One week had passed. Our routine had settled into a filthy rhythm that kept us both on edge, horny all the time, our bodies craving each other like addicts. Mornings often started with Mallika waking me, her warm mouth already wrapped around my nine-inch cock, sucking slowly and deep until I was fully hard.
“Feed me, baby,” she’d moan, her voice thick with need, and that line alone ignited me.
I’d grab her hair and thrust into her throat, fucking her face until I came hard, flooding her mouth with thick ropes of cum. She’d swallow every drop, eyes locked on mine, then climb up and straddle my face, grinding her dripping pussy on my tongue until she squirted, her juices soaking my chin. After that, I’d latch onto her breast, the Milk Tank pills turning her into a sweet fountain. I’d suck her nipple gently, warm milk spurting into my mouth as she stroked my hair and whispered how good it felt to feed her boy.
To be honest, even breakfast rarely stayed innocent. We’d sit at the table half-dressed, her in a skimpy thong or nothing at all, and I’d end up bending her over the counter, fucking her hard and raw while the toast burned.
“Fuck me deeper, baby,” she’d beg, her ass jiggling with every thrust.
Showers were even dirtier. Sometimes she’d drop to her knees under the hot water, kiss my cockhead like it was sacred, and that was my cue. I’d relax and give her a golden shower, warm streams hitting her tongue. She’d drink some, letting the rest run over her tits and pussy, winking up at me.
“I love it, baby. I’m such a dirty whore for you,” she’d say, her voice naughty and breathless, before sucking me clean.
And then I’d head to university, my body buzzing from the morning release, but she’d text filthy messages all day.
“Thinking of your cock stretching my pussy,” with a pic of her fingers inside herself.
I’d sneak to the restroom and jerk off, cumming to her images.
When I would get home, she’d attack me at the door. We’d fuck wherever we landed: kitchen counter with her legs wrapped around me, garage against the car hood, couch with her riding me in reverse, floor like animals on all fours. Our sex drive was insane; we were horny constantly, fucking multiple times a day, raw and relentless.
Tara, our new coach, was stunned by our changes.
“What the hell are you two on?” she’d ask during sessions, eyeing my new muscle, chest broader, looking almost like Chris Evans after a bulk. I’d gained a lot in just a week, the gym and those pills turning me into a hunk.
Mallika had lost almost ten kilos, her clothes hanging loose now, her body toned and hot, her tits rounder and perky, looking six or seven years younger, her skin glowing like she’d discovered the fountain of youth.
“Keep it up,” Tara said, but I caught her staring at Mallika’s ass during squats.
One day after a grueling gym session, Mallika grabbed my hand in the parking lot and pulled me into the car.
“I need you so much. I can’t wait,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat. Before I could start the engine, she leaned over, tugged my shorts down, and took my cock in her mouth. She gagged immediately. She pulled off with a gasp, spat a thick glob of saliva onto my shaft, and stroked it slick.
“I love it,” she moaned like a hungry slut.
“I love you in my throat.” Then she deepthroated me again, lips stretching wide.
I was shit scared, cars passing, people walking far by, but the thrill made it hotter.
“Please, baby, please touch my pussy,” she begged, her voice muffled around my cock.
I slipped my hand into her shorts, fingers finding her soaked pussy, rubbing her clit in circles.
“Aahh, I’m such a bad Mommy, right?” she said, pulling off to gasp.
I nodded, thrusting into her mouth.
“Will you cum for me, baby?” she asked, eyes pleading.
I nodded yes.
“Mommy needs your cum in her tummy,” she purred, then deepthroated me in a blink.
With a jerk, I released thick ropes shooting down her throat as she gulped greedily, milking me dry.
She pulled off with a satisfied pop, licked her lips, and winked.
***
One day, we decided to hit a club. The idea sparked during breakfast, her in another skimpy outfit, me already half-hard from morning play.
Mallika dressed to kill. She wore a white backless bralette top that plunged deep, revealing the curves of her rounded tits, the fabric clinging like it was painted on, nipples teasing. She threw a furry jacket over it, but the golden skirt was the killer, short and tight, gripping her apple-bottom ass like a second skin, every step making her cheeks jiggle just enough to drive me wild. I wore a white t-shirt that hugged my new muscles, a leather jacket slung over, and black jeans that showed off my legs.
When she twirled for me in the living room, I bit my lip hard, eyes locked on her exposed cleavage and that ass.
“Fuck, Mommy, you look like a walking wet dream.”
She smiled, wicked and warm, hugging me close, her tits pressing against my chest. Then she licked my ear slowly, sending shivers straight to my cock.
“Save that energy for the dance floor, baby boy. Let’s have some fun,” she said.
The nightclub was alive with mid-20s people, bodies grinding on the floor, drunk couples pressed too close, hands wandering under clothes. In one corner, a lesbian couple made out hungrily, their tongues tangled, one girl’s hand up the other’s skirt.
The DJ dropped “Drink Me” by Michele Morrone, the beat slow and sultry, red and blue neon lights pulsing dimly across the room.
Mallika shrugged off her furry jacket, handing it to me with a wink. She started dancing, slow rhythm at first, her body moving like a stripper’s tease, hips swaying, hands trailing over her tits, ass popping to the bass.
We had two tequila shots, loosening us up. She backed into me, grinding her ass against my crotch, my hands on her waist, pulling her closer.
“Feel that, baby?” she whispered over her shoulder.
“Mommy’s getting wet just dancing for you.”
My cock hardened instantly, pressing against her through my jeans.
“Fuck, you’re killing me,” I groaned in her ear.
She turned, twerked her ass on my front, her skirt riding up just enough to flash the bottom of her cheeks. The crowd swallowed us, but it felt like we were alone. I was so hard it hurt, visions of fucking her right there flashing in my mind.
“Stop,” I pulled her back.
“I’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep that up.” I kissed her hard in the middle of the dance floor, tongues battling, hands grabbing ass.
We broke apart, breathless, and slipped to a corner. Making out like teenagers, her leg hooked around my waist, my hand under her skirt, rubbing her pussy through the thong, her moans lost in the music. No one stopped us. No one cared. Couples nearby did the same, lost in their own worlds.
Suddenly, Mallika grabbed my hand and sneaked me toward the ladies’ room.
“Are you crazy?” I whispered, heart racing.
“Sh… relax,” she smiled, pulling me into a cabin, locking the door.
The space was tight, the bass thumping through the thin partition. She dropped to her knees, opened my jeans in a flash, and freed my cock. It sprang out, all hard and veiny.
She licked from my balls to the tip in one slow, seductive stroke, her tongue flat and warm, eyes locked on mine.
“Mmm, baby, your cock tastes so good,” she whispered.
“Push it into my throat, please,” she begged like a slut.
I held her hair, pushed my cock into her mouth slowly, watching it disappear inch by inch until her lips sealed around the base.
“Fuck, Mommy, take it all, take it all, you cock-sucking queen,” I groaned, holding her there for a second, her throat convulsing around me.
She gagged softly when I pulled back, spit dripping from her chin, but her eyes begged for more. We were in a public stall, risk high, but that only made it hotter, the thrill of getting caught, her on her knees like a whore, sucking me off while voices echoed outside.
She started the blowjob slowly, her full lips wrapping around my nine-inch cock. I closed my eyes, the erotic warmth of her mouth enveloping me, her tongue swirling over the head, tasting the precum beading there.
She pulled off with a wet pop and dipped lower, taking both my shaved balls into her mouth, her cheeks bulging as she played with them like candies, sucking gently, squeezing with her lips. The sensation was electric, her hand stroking my shaft above.
“Aahh,” I moaned softly, and looked down at her. My thick cock rested on her face, the head pointing upward like a crown. The sight was so hot it burned. I looked for my phone and snapped a picture, the flash off to avoid drawing attention.
She smiled up at me, cum and spit shining on her chin, and said in a dirty whisper, “You’re such a nasty boy, taking souvenirs of Mommy’s mouth on your cock.”
She leaned in and sank her teeth slightly into my cockhead, a gentle bite that sent a jolt of pain-pleasure through me. I opened my mouth in a silent “ah,” but no sound escaped.
I clicked another photo in that pose, capturing her grin with my tip between her teeth.
“You want more?” she asked, eyes gleaming with naughtiness.
I nodded.
She stuck out her tongue like a whore, flat and wide, and licked along my veins in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing every ridge. I snapped the pic; her expression was pure filth.
Then she took just the tip into her mouth, sucking lightly, looking straight at the camera with those seductive blue eyes. Another click.
She then sank deeper, lips sliding down until they kissed the base, my cock disappearing into her throat, her eyes watering but smiling. I took the photo.
“You want more nasty?” she whispered, pulling off with a gasp.
I nodded, desperate.
She pushed my cock and balls up, exposing the sensitive skin beneath, and posed while licking the middle taint in long, slow strokes.
“Fuck,” I whispered, clicking the picture.
Then she did something even nastier, something I wasn’t expecting. She moved her tongue lower, slowly and deliberately, circling it over my anal ring, her eyes locked on mine the whole time, daring me to react. My mouth fell open in shock. Without a word, I clicked the photo, capturing the raw, intimate dirtiness of the moment.
After that, she stood and pulled up her golden skirt, sliding her thong to the side, exposing her glistening pussy. She looked into my eyes and slowly lowered herself onto my cock, taking me inch by inch until I was fully inside her.
We stayed like that for a moment, not moving, just connected, and kissed deeply, our tongues dancing passionately.
We were completely lost in each other when the bathroom door suddenly swung open. Laughter and loud voices spilled in. It seemed like another couple had entered the ladies’ room.
I froze instantly, my hands gripping Mallika’s ass hard to stop her rhythm.
“Shit,” I whispered.
But Mallika didn’t even pause. She sank her teeth into my neck, biting down just enough to make me moan, then whispered against my skin.
“I don’t care.”
She started moving her hips again, slow and deliberate, sliding her dripping pussy up and down my thick cock.
From the next stall came the unmistakable sound of kissing, giggling, then clothes rustling. Moments later, I heard a rhythmic clap of skin on skin, the sound of sex echoed through the bathroom. The girl started moaning loudly, shamelessly, each thrust making her voice bounce in the room.
Mallika looked up at me, eyes wild with challenge.
“Son of a bitch… kids,” she whispered, a wicked smile spreading across her face.
“Let’s show them how it’s really done, baby.”
She began riding me faster, harder, her thick ass slapping against my thighs. Her moans grew deliberately louder, erotic and filthy, echoing through the stall.
“Shh!” I hissed, covering her mouth with my hand.
The clapping sound from the other stall suddenly stopped. The girl laughed, then whispered something to her partner. Then, to my shock, they started again, even louder, as if they knew we were listening and wanted to compete.
Mallika’s eyes flashed with fire. She yanked my hand away from her mouth and moaned even louder, her voice dripping with sex.
“Fuck me, baby!” she cried out.
“Pick me up and fuck me hard!”
I couldn’t resist. I stood up, still buried inside her, lifted her by the ass, and slammed her against the stall wall. I fucked her fast and deep, my cock pounding into her soaked pussy with wet, obscene sounds.
“Aahhh!” she screamed, her nails digging into my shoulders.
“Harder, baby! Fuck Mommy’s pussy harder!”
From the next stall, the girl moaned back, “Harder, baby! Yes!”
Mallika’s competitive side snapped. She got down and turned around, showing her ass to me.
She leaned into my ear and growled, “Spit on my ass and push your finger in it, baby. Fucking DP me!”
“Fuck,” I groaned as she pushed her pussy on my cock like a piston.
I gathered saliva and spat onto her asshole, then pushed two fingers deep inside her tight ring.
“Aaahhhh! Fuck yes!” she screamed.
“Finger my ass while you wreck my cunt! I’m so full, baby! So fucking full!”
The other side went completely silent for a few seconds. Then the guy grunted loudly, the girl screamed, “You whore!” and it seemed like they both came, or maybe not.
Something primal cracked in Mallika. She thrust herself down onto my cock even harder, her pussy clenching me like a vice.
“Yes! Oh god, aahhh! I fucking love your monster cock, baby! Stretch me! Ruin me!”
It seemed like the other couple quickly gathered their things and bolted out of the bathroom, the door slamming behind them. The girl sounded pissed.
Mallika looked at me, eyes wild like a cat.
“I don’t want you to cum right now, baby,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.
“You hear me? Don’t cum.”
Before I could answer, she pulled off my cock, her pussy leaving a thick string of cream connecting us. She sat down, rubbed her clit furiously, and within seconds, her body tensed.
“Aaaahhhh!” she screamed.
A powerful squirt exploded from her pussy, spraying across the floor in a long, hot wave. Her legs shook violently as she came, soaking the tile beneath us.
Mallika looked at me with wild, hungry eyes and pushed the door open in a flash. My heart slammed in my chest.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I whispered, voices laughing from outside the bathroom.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she dropped to her knees again, her tits spilling out of her bralette, and deepthroated my cock in one swift motion, taking all nine inches until her lips kissed my base. Her throat gagging softly, her blue eyes watering as she looked up.
I tried to push her away, my hands on her shoulders, shit-scared someone could walk in any second.
“Stop, Mallika, we’ll get caught!” But she gripped my thighs harder, refusing to budge, her tongue swirling, licking her own juice from my skin with slow, deliberate strokes.
“No, I need to clean it.”
“Oh fuck,” I said softly, my hips bucking involuntarily into her mouth.
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva and her juices connecting her lips to my tip, and stood, adjusting her bralette, her nipples hard and visible through the fabric. Before I could protest, she slipped off her black lacy thong and tied it around my cock like a garland, looping it tight at the base, making my shaft ache with the pressure.
“Aah,” I gasped at the sensation, a mix of pain and pleasure.
“Shh,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss the tip of my cock softly.
“Keep it hard for Mommy, baby, don’t you dare go soft.” She adjusted her skirt, smoothed her hair, and walked out of the stall like nothing had happened, her ass swaying in that golden skirt.
I stood there stunned, my cock aching in the thong’s grip, pulsing with need. I somehow managed to pull up my pants, the bulge obvious and uncomfortable, the lace rubbing my hard cock with every step.
I zipped up and stepped out, and found Mallika looking in the mirror, staring at the word “WHORE” scrawled across it in bright red lipstick from the other couple.
“What the fuck,” I said, glancing around to make sure we were alone.
“Sexy, isn’t it?” she said, her wicked smile reflecting back at me.
“Are you crazy?” I whispered, my cock still throbbing painfully in the thong.
“Crazy about that monster, baby,” she bit her lips, her eyes dropping to my bulge, and laughed softly.
“It aches, doesn’t it? Good, keep it hard for Mommy,” she said, and I nodded.
“Take my picture,” she commanded like a queen.
She pulled down her bralette top, freeing her rounded tits, pressing them together like a sex bomb, her nipples hard and dark, posing with a sultry pout, the “WHORE” mirror behind her.
My cock itched with the sight, straining against the thong, and I fumbled for my phone, snapping the photo, her body a vision of pure filth.
She lifted her golden skirt, showing her bare, glistening pussy, the lips swollen from our quick fuck, and said in a dirty whisper.
“Click another, baby, show the world Mommy’s a whore.” I took the shot, the word “WHORE” framing her exposed pussy perfectly.
In another pose, she bent over, her ass cheeks spreading slightly, and spanked herself hard, the smack echoing in the empty bathroom.
“You like that, you dirty fucker?” she moaned, looking back at me over her shoulder.
“Fucking god, you should be doing porn,” I said, my voice rough, snapping the pic as her hand print marked red on her ass cheek.
“Take out your cock,” she asked, her tone commanding.
“What?” I…
