Chapter 6: I recall my taking
I remember the first time, the sharp intake of breath that was only partly pretend. “Wait,” I whispered, pushing against Vishal’s chest, my fingers lingering on his warm skin. He groaned, “Isha, please,” his voice a ragged plea against my neck. I arched my back, a silent contradiction to my weak protests, and my soft moan was the final key he needed. Vijaya’s hands were on my hips then, guiding me, holding me steady as Vishal settled between my thighs. The initial pressure was a dull, insistent thud, and then a searing, unexpected tear that made my vision whiten. I think I cried out before the world simply dissolved into nothing.
I came to with Vijaya dabbing a cool cloth on my forehead, her voice a soft murmur. “Breathe, just breathe.” Vishal’s eyes were wide with concern, his movement frozen. “Slowly,” Vijaya instructed him, and he obeyed, a gradual, filling presence that began to feel less like an invasion and more like a completion. I felt a slick warmth between my legs, my own blood a stark proof on the sheet beneath us. The pain receded, replaced by a building, coiling tension that started deep in my core. My first climax washed over me in a surprised, shuddering wave, my nails digging into Vishal’s arms. The second followed quickly, a brighter, sharper peak that left me gasping his name. He drove into me once, twice more, and then collapsed with a guttural cry, his heat spilling inside me.
Later, I traced the curve of Vijaya’s smile with my tongue, tasting salt and her unique, musky sweetness. Vishal watched us, his hand cupping one of her magnificent breasts, his thumb circling her nipple. “But not there,” he said, his voice thick with a brotherly affection that somehow made the moment more intimate. Vijaya’s back arched, a soft sigh escaping her as she found her own release. I felt Vishal stir against my leg again, already hard. “Your turn on top,” he grinned, flipping me over with effortless strength.
The cool night air brushed against my bare skin as I settled over him, my knees pressing into the rough weave of the blanket. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whispered, my voice trembling as much as my hands on his chest. Vishal’s grin was all lazy confidence, his hands finding my hips with a firm, guiding pressure. “Just move, Isha. However you want.”
Vijaya shifted beside us, her curvy form a silhouette against the moon-washed sky. “Look at him,” she murmured, her finger tracing the line of my spine. “He’s all yours to take.” I lowered myself slowly, a gasp catching in my throat as he filled me, the lingering soreness a sharp reminder of what we’d just done. This felt different, though; this was me setting the pace, my muscles tensing and releasing in a hesitant, rolling rhythm.
“That’s it,” Vishal breathed, his eyes dark and fixed on mine. His thumbs rubbed slow circles into the skin of my hips, an anchor in the dizzying newness of it all. I could feel the slickness between us, a mixture of his spend and my blood, a visceral proof of my broken barrier. The sensation built, not the shocking burst from before, but a deeper, swelling heat that started in my core and radiated outwards.
I moved faster, driven by a need I no longer wanted to suppress. Vijaya’s low, approving hum was a counterpoint to Vishal’s ragged groans. “You see how she takes you?” she said to him, her voice a thread of pure power. I leaned back, bracing my hands on his thighs, and let my head fall back as the pleasure crested, washing over me in a warm, shuddering wave. His release followed, a hot pulse deep inside that made my own contractions intensify.
For a long moment, the only sounds were our ragged breaths and the distant city. Then Vishal’s hands slid from my hips. “My turn again,” he said, his voice rough with renewed hunger as he gently rolled me onto my hands and knees. The terracotta tiles were cool and gritty against my palms. He positioned himself behind me, his hands spreading me open, and entered with a slow, deliberate thrust that made me cry out. We continued our fucking, slowly, seductively, in all ways.
The rhythm of our bodies was a slow, deep pulse in the quiet night. Then his open palm connected with my ass, a sharp, stinging crack that broke the stillness. “Ah! Haan!” I shouted, the surprise melting instantly into a wave of pure heat. “Aur, Vishal, aur!” The second slap was harder, blooming across my skin, and I cursed, “Saala, kitna maza aa raha hai!”
The pain twisted into pleasure, coiling tight deep inside me. My climax ripped through me without warning, a raw, shuddering release that tore a long, loud moan from my throat. My body went limp, but Vishal didn’t stop, his thrusts becoming frantic, his breathing a harsh rasp. “I’m close,” he grunted, his voice strained.
Vijaya moved then, her hand wrapping around him from behind, her grip firm. “Not inside,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. She pulled him back, guiding him, and I felt the hot, sudden splash across my skin as he groaned, his body shaking. She held him there, tight in her hand, until the last pulse faded away.
We collapsed into a heap of tangled limbs and spent breath, the cool air a shock on my heated skin. The city’ distant hum felt like it was in another world entirely. Vishal’s head rested on my back, his breath slowly returning to normal. Vijaya traced idle patterns on my shoulder, her touch proprietary and calm. No one spoke for a long time, the silence itself a new kind of language between us.