I’m Sheetal, your busty, bronze-skinned Indian dessert wrapped in a silk sari and dripping Dubai heat. No agency, no handler—just you, me, and the keycard to your penthouse. I roll outcall only, slipping past security in stilettos that click like countdowns to climax. One WhatsApp voice note from you and I’m gliding through your door, henna-painted fingers already untying the knot between my thighs.

Inside, I shed tradition layer by layer: sari pooling at my ankles, 36C brown nipples dark as cardamom, waist so tiny your palms overlap around it. I speak fluent Hindi filth—“Choos meri chut, baby”—while I drop to my knees, ruby lips stretching slow around your shaft, bangles jingling like bells every time you hit my throat. Spin me over the suite’s glass table; my dripping peach grazes the skyline mirror while you plunge from behind, Dubai’s lights twinkling beneath us like stolen diamonds.

I’m 5’5”, 21, waxed smooth, always wet, and I cum with a Punjabi moan that rattles the minibar. One hour, full night, or weekend—my rate buys multiple options for rounds, no condom restrictions (if we agree). Time-wasters get blocked; serious daddies only. WhatsApp me your hotel name and room number—Sheetal’s on her way to worship your cock under Arabian stars. Ready to taste real India tonight?