The sultry ambiance of the apartment thickened as Rita stepped forward, her green top and jeans discarded, revealing a curvaceous figure draped in a violet satin bra and panties that clung to her full breasts and rounded hips. The air was heavy with the musky scent of arousal, the faint creak of the furniture under the weight of anticipation blending with the women's excited whispers. Abir, his body still slick with sweat from Akhi's encounter, stood ready, his chest heaving, his thick cock pulsing with renewed vigor, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Rita's eyes smoldered as she approached, her fingers trailing along his chest, the heat of her touch igniting a fresh wave of desire.
She guided him to a corner of the room, where a sturdy wooden coffee table stood, its surface polished and cool. "Let's make this unforgettable, Abir," she purred, shedding her lingerie to expose her ample breasts, their dark nipples erect, and her glistening pussy. She climbed onto the table, lying back with her legs spread, inviting him with a seductive smirk.
Abir mounted the table, gripping her thighs, and plunged his cock into her wet cunt with bone-crushing force, her scream—"Ahh, Abir!"—a raw, piercing wail that reverberated off the walls. The table groaned under their weight, her breasts jiggling with each brutal stroke, the salty tang of her sweat mixing with the earthy scent of her arousal, her first breaking point hitting as her body arched, her juices squirting onto the wood.
He pulled her to her feet, pressing her against a tall pillar in the room, its rough texture scraping her back. He lifted one leg over his shoulder, ramming his shaft deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing, her moans—"Mmm, harder!"—her second breaking point a trembling cry, her breasts heaving, the pillar vibrating with the force.
Abir bent her over a low bookshelf, its shelves rattling as he entered her from behind with savage depth, her screams—"Ohh, Abir, yes!"—her third breaking point a desperate wail, her breasts swaying, the musty scent of old books blending with her heated breath.
He threw her to the carpet, twisting her onto her stomach, thrusting with relentless fury, the fibers rubbing her skin raw, her cries—"Ahhh, stop!"—her fourth breaking point a hoarse scream, her breasts pressed into the floor, the room filled with the pungent aroma of her exertion.
Abir dragged her to the window ledge, bending her forward against the cool glass, his cock hammering into her with apocalyptic force, her weak moans—"Ohh…"—fading into gasps, her fifth breaking point a silent shudder, her breasts flattened against the pane, the coolness contrasting her burning skin.
Rita collapsed against the window, her body limp, her breath fogging the glass, the room silent save for her shallow panting. The women watched, their awe deepening, the air thick with the humid scent of their collective arousal.
Next, Ayesha stepped forward, her presence commanding as she shed her sheer black dress, revealing a lithe frame in a crimson thong, her breasts firm and her pussy already glistening with anticipation. Her dark eyes locked onto Abir's, a challenge in her gaze. "Let's see what you've got left," she taunted, leading him to a reclining chaise lounge near the wall, its leather creaking under her weight.
Ayesha reclined on the chaise, spreading her legs wide, and Abir knelt between them, ramming his cock into her soaked cunt with bone-shattering force, her scream—"Ahh, Abir!"—a guttural roar, her first breaking point hitting, her breasts bouncing, the leather squeaking, her juices soaking the cushion.
He pulled her to the wall, leaning her back against it, thrusting upward with grinding brutality, the plaster cool against her skin, her moans—"Mmm, deeper!"—her second breaking point a trembling wail, her breasts pressed against his chest, the salty sweat dripping down her neck.
Abir laid her on a thick rug, spiraling her onto her side, entering with savage speed, the woolen fibers tickling her thighs, her cries—"Ohh, Abir, more!"—her third breaking point a hoarse scream, her breasts jiggling, the rug warm and damp beneath her.
He lifted her to a low ceiling beam, wrapping her legs around him, thrusting with relentless depth, her screams—"Ahhh, yes!"—her fourth breaking point a piercing cry, her breasts heaving, the beam creaking, the room filled with the earthy scent of her arousal.
Abir threw her to the corner floor, mounting her with thunderous force, her moans—"Mmm, too much!"—her fifth breaking point a guttural moan, her breasts mashed into the hardwood, the floor vibrating with each stroke.
Ayesha slumped against the wall, her body quivering, her breath ragged, the air saturated with the raw, musky odor of her release. Abir stepped back, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat and her juices, the room a cacophony of creaking furniture and heavy breathing.
As the women exchanged awed glances, Aparna rose from her seat, her sultry siren aura evident as she shed her tight blue dress, revealing a statuesque figure in a black lace set that accentuated her long legs and full breasts. She approached Abir with a confident stride, her voice smooth and alluring. "Now it's my turn," she said, her eyes glinting with promise.
Monika, lounging nearby with a sly smile, interjected, her tone laced with warning. "A word of caution, Abir—she's not easy to please. Good luck," she added with a chuckle, her gaze daring him to rise to the challenge.