Girl in heat 4 : me in heat

Finally big dick going in mmmmmmmmmm. AhhThe monsoon had arrived early that year, and on the night Pamini left, Hyderabad was lashed by a violent thunderstorm.

The monsoon had arrived early that year, and on the night Pamini left, Hyderabad was lashed by a violent thunderstorm. Rain hammered the windows like fists, lightning flashed white across the sky, and thunder rolled so loudly it rattled the glass in the frames.

Supali had always hated thunderstorms. As a child in her village she’d hide under the blanket; even now, at 21, the deep booms made her heart race with irrational fear.

Vikram was in the kitchen, cleaning up the last of dinner, when the loudest crack yet shook the building. The lights flickered. Supali, curled on the couch in a thin cotton night-slip, jumped and let out a small, involuntary yelp.

He appeared instantly in the doorway, towel still in his hands, massive frame silhouetted against the kitchen light. “You okay?”

She tried to laugh it off, hugging her knees. “Yeah… just the thunder. Stupid, right?”

Another flash lit the room, followed immediately by a bone-rattling boom. Supali flinched hard, arms wrapping tighter around herself.

Vikram crossed the room in three strides and sat on the couch beside her, close but not touching. “Not stupid. It’s loud tonight.”

They sat in silence for a minute, rain drumming, lightning strobing. When the next thunderclap hit, Supali’s hand shot out and grabbed his forearm without thinking—fingers digging into the hard muscle.

He looked down at her small hand, then at her face. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, breathing quick.

“I… I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the storm. “The thunder… it scares me. Can you… stay with me? Just sleep in my bed. Please?”

Vikram’s eyes darkened, but his voice stayed gentle. “You sure?”

She nodded, cheeks flushing. “I trust you. I just… don’t want to be alone.”

He stood, offering his hand. She took it—her small fingers swallowed in his large palm—and he led her to her bedroom.

The room was lit only by occasional lightning. Supali slipped under the covers first, still in her short night-slip. Vikram hesitated at the edge of the bed, wearing only his loose shorts.

“Come in,” she said softly, pulling the blanket back.

He slid in beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. They lay on their backs at first, a careful foot of space between them, the storm raging outside.

Another deafening crack of thunder. Supali whimpered and, without thinking, rolled toward him, pressing her face to his bare chest. Her arm draped across his waist, body curling into his warmth instinctively.

Vikram’s arm came around her slowly, settling on her back, holding her close. She could feel his heartbeat—steady, strong—under her cheek. The scent of him—clean skin, faint coconut oil, pure male—filled her senses.

“Better?” he murmured into her hair.

“Much,” she breathed.

Minutes passed. The storm didn’t let up, but gradually her breathing slowed, fear easing in the safety of his arms. Yet something else stirred. The heat that had been building for weeks—months—flared hotter now, skin to skin, her soft curves pressed to his hard muscle.

Supali’s hand, resting on his abs, began to trace small, tentative circles. She felt him tense beneath her touch.

“Supali…” His voice was low, warning and wanting at once.

She tilted her head up, lips brushing the underside of his jaw. “I’m not scared anymore,” she whispered. “But I still don’t want to be alone.”

Lightning flashed again, illuminating his face—dark eyes burning down at her.

He didn’t ask again. His hand slid from her back to her hip, gripping gently, pulling her fully on top of him. She straddled his waist instinctively, night-slip riding up to her hips, bare thighs against his skin. She could feel him already hard beneath the thin shorts, thick and heavy against her core.

Their first kiss was slow—hesitant, then deepening fast. Her small hands roamed his chest; his large ones cupped her ass, squeezing, guiding her to rock against him.

Thunder rolled again, but this time Supali only moaned into his mouth.

The reunion they had both been craving for so long finally began—slow, deliberate, and unstoppable under the storm’s wild cover.

And the night was still young.

The storm raged on outside, but inside the bedroom, the only sounds were their breathing and the soft rustle of sheets.

Vikram’s large hand slid up Supali’s thigh, pushing the hem of her night-slip higher until it bunched at her waist. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. The cool air kissed her bare skin for a moment before his palm covered her mound, warm and possessive. She gasped into his mouth as his thick middle finger traced her slick folds, finding her already drenched.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured against her lips, voice low and rough.

“Every night,” she confessed, hips rocking into his touch. “Every massage… every look…”

He kissed her deeper, tongue claiming her mouth as one finger slid inside her—slow, deliberate, curling just right. She moaned, clenching around him, her small hands roaming the ridges of his abs, then lower, brushing the waistband of his shorts.

“Take them off,” she whispered urgently.

Vikram shifted, shoving the shorts down and kicking them away. His cock sprang free—heavy, thick, the full 10 inches she’d dreamed about for months, curving up against his stomach. Supali’s hand wrapped around it immediately, fingers barely meeting around the girth. It was hot, velvet over steel, pulsing in her grip.

He groaned into her neck, hips thrusting lightly into her fist as he added a second finger inside her, stretching her gently, scissoring to open her more. Oil from old habits lingered on his skin, making everything slick and smooth.

Supali stroked him slowly, marveling at the length, thumb swirling over the broad head, spreading the bead of pre-cum. “I want you inside me,” she breathed. “All of you.”

Vikram pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers in the lightning flashes. “You sure? I’m… big. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She guided the head to her entrance, rubbing it up and down her wetness. “I’ve been ready for months. I need you.”

He took over then—slow, controlled. The thick head pressed against her, stretching her outer lips wide. Supali inhaled sharply, a mix of burn and pleasure as he eased in—just the head at first. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

“Breathe, baby,” he whispered, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. One hand cupped her breast through the slip, thumb rolling her nipple; the other stroked her clit in gentle circles.

She exhaled shakily, relaxing. He pushed deeper—inch by inch, rocking gently, letting her body adjust. Halfway in, she was already whimpering, feeling fuller than ever before, the stretch intense but perfect.

“So tight…” he groaned, forehead pressed to hers. “You feel incredible.”

Another slow thrust and he sank fully inside, bottoming out with a shared moan. Supali’s legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back, pulling him impossibly closer. He filled her completely, the head pressing deep against her cervix, every vein and ridge dragging against her sensitive walls.

They stayed like that for a long moment—joined, trembling, adjusting. Thunder boomed outside, but neither noticed.

Then Vikram began to move—long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Each thrust drew a soft cry from her lips, her body arching to meet him. His pace built gradually, hips rolling with controlled power, one hand gripping her thigh to open her wider, the other tangled in her hair.

Supali’s first orgasm hit suddenly—waves of heat crashing through her as he ground deep, clit rubbing against his pelvis. She clenched hard around him, crying out his name, nails raking down his back.

He didn’t stop—kept thrusting through it, drawing it out until she was shaking. Then he flipped them, settling her on top without pulling out.

“Ride me,” he commanded softly, hands on her hips.

Supali braced her palms on his chest, night-slip falling off one shoulder, breasts spilling free. She rolled her hips experimentally, gasping at the depth from this angle. Soon she was bouncing—slow at first, then faster, chasing the pleasure, her long hair cascading down her back.

Vikram’s hands roamed—squeezing her ass, cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples—watching her with dark, hungry eyes. “Beautiful,” he growled. “Take what you need.”

She did—riding him harder, grinding her clit against him until a second orgasm built and shattered, leaving her trembling and breathless.

Only then did Vikram take over again. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her, and thrust upward in deep, powerful strokes. Supali clung to him, moaning into his neck as he claimed her completely.

When he finally came, it was with a deep, guttural groan—hips buried to the hilt, pulsing hot and thick inside her, filling her until she felt it everywhere. She held him tight, feeling every spurt, every throb, until he stilled, breathing hard against her shoulder.

They collapsed sideways, still joined, legs tangled, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

The storm had quieted to a soft rain.

Supali pressed a kiss to his chest. “Stay,” she whispered. “Every night.”

Vikram’s hand stroked her back slowly. “Every night,” he promised.

And outside, the thunder rolled away into the distance.

The next night, the storm had passed, leaving the air cool and the city quiet. Supali had spent the day distracted at work, her body still humming from their first full night together—every ache a delicious reminder. By evening, the tension between them was palpable again, glances lingering longer, touches brushing skin whenever they passed in the small apartment.

After dinner, Vikram cleared the table while Supali watched him from the couch, legs tucked under her, wearing nothing but a loose tank top and panties. The way his muscles shifted under his skin as he moved made her core throb with fresh need.

When he finished, he turned off the kitchen light and walked toward her slowly, eyes dark with intent.

“Bedroom,” he said simply, voice low.

She stood, heart racing, and led the way.

Inside, the bedside lamp cast a warm glow. Supali peeled off her tank top without a word, letting it drop to the floor, her full breasts free, nipples already hard. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down, stepping out slowly, knowing his eyes were on every curve.

Vikram stripped off his shorts, his thick cock already standing heavy and erect, curving upward. He didn’t speak—just stepped close, cupped her face, and kissed her deeply, possessively, until she was breathless.

Then he turned her around gently but firmly, guiding her onto the bed on all fours.

Supali obeyed willingly, lowering herself to her elbows, ass raised high, back arched. She looked over her shoulder at him, long hair spilling down one side, lips parted. “I’ve wanted this position with you for so long,” she whispered. “Take me like this.”

Vikram knelt behind her on the mattress, large hands running over her hips, her ass, spreading her cheeks slightly to admire her. “Beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough. One hand slid between her thighs, finding her soaked already, fingers gliding easily through her folds. “So wet for me.”

She moaned softly as he teased her entrance with two thick fingers, pumping slowly before withdrawing. Then she felt the hot, broad head of his cock press against her—rubbing up and down her slit, coating himself in her arousal.

He pushed in slowly at first, letting her feel every inch stretch her again. Supali’s head dropped to the pillow, a long, shuddering moan escaping as he filled her completely from behind. The angle was deeper than last night—his cock dragging against her front wall with perfect pressure.

When he bottomed out, his hips flush against her ass, he paused, hands gripping her waist. “You take me so well,” he growled.

Then he began to move.

Slow, powerful strokes at first—pulling almost all the way out before driving back in, the slap of his hips against her ass echoing in the room. Supali’s fingers clutched the sheets, moans rising with each thrust. The way he filled her, claimed her, dominated her from this position made her feel utterly possessed.

Vikram’s pace built steadily. One hand slid up her spine, pressing between her shoulder blades to arch her deeper; the other reached around to rub firm circles on her clit. She cried out, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust.

“Harder,” she begged, voice muffled in the pillow. “Please… fuck me harder.”

He obliged.

His hips snapped faster, deeper, the bed creaking under the force. His heavy balls slapped against her clit with every drive, sending jolts of pleasure through her. He gripped her hips with both hands now, pulling her back onto him as he pounded relentlessly, the room filled with the wet sounds of their bodies and her unbroken moans.

Supali came first—suddenly, violently—her pussy clenching hard around his buried length, waves of heat pulsing through her as she screamed his name into the mattress. Her arms gave out; she collapsed to her chest, ass still high, trembling through the aftershocks.

Vikram didn’t stop. He rode her through it, thrusts turning shorter, harder, grinding deep. Sweat dripped from his chest onto her back. His breathing grew ragged.

With a final, deep groan, he slammed in one last time and held—cock pulsing thick and hot inside her, flooding her with his release. She felt every spurt, every throb, as he filled her completely.

They stayed locked like that for long moments—him draped over her back, still buried deep, her body limp and satisfied beneath him.

Finally, he pulled out slowly, a rush of warmth following. He lay beside her, pulling her into his arms. Supali curled against his chest, legs tangled, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

“No more thunderstorms needed,” she murmured with a soft laugh.

Vikram kissed her forehead, arm tightening around her. “No. From now on, you’ll sleep like this every night.”

And she did—night after night, in every way they craved, with almost two years still stretching gloriously ahead.

A couple of months later, Pamini texted Supali out of the blue: “Emergency Vizag drama sorted early. Taking the overnight train tonight. Can I crash at yours for a long weekend? Pretty please?”

Supali grinned at her phone, heart already racing. She glanced across the living room at Vikram, who was doing pull-ups on the balcony bar, shirtless, muscles rippling in the evening light. She typed back: “Door’s open. Bring nothing but yourself.”

Pamini arrived the next afternoon, rolling her small suitcase into the apartment with the same mischievous smile she’d left with. She wore a tight crop top and high-waisted jeans that hugged her tiny, curvy frame. The moment the door closed behind her, she dropped her bag, kicked off her sandals, and launched herself at Supali for a tight hug.

“Missed you, Supu,” she murmured, then pulled back, eyes sparkling. “And… missed certain other things.”

Vikram appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, wearing only loose gym shorts. Pamini’s gaze snapped to him immediately, lips parting. “Well, hello again, big man.”

He gave her that calm, deep nod. “Welcome back, Pamini.”

The air crackled instantly.

That evening, after a lazy dinner filled with teasing glances and lingering touches, Supali excused herself with a knowing smile. “I have an early meeting tomorrow. You two… catch up. I’ll wear my noise-cancelling headphones.”

She kissed Pamini on the cheek, gave Vikram a lingering look, and disappeared into her bedroom.

The living room lights dimmed almost immediately.

Pamini didn’t waste time. She stood, peeled off her crop top and jeans, revealing lacy red lingerie she’d clearly chosen for the occasion. “I’ve been dreaming about you for two months,” she told Vikram, voice low and husky. “Every night. Don’t make me wait.”

Vikram crossed the room in two strides, lifted her effortlessly—she weighed nothing in his arms—and carried her to the thick rug in front of the sofa. He set her down on her hands and knees, facing the balcony doors where the city lights glittered far below.

“Show me how much you missed me,” he rumbled.

Pamini arched her back eagerly, looking over her shoulder as he stripped off his shorts. His cock sprang free—already fully hard, thick, 10 inches curving upward, veins prominent. She licked her lips. “Still the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

He knelt behind her, large hands gripping her hips, thumbs spreading her cheeks. He didn’t tease long—one slow, deliberate thrust and he sank halfway into her soaked heat. Pamini moaned loudly, pushing back, taking more.

“Fuck… yes… I forgot how full you make me feel…”

Vikram’s fingers dug into her flesh as he fed her the rest—inch by thick inch until he bottomed out. Then he started moving: long, deep strokes that made her tiny body rock forward with every thrust. Her breasts bounced in the lace bra; her moans rose in pitch with each slap of his hips against her ass.

He reached forward, tangling one hand in her short hair, pulling gently to arch her further. The other slid under her to rub tight circles on her clit. Within minutes she was trembling, pussy clenching hard as her first orgasm ripped through her.

But Vikram wasn’t close to done.

He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, hooked her legs over his forearms, and drove back in—folding her small body beneath him. The angle was devastating; every thrust nudged her cervix, making her sob with pleasure. He fucked her steadily, relentlessly, watching her face contort in continuous bliss.

Second orgasm. Third.

By the time he finally let himself go, Pamini was a wrecked, trembling mess—voice hoarse from screaming, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Vikram buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural groan, pumping thick, hot ropes into her until it overflowed and dripped onto the rug.

They collapsed together, her curled against his chest, both breathing hard.

Later, cleaned up and tangled under a light blanket on the sofa, Pamini traced lazy circles on his abs.

“I’m staying four days this time,” she murmured drowsily. “Maybe five. You’re going to ruin me all over again.”

Vikram’s deep chuckle rumbled against her cheek.

In the bedroom, Supali lay awake, headphones off, fingers between her thighs, smiling at the ceiling as she listened to every cry and moan.

Tomorrow night, she thought, would be her turn to join.

But tonight, she was happy to let her best friend have him all to herself—one more time.

The long weekend stretched ahead, and by the second night, the apartment hummed with unspoken agreement.

After dinner, the three of them lingered in the living room—wine glasses half-empty, lights low, music soft. Pamini sat cross-legged on the rug in a tiny silk camisole and shorts; Supali lounged on the couch in just an oversized t-shirt, legs draped over Vikram’s lap. His large hands idly massaged her calves, thumbs pressing slow circles that made her breath hitch every now and then.

Pamini watched them openly, biting her lip. “You two are so fucking hot together,” she said finally, voice husky. “I’ve been jealous since the minute I walked in.”

Supali smiled, meeting Vikram’s eyes. “We’ve been waiting for you to say something.”

Pamini’s grin turned wicked. “Then stop waiting.”

She crawled across the rug toward them. Vikram’s hand slid higher up Supali’s thigh as Pamini reached the couch, kneeling between his legs. She looked up at Supali first—asking silent permission. Supali answered by leaning forward and kissing her best friend softly, slowly, lips parting, tongues brushing for the first time.

Vikram watched, cock already thickening in his shorts, the sight of the two women he’d claimed separately now sharing a kiss sending heat straight through him.

When they broke apart, both breathing faster, Pamini turned to him. “We’re sharing tonight,” she murmured, and tugged his shorts down.

His thick length sprang free, heavy and hard. Both women inhaled softly. Pamini wrapped one small hand around the base; Supali joined her, their fingers overlapping, stroking him together in slow, synchronized pulls. Vikram groaned low, head falling back against the couch.

They took turns tasting him—Pamini first, lips stretching wide around the head, tongue swirling; then Supali, taking him deeper, throat relaxing as she’d learned to do over the past months. They passed him back and forth, kissing each other around his cock, tongues brushing as they licked up opposite sides.

Eventually Vikram stood, pulling them both up with him. He lifted Supali easily and carried her to the bedroom, Pamini following close, already peeling off her camisole.

On the king-sized bed, he laid Supali down first, spreading her legs and burying his face between them. She moaned loudly as his tongue worked her clit in firm, familiar circles. Pamini straddled Supali’s face without hesitation, lowering herself slowly. Supali’s hands gripped Pamini’s hips, pulling her down, tongue delving into her friend’s wet folds for the first time.

The room filled with layered moans—Supali’s muffled against Pamini’s pussy, Pamini’s sharp cries as Supali licked and sucked, Vikram’s low growls as he devoured Supali.

When Supali came first—hips bucking against Vikram’s mouth—Pamini followed seconds later, grinding down hard, flooding Supali’s tongue.

Vikram rose, wiping his mouth, cock throbbing. He pulled Pamini down beside Supali, positioning the two women side by side on their backs, legs spread and intertwined. He knelt between them, alternating—thrusting deep into Supali for several long strokes, then pulling out and sliding into Pamini, over and over, hands roaming both bodies, pinching nipples, rubbing clits.

Both women writhed, kissing each other desperately, hands clutching wherever they could reach.

Finally, he moved Supali onto all fours, entering her from behind in the deep, possessive way she loved. Pamini slid underneath her in a 69, licking Supali’s clit and Vikram’s shaft as it drove in and out, then sucking Supali’s nipples when she could reach.

Supali came again hard, screaming into the pillow. Vikram pulled out, flipped Pamini onto her back, and drove into her tiny body with controlled power. Supali straddled Pamini’s face now, riding her tongue while watching Vikram fuck her best friend.

The sight pushed Vikram over the edge. He pulled out at the last second, stroking himself once, twice—then came in thick, hot ropes across both women’s breasts and bellies, marking them together.

They collapsed in a tangle—sweaty, trembling, laughing softly in disbelief and satisfaction.

Pamini traced a finger through the mess on Supali’s chest, then licked it clean. “We’re doing this every time I visit,” she declared breathlessly.

Supali, curled against Vikram’s side with Pamini on the other, kissed his jaw. “Every single time.”

Vikram’s arms tightened around both of them, a low, satisfied rumble in his chest.

Outside, the city lights glittered, indifferent.

Inside, the three of them drifted into sleep—bodies pressed close, the promise of the rest of the weekend already burning hot in the air.

The long weekend became a blur of heat, laughter, and endless exploration.

Saturday morning started slow and teasing. The three of them woke tangled in Supali’s bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Vikram lay in the center, Supali curled against his left side, Pamini on his right—both women’s heads on his broad chest, legs draped over his thighs.

Pamini stirred first, tracing lazy circles around one of his nipples with her fingertip. “Round two already?” she murmured, voice sleepy but mischievous.

Supali lifted her head, hair tousled, and grinned. “Or round five. I’ve lost count.”

They didn’t leave the bed for hours. Vikram took Supali slow and deep missionary while Pamini straddled his face, riding his tongue until she came with a shuddering cry. Then they switched—Pamini on her back, legs over Vikram’s shoulders as he folded her tiny body in half, Supali sitting on Pamini’s face, grinding slowly while kissing Vikram over her friend’s trembling form.

By lunchtime, they finally migrated to the kitchen—naked, giggling, stealing touches. Vikram made dosas while the girls “helped,” which mostly meant Pamini pressing her breasts against his back and Supali sneaking strokes of his half-hard cock whenever he turned to the counter.

Afternoon brought the gym balcony. Vikram suggested a “workout.” The girls eagerly agreed.

He had them both on the mats—first squats, but with a twist: every time one descended, the other had to lick or touch wherever Vikram pointed. Soon the weights were forgotten. He bent Supali over the bench, taking her from behind in deep, steady strokes while Pamini lay underneath, licking Supali’s clit and Vikram’s shaft on every thrust. Then Pamini took Supali’s place, screaming into the mat as Vikram pounded her tiny frame, Supali rubbing circles on her clit until she squirted for the first time in her life.

Evening found them in the shower—three bodies under the hot spray, steam thick. Vikram pressed Supali against the tiled wall, lifting one of her legs to drive into her while Pamini knelt, alternating between licking Supali’s clit and sucking Vikram’s balls. Water cascaded over them as Supali came hard, nails digging into his shoulders. They switched again—Pamini pinned to the wall, legs wrapped around Vikram’s waist as he bounced her effortlessly, Supali behind him, kissing his neck, reaching around to rub Pamini’s clit until she sobbed with release.

Sunday was slower, more indulgent. They spent hours on the living room rug with oil again—this time a proper joint massage. Vikram’s large hands worked both women at once, fingers sliding deep into each of them in turn while they kissed and touched each other. Supali came first from his fingers, then Pamini. Finally, the girls teamed up on him—Supali riding his cock reverse cowgirl while Pamini rode his face, the two women facing each other, kissing deeply, hands on each other’s breasts as they moved in sync.

The final night was intense.

They moved to the balcony under the stars—city lights far below, air cool. Vikram sat on the wide railing, Supali straddling him, sinking slowly onto his cock until she was fully seated, moaning at the depth. Pamini stood beside them, kissing Supali’s neck, pinching her nipples, then moving behind Vikram to kiss his shoulders and grind against his back.

Later, back inside, Vikram took them both from behind side by side—Supali and Pamini on all fours on the bed, hips raised, heads turned to kiss each other as he alternated deep thrusts, several strokes in one, then the other. The sounds—wet slaps, shared moans, whispered filth—filled the room until all three shattered together: Vikram pulling out at the last second to paint both their backs and asses with thick ropes while the girls came touching each other.

Monday morning came too soon. Pamini had an afternoon train. They shared one last slow, tender round in bed—Vikram between them, entering one while fingering the other, trading places until both women were limp and glowing.

At the door, suitcases ready, Pamini hugged Supali tight. “Next visit, I’m bringing toys,” she whispered. “And staying a week.”

Supali laughed, eyes misty with satisfaction. “Door’s always open.”

Vikram loaded her bag into the cab, gave her a final deep kiss that left her breathless.

As the cab disappeared down the street, Supali turned back inside, closing the door. She looked up at Vikram, who was already watching her with that familiar dark hunger.

“Back to just us?” he asked, voice low.

Supali slipped her hand into his. “For now. But I’m already counting the days until she’s back.”

They didn’t make it to the bedroom this time—just the couch, where he took her slow and deep, reclaiming her fully as the memories of the weekend still burned fresh on their skin.

Almost two years remained.

And every visit from Pamini would only make it hotter.

THE END