In the heart of Mumbai, a woman named Priya lived in a small apartment on the top floor of a worn-down building. She was a thick, voluptuous Indian woman with long, black hair that cascaded down her back in waves. Her olive skin glowed in the moonlight that streamed in through her bedroom window.
Priya had always been a fiercely independent woman, never one to shy away from her desires. She worked as a successful businesswoman during the day, but at night, she indulged in her secret passion: writing erotic stories.
One night, as she sat at her desk, her mind wandered to a character she had been developing for weeks. His name was Ravi, a tall, dark, and handsome Indian man with piercing eyes and a confident stride. She had been imagining him in all sorts of salacious situations, but she had never written anything down.
As she began to write, the words flowed effortlessly. She described Ravi’s chiseled jawline, his muscular arms, and his toned abs. She wrote about the way his eyes looked at her with desire, the way his hands explored her body, and the way his lips felt on hers.
As she wrote, she could feel her own arousal growing. She slipped off her clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. She stood in front of the mirror, admiring her own curves. She ran her hands over her full breasts, her round stomach, and her thick thighs.
She closed her eyes and continued to write, imagining Ravi’s touch on her skin. She wrote about the way his fingers traced the outline of her lips, the way his tongue explored her mouth, and the way his hands gripped her hips.
She could feel herself getting closer and closer to climax. She writhed on the bed, her fingers working their way between her legs. She moaned softly as she imagined Ravi’s cock inside of her, filling her up and taking her to new heights of pleasure.
As she reached her peak, she let out a soft cry. She fell back onto the bed, her body trembling with pleasure. She opened her eyes and looked at the words she had written. She smiled to herself, knowing that she had created something beautiful.
Just then, she heard a knock at the door. She wrapped herself in a sheet and went to answer it. Standing in the hallway was a man who looked exactly like the Ravi she had been writing about.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he said, his eyes filled with desire.
Priya smiled and pulled him inside. They didn’t need words anymore. They knew what they wanted, and they were going to take it.
They fell onto the bed, their bodies entwined. Priya ran her hands over Ravi’s chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingertips. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth.
He trailed kisses down her neck, nibbling on her earlobes and making her shiver with pleasure. He made his way down to her breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth and teasing them with his tongue.
Priya moaned with pleasure, running her hands through Ravi’s hair. He continued to explore her body, making his way down to her thighs. He kissed her inner thighs, teasing her with his tongue.
Finally, he made his way to her pussy. He licked her clit, making her moan louder. He slipped a finger inside of her, feeling her wetness. He added a second finger, fucking her slowly at first, then faster and harder.
Priya begged for more, her hips bucking against his hand. He slid a third finger inside of her, stretching her wide. She cried out with pleasure, her orgasm washing over her in waves.
Ravi didn’t stop there. He climbed on top of her, his cock hard and ready. He slid inside of her, filling her up and making her moan with pleasure.
He fucked her slowly at first, then faster and harder. Priya wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of her. She moaned with each thrust, her orgasm building once again.
Ravi reached down and pinched her nipples, sending her over the edge. She cried out with pleasure, her orgasm ripping through her body.
Ravi followed soon after, his cock twitching inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat.
They lay there for a moment, their hearts racing. Priya smiled to herself, knowing that she had written the perfect story.
The end.
