Ayesha: Wicked Winter

The January night in Lahore was sharp and dry. Railway Colony lay hushed under a thin frost, the air biting at exposed skin. Ayesha Khan stepped off the rickshaw at the mouth of Gali No. 7, paid the driver in crumpled tens, and pulled her thick wool shawl tighter over her black abaya. Beneath, she wore only a thin cotton slip—nothing else, the way Raheel liked. Her breath fogged in the chill, curling white in the dim streetlight. It was past 11 PM.

The blue gate was ajar, a sliver of yellow light leaking out. She pushed it open with a gloved hand. The courtyard was dark, but warmth spilled from the open door of the single room, along with the low murmur of male voices, the clink of glass, and the hiss of a small gas heater. She stepped inside, the sudden heat hitting her like a wall.

Raheel stood in the center, barefoot despite the cold, white vest clinging to his chest with sweat. But he wasn’t alone.

Two other men lounged on the charpai—both in their late thirties, shirts off, shalwars tied low, feet stretched toward the glowing heater. One had a thick mustache and a silver ta’wiz around his neck; the other, leaner, with a faded PAF tattoo on his forearm. Empty beer bottles littered the floor—six, maybe seven. A ceiling fan spun lazily, useless against the heater’s dry heat. A half-eaten plate of seekh kebabs sat on a stool, grease congealing.

Ayesha froze in the doorway, frost still clinging to her eyelashes.

“Raheel… yeh dono kaun hain?”

Her voice came out small, breath visible in the warm air.

Raheel grinned, teeth white in the dim light. “Mere dost. Asif aur Bilal. Aaj special program hai.”

She took a step back, heel catching on the threshold. “Main nahi chahti yeh sab.”

Raheel moved fast—blocked the door, hand on her shoulder through the shawl, fingers digging into wool. “Chup. Aaj ham teeno mil ke tumhari lein gay. Bass aap nay ghabrana nahin hai...”

Ayesha shook her head, shawl slipping. “Nahi. Main ja rahi hoon.”

She turned. Asif was already behind her, hand on the iron latch. He clicked it shut with a metallic snap.

“Arey, aunty,” Asif said, voice thick with lager, breath smelling of malt and kebab. “Ek baar try karo. Bohot maza aye ga. Promise.”

She pushed at his chest—bare, hairy, warm. He didn’t budge. Bilal stood, stretched, cock already tenting his shalwar, the outline clear. Raheel gripped her abaya by the collar and pulled it over her head in one motion. The wool shawl followed, then the slip—tugged down to her waist, then off completely, pooling on the concrete. She stood naked, arms crossing her breasts, gooseflesh rising in the sudden warmth, nipples hardening instantly.

“Bas karo,” she said, voice shaking, teeth chattering from the cold outside. “Jaane do mujhe.”

Raheel ignored her. Pushed her toward the charpai. She stumbled, bare feet slapping the floor. Asif caught her arms, pinned them behind her back with one hand. Bilal knelt, hands on her hips, mouth latching onto her left nipple—sucking hard, teeth grazing the peak, tongue flicking. She twisted, hips jerking. Raheel’s hand slid between her thighs, two fingers plunging in without warning. She was dry, cold from the walk. He pumped once, twice, then pulled out, slick with emerging wetness that had started despite her.

“Dekha? Tayyar ho gaee na,” he said, holding up glistening fingers.

They moved her to the charpai. Asif sat first, pulled her onto his lap facing away. His cock—thick, curved upward—pressed against her ass crack, hot through the thin fabric of his shalwar. Raheel stood in front, shalwar down to his knees, cock in hand—veined, heavy, pre-cum beading. Bilal knelt on the mattress beside her, shalwar untied.

Raheel gripped her jaw, fed his cock into her mouth. She gagged—tried to pull back, lips stretching. Asif held her hips, lifted her slightly, impaled her on his shaft in one downward thrust. The stretch burned—her pussy unused to the angle. She moaned around Raheel—sound muffled, wet.

Bilal’s fingers found her clit, rubbing rough circles with calloused tips. Asif bounced her on his cock—short, brutal strokes, balls slapping her ass. Raheel fucked her mouth in rhythm—shallow, then deep, hitting her throat, saliva dripping down her chin onto her breasts. The charpai creaked violently under their weight.

They shifted after five minutes.

Raheel lay on his back, cock standing straight. Asif lifted Ayesha like she weighed nothing, placed her straddling Raheel—facing him. Raheel entered her pussy in one slick slide, hands on her hips, pulling her down until she was fully seated. Asif moved behind, spat on her asshole, pressed the head of his cock against the tight ring. She tensed, muscles clenching.

“Nahi—”

Too late. He pushed in—slow, relentless, inch by inch. The burn was intense, a ring of fire. She was stuffed full—Raheel in her pussy, Asif in her ass, both cocks separated by a thin wall. Bilal stood on the charpai, cock in her face. She opened—had no choice. Took him deep, throat relaxing involuntarily.

They found a rhythm. Raheel thrust up into her pussy—long, deep strokes. Asif countered from behind, cock dragging in her ass, pulling almost out, then slamming back in. Bilal fucked her mouth—hands fisted in her hair, hips snapping, balls brushing her chin. The charpai groaned. Sweat poured off all four bodies despite the winter chill outside. The room smelled of sex, lager, kerosene, and the faint char of seekh kebabs.

Ayesha’s protests faded into wet, choked sounds—gurgles around Bilal’s cock. Her body adjusted—slickness coating Raheel, her ass relaxing around Asif, pussy fluttering. The dual penetration hit every nerve—G-spot, cervix, clit. Bilal’s cock pulsed against her tongue, salty pre-cum coating her throat.

First shift in her body: a flutter low in her belly. Then a clench. Then heat spreading outward.

Raheel felt it—her pussy tightening. “Ab maza aa raha hai na,” he grunted, voice rough.

He pulled out suddenly. Flipped her onto all fours—knees on the thin mattress, ass in the air. Asif took her pussy from behind—hard, fast strokes, hands gripping her hips, pulling her back onto him. Raheel knelt in front, re-entered her mouth—deep, steady. Bilal lay beneath her on his back, mouth on her clit—sucking hard, tongue flicking side to side, then up and down. The overload short-circuited her. She came—hard, sudden. Pussy spasming around Asif, ass clenching, muffled scream around Raheel’s cock, hips jerking involuntarily.

They didn’t stop.

Bilal stood, cock slick with her juices. Took Asif’s place in her pussy—longer, thinner, hitting different angles. Asif moved to her ass again, re-entering with a wet pop. Raheel pulled out of her mouth, let her breathe—gasping, drooling—then entered her pussy alongside Bilal. Two cocks in her cunt—stretching her impossibly wide, the burn exquisite. She cried out—pain, then pleasure. They thrust in alternating strokes—one in, one out, then both at once. Her second orgasm hit fast, legs shaking, pussy flooding, juices dripping onto the charpai.

They swapped holes again.

Ayesha on her back now, head hanging off the edge of the charpai. Raheel between her thighs, cock in her pussy—deep, grinding, hips rolling in slow circles. Asif straddled her chest, cock between her breasts—pushing them together with rough hands, fucking the valley, pre-cum smearing her skin. Bilal knelt by her head, cock in her mouth again—upside-down angle, deeper. She sucked greedily now—tongue swirling the head, cheeks hollow, hands reaching down to rub her clit in frantic circles.

Third orgasm—violent. She arched off the charpai, pussy flooding, ass clenching around nothing, toes curling. Raheel groaned, came inside her—hot pulses, thick and copious. Pulled out slowly, cum dripping in a slow stream.

Asif took his place immediately—entered her pussy in one thrust, balls slapping wetly. Bilal moved behind, entered her ass—double penetration again, tighter now with cum as lube. Raheel stood, cock in her hand—she stroked him instinctively, thumb circling the head. Asif and Bilal synced their thrusts—deep, hard, relentless, the charpai nearly collapsing. She came again—fourth time—body shaking, voice hoarse, nails digging into Raheel’s thigh.

They flipped her onto her stomach, charpai ropes digging into her breasts. Raheel under her, cock in her pussy from below. Asif in her ass from above. Bilal in her mouth from the side. All three holes filled again. They moved in perfect rhythm—slow, then fast, then slow again. Her body was a machine of sensation—cock in her throat, cock in her cunt, cock in her ass, clit grinding against Raheel’s pelvis. She came twice more—sharp, rolling climaxes that left her limp, pussy squirting slightly, soaking the mattress.

They laid her on her side on the floor—concrete cold against her hip. Raheel in her pussy from the front, one leg hooked over his shoulder. Asif in her ass from behind, arm around her waist. Bilal in her mouth, kneeling. They fucked her in unison—slow, deep, then faster. Her hands roamed—stroking Bilal’s balls, pinching her own nipples. Another orgasm—sixth—rolled through her, pussy clenching, ass spasming, muffled moan around Bilal.

Raheel came first—deep in her pussy, groaning. Asif followed in her ass, hot spurts filling her. Bilal pulled out, stroked himself furiously, shot thick ropes across her face, breasts, and open mouth. She swallowed what landed on her tongue.

They collapsed around her—panting, slick with sweat. The gas heater hissed. The room reeked of cum, lager, and kerosene.

After a minute, Raheel lit a cigarette, took a drag, passed it to Asif. Bilal wiped himself on her discarded slip, then tossed it aside.

Ayesha sat up slowly. Cum leaked from her pussy and ass in slow rivulets, pooling on the concrete. Her thighs shook. Face sticky. Breasts heaving. She didn’t speak. Just stood on wobbly legs, found her abaya and shawl, pulled them on over her sticky, trembling skin. The men watched, silent, smoking.

At the door, Raheel exhaled smoke. “Agli baar phir? Teen aur dost bulaun?”

She didn’t answer. Just walked into the cold night, breath fogging in thick clouds, the winter air biting her flushed, cum-slick skin as she disappeared into the frost.