Her name is Swetha. We both had crushes on each other, but we knew it wouldn't end up in marriage, so we were friends till that happened. We were in the car talking, and there was a pause in the conversation, and we ki**ed, and it was one of the best liplocks... After a week she called me to her home as no one was there, so l went to meet her, and we both knew the purpose. We were talking a while and then went inside the room and wasted no time. I pushed her to the wall and had a deep kess while I was rubbing her pu**y above her dress... My tongue was inside her mouth, kie*ing so deep, and squeezing her babs, and I slowly inserted my hand inside her bottom. It was warm and wet. I was rubbing over it, and she was damn turned on. I threw her to the bed and rmoved her dress, and I was in und*rwear and ki**ing her like anything and squeezed her b**bs and pinched her ni**e... Raised her hands above her head and put my finger into her pu**y. She was meaning like anything and couldn't...
I was 24 when I moved into that small rented apartment in Delhi. It was the cheapest one I could find near my office, but what I didn’t know was that I’d be living below someone unforgettable — my landlady.
Mrs. Kapoor.
She was in her late 30s, a confident, curvy woman with a seductive smile and an aura that made my stomach twist every time she spoke to me. Her husband worked abroad, and she lived alone in the upstairs portion. Every now and then, she would invite me for tea or dinner, always wearing something comfortable… too comfortable.
That night, I had just returned home late from the office. I was surprised to find my door slightly open. As I stepped inside, I saw Mrs. Kapoor standing in my kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind. I saw the lights off and wanted to check,” she said, turning to me with a mischievous smile.
She was wearing a satin nightgown — thin, hugging her body, her cleavage peeking with every breath. I froze.
“No, not at all,” I stammered, suddenly hyper-aware of my own heartbeat.
She walked up to me and placed a glass of milk on the table. “You look so tired… I thought I’d take care of you,” she said, gently touching my arm.
I swallowed hard.
She looked into my eyes — long, deep, bold.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, stepping even closer. “Have you ever thought about me… differently?”
My mouth went dry. I couldn’t lie. I nodded slowly.
She smiled… and whispered, “Good.”
In the next second, she grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me in, kissing me deeply. Her lips were warm, hungry. I responded, my hands wrapping around her waist, feeling her curves, her softness. She moaned gently, pressing her body against mine.
Within moments, our clothes began to fall away. The kitchen counter became our stage, the soft light from the fridge casting a glow on her bare skin. I kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach — exploring every inch of the woman I had fantasized about for months.
She whispered dirty things into my ears, things I had never imagined she’d say. Her fingers dug into my back as I took her, right there, surrounded by the aroma of chai and heat.
We collapsed on the couch after, breathless, sweaty, tangled in each other.
“I’ve been watching you for weeks,” she said. “I knew you wanted me. Tonight, I just decided not to wait anymore.”
I smiled. “And now?”
She kissed me again. “Now, you’re mine.”
Comments
Post a Comment