This story is about an ex of mine named Nirva (fake name). She was 22 and I was 18 when this night happened. She was a fashion designer and was hot as...fuck. Her boobs were not very big (around 32) but she had a perfect waist and an ass to die for. She was a punjabi and very upfront. We used to make out all the time in all the places.We both used to be very busy with our work lives and used to get only Sundays for ourselves. So, once in a month, we used to book Hyatt Regency for a night and used. “Go to the bed, get on your elbows and knees.” I followed orders, settling onto the mattress with spread legs, my forehead on a pillow that Sir offered me. I could hear him undo his belt, the soft rustling of clothes being stripped off. His hands ran over my backside, up my back, down my thighs. Then his fingers crept passed the plug, pressing and wiggling it inside me, eliciting moans. They continued to travel, spreading my labia, feeling the extreme moisture. He murmured about how wet I was. I had just left my penis in front. Cheryl came back outof our walk-in closet holding a pair of jeans."Aren't you going to put your boy parts away? You know, tuck your stuff?I thought you always tucked when you wore your panties?"As much as I had been surprised by her earlier attitude, this statementfloored me. How did she know about that? She had never seen me in theother panties, let alone seen me tuck my penis back. I looked at herwith a puzzled expression on my face. Seeing that, she just. “You are a slut, not just a cock tease.” With that she throws me down and pulls my pants down, I struggle, it is no use. She is stronger than me, and I think I want it to happen at least a little. The only thing between her and my pussy is the white cotton thong, dripping with my juice and sweat. Rolling me over onto my belly, ass up. She grabs me by my thong and pulls. “OooWooo” I exclaim. “Quiet slut” she emphasizes the remark with a swat on my ass. An unrelenting series of strikes.