The studio lights cast an artificial glow across the makeshift classroom
set, illuminating the worn wooden desk where the day's performance had
been unfolding. Raj adjusted the camera angle, his slender fingers
working the controls with practiced ease. At twenty-two, he had grown
accustomed to the mechanics of adult filmmaking, but today felt
different. Today, Ritika was here.
His girlfriend of two years stood quietly in the corner of the room,
clutching a clipboard to her chest. At nineteen, Ritika possessed an
ethereal quality that seemed almost at odds with the gritty reality of
porn production. Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in
gentle waves, framing a face that could only be described as
angelic—large hazel eyes, a delicate nose, and lips that curved naturally
into a soft pink bow. She wore a simple white kurta and jeans, her
modest attire starkly contrasting with the lingerie-clad Jasmine reclining
on the set.
"I still don't understand why you had to bring her today," muttered
Vikram, the sound technician, as he adjusted his boom mic.
Raj sighed, running a hand through his unwashed hair. "My regular
assistant called in sick. This shoot pays three months of rent. What
was I supposed to do?"
The production had been filming for nearly four hours now. Abhisek, the
forty-year-old lead actor, displayed the chiseled physique that had made
him one of the most sought-after performers in the industry. His
muscular chest glistened with a thin layer of oil, and his confident
demeanor commanded the room. Jasmine, at twenty-two, was relatively
new to the industry but had already garnered significant attention after
her debut performance went viral.
They had completed the doggy style scene first, followed by the
missionary sequence. The director called for a thirty-minute break before
the final cowgirl scene, and the crew dispersed to grab refreshments and
check their equipment.
Raj walked over to where Ritika stood, offering her a bottle of water.
"You okay? I know this is...a lot."
She accepted the water but didn't drink. Her eyes kept drifting toward
Abhisek, who was casually chatting with Jasmine on the bed, both
performers seemingly unbothered by their nudity.
"It's just strange," Ritika said quietly. "Seeing all this in person."
"You get used to it," Raj replied, though his voice carried a note of
weariness.
Ritika hesitated, then walked closer to the bed where Abhisek sat on the
edge, scrolling through his phone. Jasmine had excused herself to the
restroom, leaving the veteran actor alone.
"Abhisek sir?" Ritika's voice was barely above a whisper.
He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"I have a question." She twisted her fingers together nervously. "Don't
you already have a wife?"
Abhisek's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Yes. Ten years married."
Ritika's brow furrowed. "Then why are you having sex with young girls?
Doesn't she mind?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. Abhisek's face darkened, and for
a moment, his professional mask slipped to reveal genuine irritation. "It's
our profession, little one. What don't you understand about that?"
Jasmine returned just then, her naked form glistening under the studio
lights as she settled beside Abhisek on the bed. She caught the tail end
of the conversation and laughed—a light, musical sound that seemed to
dismiss the tension.
"Ritika, don't worry about it," Jasmine said, crossing her legs beneath
her. "I have a boyfriend too. Been together three years. But I still have
sex with random guys for work." She shrugged with practiced
nonchalance. "Sex is different from love, you know. They're not the same
thing."
Raj nodded in agreement from behind his camera, offering a small smile.
"She's right, Ritika. It's just acting. Just work."
Ritika stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the two performers. Something
shifted in her expression—curiosity replacing uncertainty. The silence
stretched for nearly a full minute before she spoke again.
"I also want to take part."
Raj choked on the coffee he had been sipping, the hot liquid splashing
across his shirt as he sputtered in disbelief. "What? No—Ritika, I
mean—why would you want to take part?"
"It's my choice, isn't it?" Her voice carried an unfamiliar firmness.
"No," Raj said, more sharply this time. "Absolutely not."
Abhisek's lips curled into a slow smile. He studied Ritika with renewed
interest, his eyes traveling over her modest frame with professional
assessment. "Don't you love Raj?" he asked.
"I do," Ritika replied without hesitation. "But I want to have sex with
Abhisek now. What's wrong with that? Jasmine just told me sex is
different from love, isn't it?"
Abhisek and Jasmine exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
Raj's face flushed crimson, the shame burning through his cheeks as his
girlfriend—his pure, untouched girlfriend—expressed desire to perform
with another man right in front of him.
Abhisek finally composed himself and gestured toward the bed. "Okay,
sweetheart. You can do the cowgirl scene with me."
Ritika blushed deeply, a shy smile playing across her lips as she moved
toward the bed.
Raj stepped forward, his voice cracking. "No—Abhisek, she's my girlfriend.
I can't allow that. She's not...she's not a slut."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Abhisek rose from the bed,
his muscular frame towering over Raj's skinny physique. His expression
hardened into something dangerous.
"Listen, you cunt," Abhisek said, his voice low and menacing. "Every girl in
this room is a slut if she chooses to be. If you don't like it, then fuck off."
Raj's throat tightened. He glanced around the room—at the crew
members who refused to meet his eyes, at the expensive equipment
surrounding him, at the paycheck that would sustain him for months. He
couldn't fight Abhisek. He couldn't afford to lose this job.
His shoulders sagged in defeat. "Fine."
The director quickly adjusted the scene notes, and the crew resumed
their positions. Raj returned to his camera, his hands trembling as he
adjusted the focus. He had filmed countless scenes before—had watched
beautiful women pleasure and be pleasured by countless men—but nothing
had prepared him for this.
Ritika stood beside the bed, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of her
kurta. She had never been naked in front of anyone before—had saved
herself for Raj, believing in the sanctity of their love and the promise of
their future together. Now, she was about to give herself to a stranger
while her boyfriend watched through a lens.
The kurta fell to the floor, followed by her jeans. Raj's breath caught as
he saw his girlfriend's body revealed for the first time—smooth brown
skin, gentle curves, small breasts encased in a simple white bra. She
hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down, exposing the
dark thatch of hair between her legs.
"Action," the director called.
Ritika climbed onto the bed, positioning herself above Abhisek. He was
already hard, his impressive length resting against his stomach. She
hesitated only briefly before guiding him to her entrance, her virgin body
resisting the intrusion.
"Relax, sweetheart," Abhisek murmured, his large hands gripping her
hips. "Let me help you."
He thrust upward sharply, tearing through her hymen in one brutal
motion. Ritika cried out—a mixture of pain and something else—as her
body accepted its first cock. Tears welled in Raj's eyes, blurring his vision,
but he kept filming. He had no choice.
The room filled with Ritika's moans as she began to move, finding a
rhythm atop Abhisek's muscular body. Her initial discomfort transformed
into visible pleasure, her face flushing, her breasts bouncing gently with
each movement. She looked down at Abhisek with wonder, her body
responding to him in ways it never had to Raj's chaste touches.
Fifteen minutes stretched into what felt like hours for Raj. Each moan,
each gasp, each wet slap of skin against skin carved another piece from
his soul. He watched his innocent girlfriend—his pure
Ritika—transformed into a woman consumed by carnal pleasure.
Abhisek's breathing quickened, his grip on Ritika's hips tightening. With
a guttural groan, he buried himself fully inside her and released, his hot
seed flooding her unprotected womb. Ritika gasped at the sensation, her
body shuddering with what appeared to be her own climax.
"Cut," the director called.
Raj lowered his camera, his face wet with tears. "Hey," he said, his voice
hoarse. "You can't do that. It wasn't in the script."
Ritika dismounted slowly, Abhisek's cum already leaking down her thighs.
She turned to Raj with an expression he couldn't quite
read—satisfaction, perhaps, or something like defiance.
"I liked it, Raj," she said simply. "Don't get angry about that."
Abhisek laughed and slapped her bare ass appreciatively. "Good girl."
Raj watched as his girlfriend—the virgin he had cherished, the pure girl
he had planned to marry—smiled at another man's touch. Something
inside him broke irreparably in that moment. He set down his camera
and walked out of the studio, leaving behind his job, his girlfriend, and
the shattered remains of his dignity.
He would never pick up a camera again.