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Shamitha’s Wedding
I’ve always been drawn to the finer things in life. From the silk sheets on my bed to the glittering diamonds that grace my neck, I crave luxury, modernity, and sexual freedom. My name is Shamitha. I am a young woman who knows what she wants and goes after it without hesitation.
“Shamitha, you’re such a tease,” they’d often say, their eyes lingering on my body as I sashayed past them. They couldn’t get enough of me, and I revelled in the attention. I knew how to use my beauty and wit to my advantage and wasn’t afraid to do so.
My dark, sultry eyes held a secret that only a select few would ever be privy to. My breasts, oh, they were something else entirely. Full and round, they swelled like ripe fruits just waiting to be plucked from the vine. As a size 34D, I was never one for modesty. I made sure my cleavage was always on display.
I loved how men’s eyes would widen when they saw me, their gaze inevitably drawn to my ample bosom. The soft, creamy skin was sensitive to the touch, sending shivers down my spine whenever someone gently brushed against me or squeezed them.
“Shamitha, you drive me crazy with those tits,” one of my lovers had whispered into my ear as he trailed kisses along my collarbone. I could feel his hot breath on my skin as he continued, “I can’t resist them, babe.”
“Good,” I thought, smirking inwardly. “That’s exactly how I want you.”
And it wasn’t just my looks that attracted them – my insatiable appetite for pleasure was almost legendary among the local boys. I indulged in multiple partners, seeking new experiences and sensations with each encounter. Their money helped fuel my desires.
I enjoyed my power over them as they begged for more.
“Please, Shamitha,” they’d moan, their voices cracking with desperation. “I need you so bad.”
“Patience, darling,” I’d purr, trailing a manicured finger along their quivering lips. “You’ll get your turn soon enough.”
Yes, I was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. My life was a never-ending parade of luxury, modernity, and unbridled sexual freedom – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
You see, dear reader, my past was filled with dark secrets that threatened to cast a shadow over my future happiness. And it didn’t just whisper behind closed doors. My actions were well-known among the people of our town.
They called me cunning, manipulative – even a harlot. But their disapproval only fueled my desire for more. Just last month, I had a rendezvous with the son of a wealthy merchant. Allowing him to taste the forbidden fruit of my body in exchange for a diamond necklace that now lay hidden beneath my bridal saree.
Before that, it was the local tailor. After spending a night tangled between my sheets, he gifted me a fine dress. I couldn’t help myself. I enjoyed the thrill of these encounters and the luxuries they provided.
These dalliances were far from secret. My family suffered the consequences of my insatiable appetite for pleasure. My father’s once-respected name was now tainted, and my mother’s eyes held a perpetual glimmer of disappointment.
Yet, despite the whispers and judgmental stares, I could not resist the allure of these forbidden trysts.
“Damn it, Shamitha!” I muttered under my breath. I caught my reflection in the mirror, adjusting my tight blouse. It was just hours before my wedding to Raghav – arranged by my family to cover up my reputation in our small town.
A flashback flooded my mind. My mother caught me in a compromising position with one of my many lovers. My sister’s horrified expression was etched into my memory. Followed by the calm conversation between my parents and the ultimatum: marry Raghav or face the consequences.
“Raghav is a good man,” they insisted, “an honest engineer from a respectable family.”
I knew what they were saying. This was my chance at redemption, to start anew and hide the shame of my sexual escapades. But deep down, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for losing my freedom.
“Shamitha, are you ready?” my mother called from behind the door.
“Almost,” I replied, taking one last look at myself in the mirror. I felt a twinge of longing for the wild nights and passionate encounters. It would soon be a thing of the past.
“Let’s get you married,” my mother whispered, taking my arm. Little did she know what would come before I said, “I do,” to Raghav.
So my marriage with Raghav was almost a done deal. I stood in the lavishly decorated marriage hall just moments before my wedding. A sense of unease crept up. The air was filled with the scent of roses and jasmine while twinkling fairy lights adorned the walls.
My family and friends chatted excitedly, their anticipation for the ceremony palpable. Despite the joyous atmosphere, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my past was catching up to me. I barely had time to ponder my situation when I heard a soft knock at the door.
“Shamitha, you look absolutely stunning,” a voice whispered behind me as I admired my reflection in the full-length mirror.
I recognized that voice immediately – it belonged to Prakash, one of my many admirers. My heart raced with excitement. But I remained calm as a wicked smile danced on my lips. Today was my wedding day. He was, sneaking into my room with his younger brother, Sukesh.
“Prakash,” I purred, turning to face him. “What brings you here so close to the ceremony?”
His eyes travelled up and down my body, drinking in the sight of my curves accentuated by the luxurious fabric of my wedding gown. The lustful glint in his eyes betrayed his thoughts, and my body responded to the heat of his gaze.
“Darling Shamitha,” he sighed, “I couldn’t bear the thought of you marrying another man without giving me one last taste.”
“Is that so?” I teased, feeling the familiar hunger for pleasure coil within me. But this time was different; the stakes were higher. I couldn’t risk my reputation or future marriage on a whim.
“Prakash,” I said firmly, “I cannot grant your request. Not today, not with my wedding mere hours away, and especially not with Sukesh here.”
Sukesh, a shy virgin boy, shifted uncomfortably under my gaze. His cheeks flushed red. I could see his curiosity mingling with his embarrassment. The thought of corrupting such innocence made my body ache with desire.
“Please, Shamitha,” Prakash pleaded, desperation colouring his voice. “Just one last time, for old times’ sake.”
I hesitated, torn between my lust and the knowledge that I must remain faithful to my soon-to-be husband. As much as I wanted to give in to Prakash’s advances, I knew it would be my undoing. My mind raced as I weighed the options, struggling to find a way to satisfy my desires and obligations.
“Sorry, Prakash,” I whispered, my voice laced with regret. “I cannot risk everything for one last moment of pleasure. You’ll have to find solace in our memories.”
His face fell, but he nodded reluctantly, understanding the gravity of my decision. I turned away from him. My body mourned the loss of what could have been. But my mind held firm to the knowledge that I had made the right choice.
“Goodbye, Prakash,” I said softly, watching as he and Sukesh slipped out of my room and disappeared down the hallway. With a heavy heart, I returned my attention to the mirror, preparing myself for the life that awaited me beyond those doors.
My resolve from before began to wane as the quiet tension in the room grew thicker, suffocating me like a heavy fog. Prakash’s yearning gaze locked onto mine, his eyes dark and smouldering with desire. He stalked closer, closing the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating off him.
“Shamitha, I know you crave this as much as I do,” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. His breath tickled my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Just one last taste, and I’ll be out of your life forever.”
The thought of succumbing to Prakash’s advances gnawed at the edges of my mind, tempting me with the sweet allure of forbidden pleasure. My body screamed out, craving the touch that only he could provide.
But the consequences weighed heavily on my conscience. If caught, it would mean disaster for my impending marriage.
“Prakash…” I murmured, hesitating. Still, my trepidation seemed to encourage him, and he pressed closer, his lips brushing against my earlobe.
“Please, Shamitha,” he begged. “Let me savour you one last time. This is our final chance.” His words wrapped around me like silken bonds, drawing me deeper into their embrace, ensnaring my willpower.
In the end, my desires won out, and I gave in to the magnetic pull of his lustful entreaties. As I knelt before him, I knew I was playing with fire. But the intoxicating thrill of danger inflamed my senses, making me reckless with desire.
“Alright, Prakash,” I acquiesced, my voice barely more than a breathy whisper. “But this truly must be the last time.”
His eyes sparkled with gratitude and excitement as I gently unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing erection. I took him into my mouth with practised ease. My tongue swirled around the head of his cock. I savoured the taste and texture of his velvety skin.
“Ah, Shamitha,” he moaned, his fingers tangling in my hair as I bobbed my head up and down, taking him deeper with each stroke. The intensity of my desire fueled my actions, driving me to please him like never before.
Prakash’s breathing grew ragged, punctuated by sharp gasps and low groans. I knew he was close to the edge and doubled my efforts, determined to send him over the brink. Finally, with a guttural cry, he reached his climax, his hot seed filling my mouth.
I drank it all greedily, not wasting a single drop of his essence. As I wiped my lips clean, I couldn’t help but smile at the wicked carnality we had just shared. But there was no time for lingering. The ceremony drew near, and our dangerous liaison needed to remain a secret.
“Thank you, Shamitha,” Prakash whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “You’ll always hold a special place in my heart.” Saying that, he fell on the bed with satisfaction.
I turned around and locked eyes with Sukesh, a shy young virgin watching us from behind a curtain. His cheeks were flushed red, but his eyes were hungry and excited. My heart raced as I realized he’d seen everything – every lustful moan and heated touch.
“Did you enjoy the show?” I purred, sauntering towards him, my hips swaying seductively.
He swallowed hard, nodding his head so quickly that I almost laughed. “Y-yes, Shamitha.”
“Tell me, Sukesh,” I said, my voice low and sultry, “do you want to touch yourself? The way you’ve always fantasized about when you thought of me?”
His eyes widened at my question, but the bulge in his pants betrayed his desire. He nodded once more, biting his lip nervously. I leaned in close, resting one hand on his chest and feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.
“Go ahead then,” I whispered, my lips brushing against his earlobe. “Touch yourself for me.”
With trembling hands, Sukesh unzipped his pants and began to stroke himself. His breaths come in short, shallow gasps. It was thrilling to watch him. This innocent boy had never known a woman’s touch. Now pleasuring himself to the memory of my carnal passion with Prakash.
“Imagine it’s my hand stroking you,” I urged him, watching his grip tighten around his arousal. “Feel my soft skin, my nimble fingers caressing your most sensitive spots.”
Sukesh let out a small whimper, his eyes rolling back as he lost himself to the fantasy. I could see him straining, fighting to hold back his impending release. It was all so deliciously wicked. I couldn’t help but bask in my power over him.
“Remember this moment, Sukesh,” I murmured, stepping away from him as he touched himself. “Because this is the closest you’ll ever get to me.”
I watched Sukesh, the virgin boy, stroking himself at seeing my lewd acts with Prakash. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of arousal and curiosity. My wicked heart beat faster. I gave him a taste of the forbidden fruit he had never experienced.
“Stop, Sukesh,” I commanded, my voice dripping with sultry authority. He froze, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “I have a better idea.”
I sashayed toward him, my hips swaying seductively. His breathing hitched as I knelt before him, my fingers grazing the hardness straining against his pants. I looked up at him, full of lust and mischief. I whispered, “Let me show you what it’s like to be touched by a woman.”
“Shamitha, are you sure?” he stammered, clearly conflicted between fear and desire. I silenced him with a finger pressed against his lips, a knowing smile on my face.
“Relax, Sukesh. Trust me.”
With deliberate slowness, I unzipped his pants, exposing his throbbing erection. I wrapped my soft hand around it. He gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation. He was so innocent, so pure; it was intoxicating.
“Imagine how much better this will feel,” I murmured, leaning forward to take him into my warm, wet mouth. His moans echoed through the room, filling my ears with sinful satisfaction.
“God… Shamitha, you’re amazing,” he groaned, his hands grasping my hair as I bobbed my head, sucking him deeper. Each movement elicited desperate whimpers from him, feeding my insatiable hunger for control and pleasure.
“Are you ready, Sukesh?” I asked, looking up at him with dark, seductive eyes. He nodded eagerly, his entire body trembling with anticipation. I quickened my pace, feeling him grow even harder in my mouth.
“Shamitha… I’m… I’m going to—” he gasped, a blissful cry escaping his lips as he released into my eager mouth. I swallowed every last drop, savouring the taste of this sweet surrender.
“Remember this moment, Sukesh,” I whispered, standing up and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You’ll never experience it again.”
Lying in bed, I felt a strange mix of satisfaction and lingering desire. The taste of Prakash’s and Sukesh’s semen still lingered on my tongue, a deliciously forbidden treat. I ran my fingers over my lips, savouring the memory of their moans and the feel of their hardness in my mouth.
My body hummed with pleasure, but a gnawing thought was at the back of my mind.
“Shit!” I exclaimed suddenly, sitting up. “My wedding! It’s happening soon!”
The brothers exchanged nervous glances, realizing the gravity of the situation. I glanced at the clock, anxiety racing as I realized how close we were cutting it.
“Come on, we need to get dressed,” I ordered, hurriedly pulling on my clothes. “You two need to get out of here before anyone notices.”
As they scrambled to put their clothes back on, I couldn’t help but admire their still-erect members. A wicked thought crossed my mind, and I called them back.
“Wait,” I said, beckoning them closer. “One last thing.”
Curiosity mixed with apprehension in their eyes, but they approached me nonetheless. With a mischievous grin, I unzipped their pants again and gently grasped their cocks.
“Consider this a final goodbye,” I whispered, pressing my lips to each of their throbbing heads. The taste of their arousal sent shivers down my spine. I knew I’d remember this moment for the rest of my life.
“Thank you,” I murmured, releasing them from my grasp and zipping up their pants. “Now go before we’re caught.”
As they slipped out of the room, I took a deep breath, attempting to centre myself. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air. I knew I needed to change my clothes before anyone noticed.
I carefully picked a new outfit, concealing the small stain of Sukesh’s semen on my previous attire. As I changed, I couldn’t resist bringing the soiled fabric to my lips and tasting the remnants of our illicit encounter. The wicked smile that spread across my face was one I knew would stay with me forever.
The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch, though my mind remained preoccupied with the memories of Prakash and Sukesh. I stood beside Raghav, exchanging vows and promising to love and cherish him for the rest of our lives. I wondered if he could sense the sinful secret I carried with me.
“Shamitha,” Raghav whispered as the ceremony concluded, pulling me from my thoughts. “You look so beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied, forcing a smile. “I’m happy to be your wife.”
And we embraced, celebrating the beginning of our life together. I knew that no matter what the future held, the memory of the brothers’ cocks in my mouth would remain etched in my mind – a testament to the wild, passionate woman I once was.