, right?"

The men stared at her, dumbfounded. She closed the book and flipped on
her back on the *charpoy*.

"On one condition, though," she murmured, reaching up and unbuttoning
his shirt slowly. "Before they fuck me, they must sit here and watch
you fuck me. Then they can fuck me and you've got to watch. Okay?"

Mohan grinned in excitement and pulled her blouse open and squeezed
her naked breast. She was wearing nothing under it. Smiling, she hiked
her *sari* up to her hips and pulled Mohan down over her, unbuttoning
his shirt and trousers.

Squatting on the beaten dirt floor, Deepak and Dinesh watched in
excited fascination as their friend fucked his girl on the *charpoy*,
taking her furiously. His buttocks danced over her lap, bobbing and
bouncing up and down and they could see his cock plunging and
pistoning in and out of her cunt. Her hips heaved and pumped under
his, and her cries rang in their ears. Their erections, when Mohan
finished, were monstrous. Deepika smiled in pleasure.

Deepika never wanted for a lover after that. One of the three was
always available to take her to Mohan's hut and fuck her. On good
days, she had all three together. Dinesh was good, as good as Mohan,
but Deepak was terrific. He had a round, sweetly handsome face, a
dark, wiry, strong body and an absolutely magnificent cock she loved.
It wasn't long before she tried taking all three simultaneously in her
cunt, mouth and ass.

She finished school, and grew lovelier, her breasts filling out, her
curves getting more accentuated. In college, she took a polytechnic
course in hotel management and did reasonably well. There were other
lovers now, for she had greater freedom and was out of the house a lot
longer. There was her trainer, a handsome Goan who took her to his
house and fucked her all afternoon. There were a couple of her
fellow-students with whom she had torrid sex in squalid little
suburban hotels that rented by the hour.

She graduated and, for a few months after that, waiting for a job
offer and replies to her applications, she spent time fucking with
what she called her three musketeers, long afternoons of glorious sex
in Mohan's hut. The days passed and she got no response but letters of
regret. Deepika grew morose. Finally, it was Deepak who broke through
and took her into a whole new world.

They were fucking one afternoon, and she was astride his hips on the
*charpoy*. He groaned and bucked his hips under her, sliding his hands
up her body to cup her breasts.

"Hey, Deepika."

"What?"

"Got a job offer yet?"

"You know I haven't."

"How would you like to do this for money?"

"Do what?"

"This. Fucking."

She stared down at him. "You must be joking." She bent over and kissed
him, her lovely, sloping breasts pressing against his chest, her
tongue slipping in and out of his mouth. He squeezed her breasts and
pressed a fingertip to her anus. Her cunt was really incredibly hot
and tight. He grunted as it convulsed on his penis.

"No. I'm serious," he murmured, licking her stiff nipple. "Think about
it."

"You want me to *whore*?"

"Why not? It's not like anyone's forcing you into prostitution, you
know. You'd whore because you want to. And the money's good. Very
good."

"Oh yes? And how would you know?"

He grinned. "I've been meaning to tell you. I've been working at this
place, this hotel downtown."

"I thought you were working as a peon. A peon-cum-chauffeur."

"That was before."

"You never told me."

"No. I didn't. Anyway, this hotel's not just a hotel. It's a
world-class, high-quality whorehouse, too. Top five, six floors. I've
got in as a stud."

She stared down at him. "A stud?"

"Yeah. Stud. Gigolo. Dame comes in, needs a fuck, I fuck her. I get
paid."

"*Women* come into this whorehouse?"

He grinned. "What's the matter, women don't fuck?"

"No, it's not that. It's just that, I mean ..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I was surprised, too, at first. But
there's a whole load of women out there who like a good fuck with a
stranger. Any number of reasons. Nowhere to go, no one to go with,
many of them are married, too, husband's not interested, whatever."

"So they come to you and you fuck them."

"They don't come to *me*. They come to the hotel where I work. If my
name's up, I fuck them."

"And they pay you for this?"

"Very well. Ten grand a pop. Minimum. My take's seventy five percent.
Excluding tips and gifts and shit. Like this watch. See? Solid gold
bracelet."

"You must have done some fucking for that."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Fucked her brains out. She said she never knew
it could be that good. So I fucked her again - hard and rough this
time."

He grinned. Her eyes were glittering with excitement. He knew she had
taken the bait.

"Last couple of months, they've taken me off the stud-roll," he
continued.

"Why's that?"

"I'm heading a talent scout unit now. We have several. I'm head of
one."

"Talent scout?"

"Yeah. They found I had a knack of getting with dames and scoping them
out. Brought in a couple who've turned out to be great whores.
Customers love 'em and they make great profits for the hotel. So I was
put in charge."

"And now you're scoping me out?"

He laughed. "No, idiot. I scoped you out years ago. I'm only
recommending you try it. With you it's different. We don't have to
play catch and all that. I don't have to - seduce you, see? You're
right here, doing it already. Tell you what, why don't I set it up for
you, try it, see if you like it, then decide. The girls tell me it's
quite a kick having a stranger come in and fuck you and leave and pay
good money for it. They're very well looked after, too. Interested?"

But he knew the answer to that already. She was looking down at him
with a deep glitter in her dark eyes, and her face was flushed with
excitement.

"Yes," she murmured. "When can we go?"

"Now?"

"No," she groaned. "Not now ... after we finish ... come on Deepak ...
fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck me!"

That afternoon, Deepika started whoring at the hotel where Deepak
worked. She was told that for the first week, she was on probation
while they assessed her capabilities to decide her grade. Before doing
anything else, she would have to sit for a photo-shoot.

Deepika didn't know what to expect when they led her to an airy
studio. There, the makeup crew went to work on her face while the
costumes staff measured her and quickly altered several outfits. She
was photographed fully clad by a quietly handsome young man with a
completely professional approach. She was wearing a simple *churidar*
and *kurta* ensemble, the *kurta* with a low V neck. He took shots of
her in different positions from different angles.

Then he switched off the lights and nodded to the prop crew. They
re-did the set and re-did her hair and re-did her make-up and got her
into another outfit. This one was more revealing, showing a lot of
breast and leg and Deepika felt strangely aroused by it. She returned
to the floor and the photographer went to work again and this time he
made her bend in different, distinctly sexual positions, kneeling,
tilting her face up, leaning forward, showing her cleavage.

They went through several more costume changes, each more revealing
than the last, including a zipped up black leather jacket that was
left undone to the crotch with nothing under it, and a *houri* outfit,
transparent harem pants with deep slashes outside and inside to the
crotch and a ridiculously small and tight top out of which her breasts
squeezed invitingly. The last was a completely see-through fishnet and
now the photographer made her get into blatantly sexy positions, on
her front, looking over her shoulder with her legs spread so that her
anus and cunt showed; on her back, her legs lifted and parted, showing
the moist flesh of her cunt.

Deepika got steadily hornier through the shoot, her natural
exhibitionist streak subduing any hesitation she might have had. She
found she enjoyed showing off her body and the appreciative smiles
from the crew gave her a special thrill.

They weren't finished yet. Now a handsome young man stalked in to the
studio and spoke quietly with the photographer.

He turned to her and smiled. He was devastatingly sexy. "Deepika," he
said. "Good afternoon. My name is Hemant and I run the photo and film
divisions of this company. My compliments. You've done very well so
far. Exceptionally so."

Deepika smiled shyly. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her.

"Now what we want to do is a little more complicated. We want to do a
longer shoot, first of you masturbating and then of you fucking. Are
you ready for that, or would you like to come back tomorrow? You could
even stop now and leave, if you prefer."

Deepika looked at him, suddenly hit by a twinge of nervousness. This
was *very* dangerous. It was one thing to sneak off and fuck a guy. It
was another thing to be filmed doing it. There would be *evidence*.

Hemant saw her hesitation. He cupped her face in his hand gently.
"Deepika. Think about it. Take your time, there's no rush. But you
shouldn't be made to do something you don't want to do. But let me
tell you this. From us, you have nothing to fear. If you stay on, the
prints and films will be locked in a vault abroad. We will use the
footage very discreetly only in select films that screen in foreign
countries, never here. If you leave, we return everything to you and
you can keep it or destroy it, as you wish. We do *not* run to
blackmail, though some of our lesser competitors do and so give us a
reputation we don't deserve."

He watched her in silence. Deepika looked at him and at the quiet set
waiting expectantly. She was feeling very horny. She smiled.

"I ... I'll do it now, sir," she said softly.

He grinned broadly and pecked her on the cheek. "That's the spirit.
Never give up. Come on, we'll get things set."

The next session was the sexiest thing Deepika had done in her life.
She was put into a diaphanous gown and photographed masturbating.
First she used her fingers only. Then she used the lovely toys they
gave her, dildoes and vibrators that she ran in and out of her cunt
and ass till she orgasmed with surprising satisfaction.

And then her lover stepped onto the set. He was a gorgeous black man
with rugged, handsome features and a stunning body. He was wearing an
eye-mask and a black leather cod-piece and nothing else. He had the
most awesome cock Deepika had ever seen. Her body crackled with lust.

Minutes later, they were having sex under the hot lights and the
photographer and three assistants was scurrying around them, taking
them from every angle, calling instructions softly. The man fucked her
mouth and just went on and on and no matter what she did it didn't
make him blow. Deepika had never imagined a man with such power and
control. He fucked her face for as long as the photographer wanted him
to and then, quietly and without sign of emotion, stepped away.

"Fuck her on her back first," the photographer said softly. "And mind
you spread your legs good and wide. I want close-ups of your cock in
her slit. And Deepika, just keep it going for as long as you can,
okay? Call if you want a break. Set?"

It was the most glorious fucking Deepika had ever known. She went down
on her back and the huge cock crushed into her cunt slowly and heavily
and the big man grunted softly as he flexed his buttocks and pushed
his hips down, squeezing his cock deeper and deeper into her cunt. She
gasped and moaned, biting her lower lip, her hips bucking eagerly, her
breasts hot and swollen and dug her fingers into the immense, bulging
biceps in his outstretched arms. Her legs split wider and wider as he
levered them apart with his thighs.

"Oh uhhh oh ma uhhhhhh OHHHHHHH!" Deepika called, arching steeply
under the masked black man.

In and in his penis went. Deepika had never been fucked like this. His
cock was impossibly big, ten inches long, nearly three inches thick,
with a gorged, bulging cock-head. Deeper and deeper he went and the
breath rattled from her throat as she thought it would surely rip her
in toe. The man buried his cock in her and paused. She heard the soft
whir-click, whir-click of the camera shutters and motor-drives, the
shuffle of the photographers moving around them. The hard lights and
reflectors burned her skin.

The black man bent his head and kissed her slowly, deeply. His tongue
was thick and heavy as he pushed it gently into her mouth. He began to
fuck her.

Deepika felt giddy. She had never been fucked like this, never with
such mastery and control. The man raised his hips smoothly, drawing
his cock up and out further and further, making her gasp at the sudden
release in pressure in her cunt, till just his cock-head was in her
cunt. Then, with a slow, skewering, spiralling action, he thrust down
into her, driving his cock relentlessly into her cunt and, before it,
a huge tidal wave of pleasure that rocked her body and made her groan
and cry out and curl up on the small of her back. Again he drew out,
and thrust down into her, and yet again. Deepika moaned feverishly.
Her loins blazed with lust. His cock was incredibly heavy and hot and
hard and it mashed and pulverized her inflamed clitoris in its
passage.

On and on he went, his cock rising and falling, rising and falling,
his buttocks flexing and unflexing, his immense muscles rippling
smoothly and effortlessly. Deepika's hips bucked and writhed in a
frenzy under his.

"Steady," he grunted. "Steady. Keep it steady!"

Deepika moaned. He wasn't even out of breath! She arched under him,
her cunt convulsing on his cock and tried to match his rhythm. Her
fingers dug into the thick pads of muscle in his shoulder and she
gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold back.

"Better," he said softly. "Much better. Keep with me."

He kept up the rhythm for several minutes, moving effortlessly.
Deepika felt dazed, her mind a numb effusion of pure, unbridled
pleasure as the lust-heat swamped her body.

"Yes," she moaned. "Oh god yes ... fuck me ... fuck me please ... yes
... oh god yes ... ohh that's so good yes!" She squeezed her breasts
erotically, pinching the stiff nipples and heard him and the
photographer chuckle softly.

"Okay, Joe. Go for it," the photographer said. "Then lick her slit,
sixty-nine and from behind. Got all that?"

"No sweat," the man said.

"What's she like so far?"

"Damn good for a first timer. Needs practice with big cocks, but
terrific for a fresh chick."

They were talking about her as if she didn't exist. Deepika whimpered.
This was how it was to be, then, she was to be used like this, like
any common whore. Somehow, she found it very sexy. The man was moving
faster now, slowly gathering speed. She groaned and looked at him. He
was breathing harder, but still in complete control, his muscles
cording smoothly. She gasped and whimpered as the huge cock crushed
her cunt-flesh without respite, running deeply in and out of her cunt
in a steady, sawing motion. Deepika groaned. It felt wonderful. Her
body writhed and jerked, her breasts jumping and jiggling with his
thrusts, her gold necklace tossing and slapping on her creamy, fair
skin.

Faster and faster he went and now his cock was ramming into her with
deep, stabbing thrusts that forced the air from her lungs each time.
Deepika's head swam and she began to orgasm violently.

"OH! UH OH UH OH UH OH UH OH MA UH OH MA OH MA OH MA UHHH
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she called as her cunt convulsed frantically on
his pistoning penis.

Her orgasm intensified as he kept thudding into her, lengthened,
slowly ebbed. The man slid out of her and, before she could react, was
bending his head to her breasts, sucking them sharply, letting go,
biting her long, stiff nipples, scraping them across his white teeth
and gums and the roof of his mouth, squeezing both together and
sucking simultaneously. Deepika gasped as the lust-fires built and
spread again. His finger slid into her slit and he began
finger-fucking her slowly, jabbing his finger into her cunt, pressing
the hard knuckle to her throbbing clitoris, twisting his finger this
way and that, rocking his hand back and forth. She moaned and cried
out, her fingers scrabbling at his body. And then he went down and
drove his face into her crotch.

Deepika loved being tongue-fucked, but she had never been
tongue-fucked like this. Joe's tongue was long and thick and heavy and
it jabbed deep into her cunt, found her clitoris, whipped it rapidly,
drew back, pressed into her cunt-flesh, probing the flesh, tasting her
flowing juices and then returned to torment her clitoris.

"OHHHHHH uhh OH uh OHHHH uhh Oh yes oh yes oh god yes!" she called,
her body flecked with sweat. "Oh ma uhh ahhhh uhhhhh yes!"

The man slid his finger into her cunt and began to finger- and
tongue-fuck her simultaneously. Deepika cried out, her face twisting
and contorting in an agony of lust and suddenly his erect cock was
hovering over her face. Instantly, her mouth opened and she moaned as
the huge cock filled it, distending her face. Their bodies rocked and
writhed in a sixty-nine.

It ended with him taking her from behind, kneeling behind her and,
holding her hips, rocking her body back and forth before him, dragging
her cunt up and down the length of his shaft. Deepika gasped, her mind
whirling. His cock filled her cunt and he went on and on and on,
whacking his thighs at her buttocks, in no apparent hurry, his hands
everywhere, on her buttocks, on her breasts, his tongue in her ear, at
the nape of her neck, in her mouth. She orgasmed again and he began
moving faster, thudding into her heavily, his balls slapping at her
cunt-lips, his thighs bouncing off her buttocks.

"Come when set. Call of two," the photographer said.

"Five minutes."

"Sure."

Smoothly, the black man levered himself into a squat astride her hips
and began to fuck her rapidly, stabbing his cock into her cunt,
lifting his buttocks high, then rocking them forward in deep, rushing,
piercing thrusts. Beneath him, Deepika gasped and cried out, her
breath coming in rattling, heaving sobs as the huge penis plundered
her cunt-flesh. On and on he went, in and out, in and out, in and out,
in and out.

"One! Two!" she heard him call as she tottered into another orgasm.

And then he rammed hard into her once, twice, three times and began to
come. Deepika moaned. She had never known a cum-flood so prodigious.
His cock just would not stop spurting. It filled her slit and
overflowed in a sticky trickle down her thighs. He slid out of her and
more jizz spattered her back and buttocks, dribbled into the cleft
between them. Slowly, he squeezed his cock back into her cunt and
began to fuck her again.

The photographer killed the lights. Joe slid out of her. Deepika sank
down on the bed, exhausted, her chest heaving, her body trembling. Joe
got off the bed.

"Thanks. That was a very decent fuck," he said to her.

Deepika moaned, her fingers still clawed on the sheets. She heard a
soft, dry chuckle and her eyes fluttered open. The photographer had
finished packing up. He grinned at her and began to take off his
clothes as he came to the bed.

"S.O.P., around here," he said. "Standard Operating Procedure. I get
to fuck the models as a bonus. You don't mind?"

Deepika didn't care any longer, numb and dizzy with what Joe had done
to her.

"Good," the photographer cackled. "And there's others, too, waiting,
if you'll have them."

An hour later, she was still at it, this time with a young spot-boy, a
teenager with a wiry body and long, thick cock in a room with four
glass walls. She knew, instinctively, that even here she was being
filmed. By now, she was totally spent, completely exhausted, drained,
her limbs trembling. The photographer had fucked her for over half an
hour. He, too, had a big cock and he had fucked her mercilessly in
every orifice, even taking her ass.

Then the spotboy came in, turned her over, cleaned her up with a damp
towel, gave her a drink. She felt better after that, and distinctly
horny. The spot boy grinned at her and pushed his cock into her mouth
and his tongue into her cunt. He fucked her rapidly, taking her twice
before he was done, coming explosively in her slit.

"Enough."

Deepika looked up with dull eyes. Hemant was moving towards her,
concern on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Was it too much?"

She shook her head. "Yes ... no ... I don't know ..." Her speech
sounded slurred and heavy.

"You'll have to learn to deal with that kind of demand, if you want to
be in a decent grade here," he explained softly. "Do you understand
me? If I wanted to fuck you now, I should have an immediate yes. Do
you follow?"

Deepika was too far gone to respond. Hemant snapped his fingers.
Someone hurried forward with a drink in a plastic bottle. He pressed
the tube straw between her lips.

"Here. Take this. It helps. And don't let it worry you. Many girls
need it still, even after years here. It's no sign of failure."

Deepika sipped the drink and closed her eyes and sank back into the
pillows. There was a drug in the drink obviously. Slowly, it powered
through her body and, ten minutes later, she was on fire again, her
mind clear as a bell.

"I want to fuck," she heard herself say to Hemant, getting up and
looking at him with a hunger glittering in her eyes. "Can I?"

He chuckled. "Of course. We have someone waiting. Your very first
client."

She was taken to a richly appointed suite. A stranger was waiting. He
smiled when he saw her. He was obviously rich and quite handsome.
Deepika couldn't have cared less if he was an ogre. She was burning
with lust.

Within minutes, she was on her knees before the man, sucking it
feverishly. The man groaned in pleasure as he fucked her face.

"Mm ... yeh ... fuck you're good, bitch ... suck it! C'mon ... suck it
harder ... oh fuck yes!" he gasped, pumping his hips to and fro,
pushing his cock in and out of her distended face, rocking her head
back and forth in one hand.

Deepika moaned deep in her cock-filled throat, working his cock-head
with her tongue, sucking sharply, letting go, sucking hard again. She
loved sucking cock, and did it very well. The man gasped at her
cunning and prowess. His cock spurted pre-cum gunk and she gasped,
opening her mouth under his cock and letting him watch it spurt into
her throat, spatter her breasts and face. He pushed her head away.
Deepika groaned and, moving to the bed, went down on her back,
spreading her legs and clawing her cunt-lips open for him.

"Fuck me," she gasped. "Take me, lover! Fuck me hard! Do what you like
with me! I'm want to be fucked!"

The man stared down at her. He was handsome and well-built, in his
late thirties, obviously very rich.

"How old are you, bitch?" he said softly.

"Seventeen," she gasped. "Almost."

"My god," he breathed, a grin splitting his face as he moved up over
her. "Oh my god."

Deepika pushed her hand between their bodies and guiding his cock to
her cunt. He paused and then, with soft cry, drove his cock deep into
her cunt.

It took an hour for him to finish and then she was taken off. Deepak
was with her when the manager, Santosh, asked her to confirm her
willingness to join service. She agreed without hesitation and Deepak
smiled and kissed her.

The next day, she was told, she would have to do a screen test. For a
porn film. With a small smile, Santosh told her the salaries and
perquisites she would get. Deepika's jaw dropped. It was more money
each night, in the lowest grade, than her father made in a month. She
could hardly wait to begin.

Deepika returned home in an euphoric mood. She told her family she'd
got a job at the hotel in reservations. The hotel was well-known as
among the city's finest, swankiest, most respectable business
establishments. Her parents were overjoyed. Her father took them out
to a restaurant to celebrate and her mother fed her sweetmeats in
thanksgiving. If only they knew.

The next day, Santosh escorted her to the sound-stage. There would be
no client today, he said, since she was doing a screen test and that
might require several takes. The clients would begin the next day when
her evaluations came in, and the next week she'd be asked to do a live
show. She could refuse, of course - but no one did, he said with a
hint of warning, implying that refusal would inevitably result in a
lowering of her grades and consequently the money she made and the
kind of client she was offered to.

"I hope you're not going to refuse?" he asked as they pushed through a
padded door into a sound-proof, cavernous film-set.

Deepika smiled. "No, I don't think so. I love fucking and I love being
watched so that seems to be a good way to do it."

Santosh smiled. He was stocky, but handsome all the same. "You're
lovely," he murmured. "Very lovely. We must fuck some time."

The screen test was a dream. Deepika was alone on stage. First, one
hugely endowed man fucked her, then another, then a third. They looked
like rough labourers or workmen, which they probably were. They had
hard, lean, sinewy bodies. All three began in tight-fitting sleeveless
under-vests, the kind that clung to their frames, necks scooping down
low on their broad, deeply cleaved chests, and cut way in at the back.
Even with them on, it was apparent that these were tough men. The
exposed portions of their torsos were sexily hairless, with even their
armpits shorn, and even under the vests, the hard ridges of
musculature were apparent. Their trousers, when they came on, were
baggy, but with prominent bulges in their crotches. They soon
discarded these - but kept the vests on - and they wore nothing under
them and their cocks were huge.

At the end, they took her together in her cunt and mouth and ass,
fucking her slowly and heavily while she thrashed in a frenzy of
delight between them, the magnificent penises sawing rhythmically and
unhurriedly in and out of her orifices, plundering her flesh. All
three men came. There were no retakes and, as the lights died, the
unit applauded. Deepak, Santosh and Hemant came down to the set,
grinning hugely.

"Well done, Deepika," Deepak said. "Congratulations. That was
incredible."

She smiled at him. "What, did I make it?"

Hemant laughed. "Ducky, you're one of the few to jump straight into
the number four slot. Most first-time whore-cunts start at *nine* or
*ten*."

"Yes, it's quite an achievement," Santosh chimed in. "The boss graded
you himself. And that's *really* something."

"And that entitles you to a chauffeur-driven car and a flat of your
own. If you want it. The chauffeur is a good fuck, incidentally."

Deepika panicked. "No, no," she said. "No flat. No flat. I can't leave
home."

"No sweat," Santosh said. "You don't have to take it. It's there when
you want it. Take the car, though. Commuting can be a bummer."

That much was true though Deepika sometimes enjoyed being pawed in a
crowded train. Still, she could do without the stench.

"When do I start?" she asked.

"Oh, we'll just have you on ice for a few months before we ..."

Deepika laughed and flung a pillow at him. Santosh bent and kissed her
gently, cupping her breast.

"You want to start now? You haven't had re-takes, and I've got guys
waiting. If you want to."

"I do," Deepika said, her eyes filled with excitement. "I do."


				= o =

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