This is a continuation of the previous part. I am happy the purpose of my story is accomplished. I received a few (very few) emails asking if what happened in the story was an assumption or real.
This part will answer all your questions.
The Gen-Z kids are more privileged and luckier compared to the previous generation. They get to explore a lot.
Vyshnavi’s cute, innocent face, her round butt, her apple-sized boobs, and above all, her age. It tempts you to do all inappropriate things and explore a lot.
Vyshnavi. At my door, knocking hard. At the same time, I’m literally gripping her purchase. Curse my luck.
“The router’s fine,” her voice all low and cool like she wasn’t the tiniest bit nervous. “I made that up.”
My brain was still running reruns of her mom (don’t ask), and now I’m trying to keep up. “Wait, huh?”
She didn’t even blink. “Saw you grab the package. Got the delivery alert. I’ve been waiting.” She just walked right in, no invite needed, her scent—vanilla and something softer, younger—filling up my space. “It’s mine. Hand it over.”
My jaw dropped. Who was this girl? Shy neighbour act? Gone. She was in charge now, and it was honestly kind of electrifying.
“So, why did you order this, Vyshnavi?” My voice came out rough and low.
She met my eyes—defiant, almost cocky. “To fuck myself, genius. For fun.”
I barked out a laugh. Couldn’t help it. “And you figure I’ll just hand it over?”
She rolled her cute eyes. “Let’s not mess around, Mr,” she shot back, using the exact words I’d used in my own, perfect defensive counter, uh, private thoughts. “I came ready. What do you want?”
Everything flipped. She wasn’t the puppet; she was the showrunner. Not some shy little thing. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted me to see it. I imagined fucking and screwing her mom. My grand complicated plans just turned into ashes in front of me. This was way better.
“I want to watch you use it,” I said, not even trying to hide it.
She raised an eyebrow, lips quirking in a dirty little smile. “Honestly, with a girl like me, I thought you would ask for a blowjob or you know, straight-up sex.”
“Yeah, sorry. But nah. I want to watch you get yourself off. That’s it.”
Vyshnavi shrugged, trying to play it cool, but her breathing was a little high. “Well, I’m not exactly ready. I’m not wet. Throw on some porn? Or—” her eyes flicked to my tablet, “—let me read something. Get my head in the right place.”
A wicked thought slid in. “Nope. I’ll read to you. You chill. Pick your poison.”
She bit her lips. I saw a submissive slut in her eyes and an almost submissive note in her voice that made me ache. “Master and slave.”
I grabbed the tablet and scrolled quickly for something dirty enough to make her wet. Without any guidance, she removed her slippers and crawled onto my bed. Leaning against the headboard and raising one knee to allow her nightgown to slide up.
My mouth dried up when you showed me those thighs. I started reading, dropping my voice lower. “The command was simple. ‘On your knees.’ She obeyed, no hesitation, caught in his grip. The cold marble floor pressed against her skin…”
Kept glancing up at her. Her eyes were shut now. One hand disappeared under her dress, resting high on her thigh. Her breaths hitched.
“His fingers—confident, greedy—didn’t ask. They took. He found her already soaked, already wanting…”
She let out a small moan, and her soft, tiny hand moved in slow circles over her panties. I could see the damp patch spreading. She was definitely getting close.
I kept reading, getting even filthier, describing the master’s control, the slave’s hungry surrender. Vyshnavi’s hips started rocking, her hand moving faster, chasing it.
She suddenly gasped, “Stop.” Her eyes snapped open, hungry as hell. “Not enough. I need more.”
She threw down her underwear after yanking it off. There wasn’t much of that anymore; it was just her and that dress.
Her legs open, basically begging me to stare. The whole room smelled like her arousal, thick and sweet, and I swear I could taste it.
Vyshnavi: “Keep reading.”
My hand clenched my own thigh so hard my knuckles ached from the effort not to touch myself. “I found my place,” my voice rough in my throat. “He entered her in one long, deep thrust, filling her up, stretching her, owning every inch.”
When I said the word “thrust,” Vyshnavi’s fingers finally plunged into her wetness. She gasped as two fingers inserted themselves inside her, and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Oh god,” she whimpered.
“Is that what you want, Vyshnavi?” I asked, putting down the tablet. The story had done its work. Now it was up to us. “Is that how you want to be filled?”
“Yes,” she panted, her hands working in and out of her. “But not my hands.”
I didn’t require being asked twice. I fetched the dildo from its packaging. It was smooth and massive. I held it up, and she fixed on it, a blend of terror and brute hunger crossing her face.
“Show me, beg me how you want it. My dirty slut,” I growled, my voice low.
She grasped it, her hand closing around the shaft. She urged the slick, chilly tip to her entrance, her hand trembling. She pushed, and the wide head started to open her up. A harsh, panting cry was ripped from her mouth, and her entire body stiffened.
“Fuck. Wow… It’s so big!” She pushed again, and the first thick inch vanished inside of her. Her other hand went to her boobs, massaging it hard through the material of her dress. Her hips jerked up, trying to take more, to force the unbelievable stretch.
I shifted to the side of the bed, transfixed. I could see it all. The way that her body stretched to fit the invasion, the way that her inner muscles quivered around the foreign silicone.
I set a hand on her knee, and she was burning. Her eyes were wide, wide open, locking onto mine.
“Do it, yaar,” she begged, her voice breaking. “You do it. I can’t… I need you.”
My hand closed over hers on the toy’s base. The heat from her skin was a brand. So, fucking hot. I gently moved her fingers aside, taking full control. Her eyes, wide open with a mix of fear and desperate need, were locked on mine.
Me: “Let me.”
I murmured, my voice a low rasp I barely recognised.
I pushed. The dildo by another inch in her pussy. Her resistance was giving way with a soft, wet sound. She let a ragged cry tear from her throat. Her hands were catching the bedsheets so tightly.
“Oh god…”
“Shhh,” I soothed, my other hand stroking her inner thigh, feeling the fine tremors wracking her slim frame. “Just feel it.”
I began a slow, deliberate rhythm. In, then out, then deeper in. Each stroke made her gasp. Each withdrawal made her whimper.
Her tightness was incredible. Her hips lifted, begging for more. I was mesmerised by her capacity. Her mind was ready, but what’s surprising to me was her body. It was ready to take all I gave.
My fingers trailed from her thigh and touched her asshole. She flinched, a new, sharper tension seizing her.
“Easy,” I whispered. “Just my thumb. Trust me.”
I circled the sensitive knot with my thumb, my other hand never stopping its steady penetration with the dildo. The dual sensations made her moan a soft, high-pitched melody of overwhelming sensation.
The question burned in my mind, a dark, possessive curiosity. I had to know. My thumb pressed a little harder, a promise of what was coming.
“Vyshnavi,” I said, my voice firm, cutting through her moans. Her glassy eyes focused on me. “Are you still a virgin?”
The question seemed to shock her back to reality for a second. A deep blush bloomed. She bit her swollen lower lip, then gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
“Yes,” she breathed out, the word barely audible. “Yes, Sir.”
Sir. At that moment, she called me, and it sent a jolt of pure, primal electricity to my core. The power was so intoxicating that it gave her a new high fantasy of her mother. This was real. This was now. She was offering me everything.
“No,” I corrected her, my thumb applying definitive pressure. “Not ‘Sir.’ Call me Daddy.”
As I spoke, I pushed my thumb into her. Just the very tip, breaching that incredible tightness. Her reaction was instantaneous and explosive. It was an unexpected pleasure.
“DADDY!”
The word echoed in the room. It was the most erotic sound I had ever heard. I licked my thumb, made it wet and inserted it again, but this time an inch or so deeper.
Me: “That’s it, baby girl,” I growled. “Say it again, my nympho. ”
Vyshnavi: “Daddy… oh, Daddy, please…” She sobbed.
I began to move my thumb in a slow, corkscrew motion, in time with the thrusts of the toy. The filthy, wet sounds filled the air.
Vyshnavi: “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” with every exhale. (Her moans were constant.)
I needed to know her. All of her. “What else, little one?” I asked, my voice thick with desire. “What are the other secret things my girl thinks about when she’s alone with her toy?”
She was lost in the sensation, her words slurred and breathy. “I… I think about… being watched…”
Me: “Like this?” I thrust the dildo deep, making her cry out.
Vyshnavi: “Yes! Yes, Daddy… I dreamt… of someone… finding me… seeing how bad I am…”
“You’re not bad,” I murmured, leaning over her, my face close to hers. “You’re perfect. A perfect, naughty doll for Daddy to play with. What else?”
“Sometimes… I put… ice…” she confessed, the admission seeming to shame and excite her all at once. “On my tits, Daddy, while I… you know…”
Fuck… The image was searing. “Do they get hard? Like little diamonds?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whimpered. “So hard… and so sensitive…”
That was it. I couldn’t wait another second. I needed to taste her. Her nipple was already a hard peak, just as she’d said. I closed my lips over her apple tits.
She let out a sharp guttural cry that was entirely new. Hearing this, I sucked hard. It was a raw and unfiltered scream of sensation.
Vyshnavi: “AH! DADDY!”
She thrashed beneath me, forcing her boobs deeper into my mouth. I suckled her like a man starving, my thrusts with the dildo becoming harder and deeper, fuelled by her frantic cries.
My thumb worked her other entrance, a constant, stretching reminder of my possession. Vyshnavi’s hands were in my hair now. She wasn’t pushing me away but rather holding my head to her breast, silently begging for more.
I gave a bite on her cleavage and switched to the other knee, giving it the same rough and wet attention. I was sucking and licking until she was sobbing openly. Her body was a taut bowstring of pleasure stretched to its absolute limit.
The whole room smelled of a mix of her sweat, perfume, and the unmistakable scent of her arousal. I was drowning in her. She was all that existed.
PS: Vyshnavi is 19 years old
Like-minded souls can text me at [email protected]. I will be waiting for you.