As I stepped into the bustling Chennai railway station, my eyes were drawn to the fluttering red fabric of a woman’s sari. A gust of wind had revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her midriff, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of attraction. She was a Marwadi aunty, her wheatish skin kissed by the sun, with just the right amount of flesh in all the right places. A small mole, nestled diagonally above her navel, called to me like a secret promise.
The train’s horn blared, announcing its imminent departure. I scurried to find my seat, and as fate would have it, she sat down directly across from me. Her attentions were consumed by a phone call, but I couldn’t resist stealing glances at her exposed navel and the hint of her collarbones peeking out from the neckline of her blouse. Her skin was smooth as silk, and I found myself imagining the taste of it on my lips. Her skin was the color of fresh wheat, and she had a figure that was neither too thin nor too plump. Her breasts were the size of perfectly ripe mangoes, their softness hinted at by the way they moved as she talked. Her blouse was modestly buttoned up, but that only served to tease me with the thought of what lay beneath.
The journey was a torturous delight. Every time she caught me ogling her, she would coyly adjust her sari, offering a brief flash of skin that made my heart race. I tried to focus on anything else, but her allure was irresistible. When she finally stood to gather her luggage, I took the opportunity to move to the side seats, eager for an unobstructed view of her navel.
The train jolted and swayed, and she took the seat opposite me again. Our eyes met, and she offered a shy smile. “How could you talk for so long?” I blurted out, desperate to break the silence. She giggled, explaining that it was a family matter. Her voice was like a melody, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“Your accent is different,” I said, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. “Marwadi,” she replied, her voice like warm honey. I realized then that I had been so captivated by her that I hadn’t even noticed the language she had been speaking.
The tension between us grew with every passing mile. Her eyes darted to me, then back to her phone, then back again. The sultry heat of the afternoon filled the compartment, and I found myself wishing I could peel away her clothes and explore her body.
As the train pulled into the station, she stood, and my heart sank. But she didn’t leave. Instead, she took her suitcase and sat in the empty seat across from me. Our eyes locked, and I knew that I had to make a move.
“Your phone call must have been very important,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. She chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “It’s just my cousins. There are so many of them, and they always have something to say.”
I took a deep breath and asked if she was from the area she had mentioned. She replied with a knowing smile, “No, but I am from a place nearby.”
As the train pulled away from the platform, she stood again, this time to leave the compartment. I followed her, my eyes on her swaying hips and the gentle jiggle of her ass. She stepped out, and I gathered my courage, not wanting to miss this chance.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of the station. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable earlier.”
She turned, her eyes meeting mine, and replied, “It’s okay.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. “I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are. I know it’s bold, but would you give me your number?”
Her eyes searched mine for a moment before she took my phone and typed in a series of digits. “It’s okay,” she said again, handing it back with a smile. “But don’t call too often.”
I called her number immediately, and her phone rang in her purse. She laughed and confirmed it was hers. “Hira,” she introduced herself. My heart pounded as I told her of my upcoming trip to Chennai. “I need to see you,” I said earnestly. “We’ll have to make time for lunch or a movie.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and flattery.
“Because I can’t get you out of my head,” I confessed, my voice thick with desire. “Please, I want to see you again.”
Hira was coy, but she promised she would try to find some free time. Our calls grew more frequent, and our conversations more intimate. I sent her cheeky memes that made her giggle, and she would respond with shy emojis. When I sent her the lyrics to “Aashiq Banaya Aapne,” she replied with a heart emoji, setting my imagination ablaze.
The day finally arrived, and she agreed to meet me in the evening. I picked her up in a taxi, and we drove to a nearby hotel. She stepped out of the car wearing the same red sari, her ample breasts straining against the fabric. Her dark, round nipples peeked out, begging for attention. My cock grew hard at the sight of her, and I knew I had to have her again.
The hotel room was dimly lit, the perfect setting for our clandestine affair. We didn’t bother with formalities; our bodies were speaking a language more ancient than words. I kissed her deeply, her lips parting to allow our tongues to dance together. Her hands roamed over my body, tracing the contours of my chest and stomach, making my cock throb with anticipation.
I slid the sari down her body, revealing her curvy figure. Her breasts were full and firm, with large, dark areolas that puckered at my touch. I took one nipple into my mouth, rolling it gently with my tongue while I squeezed the other. Her moans grew louder, and she arched her back, pushing herself into me.
Moving down her body, I kissed and nibbled my way to her navel. Her skin was soft and warm, and she quivered as my breath danced across her flesh. I dipped my tongue into her belly button, tasting the sweetness of her skin. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer.
With trembling hands, she untied the knot of her sari, and the garment fell away, exposing her shaven pussy. Her lips were swollen and wet, and I couldn’t resist the urge to taste her. I kissed along her inner thighs, feeling her legs shake. When my mouth reached her pussy, she gasped.
I licked her slowly, savoring the flavor of her arousal. Her hips bucked as I flicked my tongue against her clit. She was so responsive, her body singing with pleasure. I inserted two fingers into her tight, wet cunt, feeling her walls clench around me. She was like a vice, squeezing my fingers as she approached climax.
Her breath grew ragged, and she whispered my name as she came, her body convulsing in ecstasy. I didn’t stop, eager to taste more of her. Her pussy was like a well of sweet nectar, and I drank greedily, savoring every drop.
Finally, she pulled me up, her eyes glazed with passion. She reached for my cock, stroking it gently. “It’s my turn,” she said. And with that, she pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. Her pussy was slick with desire as she guided me into her warm, welcoming heat.
We fucked with an intensity that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and her cries of pleasure echoed in the room. Her ass was round and firm, and I watched as it bobbed up and down on my cock.
The tension built between us, our bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time itself. Her pussy tightened around me, and I knew she was close. I reached up to pinch her nipples, and she threw her head back, her orgasm washing over her like a tidal wave. I followed her over the edge, filling her with my seed. Our breathing slowed, and we lay tangled together, our hearts pounding in unison.
After a moment of blissful silence, she rolled off me, and we both sat up. She looked at me with a mix of satisfaction and mischief in her eyes. “You’re insatiable,” she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
I grinned, running my hand over her round, firm ass. “And you’re irresistible,” I replied, my voice still thick with lust.
The room was a mess of discarded clothes and rumpled sheets. Her sari was a puddle of red on the floor, and her blouse and bra were scattered on the bed. My shirt was open, revealing my chest, and my pants were around my ankles. We both took a moment to appreciate each other’s nakedness, our bodies glistening with sweat.
“I have to go,” she said, her voice filled with a hint of regret.
I nodded, understanding that she had a life to get back to. We both got dressed, our movements slower, more deliberate, as if we were trying to savor the last moments of our stolen time together. When she was fully dressed, she handed me her phone, and I added my number. “Call me,” I whispered, and she nodded, a promise in her eyes.
As she slipped out of the hotel room, I watched her go, my cock already growing hard again at the thought of the next time we’d be together. I lay back on the bed, my hand drifting to my still-sensitive cock. I began to stroke it, thinking of her wet pussy and the way she had moaned my name.
Her voice filled my mind, a siren’s call that I couldn’t ignore. I pumped my cock faster, feeling the need for release building in my balls. I imagined her straddling me again, her big, beautiful breasts bouncing in my face. I could almost taste her sweetness on my lips as I leaned in to kiss her.
My hand moved in a blur, my strokes growing more urgent. I pictured her riding me, her cunt clenching around my shaft as she screamed in pleasure. It didn’t take long before I was on the edge, my body taut with desire. With a final groan, I came, my hot seed spurting onto my stomach.
I lay there, panting, my hand still wrapped around my cock. The room was quiet except for the sound of my ragged breathing. I knew that this was only the beginning of our illicit affair. Each time we’d meet, we’d push the boundaries of our desires further and further. And as I cleaned myself up, I couldn’t wait for the next time I’d hear her whisper, “Call me,” and know that she was thinking of me just as I was thinking of her.
*****
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