Bring the muscle to Shruti

As Laura opens up the door to Shruti’s room, you wonder what you’ll find inside. Will the Indian ChiO sister have overpowered the dealer, punishing him for his incredibly poor life decisions? Will you find them arguing past one another in an impasse, neither willing to budge any ground? Or will you find the worst—Shruti, actually roofied and naked, and the dealer taking advantage of her vulnerability?

What you find instead confuses you to no end. The dealer’s sitting shirtless on the bed with his back to you, chatting amicably with Shruti, who has managed to keep all her clothes on.

“They sound like swell guys, I should—” Shruti is laughing, her head resting on the dealer’s shoulder, until the moment the door opens.

Some switch flips inside her. She immediately pulls away from the dealer, her wide smile there one moment and gone the next. The dealer reads her reaction, confused until he turns around and spies you and Laura at the door.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” he shouts, glaring at you both.

“Isaac Morrison’s the only one who bought anything,” Shruti says quickly, ignoring him and looking straight at Laura. “Bring him down and we’ll be good. Make sure he hasn’t gotten to any of our girls yet. I’ll handle this twat.”

“I’ll get the fucker,” Laura says, departing in the next moment.

What’s happened finally seems to sink in to the dealer’s face.

“You’re not ****,” he says, staring at Shruti. She raises an eyebrow back at him. He turns to you, his face flaring red: “And you, you cocksucker! You ratted me out!”

“You deserved it—” you begin saying, when he suddenly tackles Shruti to the ground.

They go down together in a mess of flailing limbs.

“Get off me,” Shruti yells, swiping at his face, but he dodges to the side, pinning her down.

“You asshole,” you scream, diving towards him.

It’s chaos on the ground. The guy’s having trouble keeping Shruti down as she kicks back at him, his far greater bodyweight the only thing stopping her from breaking free. You’re on his back, trying to tear him off the ChiO sister, arms wrapped around his shoulders. With the two of you fighting against him, he doesn’t last long.

Shruti knees him in the balls, and just as he’s floundering, you sock him in the gut. The combination sends him sprawling to the side, groaning in pain, and you take the opportunity to shove him out of the room.

He takes a second to scamper to his feet.

“Get the fuck out of this place!” you bark at him, and he runs helter-skelter out of the corridor.

You chase him just far enough to make sure that he leaves the building, one hand still cupping his balls, before you return to Shruti’s room.

The girl is, incredibly, re-applying some of her smudged make-up, looking none too flustered after that sequence of events.

“That was hot,” she says, glancing at you. “Come in. Sit down.”

You do, and you do.

“So… that was the show?” you ask. “Seemed like too much audience participation to me.”

“They’re not usually so violent,” Shruti says, straightening out her saree. She turns to you and smiles. “But that’s why you were here. To be my little hero.”

She sits down next to you on the bed, the strange scents of perfume and sweat mixed together oddly alluring to you.

“That’s why you’re getting a little reward now,” she continues, her fingers undoing your fly with practiced ease.

“Oh shit,” you gasp as she finds your cock.

It makes no sense. It’s just a handjob. All she’s doing is stroking you off.

So why does it feel so fucking good?

You groan on the bed, your hips thrusting up into her hands, so dextrous and soft, the chills she’s sending down your spine driving you absolutely insane. She smirks at you, her hand tightening around your cock, whipping over it in a way that tickles your frenulum and rubs over your head, all of the sensations—your balls being played with, your shaft getting worked, the way that she’s doing all of this with such a casual air…

“There we go,” she says, giving your cock a magical squeeze.

You’re spurting cum into the air now, the orgasm hitting you like a brick out of nowhere. You double over, aware that you’re probably ruining her sheets, except somehow she’s got a wad of tissues to catch the load—and you see the make-up smears on it, she was just using it on her face—and she laughs at your half-ecstatic, half-confused expression.

“You’ve got good stamina,” she says.

“I came so fast,” you blink, mind still hazy from the orgasm.

“I know what I’m doing,” she smiles, before she taps your shoulder. “Now get up and go. I’ve got a party to get back to.”

Shruti +20