I live in the penthouse suite in one of them, and while I will admit I have given up dating the gym pretty players and the desperate mid life comb overs of my banking and real estate peers, my sex drive has not died no matter how starved it has become.

Increasingly, my reward to myself has been the long and I will be honest strut across the courtyard where the Hindu boys will cat call me and make me feel like I was giving them wank fodder for their grad year dreams. Watching those young Hindu men sweat in T shirts and shorts, unless the T shirts came off was making the starving sexual part of me fixate on them as a starving woman on a buffet of rich exotic foods she has never tasted and now burns to feast on.

I had worked hard at the gym to make my body at 48 fitter and hotter than it was at 28. Part was because beauty is success and power in my business, and part because my husband cheated with half of my friends, and that has been eating at me since the divorce. Having their eyes feast on me, and seeing those hardening Hindu cocks swelling to improbable proportions was my big reward for being a good girl and working hard all day smiling and dealing with self important big money assholes. My clients and coworkers all qualified equally.

Over the last few months, I had begun dressing for those boys as much as for the office. I would undo a couple of buttons before taking my walk past them, and I would put a lot of wiggle in my walk. I chose lingerie to accentuate rather than downplay my bust because damn it, those boys eyes and whistles were all the sex life I had, so I hungered for it like an addict for her fix.

In the last week, they had been snapping pictures of me, and having me strike poses for them. I was insanely flattered. I would go home and during my shower get myself off so strongly thinking of them that I am sure my screams when I came might have the neighbors calling the police, if mine wasn't the only voice heard.

I guess that is how it happened.

Vivek and Neel followed me up the stairs as I came home. They were openly looking at my legs up my skirt and asking me to strike a pose to show off my ass and tits for them at the landing. I was feeling quite flirty so I did.

They followed me into my suite, which usually tenants only see on rent day to pay me. I was so in the groove of following their commands to turn this way and that it didn't occur to me to stop once I got in my home.

1

Vivek told me how the bra I was wearing really showed off those fine white tits I was always teasing them with. He teased me that I was dressing up just for them wasn't I and I admitted that I had been doing so for the last few months. I just had to tell him the truth when he demanded it. It didn't seem right to deny him.

That is when he told me to take it off, my blouse, and show me the bra I wore for him.

They had their cameras out, Neels flashing stills, Vivek's taking video, but like I said, it didn't seem right to deny him. Doing what he told me was making me feel drunk, feel high like cocaine.

I took off the blouse and posed as they told me to. I could feel and see my nipples hardening, there was a fire and dampness growing in my panties that told me that I would be lucky to make it to my shower before I NEEDED to touch myself after how these Hindu boys were making me feel.

2

Vivek told me I had a fine white ass and if it was his he would spank it red as my hair and then show me how that white ass I had been shaking in front of them would be used by a real Hindu man. I had never allowed my husband to spank me, nor would I have considered letting him fuck my ass, but I had been fingering my asshole every night ever since Vivek and Neel started taunting me about taking me front and back. I had even started using my vibrator back there sometimes.

I turned and flashed the a look at my ass under my skirt.

3

Vivek and Neel took off their shirts and showed off hairy chests with flat muscles and many sweat. My god, these teenage boys were more men than my ex husband. They stroked huge bulges in their shorts and told me if I wanted to see more I would have to prove that I was real, not just another fake white bitch with fake tits and bottle hair. I had to show them the curtains matched the drapes, and the boobs were real, or they wouldn't show me what a real Hindu lund looked like.

4

I knew the cameras were there, but I couldn't stop. I dropped my panties, and undid my bra. They dropped their shorts and huge Hindu cocks swung out. Primative and potent, the foreskin covering the tip like a hidden ripe plumb. Heavy potent balls swung beneath that would fill my mouth with just one, not like the tiny beans my ex husband had.

5

I drooled, and it spilled from my mouth to the curve of my breast, and they laughed.

6

They made me pose for them, telling me that if I was a good girl, they would let me taste what I had been looking at, and playing with myself thinking about. They had heard me masturbating after seeing them for weeks, they had been joking about it. Calling me a desperate red headed whore. I was so ashamed, so turned on, so agreeing with every word they said.

7

Vivek asked if I thought my white fun bags were big enough to wrap a round a real Hindu lund, a real man's cock. Could I make myself a proper redheaded cock sleeve or was I completely useless.

8

I squeezed my tits together to show him what I could do, and then sucked each nipple into my mouth to show him I was ready to not only go as far as he was, but dare him to go farther.

Vivek laughed and asked if I was ready to be his, and look after him and his mates as I was told to do. I looked at the camera and swore that I was.

He pointed the camera at my pussy and asked

"Who owns this pussy, who owns this little red headed chut? Is it you?"

I heard myself saying clear as a bell.

"No Vivek, this is your pussy. Your little redheaded chut."

9

They spent all night proving it. When they were done, I could not rise, so they threw a blanket over me where I was leaking cum from my poor stretched ass and tired but satisfied pussy. As Vivek walked past, I caught his foot and pressed my lips to his shoe. I kissed it three times, tears running down my face, because I didn't have the words to express what I felt.

He pet my head like a good dog. "Good girl. You were a good girl, and I am going to have lots of fun owning you"

The blanket helped, but those last words were what kept me warm as I fell asleep on the floor of my living room. I may have owned the buildings, but those Hindu boys now owned me. I was finally happy.