Locker Room Ki Aag

Match ke baad ka woh ganda mahaul—sweat, frustration, aur woh chhupi hui dushmani jo team ke andar hi simmer kar rahi thi. Shubman Gill, woh naya launda, jo apni batting se Virat Kohli ko challenge kar raha tha, jaise uska successor banne ki koshish. Virat, king Kohli, field par toh aggressive tha, lekin andar se jal raha tha—Shubman ki youth, uski speed, sab kuch usko threaten kar raha tha. Locker room mein, team ke baaki chutiye nikal gaye the, sirf woh dono reh gaye. Lights dim, mirrors par fog from showers, aur hawa mein woh musky smell jo unki bodies se aa rahi thi.

Shubman towel lapet ke aaya, apna cock half-hard already, Virat ko taunt karte hue: "Bhaiya, aaj aapki captaincy toh flop ho gayi na? Agar main nahi hota, toh hum haar jaate." Uski awaaz mein woh smugness thi, jaise jaan boojh ke provoke kar raha ho. Virat ka chehra laal ho gaya, aankhein narrow. "Chutiya, tu sochta hai tu mera replace hai? Tu toh bas ek khelne wala toy hai, mera." Woh utha, Shubman ke gale ko pakad liya, wall ke against dhakel diya. Shubman ki saans ruk gayi, woh beg karne laga, "Bhaiya... chhod do... please, yeh mat karo. Main sirf mazak kar raha tha, mercy dikhao mujhe! Main... main dar raha hoon, yeh sab galat hai!" Uski awaaz toot rahi thi, body trembling, jaise woh sach mein trapped feel kar raha ho—dar aur unwanted thrill ka mix.

Virat ne uska chehra apne haathon mein liya, thumbs se cheeks ko stroke kiya softly, seduction shuru karte hue, lekin eyes mein woh dominant fire. "Mercy? Arre baby, mercy toh tere jaise launde ke liye nahi hoti. Tu mera hai, Shubman—pura, poora submit kar de mujhe. Dekh, kitna soft tera yeh chehra... kitni baar socha hai maine isko claim karne ka. Bas aankhein band kar, aur mera bol—'Malik, main tera hoon.'" Uski awaaz low aur commanding thi, honth Shubman ke kaan se neeche slide karte hue, neck par light bites—teasing nahi, marking jaise, skin par red welts chhodte hue, making Shubman whimper. Shubman ne resist kiya zor se, sir hilaya, haath Virat ke wrists par push kiye, "Nahin, Bhaiya... please, ruk jao. Yeh force hai... main nahi chahta... team mein kya sochega sab? Mercy, Bhaiya, main maaf kar doonga sab!" Lekin uska body betray kar raha tha, cock towel ke neeche straining, breaths hichkichate hue, jaise andar se woh chahat lad rahi thi control se.

"Chahe na chahe, tu mera banega. Yeh team nahi, yeh humara raaz hai—tera submission mera right hai," Virat ne growl kiya, apna haath towel ke andar daal diya, cock ko firmly grip kiya—slow, torturous strokes, thumb se slit ko rub karte hue, pre-cum ko tease karte hue. Shubman ki aankhein band ho gayi, ek broken sob nikal gaya, "Ahh... Bhaiya... mat... lekin... oh god, itna... please, slow karo. Main... main nahi seh paa raha." Virat ne uske kaan mein saans li, "Bol, 'Main tera submit hoon, Virat Kohli.' Warna yeh haath rukega nahi, aur tu yahin beg karega zyada." Shubman ne lips kaat liye, tears of frustration in eyes, lekin dheere se bola, "Main... tera... submit hoon... Bhaiya." Yeh pehla crack tha—submission ki shuruaat, weak lekin real.

Virat ne hasa triumphantly, "Accha launda. Ab agla step—ghutno par baith, mera lund choos. Yeh tera training hai, randi. Force nahi lag raha na ab? Yeh tera malik ka order hai." Shubman ne hesitate kiya, neeche dekh kar beg kiya aur, "Please, Virat... throat mein nahi... main gag kar jaunga, vomit ho jaayega... mercy, Bhaiya! Main kuch aur kar loonga, bas yeh nahi!" Uski awaaz desperate thi, haath fold kar liye pleading mein, lekin Virat ne uske baal pakde tight, force kiya neeche—towel gir gaya, Shubman knees par gir pada, floor ke thande tile touch karte hue. Virat ne apni pants kholi, thick cock bahar nikala, veins throbbing like ropes, tip angry aur leaking. "Chup, kutiya. Muh khol, aur le poora. Yeh tera pehla poora submission hai—mera naam le har thrust ke saath."

Shubman ne muh khola reluctantly, sirf tip liya—tongue flat against underside, sucking lightly jaise avoid kar raha ho depth ko, lekin Virat impatient tha, hips forward jerked—cock straight down throat, bulging the skin, making Shubman choke violently, eyes watering, gagging sounds wet aur obscene. "Gag kar, saale... le mera lund poora andar... yeh teri saza hai resistance ki. Bol, 'Malik, aur deep!' " Shubman ki haath Virat ki thighs par clawing, push kar raha tha survival ke liye, "Mmmph... please... bahar nikaalo... can't... breathe... mercy!" Tears streaming down, saliva bubbling from lips, nose running—full humiliation scene, lekin Virat ne hold kiya, face-fuck kiya mercilessly—thrusts deep aur rhythmic, balls slapping chin par, "Nahin, randi. Submit kar, relax kar throat... yeh tera naya normal hai. Bol, main tera malik hoon!"

Dheere-dheere, Shubman ka resistance shatter hone laga—gags kam hue, throat muscles give up kar gaye, woh deep breaths ke beech mein adjust karne laga, haath Virat ke ass par shift hue, pulling him in weakly. "Haan... malik... Virat Kohli... tera lund... mera muh tera hai... aur deep, please," usne garam kiya jab Virat thoda bahar nikala, voice hoarse aur broken, lekin eyes mein ab woh glazed submission—worship jaise, jaise woh finally broken ho gaya ho. Virat ne muskuraaya possessively, "Dekha? Tu mera perfect slut ban gaya. Ab poora le, mera naam le—Virat Kohli—har swallow ke saath." Aur woh continue kiya, brutal face-fuck ab consensual grind ban gaya, Shubman ki moans gags se mix, haath apne cock par jaate hue self-touch karte, full submission mode mein—begging se devotion tak, throat ka bulge Virat ke cock se visible, saliva pool on floor.

Yeh scene itna intense tha—seduction se force tak, phir woh soul-deep submission jo Shubman ko change kar diya, jaise Virat ka brand uske andar ho gaya ho.

"Tu mera hai, samjha? Team ka future nahi, mera personal randi," Virat growled, apna muh Shubman ke kaan par ragadte hue. Shubman ne struggle kiya, acting jaise resist kar raha ho, lekin uska haath Virat ke chest par phail gaya, nails digging in. "Fuck you, Virat. Tu jealous hai mera talent se. Main tera beta nahi, tera equal hoon." Yeh bolte hi Virat ne uska towel cheen liya, Shubman ka naked body expose—toned abs, that perky ass jo gym mein itna polish tha. Virat ka haath uske cock par pahuncha, squeeze kiya hard, making Shubman yelp. "Equal? Tu mera ganda saala randi hai, jo meri har command maanta hai. Bol, kutiya, kaun hai tera maalik?"

Shubman ki body betray kar raha thi—cock twitching, pre-cum dripping. Drama build ho raha tha, unka breathing ragged, jaise fight se fuck tak ka transition. "Tu... tu hai, Bhaiya. Fuck, please... mat tease kar." Virat ne hasa, dark aur dirty: "Tease? Main tujhe punish karunga, tu saale harami launde. Aaj match mein tune mujhe ignore kiya, ab dekh." Usne Shubman ko ghumaya, face against the cold locker, ass up. Haath se uski gaand par thappad maara—loud smack jo echo hua room mein. Shubman moaned, "Ahh... harder, Bhaiya... main tera ganda randi hoon."

Virat ne apni jersey faad di, pants down, uska thick cock out—veins bulging, angry red. Lube ki bottle se haath bhara, lekin tease kiya pehle: fingers circling Shubman ke hole, pushing in just the tip. "Yeh tight chutiya gaand... kitni baar socha hai maine isko faad dalunga. Bol, kitna chahta hai mera lund?" Shubman arched back, desperate, "Bohot, Virat... fuck my ass, make me your whore. Randi bana de mujhe." Virat ne ek finger thrust kiya deep, then two, scissoring roughly, making Shubman cry out—"Shit... yes, stretch me, Bhaiya... I'm your dirty slut." Yeh fingering aur intense ho gaya—Virat ne teesri finger add ki, prostate ko hit karte hue, Shubman ko edge par le aaya, lekin ruk gaya jab woh close tha. "Nahin, abhi nahi... pehle mera malik bol, submit kar poora—bol, 'Main hamesha tera gulam rahunga, Virat Kohli.'"

Drama peak par tha—Virat ka ego, Shubman ki submission, sab mix ho raha tha sweat aur lust mein. "Tu mera hai, samjha? Koi aur launda touch karega toh main uski band baja dunga," Virat ne kaha, apna cock Shubman ke ass ke against ragadte hue. Phir, ek brutal thrust—pura andar, no mercy. Shubman screamed, "Fuuuck! Itna bada... rip my ass, Virat!" Virat ne uske baal pakde, pull kiya back, hips slamming forward jaise piston. Har thrust ke saath cuss words: "Le saale randi... yeh teri saza hai... tight gaand faad raha hoon main... bol, accha lag raha hai na, kutiya?"

Shubman ki moans porn-star level—high-pitched, broken: "Haan... accha lag raha hai, Bhaiya... fuck me harder, main tera personal whore hoon... cum inside my randi ass!" Virat ka pace wild ho gaya, haath se Shubman ke cock ko jerk karte hue, balls slapping against skin. Locker room mein gandi awaazein—wet slaps, grunts, "Chutiya... le mera lund... tu mera hai forever." Sweat drip kar raha tha unke bodies se, mirrors fog up, jaise unka drama seal ho raha ho.

Climax aaya jaise explosion. Shubman pehle toot gaya, spilling on the floor with a wail—"Virat... I'm cumming... fuck!" Uski ass clenched tight around Virat, milking him. Virat ne last thrusts diye, deep aur savage: "Le mera maal, randi... fill kar raha hoon teri gaand!" Hot spurts inside, Virat ka body shuddering, collapse karte hue Shubman par. Dono hi saans le rahe the heavy, Virat still inside, biting Shubman ke shoulder par.

Baad mein, shower ke neeche, Virat ne usko gently saaf kiya, lekin whisper kiya: "Yeh drama khatam nahi hoga, Shubman. Tu mera rahega, chahe kitna bhi rebel kare." Shubman ne muskuraya, weak lekin satisfied: "Haan, Bhaiya... tera hi randi hoon main."