POV: Divya Rana | Time: 8:26 a.m. | Setting: Staff Parking Zone – Bright Sunlight
The heat had shifted.
It wasn't just the sun anymore. It was Jasmine's voice. Her moans. The slap of wet sounds echoing from the convertible. The rasp of Ryan's low, dominant commands curling into the air like smoke.
Divya stood in full view, the exposed concrete under her shoes baking her toes through her regulation flats.
Her coffee cup was long gone.
Her breath came in shallow hitches, nose flared, chest rising faster than she wanted to admit.
And still—still—she watched.
Jasmine was a mess of sweat and slick. Her skirt was halfway off her hips, blouse entirely undone. She straddled Ryan now, bouncing in slow, grinding rhythm, her moans high-pitched and shameless.
Ryan didn't rush. One hand guided her hips. The other brushed under her blouse, palming her breast, thumb circling her nipple.
And still—she talked.
To them.
To Geeta.
To her.
"Tell me you've never imagined this," Jasmine said breathlessly, arching her back. "Tell me you've never fingered yourself in a hotel bed and pictured his hands instead."
Her eyes fixed on Geeta—sweat forming at her temples, her lips parted in disbelief.
Ryan's hand reached up and snapped the clasp of Jasmine's bra. Her breasts spilled forward into his waiting palms.
He groaned.
"She's wet just watching."
Jasmine turned toward Geeta, rocking harder. "She's soaking through that tight uniform."
Divya's fingers twitched.
But she didn't touch herself.
Not yet.
Her mind was unraveling one thread at a time.
Because Jasmine wasn't wrong.
The heat blooming in her panties wasn't just wet—it was sticky, unbearable, humiliating. Her clit pulsed with every bounce of Jasmine's hips.
Her nipples were stiff against her bra, aching.
But she stayed still.
Barely.
Geeta's posture had changed.
Her arms had dropped to her sides.
Her legs were parted just enough to betray the tension.
Divya didn't need to look far—she could feel Geeta's breaths now. In sync. Ragged.
Jasmine saw it too.
And smiled.
"You want to touch yourself," Jasmine purred. "But you're scared she'll see."
She jerked her chin toward Divya.
"She's already watching, Geeta. She already knows."
Ryan chuckled. "Let her see you. Let both of them see."
Geeta flinched.
But her thighs pressed together.
Her hands clenched, then released.
And then—
Slowly—
One hand drifted up her thigh.
Divya inhaled sharply.
But said nothing.
Her eyes dropped.
Geeta's fingers brushed her skirt.
Then dipped beneath.
She took a half step back—against a parked car, bracing one hand behind her.
Her other hand disappeared under the hemline.
Jasmine gasped again, rolling her hips in a slow grind.
"Good girl," she whispered, loud enough to hear.
Ryan's hand smacked her ass once—sharp, audible.
Jasmine moaned in reply.
Geeta's shoulders shivered.
Her breathing grew louder.
She rubbed herself under her skirt—slow circles, face turned slightly toward the car, but her eyes never closed.
Divya could see the tremble in her knees.
"Fuck, yes," Jasmine groaned. "She's really doing it."
Ryan looked toward Geeta.
Then toward Divya.
"You can join her. I'll have room for both your mouths."
His words sent a sharp jolt through Divya's chest.
Her knees weakened.
Her panties clung to her soaked folds.
But still—
She didn't move.
Geeta let out a breathless moan.
It wasn't loud.
But it was unmistakable.
Her head tilted back slightly.
Her palm worked beneath her skirt in slow, desperate movements.
The fingers of her free hand scraped lightly at the car's frame behind her.
Divya couldn't take it anymore.
Her thighs squeezed together.
She could feel her own heartbeat between her legs.
She'd never felt this turned on. Not during sex. Not during fantasies. Not during nights alone in hotel beds.
Never.
Jasmine leaned forward again, grinding down against Ryan's lap, her hand between her own legs.
"Geeta," she moaned, "you're such a slut."
Geeta gasped softly, fingers rubbing faster.
Ryan's voice dropped.
"Look at her face."
Divya did.
And what she saw wrecked her.
Geeta's mouth was slightly open.
Eyes glazed.
Cheeks flushed.
A line of sweat trailed down her jaw.
And her hips were rocking.
Against her hand.
Against her shame.
In public.
Jasmine smirked, never breaking rhythm.
"She's going to cum watching me ride him."
Her breasts bounced with every grind. Ryan's hand gripped her waist now, helping her slam down harder.
Geeta whimpered.
Her lips moved—no sound came out.
But her body trembled.
Her fingers worked faster under her skirt.
Divya could hear it now.
The wetness.
The slick sound of fingers on soaked skin.
She was doing it.
Geeta Sethi—Captain Sethi—was masturbating in an open lot.
In front of Jasmine.
In front of Divya.
In front of him.
Jasmine grabbed Ryan's face and kissed him hard.
Their mouths crashed.
Their moans tangled.
Ryan bit her lip and pulled her hair.
She laughed, breathless.
"She's next, you know," Jasmine whispered loud enough to hear.
"She's going to drop to her knees like I did."
Her eyes flicked to Geeta.
Then to Divya.
"Both of them."
Divya gasped.
The tension shattered.
She turned.
Took two steps back.
And ducked behind a black SUV.
Not fleeing.
Not yet.
Just hiding.
Her pulse raced.
Her skin flushed.
Her body soaked.
Her thoughts spiraling.
But she wasn't leaving.
Not yet.
Not even close.
===============================================
POV: Divya Rana | Time: 8:27 a.m. | Setting: Staff Parking Zone – Bright Daylight
The scent of sweat and heat mingled with lust, thick as smoke in the summer air.
The concrete steamed under the Mumbai sun, burning through the soles of Divya's shoes. Somewhere nearby, a luggage cart screeched in protest as it rolled over a speed bump. A horn blared on the far side of the lot.
But none of it mattered.
Not compared to the sound of Jasmine moaning.
Not compared to the sight of her—straddling Ryan in the open convertible, blouse undone, breasts out, hair a tangle of sweat-soaked strands as she bounced in slow, grinding thrusts.
The whole act was filthy.
And yet impossibly beautiful.
Divya's heartbeat had migrated—downward. It pulsed between her thighs, between her clenched fingers, against the inside of her damp panties.
She stood in full view. Frozen. Overheated. Silently unraveling.
She didn't move.
She didn't dare.
Jasmine rolled her hips harder now, her moans spilling freely.
Ryan's hands were on her waist, dragging her down against him. His head was tilted back, one hand rising to squeeze her breast with slow, commanding pressure.
Divya watched his thumb circle her nipple. Watched Jasmine's mouth part in response, eyes fluttering shut as she whispered:
"Tell me, Geeta… does watching me ride him make you ache?"
Beside her, Geeta was breathing heavily.
Visibly.
Audibly.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, but her body betrayed her: the tremble in her knees, the twitch in her jaw, the way her chest rose too fast and didn't fall fast enough.
Divya glanced sideways.
Geeta was flushed.
Neck to cheek.
Eyes wide but dark, locked on Jasmine's bouncing ass and the rhythm of Ryan's cock disappearing inside her over and over and over.
Jasmine didn't let up.
"Come on, Geeta," she moaned. "You've been wound tighter than a wire since training camp. You ever even cum before?"
Geeta's lips parted.
No sound came.
Ryan chuckled. "She's soaking. I guarantee it."
He looked directly at Geeta.
"Prove me wrong."
That was the first time Geeta moved.
A shiver passed through her like a tremor.
Her right hand twitched.
Then lifted.
Drifted to her chest—rested just beneath her collar.
Her fingers curled against the soft cotton.
Then slid lower.
Across her abdomen.
Down toward her thigh.
Divya's breath hitched.
Jasmine saw it too.
"Oh yes," Jasmine purred. "That's the Geeta I wanted to see."
She threw her head back and let out a high, melodic moan as she ground harder against Ryan, her thighs slick with sweat and arousal.
Then she reached between her own legs again, rubbing herself in front of them both.
"Touch yourself, Geeta. I want to watch."
Divya saw the moment it happened.
Geeta didn't step forward.
Didn't fall.
Didn't collapse.
She surrendered.
Silently.
She braced one hand against the car beside her—fingertips splaying across the glossy hood like it was a lifeline.
Her other hand dipped beneath the hem of her skirt.
And didn't come back out.
Divya couldn't breathe.
She watched Geeta rub herself.
Watched her thighs begin to shake.
Her skirt rose slightly—just enough for Divya to catch a flash of her upper thigh, the edge of her lace underwear.
A single line of wetness traced down her leg.
Geeta was dripping.
And she didn't care.
Jasmine gasped as Ryan gripped her hips and thrust upward, driving into her harder. Her moans cracked, became ragged.
"You want to know what he feels like?" she gasped between thrusts.
"He stretches you open and doesn't let you breathe. He fills every inch of you and then owns it."
Divya couldn't tear her gaze away.
Her own panties were so soaked they'd started to ride between her folds, the seam catching against her throbbing clit every time she shifted.
She squeezed her thighs together, trying to contain the pressure—but it only made things worse.
Her core clenched with need.
But she refused to move.
Geeta let out a sound.
A choked moan.
Her hips began to roll, matching Jasmine's pace.
Her mouth parted as her fingers worked faster beneath the fabric.
Her knuckles glinted in the light—slick, soaked.
Ryan looked directly at her.
"Good girl," he said calmly.
"Don't stop."
Jasmine turned her head and grinned over her shoulder.
"She's going to cum like this. Watching me take every inch."
Geeta whimpered.
Her entire body trembled.
She leaned more heavily against the car—chest rising, sweat forming at her temple.
Divya saw the way her fingers pressed harder, faster.
Heard the faint sound of wet circles being drawn on sensitive flesh.
Heard Geeta whisper something.
It sounded like: please.
Jasmine bounced faster now, her ass slapping against Ryan's thighs.
Her moans became choked sobs of pleasure.
Ryan's voice stayed low.
Commanding.
"You're going to watch her cum," he said to Jasmine.
"And you're going to let her know she'll never be the same."
Divya's hand twitched again.
She wanted to touch herself.
Needed to.
But she couldn't—not yet.
Geeta's fall had to play out.
She had to see how far it would go.
Geeta's voice finally broke.
A long, shuddering moan escaped her lips as her body curled inward.
Her fingers shook violently under her skirt.
Her legs collapsed slightly—knees buckling, thighs clenching.
She bit her lip.
Then came.
She didn't scream.
Didn't wail.
She gasped—once—like her lungs had stopped, and her eyes fluttered shut.
Her entire body shivered in place, pinned between guilt and glorious release.
Jasmine moaned louder.
Her hand between her legs moved faster.
Ryan grunted.
Divya's knees locked in place.
She couldn't take it anymore.
The tremor in her thighs became a warning.
A threat.
A scream building behind her lips.
She took one step back.
Then another.
Turned.
And ducked behind a parked SUV.
Not far.
Just close enough to keep watching.
But far enough to finally—finally—slip her hand between her thighs.
She pressed hard against the slick cloth.
Her body jolted.
She gasped into her hand.
Eyes locked on the shimmering image of Geeta's wet fingers and Jasmine's bouncing ass.
Divya came within seconds.
And barely stayed upright.