Episode 5: Shubman ‘s Turn
The night was thick with secrets and shadows as Kohli received another chilling message from the blackmailer. The words on his phone screen were clear: “If you want to keep your secrets safe, you’ll convince Shubman to join you next.” Kohli felt the weight of manipulation, his heart pounding with a mix of dread and desire.
With a heavy heart, Kohli texted Hardik, weaving a lie to mask the blackmailer’s demands: “I need Shubman tonight. If you don’t make it happen, I can’t promise your secret is safe.” Hardik’s response was a storm of anger, but the fear of exposure left him no choice. He spoke to Shubman, his words coated in reluctance.
Shubman, curious and unsuspecting, agreed to meet Kohli, believing it to be just another evening with friends. The moment Shubman stepped into Kohli’s hotel room, the air was charged with a palpable tension. Kohli, feeling the guilt of his deception, tried to maintain a facade of confidence as they talked, their words soon giving way to a different kind of communication.
Shubman, with a hint of surprise in his voice, said, “You’re not the kind of guy I expected to be this bold.”
Kohli, his voice rough with a mix of guilt and desire, replied, “Maybe you bring it out in me.”
The room darkened as they moved closer, the conversation fading into the background. Kohli’s hands found Shubman’s waist, pulling him close. Their lips met in a kiss that was hungry, wet, and filled with unspoken promises. Kohli’s tongue invaded Shubman’s mouth, the kiss deepening as he pushed Shubman against the wall, his body pressing hard against the younger man.
“Fuck, you taste good,” Kohli growled, his hands roaming under Shubman’s shirt, feeling the heat of his skin. He pulled the shirt off, revealing Shubman’s toned body. Kohli’s lips found Shubman’s neck, biting down, drawing a sharp gasp from Shubman.
Shubman, caught between shock and arousal, felt Kohli’s hand slap his ass, the sound echoing in the room. “You like that, don’t you, you little slut?” Kohli whispered, his voice dark and commanding.
Before Shubman could answer, Kohli spat on his face, the act so sudden and degrading that Shubman’s eyes widened in surprise. Kohli smeared the spit across Shubman’s cheeks, down to his lips, forcing him to taste it. “Swallow it,” he ordered, and Shubman, with a mix of defiance and submission, did.
Kohli then pushed Shubman down to his knees, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. “Suck it, bitch,” he commanded, unzipping quickly. Shubman, with a mix of hesitation and excitement, took Kohli’s cock into his mouth, the size almost overwhelming. He licked around the head, tasting the precum, then took it deeper, his tongue working the underside while his hands massaged Kohli’s balls.
“You’re fucking good at this,” Kohli moaned, his hands tangling in Shubman’s hair, guiding him roughly. Shubman gagged slightly, the sound only fueling Kohli’s lust. “Take it all, you dirty boy,” Kohli said, pushing deeper until Shubman’s nose was buried in his pubic hair.
Kohli pulled Shubman up, turning him around and bending him over the bed. “I’m going to make this ass mine,” he said, his hands spreading Shubman’s cheeks apart. He spat on Shubman’s hole, then buried his face there, his tongue licking, probing, exploring. Shubman moaned, the sensation new and intense, his body responding with a shiver.
“You like that, don’t you? You’re my little slut now,” Kohli said, his voice muffled as he continued to eat Shubman out, his tongue pushing in and out, making Shubman’s legs tremble.
Kohli stood up, his cock now slick with his own saliva, and positioned himself at Shubman’s entrance. Without any more preamble, he thrust in, hard and deep, drawing a cry from Shubman. “Fuck, you’re tight,” Kohli grunted, beginning a ruthless pace, his hips slamming against Shubman’s ass, the sound of their bodies meeting loud in the room.
Shubman’s hands gripped the sheets, his moans turning into screams as Kohli took him with wild abandon. “Yes, fuck me harder, make me your bitch,” Shubman panted, the pain morphing into pleasure under Kohli’s relentless assault.
Kohli, feeling the power, decided to push Shubman further. He withdrew, his fingers now slick with lube, and pushed one, then two, then three inside Shubman, stretching him. “You’re going to take my hand, you greedy slut,” he said, and slowly, with a lot of lube and a lot of patience, he began to fist Shubman, who was now beyond words, his body shaking with the intensity of the sensation.
“Fuck, you’re so open now, taking all of me,” Kohli marveled, his voice a mix of awe and lust, as he watched Shubman’s ass stretch around his hand. Shubman’s cries were a mixture of pain and pleasure, his body overwhelmed.
After a while, Kohli withdrew his hand, replacing it with his cock once more, the feeling different now, Shubman’s ass gaping and wet. They changed positions, Shubman riding Kohli, his movements wild as he chased his own pleasure, their bodies slick with sweat.
“Spit on me, I want your spit all over me,” Shubman begged, and Kohli complied, spitting into Shubman’s open mouth, on his chest, making him even more of a mess.
Their vulgar dialogue continued, each word fueling their lust. “You’re my fucking slave now, aren’t you?” Kohli growled, his hands gripping Shubman’s hips, guiding him up and down his cock.
“Yes, master, use me,” Shubman moaned, his voice breaking with each thrust, his own cock hard and leaking.
As they neared their climax, Kohli flipped Shubman back onto his stomach, entering him from behind again, his movements now frenzied. “I’m going to fill you up, you filthy slut,” he hissed, and with a few more thrusts, he came, his release hot and deep inside Shubman.
Shubman, pushed over the edge by the sensation, came moments later, his orgasm painting the bed sheets beneath them. They collapsed, breathing heavily, their bodies sticky and spent.
Unbeknownst to them, the blackmailer, hidden in the shadows, had captured every moment, every scream, every act of their wild night, adding another layer to his twisted game. But for now, in the quiet aftermath, Kohli and Shubman lay there, their bodies intertwined, the reality of their situation yet to dawn on them.
