The Delhi Stud – 3

Kalu works on our new punching bag as Karan and I return from the gym. Read to see what we do next.

As Karan and I walked in all sweaty from the gym, we could see how Kalu was raping Karan’s wife aggressively. He was driving his cock into her with such burning fire that it would surely leave her sore for days. It wasn’t just the intensity of his assault, but also the aesthetics of it. He, a large, studly black man, with a great swinging dick, was almost splitting that tiny black-eyed woman in half, as he whispered obscenities and threats in her ears.

It was music to our ears and heaven to our eyes.

We didn’t want to interrupt it. Karan just left a 2000 rupee note as a tip for Kalu’s good work. I went an extra step. I picked up that note, put it between Kalu’s buttcheeks, and patted him to notify him of his reward. And since I’d already come so close, I took a swing at my sister-in-law and planted a wide-palmed slap on her right cheek.

Now it was time for the two brothers to finally relax in each other’s company.

We walked over to my floor, with Karan in front of me. He plopped right down on the couch, with his sweaty gym clothes still on. Not that there was much fabric there anyway, but still. Rules are rules. And since Kalu was busy and Chhotu was not in a 10 metre radius, I decided to help my brother abide by the rules of the floor.

“Bhaiya, you know the drill,” I said, sinking to my knees, “no clothes here.”

“Bro I’m fucking tired.”

“Nuh uh.”

I pulled at his shorts.

“I’ll still be sweaty, dude.”

“There’s no rule against sweating,” I winked, “but I don’t wanna ruin my couch.”

He smirked. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

“I guess I’ll just have to lick it off, won’t I?”

I didn’t have to please my brother this way – I mean this is why we have servants. But I wanted to. I fucking love my brother and I sometimes wanna show it to him, physically. And he’s fucking attractive.

I slowly pulled his shorts off, and took a whiff. His dick stirred. I then took his legs and pulled him up a bit, so I’d have access to the opening of his jockstrap. I took a whiff of his clean, but sweating butt. I licked him, which made him shiver. I licked him all over, and he just kept moaning. God I loved my brother.

In the midst of all this brotherly bonding, we heard the sound of running. Karan’s wife, apparently, thought that a way to escape Kalu’s brutality was to come up… To where two more brutes were preparing.

But Kalu was a natural bull. He was trained to chase his prey, and the predator was just behind her. He pounced on her on my living room floor, and began fucking her right there.

“Kalu bhenchod how did you end up coming here? Karan and I were having a moment.”

“Vir bhaiya you can continue,” he panted in between breaths, “as if this is any secret.” He kept ramming into her, as she cried and begged him to stop. “You can continue, but I won’t stop until this slut has learnt her lesson.”

Karan interjected, shaking his head, “Gaandu that’s not the point.”

We both looked at each other. The seductive charm that was building between us, was rudely interrupted. But brothers we were and brothers we shall stay, so rather than getting off using one another, we decided to get off together… Using someone else.

“Kalu. Leave this slut,” I beckoned to him, “come with us.”

We had to go on a rampage. No servant in the house was safe now.

We’d fuck them all.

Kalu would only fuck the leftovers, of course. By “we” I meant my brother and I, the Delhi studs.

…

Part 4 will be a descriptive one of the terror Vir and Karan will unleash upon their servants – young or old, small or big, white or black, mother or daughter, father or son.

If you’re interested, that is.

Side note – Many of my readers have found only “The Delhi Stud” to be excessively cancel worthy. Most of my stories involve gay sex, domestic violence, rape and other such “awful” things, but for some reason, this one particularly hits some people the wrong way. If I get a bad rating on this one, I’ll discontinue The Delhi Stud.

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