The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the college campus as Rishita led Abir toward the abandoned storehouse, her light blue kurta swaying with each determined step. The structure loomed ahead, its weathered wooden walls and cracked windows a testament to years of neglect, the air around it thick with the scent of dust and old timber. Abir glanced at the secluded spot, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It's a good choice," he said, his voice low with approval.
Rishita turned to him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of shyness and desire, a smile curving her lips. "It's for privacy," she whispered, stepping closer. Her hands reached for him, pulling him into a deep kiss, her lips soft yet insistent against his. Abir responded eagerly, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hungry passion, their breaths mingling as the kiss deepened, igniting a fire between them.
He tugged at her kurta, peeling it off to reveal a lacy pink bra that strained against her full, perky breasts, her jeans sliding down to expose matching panties that hugged her curvy hips. Abir shed his shirt and pants, his erect manhood standing ready, the dim light filtering through the storehouse windows casting shadows across his muscular frame. Rishita moaned softly—"Mmm, Abir…"—as his hands slid to her breasts, squeezing them firmly through the bra, his fingers rolling her nipples until she gasped, "Ohh, yes!" He unhooked the bra, letting her breasts bounce free, and squeezed them harder, his thumbs circling the hardened peaks as she arched into him, her panties discarded in a heap.
Abir pressed her against the rough wooden wall, entering her with a deep, passionate thrust, her scream—"Ahh, Abir!"—echoing in the empty space. His hands squeezed her breasts, the soft mounds jiggling with each forceful stroke, her moans rising—"Ohh, deeper!"—her eyes rolling back as her first breaking point hit, her inner walls clenching around him, her juices coating his length, the wall creaking under their fervor.
He lifted her onto a dusty shelf, her legs spreading wide as he thrust with a slow, grinding rhythm, each deep plunge a sensual invasion that made her moan loudly—"Mmm, Abir, yes!"—her eyes fluttering as her second breaking point crashed through, her breasts bouncing against his chest, her hands clutching the shelf's edge.
Abir laid her on the dusty floor, entering from above with relentless depth, her moans—"Ohh, Abir, more!"—her third breaking point a trembling cry, her breasts jiggling with each thrust, his hands roaming her curves, the dust rising around them.
He pulled her to a stack of old crates, lifting her hips as he entered with passionate force, her screams—"Ahhh, yes!"—her fourth breaking point a hoarse moan, her breasts bouncing wildly, his hands gripping her butt with firm passion.
Abir pressed her against a support beam, thrusting with deep intensity, her moans—"Mmm, Abir, don't stop!"—her fifth breaking point a desperate wail, her breasts pressed against the wood, his hands squeezing them with gentle roughness.
They moved to a corner with scattered hay, Abir laying her back and entering from behind, each deep thrust drawing a scream—"Ohh, Abir!"—her sixth breaking point a shuddering cry, her breasts swaying with each stroke, his hands pulling her hips to meet him.
The encounter stretched on, a marathon of passion, their moans and gasps—"Mmm, Abir, yes!"—a symphony in the storehouse's quiet. Abir's deep thrusts were a relentless dance, his hands squeezing Rishita's breasts and butt with increasing fervor, her curvy body trembling under his dominance, her eyes rolling back as she surrendered to the pleasure. The dust and hay added a raw edge, the creak of the building blending with their fervor, her delicate frame quaking with each climax.
After what felt like hours, they collapsed onto the hay, their breaths ragged, their bodies slick with sweat. Rishita, propped on an elbow, caught her breath, a satisfied smile on her lips. "That was wonderful. Can we do it sometime?" she asked, her voice soft but hopeful.
Abir grinned, his arousal reigniting at her words. "Yes. How about now?" he said, pulling her close again. He entered her with a deep thrust, her moan—"Mmm, Abir!"—rising as he began fucking her again, his hands squeezing her breasts, their passion resuming with renewed intensity.
The next day morning, it being the weekend, Abir lay on his bed in his room, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. His mind still lingered on the previous day's encounter when the calling bell rang, jolting him upright. He slipped on a pair of shorts and opened the door, his breath catching as he saw Joita standing on the doorstep. Her long black hair framed her face, her evil smile curling her lips as she leaned against the frame, her tight red top and jeans accentuating her voluptuous figure.
"Did you miss me?" she purred, her voice dripping with mischief.