tantrayaan

  Just then, Bharath shifted.

  His hand moved from Sarah’s hip, slid up her ribs, and tched onto her breast, giving it a firm, possessive squeeze that made her gasp. He tugged at the nipple, rolling it between his fingers, then gave a low, gravelly sigh.

  Sarah’s eyes fluttered.

  “Yup,” Marisol whispered beside her. “Still asleep.”

  Sarah giggled softly, still stroking his cock with her hand, her cheek resting against his chest. “We’re so screwed.”

  “Only if we’re lucky.”

  Before she could ugh again, Bharath’s arm shifted. The sleepy squeeze on her breast became deliberate, possessive. His hips flexed upward just slightly. Then-

  A low, rumbling voice, rough with sleep and power.

  “I’ve been awake since you kissed my neck.”

  He had been awake for a while now.

  From the moment Sarah kissed his chest and whispered into the quiet, he’d stirred beneath the surface - half - asleep, wholly listening. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But how could he not?

  They spoke like the world wasn’t listening. Like it was just the two of them and a kind of truth that only existed in the dark, when hearts beat slower and walls came down.

  He’d heard every word.

  The teasing. The giggles. The confessions.

  Marisol, bold and burning, admitting how she wanted to be used - spanked, pinned, filled - not to be degraded, but to be known. Seen. Loved without fear.

  And Sarah, so soft and brave, whispering how she’d never thought sex could feel like this. That pleasure could belong to her too. That she wanted to give him her st untouched pce, not because it was expected, but because she knew - knew - he’d treat it like something divine.

  They didn’t say these things to him. They said them to each other.

  And that somehow made it even more amazing.

  They weren’t in love with each other. That wasn’t what this was. But they trusted each other the way sisters do - fiercely, unshakably. And they trusted him with everything else.

  Their bodies. Their boundaries. Their worship.

  He kept still, his breath shallow, like any movement would break the spell. His heart ached with how much he loved them.

  He hadn’t chosen this life. He hadn’t pnned to become a man two women looked at like a god.

  But now that he had it, he’d never take it for granted.

  He would carry their trust like scripture.

  He would be the man they believed him to be.

  Because they were his miracle.

  And this, this moment, these girls, were his prayer.

  Sarah froze.

  Marisol immediately grinned. “Knew it.”

  They both surged up, crawling toward him like worshippers to a god’s altar.

  “Good morning baby,” they whispered in unison, voices like honey.

  They kissed him - first Sarah on one cheek, then Marisol on the other, and finally both pressing in at the same time, lips brushing his mouth, their hands never leaving his chest or hips.

  Bharath pulled both of them towards him by their hair and kissed them deeply.

  “Mmm…” Bharath’s lips curled. “You two are trouble.”

  “And it’s Tuesday,” Marisol purred, grinding her breast lightly against his shoulder. “You know what that means.”

  “We don’t have time in the evening,” Sarah added. “Operation Trick or Treat Hearts. Remember?”

  Bharath groaned theatrically. “God help whoever ends up accepting a date with Ravi and Tyrel.”

  Then his voice dropped an octave. “So we start now.”

  The tone made Sarah shiver. That was the tone. The command beneath the velvet. The change from lover to god. Master. Owner.

  Marisol sat up slightly straighter. Her spine lengthened, head tilting back in practiced submission. Her fingers stopped moving and folded neatly in her p.

  Sarah mirrored her slowly, heart pounding.

  Bharath let them sit like that for a few seconds - his apsaras kneeling on either side of him, naked, breasts still marked from st night, eyes wide with reverence.

  Then he pointed to the base of his cock with just one finger. “Mouths.”

  They didn’t hesitate. Sarah moved first, then Marisol beside her, their cheeks brushing as they both leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses to his shaft. He was fully hard now, hot and pulsing. Marisol ran her tongue up the underside while Sarah licked the head. They worshipped him together - soft, warm, reverent.

  “Sarah,” he said.

  She looked up instantly, mouth slick and slightly parted.

  “Take me deep. As far as you can.”

  She nodded, heart fluttering. She opened her mouth wide and began to slide him in. Her jaw stretched, finding it hard to fit his girth inside her mouth, her throat tightened. She had done this before, but never like this. Never this early, this focused, this… intense.

  And never with Marisol’s cheek against hers, whispering, “Breathe through your nose, baby. Let him cim it all.”

  Sarah took another inch. Then another. Her eyes watered, but she pushed down.

  Then - “Keep going,” Bharath said, his voice a growl.

  She didn’t stop until her nose was buried against his trimmed curls, his length filling her completely, her throat stretched wide and raw. She gagged - but didn’t pull back.

  Instead, her thighs clenched.

  Oh. Her vision blurred, but her body lit up. She tried again.

  Gag. Tears. Heat. Euphoria.

  He held her head steady, just one firm hand at the crown. Not forcing, just anchoring. His other hand stroked her cheek gently.

  “There you go,” he murmured. “Good girl. Taking me so deep…”

  Her pussy clenched again. Her nipples tightened.

  Marisol was watching her, eyes wide with lust and admiration.

  “I think she likes it,” Marisol whispered.

  Sarah pulled back to breathe, coughing slightly, then surged down again, this time faster. The thrill of choking on him, of surrendering her throat - of being nothing but a conduit for his pleasure - it was hotter than she could’ve imagined.

  “Fuck,” she thought wildly. “This is a kink. This is a huge kink.”

  Bharath looked down at her, hand tangling in her hair now, gripping lightly. “You love choking on it, don’t you?”

  She nodded, cock still in her mouth, drool dripping from the corners.

  “Say it.”

  She pulled back with effort. “I love choking on your cock.”

  Her voice was hoarse. It made her wetter.

  He smiled darkly. “Then keep going. And don’t stop. No matter what I do.”

  She moaned and buried him again.

  “Marisol,” Bharath said.

  “Yes, love?” She was already leaning forward, presenting herself like a supplicant.

  “Face down. Ass up. Right there.”

  She moved into position instantly, head pressed to the mattress, her gorgeous brown ass high in the air, slick folds already glistening.

  “Spread yourself for me.”

  Marisol obeyed without hesitation, fingers pulling her cheeks apart, exposing both her holes.

  Sarah’s eyes flicked sideways, still gagging on him. Watching this turned her on even more. The vulnerability. The trust. The gleam of devotion in Marisol’s eyes.

  Bharath shifted under Sarah and reached out - his fingers diving between Marisol’s thighs.

  She gasped, hips jerking as he shoved two fingers into her pussy. Then, without pause, he pressed one thick finger to her tight back hole.

  She whimpered beautifully.

  “You’re not allowed to come yet,” he said. “Not until I let you.”

  “Yes,” Marisol breathed.

  “Louder.”

  “Yes, baby.”

  He growled. Then spped her ass - hard.

  Sarah flinched even as her mouth stayed full. Marisol let out a sharp cry, then another as he spanked her again. The sound echoed in the room.

  Sp. Sp. SLAP.

  Red marks bloomed across her cheeks.

  Sarah had to close her eyes to keep from coming just from watching.

  Bharath leaned forward, biting Marisol’s lower back. His teeth sank in just enough to make her yelp.

  “You love this, don’t you?” he demanded.

  “I love it,” Marisol cried. “I love when you spank me.”

  He rewarded her with another smack, then resumed fingering both holes, twisting his wrist inside her just the way she loved it.

  Marisol writhed. “I - I’m close - please…. amor… let me cum.”

  “No.”

  Sarah gagged again, drool spilling down her chin. Her eyes were watering but she kept going, kept taking him to the hilt. The ck of air made her dizzy - intensely, erotically aware of her submission. She was his.

  And then - his hand gripped her hair tightly.

  He fucked her mouth now. Full thrusts, shallow and fast at first, then deeper, rougher. Sarah’s throat spasmed, her lips burning, but she welcomed it. Begged for it with her body.

  Marisol, still sobbing with need, looked over her shoulder just as Bharath yanked her hair and shoved two fingers back into her ass, making her scream in ecstacy.

  He skullfucked Sarah mercilessly while abusing Marisol with exacting love. The room smelled of sex and sweat and devotion. The wet sounds were obscene. The rhythm was hypnotic.

  Sarah thought she might explode just from this.

  Her body was a livewire. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm. Every choke was pleasure. Every thrust was truth. This wasn’t just kink. It was a revetion.

  Bharath let out a deep moan. “Good girls. My perfect little pythings.”

  He pulled Sarah’s mouth off him abruptly. She gasped, drool trailing from her chin to her chest.

  He dragged her up by her hair - not cruel, just firm - and made her watch.

  “See what I do to her?”

  Sarah nodded, trembling. “Yes. Please don’t stop.”

  Marisol was still holding her cheeks apart like a good girl, her eyes gzed with tears and ecstasy. Her ass was red. Her holes were filled.

  Bharath leaned in and spat between her cheeks, then smeared it in with his palm, spreading the slickness even more.

  He turned back to Sarah.

  “You both belong to me.”

  They nodded.

  He pushed Sarah gently down beside Marisol, their heads close, breasts brushing.

  “Watch each other,” he said. “Feel everything. Breathe together.”

  Sarah looked into Marisol’s eyes.

  Marisol whispered, “You’re so beautiful like this. I love seeing you choke for him.”

  Sarah smiled through the tears. “I love watching you take it all. You’re… glowing.”

  Marisol giggled, then gasped as Bharath pinched her clit and pulled her hair again.

  Together, the girls moaned.

  Joint submission.

  Joint reverence.

  They were side by side - bent, used, worshipped.

  And they’d never felt more loved.