It was the first year in college. There were a lot of flings and rumors of affairs in college, and I was in heat, anxious to try anything at that time. Any girl could get hour-long worship when I sat down to wank while downloading sexy Bollywood actresses images on PC.
But one girl, in particular, got a lot of attention from my hand — Sumati. She was fair, busty, and had a slim waist. She had curly jet black hair and nice long fingers. She used to sit in front of me in the class, her creamy back facing me. The straps of her bra sometimes visible, sometimes protruding the salwar.
I always had an erection whenever she blazed into the classroom wearing a tight chudidhar. Her boobs bounced lightly in her every step. Sumati was always in a hurry. She was very impatient about everything. She dropped things, pens, books, draft sheets.
Whenever I gave them back to her, she smiled and ran away, her ass jiggling from side to side. “Hey Vinod, did I drop something yesterday?” she used to ask. If you sit next to me, you won’t drop anything, I wanted to say, but that was not possible in our college.
With all the items I was giving back, we soon became close friends. I touched her more than required, but not inappropriately, when I returned a book or two that she left behind in the class. She used to wait for me at the bus stop, breathing heavily, with a serious expression on her face.
“What was it today, Vinod?”
“Mechanics 1 textbook.” I gave her the book and let my hand rest on her palm.
“Thanks,” she said happily and didn’t say anything as I softly flicked my thumb on her watch strap.
“Sum,” I said slowly, “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Well, no. Where’s the time for that, yaar?”
“But, don’t you want to know what it’s like? To be with someone?”
“Arey, what’s up with you? Suddenly very romantic,” she said laughing. “Do you know what it’s like?” She looked at me, her eyebrows narrowing quizzically.
“No, no. Same as you.” I boarded the college bus and left for the last seat.
That was all I had at that time. I had the confidence of 100 Rajputs of Chittor but none of the words to say anything to her. Should I have said, “I don’t know. Maybe you should show me. Show me everything. I want to see, feel, bathe in your love.” And the devil in me pressed from all sides to take this further.
This was a chance, the devil said. Look at her now. All of that is for you. If you try. Look at her. You can have it if you are not a coward right now. I did not get down at my stop. Sumati looked behind, but I didn’t make any sign of noticing her.
When she got down, however, I rushed out of the bus. I said, “I want to know. Can I know you?” The words fumbled out without any tone or conviction. But they were out.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Are you?” I said.
“If you walk me home, I’ll tell you tomorrow,” she said.
We walked. It was two kilometers because Sumati usually caught a rickshaw from here to her house, but at that time, though our legs were growing tired from the day’s rush, we walked happily with each other.
I couldn’t sleep at night. Nor masturbate. It was the first time in years that I slept in dry underwear. I desperately wanted to, but couldn’t, thinking it was profane to do it, because of reasons.
I got a call late in the afternoon the next day, a Saturday.
* * *
Sumati looked prettier than before. Overnight she had transformed from a sex goddess. Her every inch of flesh screamed to be touched and ravaged to an angelic beauty who is delicate and docile to be savored gently by no one else but me.
But although these thoughts were honest in my heart, my dick swelled by the second, as the wants of the heart are not the wants of the flesh. From the moment I met her, I wanted to squeeze Sumati’s breasts and pull her nipples between my fingers. While at the same time, cup them in my palms and just lightly caress her areolae with a dab of saliva.
Maybe all of this will never happen, I thought, which was an excuse to keep thinking about them.
“You are early,” Sumati said.
“So are you.”
“Well, my parents are not at home. So I thought I’ll go out and meet my janeman.”
“Janeman huh?” I said. I think a tint of blush coated itself on my cheeks then. Maybe I am wrong because boys don’t blush.
“What do you want to be called then?” Sumati took my hand and squeezed my biceps. “Loverboy? Majnu? What?”
“Boyfriend would be nice.” Sumati’s grip tightened for a moment. “You can be my girlfriend. Sounds good?” Her grip tightened again, and I flexed as hard as I could though I had never gone near a gym in my life. She withdrew her hand and called a rickshaw.
Nothing significant happened in the rickshaw. I desperately wanted to pinch her thighs through the jeans. But you never know with these drivers, do you? So I waited patiently, smelling the flowery scent of the girl beside me.
Sumati changed to shorts and a tee after we arrived. Her house was big, a two-floor mansion, her bedroom on the second floor. I waited in the hall while she changed. There was a jug of water with ice cubes floating on top, and I drank right from it.
A frigid breath ran through me as I chewed on the cube, reshaping its contours with my tongue, imagining it as Sumati’s nipple in my mouth. As I swallowed, I felt I could taste the salty sweat that trickled down her cleavage.
I was following it down with my tongue, all the way down, down her panties to her pubes to the tip of her clit, where I flipped it inside me.
But this was not what was happening. The ice finished itself and just as doubts of me and her. All the stuff that happened so fast since yesterday started to feel like an illusion, Sumati came down. Her thighs mashed fleshly from the translucent pink shorts she had on.
For the first time, I saw the curves around the waist in the skin, her navel staring at me from the little belly. I felt my soldier gearing up to take the salute, when, suddenly, Sumati ran the last paces and hugged me hard. We fell into the sofa. She was on top of me and laughing.
“I am nervous, Vinod.”
“Same,” I said kissing her on the cheek.
Instinctively my hand examined the curves under her little tee. Feeling the goosebumps, slipping through the colorless tiny hairs from the belly to hip to thigh to the notch of her back, where it rested. I raised the curved block of my junk, which was in full anthem now, squish to her midsection.
“Dovetail joint,” I whispered and both of us blushed. Me more to how easily the bad joke slipped out and her to the wetness that was so private all her life being shared with another.
My fingers crawled up under her tee and unhooked the bra in a smooth jerk. I wanted to take it off before undressing her completely. Something about feeling a girl’s body through her tee, through her saree, with nothing beneath always fascinated me.
With my other hand, I untied the shoe knot of her shorts and slipped it from behind to the crack of her ass. It trembled in my palm. “It’s okay, Sum, it’s okay,” I breathed into her ear. She pressed closer and I pulled the bra off under her t-shirt.
Sumati hugged me harder. In a tender flurry, my hand grabbed at an ass cheek and slide it under and tapped. At first, I thought my hands were numb because I didn’t feel a thing, and the room was getting darker. Then I realized I had faded out from the fact that I had her cum between my fingers. The truth of it took a moment to kick in. Sumati moaned on me.
To be continued.
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