He stayed like that for a moment, his fingers working slowly inside my stretched, leaking hole. Then he pulled them out with a wet pop.
“Up,” Ansh said, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. “On your feet.”
My legs shook as I slid off the bed, standing on the cool floor. Cum dripped down my inner thighs in thick, slow streaks. I couldn’t look at him.
“Look at me, Rohit.”
I forced my gaze up. He was still sprawled on the bed, gloriously naked, his lund half-hard and gleaming with our mixed fluids—his spend, my sweat, the slick proof of what we’d done. He looked like a king on a ruined throne.
“Come here,” he said, crooking a finger.
I took a stumbling step forward, stopping between his spread knees. The musky, salty scent of sex was overpowering.
“My lund is a mess,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. He wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking it slowly, smearing the white, gluey residue from root to tip. “Your mess. Our mess. Clean it.”
My breath caught. “Ansh…”
“Use your tongue, behenchod. I want to see you savor every fucking drop.”
The command, the crudeness, sent a fresh jolt of heat to my own spent cock. I dropped to my knees on the hard floor, the position achingly familiar now. I leaned in, my face inches from his groin. The smell was intimate, primal. I hesitated for only a second before I extended my tongue.
The first taste was salty, bitter, complex. I licked a slow, tentative stripe from the base of his balls up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. He groaned, his hand tightening in my hair.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Chaat saaf kar, randi. Lick it clean.”
I closed my lips around the head, sucking gently, gathering the thick, viscous fluid. It coated my tongue, the taste uniquely him—musky, strong, mixed with the sharper tang of my own body. I moaned, the degradation twisting into a perverse pleasure. I swirled my tongue around the crown, cleaning every crevice, then worked my way down, lapping at the shaft, sucking his balls into my mouth to clean them too.
“Fuck, look at you,” he breathed, his hips pushing forward. “A proper little cocksucker. Born with a mouth meant for this. You love the taste of your own chut on my lund, don’t you?”
I couldn’t answer, my mouth full of him. I just nodded, my eyes sliding shut as I worshiped his cock with my tongue, licking and sucking until his skin was clean, shining only with my saliva.
“Good,” he said, his voice rough. “Now finish the job. Suck me until I’m hard again. I want to feel that gaandu mouth of yours working.”
I took him in, deeper this time. He was thickening rapidly, filling my mouth, hitting the back of my throat. I relaxed my jaw, letting him slide deeper, my nose pressing into the coarse hair at his base. I bobbed my head, using my tongue, my hand working the base. His groans were my reward.
“Just like that… ahh… you were made for this, Rohit. My personal randi. Your mouth is even tighter than your chut.”
He fucked my face slowly, then with increasing urgency. I gagged, tears springing to my eyes, but I didn’t pull away. I sucked him like my life depended on it, hollowing my cheeks, swallowing around him.
“Enough,” he gasped suddenly, pulling his slick lund from my mouth with a lewd sound. He was fully erect again, throbbing. “Hands on the bed. Arch your back. Don’t you dare touch your own lund.”
Confused, I obeyed, leaning over the bed, presenting my ass to him. I heard him move off the bed, heard a drawer open and close. My heart hammered. What now?
Then I felt it—something cold, smooth, and unyielding pressing against my sore, wet opening. It wasn’t his cock.
“What—” I started.
“A little toy,” Ansh said, his voice dark with amusement. He pushed, and the rounded tip of what felt like a thick glass dildo began to stretch me open again. It was a different fullness, harder, more precise. “I’m going to watch you fuck yourself on this while I tell you exactly what a chudail you are. And you’re going to edge yourself. You come when I say, not a second before.”
He pushed it deeper, until the wide base settled snugly against my hole. My body clenched around the strange intrusion.
“Now,” he said, slapping my ass sharply. “Hila. Move those tangein. Show me how much you need it.”
Shame burned my face, but a deeper, darker need took over. I began to rock back, fucking myself on the cold, hard glass. The stretch was incredible, the pressure against my prostate immediate and intense. A broken moan leaked from my lips.
“Louder,” Ansh commanded. He had moved to stand beside me, watching, his hand stroking his own cock slowly. “Tell me what you’re doing, you madharchod.”
“I’m… I’m fucking my chut on a toy,” I panted, my hips moving faster. The base rubbed against my perineum with every thrust.
“Why?”
“Because… because you told me to.”
“Because you’re a randi who gets off on being used,” he corrected, his voice a low growl. “A besharam cousin who loves taking his brother’s cock and his toys. Look at you. Your lund is dripping all over the floor again.”
I glanced down. He was right. My cock was hard and weeping, swaying with my movements, pre-come stringing down to the wooden floor. The sight of it, the feel of the toy pistoning in and out of my well-used hole, was too much. The pleasure coiled, tight and urgent, in my balls.
“Ansh… I’m close… please…”
“No,” he said, his voice flat. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base of my cock, squeezing tightly. “Not yet.”
The sensation was agonizing. The building orgasm was brutally cut off, leaving me trembling and desperate. I whimpered, my hips stuttering.
“Keep fucking that toy,” he ordered, releasing his grip. “I want to see you sweat for it.”
Tears of frustration blurred my vision, but I obeyed, rocking back onto the dildo with renewed desperation. The pleasure built again, a rising wave. I was panting, sweat dripping down my spine.
“You want to come, behenchod?” he taunted, stroking himself faster.
“Yes! Fuck, yes, Ansh, please let me come!”
“Then beg better. Tell me what you want to do with your come.”
“I want to… I want to spray it all over the floor,” I sobbed, my control shattering. “I want to shoot my maal like the animal I am, please, I need to—”
“Now,” he snarled.
Permission granted, my orgasm exploded. My back arched violently as my cock kicked, and thick ropes of white cum shot from the tip, splattering onto the floorboards in loud, wet spurts. Jet after jet, more than I thought I had left, painting the wood in a glistening, messy arc. I cried out, my body convulsing around the toy still buried inside me.
Ansh groaned, his own hand a blur on his shaft. “Watching you… fuck….”
His release followed mine. He stepped closer, aimed his lund at my face, and let go.
It was a massive, gluey flood. The first thick, white glob hit my cheek with a warm splat. The next pulse filled my open, panting mouth, the taste overwhelming, salty and rich. More spurts covered my chin, my nose, my eyelids. It kept coming, a seemingly endless fountain of hot cum, until my face was dripping, my mouth was full and overflowing, and thick strands of it hung from my jaw and hair.
“Swallow it,” he commanded, his voice ragged.
I gulped, struggling to take it all down. Some dripped from the corners of my lips, joining the mess on my neck and chest. He kept milking the last drops onto my forehead.
Finally, he was done. He stood over me, breathing hard, his softening lund glistening. He used the tip to smear the cum around my lips.
“Look at this masterpiece,” he whispered, raw awe in his voice. “My randi, my cousin, painted with my seed. You’re never washing this off.” He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. “Now, get that toy out of your chut and get back on the bed. I’m not done with you. I’m going to plug you full of my come all over again, and this time, you’re going to keep it in. You’re going to walk around tomorrow with my bachha stewing inside you, and you’re going to fucking love it.”
He straightened up, his hand moving to the base of the glass toy still protruding from my ass.
