Meera - The new Teacher

[MeeraKrish99]

Nice story

[shamson9571]

Episode 39: Ripples in the Flow

The days leading to the college outing began moving faster, with students buzzing in the corridors, staff sorting logistics, and a general sense of anticipation settling in like a steady hum.

In the Classroom

Arjun sat in his usual spot, chin resting on his palm, pretending to listen but lost in thought. Meera was at the front, explaining a passage from a poem, her tone calm and focused. But for Arjun, everything she did—how her bangles clinked softly when she gestured, the way the fabric of her saree shifted when she turned—seemed to be amplified.

Every now and then, she walked past his desk, and he instinctively held his breath, stealing glances he wasn’t proud of. His curiosity was no longer innocent. He knew that. And yet, there it was—something magnetic, something he couldn’t resist.

When she passed by once more to check a notebook, he caught the scent of jasmine from her hair, and it nearly undid him. The subtle fragrance stirred up every image his imagination had offered him over the past few days.

In the Staff Room – Priya & Meera

Later that day, Priya leaned against the staff room door, sipping her coffee.

“You really aren’t confirming the trip yet?” she asked Meera, a playful lilt in her voice.

Meera chuckled as she gathered some papers. “There’s a family thing I might have to attend. Not sure yet.”

Priya raised an eyebrow. “You do know you’ve become the main attraction, right? Half the staff is more excited to see you there than the waterfalls.”

Meera rolled her eyes, blushing slightly. “Stop exaggerating.”

“I’m not! Honestly, if you show up in one of your silk sarees—game over,” Priya said, giving a dramatic gesture. “I might need to take a seat myself.”

Meera laughed, a hand over her mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“But serious,” Priya added with a wink. “Think about it. We haven’t had a proper day out in months. You deserve it.”

Meera’s smile lingered as she nodded. “I’ll try to come. I just need to sort a few things.”

Later That Evening – Arjun’s Thoughts

Back at home, Arjun lay on his bed, still replaying the small moments of the day. Meera’s voice echoing in his ears, that gentle flick of her wrist while writing on the board, the perfume he caught near his desk.

But now, a new thought pulsed in him: the college trip.

He imagined what Meera might look like outside the classroom. Maybe in a lighter, flowy saree. Maybe laughing more freely, walking barefoot by the water. The thought made his heart race. Something about seeing her in a natural setting, unguarded, made the fantasy stronger.

He didn’t even know what he wanted from her anymore—just that he couldn’t look away.

And he wasn’t sure if he ever would again.


---

To be continued...

[shamson9571]

Episode 40: A Week of Waiting

The week before the trip passed in a strange mix of routine and restlessness. The regular college schedule moved along as always, but Arjun found himself counting the days. Each lecture, each break, each moment in the corridor felt like a ticking clock.

He watched Meera as he always did, though now there was an added layer to his gaze. He wasn’t just observing her elegance or admiring the way she carried herself. He was imagining her outside the classroom, in the sunlight, surrounded by nature—less composed, perhaps more relaxed.

He wondered what she would wear. A light cotton saree? A pastel salwar? Would her hair be open, swaying with the breeze as they walked by the waterfalls?

Every night he played out different versions of the day trip in his mind. Conversations they might have. A glance that lingered too long. A moment stolen in the quiet.

In the Staff Room

"So, have you decided yet?" Priya asked Meera, lowering her voice playfully as she slid a cup of tea toward her.

Meera nodded, setting down her pen. "Yeah, I spoke to my family. I can come."

"Finally!" Priya grinned. "You know the staff WhatsApp group lit up the moment you said yes."

Meera laughed softly, shaking her head. "You're making that up."

"Only slightly," Priya teased. "You really don’t know the effect you have on people, do you?"

Meera gave her a look, half amused, half exasperated. "Please don’t start again."

"Just promise me one thing," Priya said, leaning closer. "Whatever you wear that day—don’t hold back. You were practically glowing in that silk saree last week. Give nature a challenge."

Meera blushed lightly but didn’t argue. "Let’s see."

Back in Class

The next day, Arjun noticed the subtle shift in Meera’s energy. There was a calm in her, something light behind the eyes. And when Priya passed her a note just before class and Meera smiled reading it, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was about the trip.

His heart beat a little faster.

She was coming. The countdown had truly begun.

The week leading up to the college outing buzzed with anticipation. Students were energized, the staff was half-reluctant, half-excited, and the air around the campus felt lighter, touched with the promise of a break from routine.

For Arjun, though, time moved strangely. Every passing day was both a step closer to the trip and a test of patience. His thoughts were consumed by what might unfold outside the confines of the classroom. He tried to stay focused, but each time he saw Meera walking down the corridor or speaking with another teacher, his heart would pick up pace.

In class, Meera remained as graceful and composed as ever. That week, she wore her usual elegant sarees, but Arjun noticed every detail more acutely than before—the subtle shimmer of her blouse, the calm way she adjusted her pallu, even how she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He no longer pretended it was just admiration. He knew it was more.

Meanwhile, in the staffroom, Priya and Meera shared one of their tea breaks in the corner near the window.

"So," Priya said, leaning in with a grin, "finally made up your mind?"

Meera sipped her tea before replying, "Yes, I'm coming. Thought it might be a good break."

"A good break?" Priya teased. "You're going to look like a goddess near those waterfalls. I can already hear the jaws dropping."

Meera rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Oh please. I’m planning to wear something very simple."

"Even your 'simple' turns heads. Just be ready for attention," Priya said, nudging her playfully with her elbow.

Meera blushed but didn’t argue. Somewhere deep inside, the compliment warmed her.

As the week wore on, the lists were finalized, buses were arranged, and permissions collected. Arjun found himself checking the notice board more often than usual, confirming Meera's name on the faculty list. It was there. Bold, clear.
She was going.

And he couldn’t wait.

To be continued...

[Tanvirapu]

too slow

[Uvaaaa]

Nice update

[Rakul1985]

It's been very slow pace.

[Dumeelkumar]

Nice update

[shamson9571]

Episode 41: The Day of the Falls

The morning of the college trip broke with a golden haze, the air crisp and alive with the promise of a day outside the classroom. St. Mark’s buzzed with energy as students gathered near the college gates, backpacks slung over shoulders, voices overlapping in a chaotic hum of excitement.

Arjun woke earlier than necessary, his body thrumming with anticipation. He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his casual t-shirt and jeans, his hands unsteady. Today wasn’t just a trip. It was a chance to see Meera Ma’am outside the rigid lines of college—freer, softer, closer. His mind had been painting scenes for weeks: her by the waterfall, hair loose, a light saree catching the breeze. He shook his head, trying to focus, but the images clung to him.

At college, he boarded the bus with his friends, Rahul and a few others, claiming the last row seats for the best view—and the most privacy. The back of the bus was loud, filled with laughter and mock arguments over snacks, but Arjun was quiet, his eyes fixed on the bus door. His heart beat unevenly, waiting for her.Students filed in, teachers called out names, but Meera didn’t appear. The minutes stretched, and a knot tightened in Arjun’s chest. What if she wasn’t coming? The thought was unbearable. He leaned forward, craning his neck toward the front, ignoring Rahul’s nudge about his obvious distraction.

Just as the driver started the engine, she arrived.Meera stepped onto the bus, and Arjun’s breath caught.She wasn’t in a saree.For the first time, she wore a churidar—a soft cream-colored one, the kurta sleeveless, hugging her shoulders and skimming her arms with delicate precision. The fabric flowed over her curves, the churidar pants tapering at her ankles, elegant and understated. A sheer dupatta, pale gold, dbangd loosely over her chest, fluttering slightly as she moved. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, a few strands framing her face, and her eyes carried a quiet, relaxed glow.Arjun stared, frozen.

The churidar changed everything. It was less formal than her sarees, more revealing in its simplicity. The sleeveless kurta bared her arms, the smooth lines of her shoulders catching the morning light. The dupatta, though, covered just enough—dbangd across her chest and underarms, hiding what he suddenly, desperately wanted to see. His mind flickered to the classroom moment when she’d raised her arms to tie her hair, the soft hollow under her arm briefly visible. Now, the dupatta was a barrier, teasing him with what lay beneath.She looked… untouchable yet real. Like she belonged to the day, to the sunlight, to the open air.

Meera scanned the bus, nodding to a few students, then slid into a middle-row seat next to Priya, who was already grinning and gesturing animatedly. The two leaned close, their laughter soft but carrying through the bus’s hum. Arjun’s eyes stayed locked on her, taking in every detail—the way the kurta clung to her waist, the gentle sway of her dupatta as she adjusted it, the curve of her neck as she turned to Priya.“Dude, you’re gonna burn a hole through her,” Rahul whispered, smirking.Arjun snapped his gaze to his lap, cheeks hot. “Shut up,” he muttered, but his eyes drifted back almost immediately.

The bus rumbled to life, weaving through the city toward Ranga Falls. Arjun barely registered the chatter around him. His world was the middle row, where Meera sat, her profile visible as she talked with Priya or looked out the window. Every so often, she’d lift a hand to adjust her dupatta, and his heart would jump, hoping for a glimpse of her underarm—smooth, soft, a detail that had become sacred in his obsession. But the dupatta stayed in place, a quiet torment that only heightened his longing.

At the Café Stop:

An hour into the drive, the bus pulled into a roadside café for breakfast. Students spilled out, stretching and joking, the air filled with the smell of coffee and fried snacks. Arjun lingered near the bus, pretending to check his phone, but his eyes followed Meera as she stepped off with Priya.

The morning sun lit her up, the cream churidar glowing against her skin. She laughed at something Priya said, her head tilting back, her dupatta slipping slightly but not enough. Arjun’s pulse quickened. He wanted her to raise her arms—maybe to stretch, maybe to tie her hair again—anything to reveal that hidden curve under her arm. But she didn’t. She stood casually, one hand on her hip, the dupatta still dbangd securely.

He followed his friends into the café, choosing a table near the window where he could see her outside. Meera and Priya sat at a small table, sharing a plate of samosas, their conversation light and easy. At one point, Meera reached for a napkin, her arm lifting slightly, and Arjun leaned forward, breath held. The dupatta shifted—but only a fraction, not enough to reveal anything. He exhaled, frustration and excitement twisting together in his chest.Priya caught Meera’s wrist mid-gesture, saying something that made them both laugh. The touch was casual, familiar, but to Arjun, it was electric. His mind flashed to the staff room, to Priya’s playful pinches at Meera’s waist, and his throat tightened. He wanted to be that close. To touch her like it was nothing. To belong in her orbit.

The group was called back to the bus too soon. Arjun walked slowly, stealing one last glance as Meera stood, brushing crumbs from her kurta. The dupatta fluttered, teasing the edge of her arm, but still—nothing. His anticipation only grew sharper.

Arrival at Ranga Falls:

The bus wound through green hills, the air growing cooler as they neared Ranga Falls. When they finally arrived, the roar of the waterfall greeted them, mist rising from where the water met the rocks below. The area was lush, trees framing the falls, sunlight filtering through in soft streaks.Students poured out, shouting and snapping photos. Teachers called for order, but the energy was uncontainable.

 Arjun stepped off the bus, his eyes searching immediately for Meera.She was already out, standing near Priya, her dupatta catching the breeze. The churidar looked even more striking here, the cream fabric glowing against the green backdrop, her arms bare and graceful as she pointed toward the path to the falls. Priya said something, and Meera laughed, her ponytail swaying. The dupatta slipped slightly down her shoulder, and Arjun’s heart leapt—but she adjusted it quickly, unaware of the storm she was stirring in him.

The Moment He Saw:

The group moved toward the falls, spreading out along the rocky path. Meera and Priya walked ahead, stopping near a wooden railing to take in the view. The mist from the falls hung in the air, cooling the skin, and Arjun lingered a few steps behind, pretending to tie his shoelace but watching her every move.

Meera paused, her dupatta slipping again as the breeze picked up. She didn’t notice at first, her attention on the cascading water. Then, as if sensing the damp air, she lifted both arms to retie her ponytail, her fingers working quickly to tighten the band.The dupatta fell away from her chest, sliding down her arm.And there it was.Her armpit—smooth, soft, a delicate hollow framed by the curve of her raised arm. The skin was flawless, warm-toned, glistening faintly with the mist’s touch. It was intimate, unguarded, a detail so small yet so overwhelming that Arjun’s world narrowed to that single point. The sleeveless kurta left it bare, the gentle dip under her arm catching the sunlight in a way that made his breath stop. It was hot—not in a loud, exaggerated way, but in the quiet, searing intensity of something private made visible, something he’d dreamed of but never expected to see so clearly.

His chest tightened, his pulse a loud drum in his ears. He couldn’t look away. The moment was fleeting—she finished tying her hair, the dupatta slipping back into place as her arms lowered—but it was enough. Enough to burn into him, to fuel weeks of restless nights. The sight was everything he’d imagined and more: soft, real, achingly beautiful.Meera turned slightly, laughing at something Priya said, oblivious to the storm she’d just unleashed. Arjun stood, rooted to the spot, his shoelace forgotten, his body hot despite the cool mist. His friends called him from further down the path, but their voices were distant, drowned out by the roar of the falls and the louder roar inside him.He followed the group slowly, his eyes still flicking to Meera, to the way her churidar moved with her, to the arms that had just revealed something sacred. The dupatta was back in place now, covering what he’d seen, but it didn’t matter. He had seen it. He would carry it with him.The day had just begun, and already, Arjun felt like he was drowning in her, waiting for another moment that might never come—but one he’d chase forever.

To be continued…

[shamson9571]

Episode 42: Drenched in Her Light

The roar of Ranga Falls filled the air, a steady, primal sound that seemed to pull everyone closer. Mist rose in soft clouds where the water crashed against the rocks, catching the midday sun in fleeting rainbows. The lush greenery around the falls framed the scene like a painting, vibrant and alive. Students scattered along the rocky banks, some snapping photos, others dipping their toes in the shallow pools, their laughter cutting through the waterfall’s hum.

Arjun stood near the edge of the group, his sneakers sinking slightly into the damp earth. His friends had already kicked off their shoes, rolling up their jeans to wade into the water. Rahul splashed another boy, shouting something about a race to the rocks, and soon the shallow pool was alive with students playing, water flying in arcs, voices echoing off the cliffs.

“C’mon, Arjun!” Rahul called, waving him over. “Don’t just stand there like a statue!”Arjun forced a half-smile, nodding, but his eyes weren’t on his friends. They were searching for her.

Meera stood a little further up the path, near the wooden railing, her cream churidar glowing in the sunlight. The sleeveless kurta hugged her shoulders, the churidar pants tapering elegantly at her ankles, and her pale gold dupatta fluttered in the breeze. She was talking to Priya, her posture relaxed, her ponytail swaying as she gestured toward the falls.

 The mist had already kissed her skin, leaving a faint sheen on her bare arms, and Arjun’s chest tightened at the sight. She looked like she belonged here, in this wild, open place, her elegance softened by the natural chaos around her.

He joined his friends in the water, more to blend in than to play. The cool water lapped at his calves, soaking his jeans, but his attention stayed on Meera. He splashed halfheartedly, dodging a wave from Rahul, his laughter hollow. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked back to her, watching, waiting, hoping.

The teachers were scattered along the banks, some supervising, others chatting in small groups. One by one, they began to join the fun. The P.E. teacher, Mr. Rao, waded in first, his shorts already soaked, laughing as he tossed a ball to a group of boys. Then Ms. Lakshmi, the history teacher, stepped in cautiously, her salwar kameez hiked up to her knees, squealing as the cold water hit her. The students cheered, egging them on, and the atmosphere grew looser, freer.

Arjun’s heart beat faster. Would she join? Would Meera, always so composed, always so careful, let herself step into the water? He couldn’t imagine it—but he couldn’t stop hoping for it. His eyes stayed locked on her, tracking every move, every gesture. She was still with Priya, her head tilted as they talked, her dupatta slipping slightly down her shoulder. He remembered the moment earlier, when she’d raised her arms to tie her hair, revealing the smooth, glistening hollow of her armpit. That image was still burned into him, fueling his anticipation for something more, something closer.

Priya nudged Meera, pointing toward the water, her grin wide and teasing. Meera shook her head, laughing, her hands raised in mock protest. Arjun’s breath caught. He stood still in the shallow pool, water dripping from his hands, ignoring the chaos around him. Come on, he thought, almost pleading. Just step in.And then—she did.

Meera hesitated at the edge, her bare feet testing the rocks. She glanced at Priya, who was already wading in, splashing water playfully in her direction. Meera laughed—a sound so light, so unguarded, it cut through the noise of the falls—and stepped forward. 

The water lapped at her ankles, soaking the hem of her churidar pants. She hiked the kurta slightly, revealing a sliver of her calves, and waded deeper, her dupatta now pinned loosely to her shoulder.Arjun couldn’t move.The moment came suddenly, as if the falls themselves had conspired to make it happen. 

Meera moved closer to the base of the waterfall, where the mist was thickest, and a wave of water—kicked up by a student’s splash—crashed over her. She gasped, laughing, her hands flying up to shield her face, but it was too late. The water drenched her, soaking her churidar from head to toe.Arjun’s world stopped.She looked like an angel—no, more than that. She was ethereal, radiant, a vision carved from light and water. The cream churidar, now wet, clung to her body like a second skin, amplifying every curve, every line, in a way that made his heart skip. The sleeveless kurta molded to her shoulders, outlining the gentle slope of her collarbones, the soft swell of her chest. The fabric hugged her waist, revealing the perfect hourglass of her figure, the dip of her midriff where the kurta met the churidar pants. Her hips, usually softened by the flow of a saree, were now sharply defined, the wet fabric tracing their curve with breathtaking clarity.The dupatta, soaked and heavy, had slipped to her waist, no longer a barrier. Her arms, bare and glistening, shimmered with droplets, the smooth skin catching the sunlight. The water had darkened the cream fabric, making it slightly translucent, hinting at the contours beneath without revealing too much. It was intoxicating—the balance of exposure and mystery, the way her body seemed both vulnerable and untouchable under the falls.

She moved closer to the waterfall, tilting her head back to let the water cascade over her. Her ponytail loosened, strands of wet hair clinging to her neck, framing her face like a halo. She stood directly under the falls now, arms slightly outstretched, embracing the rush of water. Arjun’s eyes followed her back, and his breath caught in his throat.The wet churidar clung to her lower body, and the round, perfect shape of her ass was unmistakable. The fabric outlined it with stunning precision—full, curved, impossibly alluring. It wasn’t exaggerated or performative; it was just her, natural and unaware, standing under the falls like a goddess sculpted from water and light. The curve of her hips flowed into the taut lines of her thighs, the churidar pants molding to every contour, leaving nothing to the imagination yet somehow making her more sacred. She looked like an absolute angel, her beauty amplified by the raw, unfiltered setting, her ass a perfect, heart-stopping detail that made Arjun’s pulse race.He couldn’t blink. Couldn’t think. 

His eyes traced her silhouette, drinking in every detail—the way the water ran down her back, the way her wet kurta clung to her ribs, the way her laughter mixed with the roar of the falls. She was everything he’d dreamed of and more, a vision so overwhelming he felt like he was drowning in her.She turned slightly, still under the falls, and for a moment, her eyes swept over the group. Arjun froze, his heart skipping as their gazes brushed past each other. She didn’t linger, didn’t notice him specifically, but the moment was enough to sear into him. 

Her face, flushed from the cold water, glowed with a joy he’d never seen in the classroom. Her lips curved in a soft, unguarded smile, and her wet hair framed her like a crown.He stood there, water lapping at his knees, his friends’ laughter a distant hum. 

The world had narrowed to her—this drenched, radiant woman who had no idea what she was doing to him.

The End of the Play

The play in the water slowed as the teachers called everyone back to the banks. Students trudged out, dripping and laughing, some wrapping towels around themselves, others shaking water from their hair. Meera stepped out last, her churidar still clinging to her, though she’d pulled the dupatta back over her shoulders, hiding some of the curves that had been so vividly exposed.

 She wrung out her ponytail, water dripping onto the rocks, and laughed as Priya tossed her a towel.Arjun watched, his chest tight, as she dried her arms, the towel brushing over the skin he’d seen earlier—smooth, flawless, now faintly pink from the cold. He wanted to stay in this moment, to memorize every detail, but the group was already moving toward the changing area, a small set of rooms near the parking lot for students and staff to swap out wet clothes.

Meera and Priya walked together, their towels slung over their shoulders, their conversation light and easy. Meera’s wet churidar still hugged her hips, the fabric swaying with her steps, and Arjun’s eyes followed instinctively, his feet moving before his mind caught up.

In the Ladies’ Changing Room

The ladies’ changing room was small but clean, with wooden benches and hooks along the walls. Meera and Priya stepped inside, the door closing behind them, the hum of the falls now a distant murmur. They dropped their bags on the bench, and Meera sighed, peeling the wet dupatta from her shoulders.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Meera said, laughing softly as she wrung out the fabric. “I didn’t plan on getting this soaked.”Priya grinned, already pulling a dry kurta from her bag. “You say that like you didn’t just steal the show out there.”

 She glanced at Meera, her eyes playful but warm. “You looked like you walked out of a movie, drenched under that waterfall. Honestly, Meera, your curves in that churidar? Lethal.”Meera’s cheeks flushed, and she swatted Priya’s arm lightly. “Stop it. It’s just a churidar.”“Just a churidar?”

 Priya raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing but sincere. “That wet fabric was hugging you like it was in love. Your waist, your hips—everything was on display. I’m surprised the falls didn’t stop to stare.”

Meera laughed, shaking her head, but the blush deepened. She turned to the mirror, catching her reflection—the wet kurta still clinging to her, outlining her figure in a way that made her pause.

 For a moment, she saw what Priya meant. The way the fabric traced her curves, the way her body looked strong yet soft, amplified by the water. She didn’t linger on the thought, but it warmed her, a quiet pride she didn’t often let herself feel.“You’re impossible,” Meera said, turning back to Priya, her smile shy but genuine.

“And you’re gorgeous,” Priya replied, her voice softer now, less teasing. She reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from Meera’s shoulder, her fingers lingering for a beat. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it out there. You were glowing.”Meera didn’t respond, but her smile held, and she busied herself with unpacking her dry clothes, the air between them warm and easy.

Outside – Arjun’s Impulse

Arjun hadn’t planned to follow them. He didn’t even know why he was moving, his feet carrying him toward the changing area as if pulled by a force he couldn’t name. His friends were back at the buses, changing or grabbing snacks, but he’d slipped away, his towel slung over his shoulder, his wet clothes sticking to his skin.He stopped near the ladies’ changing room, his heart pounding.

 The door was closed, the faint sound of Meera and Priya’s voices leaking through the wood—soft laughter, words he couldn’t make out. He stood there, frozen, his mind a mess of want and guilt. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t have a plan. He just… needed to be closer. 

To see her again, even for a second. To hold onto the image of her under the falls, drenched and radiant, her curves etched into his memory.His hand hovered near the wall, as if he might lean closer, as if he might hear something more. He knew he shouldn’t be here. Knew it was wrong. But the pull of her was stronger than reason, stronger than shame.

 He imagined her inside, peeling off the wet churidar, her skin bare and warm, her hair falling loose. The thought was too much, and his breath hitched, his body tensing with a heat he couldn’t control.A shout from the buses snapped him back—Rahul’s voice, calling his name. Arjun stepped away quickly, his face hot, his pulse racing. He turned and walked back, head down, the image of Meera still burning behind his eyes. He didn’t know what he’d been about to do. He didn’t want to know.But he knew one thing:He wasn’t done chasing her light.

To be continued…

[balamurali]

Nice story is to getting intresting part need regular updates

[shamson9571]

Episode 43: The Mark of Her

The air around Ranga Falls still carried the cool mist of the waterfall, but for Arjun, the world was heat. His pulse thundered as he stood just outside the ladies’ changing room, the wooden door a fragile barrier between him and the voices inside. Meera’s soft laugh, Priya’s teasing cadence—they slipped through the cracks, sharp and intoxicating, pulling him deeper into a spiral he couldn’t escape.

His towel hung limp over his shoulder, his wet clothes clinging to his skin, but his mind was elsewhere—back under the waterfall, where Meera had stood, drenched and radiant, her cream churidar molding to her curves, the round, perfect shape of her ass etched into his memory.He shouldn’t be here. He knew it. Rahul’s shout from the buses—“Arjun, where you at?”—still lingered, a warning he’d ignored. But his feet had rooted him here, driven by a need he couldn’t name, a hunger to see her again, to hold onto the vision of her under the falls.

His hand brushed the rough wood of the wall, his breath shallow, as if he could will the door to open. He didn’t know what he was waiting for—just her, in any form, in any moment.Another laugh from inside—Priya’s, followed by Meera’s quieter response—jerked him back.

His heart pounded, and he stepped away, guilt clawing at him. He turned, walking quickly toward the buses, head down, but the image of Meera’s wet churidar, her curves amplified by the water, refused to fade. He needed to see her again. Needed to know if the day could give him one more moment to carry home.

Back at the Buses – Waiting in Secret

The parking area was a mess of damp students and scattered bags, some changed into dry clothes, others sprawled on the grass with snacks. Arjun rejoined his friends briefly, sitting on a bench, but his eyes kept drifting to the ladies’ changing room. He couldn’t sit still. Muttering an excuse about needing water, he slipped away, finding a spot near a tree where he could watch the changing room door without being noticed. His heart raced, his hands clammy.

He was hiding now, secretly waiting, his obsession pulling him into a reckless corner he didn’t fully understand.He leaned against the tree, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his eyes were locked on the door. Every second stretched, his anticipation a tight coil in his chest. He pictured her inside, peeling off the wet churidar, the fabric sliding down her arms, revealing the smooth, glistening skin he’d seen under the falls.

The thought was too much, and he bit his lip, trying to steady himself.Then the door opened.Meera stepped out, and Arjun’s breath stopped.She was in a black saree now, the fabric sleek and flowing, hugging her figure with a quiet elegance that felt almost sinful. The sleeveless blouse, black to match, clung to her shoulders, baring her arms—smooth, toned, still faintly damp from her hair.

The saree dbangd perfectly, the pleats sitting low on her waist, accentuating the curve of her hips. Her hair, still wet, was tied in a loose bun, a few strands clinging to her neck, catching the sunlight like dark silk. The black fabric glowed against her skin, making her look both ethereal and impossibly real, a vision carved from shadow and light.Arjun’s world narrowed to her. She was even more beautiful now, the black saree a stark contrast to the drenched churidar, but no less devastating. The sleeveless blouse revealed the graceful lines of her shoulders, the soft curve of her upper arms, and he remembered the moment under the falls—her armpit, smooth and glistening, a detail that had haunted him.

His eyes traced her now, drinking in every detail, his chest tight with awe.As she stepped forward, still adjusting her saree, a strong breeze swept through the clearing. The pallu lifted, fluttering sideways, and for one breathtaking second, her belly was exposed—her navel, round and deep, a perfect, intimate detail nestled in the smooth plane of her midriff. It was only a flash, a heartbeat, but it was everything.Arjun’s heart rate spiked, his mouth watering, his body frozen in place. Her navel was a revelation, a secret unveiled after months of longing, of stolen glances at her waist, of dreams that had only hinted at this. It was round, delicately shadowed, a soft dip that seemed to hold the weight of all his fantasies. The black saree framed it briefly, the contrast making it stand out against her warm-toned skin, and the sight burned into him, a mark he’d carry forever. This was what he’d been waiting for, what Meera had kept hidden behind careful pleats and flowing pallus. For one second, it was his—right there, in front of him, real and unguarded.

She adjusted her saree quickly, pulling the pleats higher to cover her navel, her fingers deft and unaware of the storm she’d unleashed. But it was too late. Arjun’s reaction was visceral, overwhelming. His breath came shallow, his hands trembling, his throat dry. The glimpse had been fleeting, but it was seismic—a culmination of every moment he’d spent watching her, every curve he’d memorized, every dream that had built to this. Her navel was more than a detail; it was a symbol of her beauty, her mystery, the part of her he’d never dared hope to see. It was perfect, and it broke him.He leaned harder against the tree, his knees weak, his mind replaying that second over and over. He wanted to look away, to regain control, but he couldn’t. She was too much—too beautiful, too real, too close to the Meera of his dreams.

Meera and Priya – The Photoshoot

Meera and Priya moved toward a grassy area near the falls, where the light was softer, the trees framing the view.

Priya pulled out her phone, grinning. “We need pictures. This day’s too good to not document.”Meera laughed, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. “I’m a mess, Priya. My hair’s still wet.”“A hot mess,” Priya teased, her eyes sparkling. “You’re killing it in that saree. Black was the right call. That sleeveless blouse? Lethal. You look like you stepped out of a magazine.”

Meera’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled, glancing down at the saree. “It’s the only one I had dry. I packed it last minute.”“Best last-minute choice ever,” Priya said, raising her phone. “Come on, let’s get some selfies.”They leaned close, Priya’s arm around Meera’s shoulder, both laughing as they snapped a few shots. The black saree shimmered in the sunlight, the sleeveless blouse highlighting Meera’s graceful arms, her damp hair adding a raw, natural beauty. She looked relaxed, her usual composure softened by the day’s freedom, her smile brighter than Arjun had ever seen in the classroom.

After a few selfies, Priya stepped back. “Okay, solo pics now. You’re the star today.”Meera hesitated, shaking her head. “I’m fine with these. You don’t need more.”“Oh, come on,” Priya insisted, her tone playful but persuasive. “You’re looking insanely hot right now. That saree, that blouse, the whole vibe—let’s capture it. One or two poses, that’s it.”Meera sighed, laughing despite herself.

“You’re relentless.”
“And you’re gorgeous,” Priya shot back.
“Humor me.”Reluctantly, Meera agreed, moving to stand in front of a tree, its trunk rough and sturdy.

Priya directed her, her voice light but commanding.
“Okay, something bold. Lean against the tree, one arm up, holding the trunk. Show off that blouse.”
Meera raised an eyebrow, hesitant.
“Priya, really?”
“Just try it,” Priya said, grinning. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”
Meera sighed, but a small smile played on her lips as she obliged. She leaned against the tree, her back pressing against the bark, one arm raised to grip the trunk above her head.

The pose was striking—her body elongated, the black saree pulling taut across her waist, the sleeveless blouse accentuating the curve of her shoulder and the smooth line of her arm. Her damp hair fell loosely now, framing her face, and the breeze tugged at her pallu, hinting at the curves beneath. She looked confident, powerful, and undeniably hot, the pose amplifying her natural beauty in a way that felt both deliberate and effortless.

Priya’s eyes widened. “Meera, you’re killing it. This is fire.” She snapped the picture, then another, her grin wide.
“Seriously, you look like a goddess. That pose is everything.”
Meera laughed, dropping her arm and stepping away from the tree. “Okay, that’s enough. You got your shot.”
Priya pouted but relented, scrolling through the photos.
“These are going on my lock screen. You’re welcome."

Meera shook her head, her blush deepening, but she didn’t argue. The moment had felt good—not because of the attention, but because it was a rare chance to let go, to be more than the teacher she always was. She adjusted her saree, the pleats now firmly covering her navel, and followed Priya back toward the buses, their laughter trailing behind them.

Arjun’s Stolen Moment

From his spot near the tree, Arjun had watched it all, his heart pounding so loud he was sure someone would hear. Meera’s pose against the tree was a vision he hadn’t been prepared for. The way her arm lifted, stretching her body, the way the black saree clung to her waist, the way her damp hair framed her face—it was too much.

She looked like a dream made real, her beauty sharp and overwhelming, the sleeveless blouse a perfect frame for her elegance.His hands moved before he could think, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick photo, his fingers trembling. He angled the shot carefully, staying hidden behind the tree, his breath shallow.

The image captured her perfectly—leaning against the tree, arm raised, saree taut, her expression a mix of confidence and playfulness. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his face hot, his mind racing. He shouldn’t have done it. He knew that. But the need to hold onto her, to keep this moment, was stronger than his guilt.

He stayed there, watching as Priya took more photos, as Meera laughed and waved her off, saying, “Enough with this.” They turned back toward the buses, Meera’s saree swaying with her steps, the black fabric catching the light. Arjun’s eyes followed her, his chest tight, the memory of her navel still burning in him. That fleeting glimpse—round, deep, perfect—had been the culmination of everything he’d felt for months. It was hers, and for one second, it had been his, too.He rejoined his friends at the buses, his phone heavy in his pocket, the photo a secret he’d guard fiercely. They teased him about being quiet, but he barely heard them. His mind was with Meera, with the black saree, with the pose, with the navel that had changed everything.


img en jpg

The Ride Back

The buses filled up in the late afternoon, the group quieter now, softened by the day’s exhaustion. Arjun claimed his spot in the back row, his friends sprawling around him, some dozing, others sharing photos. He leaned against the window, his eyes finding Meera in the middle row, where she sat with Priya.

She was turned slightly, talking to Priya, her profile soft in the fading light. The black saree shimmered faintly, the sleeveless blouse revealing the curve of her shoulder as she adjusted her pallu. She looked relaxed, her damp hair now drying in loose waves, a faint smile on her lips. Arjun watched, his chest tight, memorizing every detail—the way her bangles clinked, the way her fingers brushed her hair, the glow that hadn’t left her face.

At one point, she stretched her arms, the pallu slipping slightly, revealing the smooth line of her arm and the edge of her waist. Arjun’s breath caught, his mind flashing back to the breeze, to the navel that had stopped his heart. The memory was so vivid it hurt, and he looked away, his hands clenching in his lap, the photo on his phone a silent weight.The bus rumbled back toward the city, the falls fading into the distance, but Arjun carried them with him.

He carried her—drenched under the waterfall, radiant in the black saree, her navel a secret he’d seen and stolen. The day was over, but it wasn’t gone. It lived in him now, in every curve, every laugh, every moment he’d claimed.He didn’t know how to go back to the classroom, to the ordinary, after this. Meera was more than a teacher now, more than a dream. She was a mark on his soul, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to erase it.

To be continued…

[exbiixossip2]

next update bro...

[redarc]

bhai yeh arjun hi dekhta rahega ya woh teacher bhi dekh ke uski taraf thodi bahot attract hogi??

[shamson9571]

Episode 44: The Weight of Her Image

The bus rumbled through the fading light, the lush hills of Ranga Falls giving way to the familiar sprawl of the city. Inside, the air was heavy with the quiet exhaustion of a day well-spent. Students slumped in their seats, some dozing, others scrolling through photos or whispering about the trip. The roar of the waterfall was a memory now, but for Arjun, it was still alive, pulsing in his veins.

He sat in the back row, his usual spot, his shoulder pressed against the cool window. His friends—Rahul, Vikram, and a few others—sprawled around him, their voices low but animated, replaying the day’s highlights. Arjun stared out at the passing streetlights, his mind elsewhere, his phone heavy in his pocket. 

The photo he’d taken of Meera—leaning against the tree, arm raised, black saree taut against her waist—burned in his thoughts, a secret he both cherished and feared.

“Dude, did you see Ms. Meera in the water?” Vikram said suddenly, his voice cutting through Arjun’s haze.

 “I mean, that churidar? Man, she was something else.”Arjun’s stomach twisted, his grip tightening on the edge of his seat. He didn’t look at Vikram, but his ears burned, every word landing like a spark.Rahul laughed, leaning back. 

“Yeah, when she got soaked under the falls? I swear, half the class forgot how to move. 
That wet fabric was… wow.”“Her ass, man,” Vikram added, lowering his voice but not enough. 
“The way that churidar hugged it? Unreal. She’s always so proper in class, but today? Damn.”
Arjun’s jaw clenched, a mix of jealousy and shame flooding him. He wanted to snap at them, to tell them to shut up, but he couldn’t. Because he’d seen it too. He’d seen more—her navel, her armpits, the curves that had stopped his heart. Hearing his friends talk about her, knowing they’d been watching her the way he had, made his chest ache. She wasn’t just his anymore, not in this moment. She was theirs, too, and the realization stung.

“You’re all idiots,” he muttered, forcing a laugh to cover the edge in his voice. “She’s our teacher.”Rahul smirked, tossing a crumpled chip packet at him.
 “Oh, come on, Arjun. Don’t act like you weren’t staring. We all saw you zoning out every time she walked by.”

Arjun’s face heated, and he turned back to the window, his reflection a blur in the glass. They didn’t know about the photo. They didn’t know about the changing room, about the breeze that had lifted her pallu, about the navel that had changed everything. But they’d seen enough, and that was too much.The conversation drifted to other topics—snacks, who’d gotten the most soaked—but Arjun barely listened.

 His mind was with Meera, sitting in the middle row with Priya. He stole a glance, his heart skipping as he caught her profile. The black saree shimmered faintly in the dim bus light, the sleeveless blouse baring her arms, which rested casually in her lap. Her damp hair, now drying in loose waves, framed her face, and she was laughing softly at something Priya said. She looked relaxed, glowing, the day’s freedom still clinging to her.He wanted to keep watching, to memorize every detail, but he forced his eyes away, his phone a silent weight in his pocket. The photo waited for him, a stolen piece of her he could hold onto when the bus stopped and the day ended.

Back at college – Priya and Meera

The buses pulled into St. Mark’s parking lot as dusk settled, the sky a deep indigo. Students spilled out, grabbing bags, calling goodbyes, their voices echoing in the quiet campus. Teachers herded stragglers, checking lists, their energy as spent as the students’.

Meera stepped off the bus, adjusting her black saree, the pleats still perfect despite the long day. The sleeveless blouse hugged her shoulders, her arms bare and graceful in the evening light. She carried her bag over one shoulder, her damp hair now fully dry, falling in soft waves past her bun. 

Priya walked beside her, her green kurta bright against the darkening lot, her towel slung over her arm.As they reached the gate, Priya slowed, turning to Meera with a grin. 

“You know, you were the star today,” she said, her voice warm but teasing. “That black saree, the churidar earlier? You looked so beautiful, Meera. And don’t get me started on the waterfall. Your ass in that wet churidar? So hot.”

Meera’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping her before she could stop it. “Priya!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. She swatted Priya’s arm, but Priya just grinned wider, stepping closer to give Meera’s ass a playful, light slap.
“Ow!” Meera laughed, stepping back, her hand instinctively brushing the spot. 
“You’re impossible.”“And you’re killing it,” Priya shot back, her tone softer now, sincere. 
“Seriously, you owned today. Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it.”Meera shook her head, her smile shy but lingering.
 “It was just a day out,” she said, but her voice held a quiet pride, a flicker of the confidence she’d felt under the falls, posing for Priya’s photos. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? No more nonsense.”Priya winked. “No promises.” They parted with a wave, Meera heading toward her scooter, Priya toward the staff parking area, their laughter fading into the evening.

Arjun watched from a distance, lingering near the bus as his friends grabbed their bags. The sight of Priya’s playful slap, the sound of Meera’s laugh—it twisted something in him, a mix of longing and envy. He wanted to be that close, to make her laugh like that, to touch her with that ease. But he was here, on the outside, carrying a secret photo and a memory of her navel that felt too big to contain.He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed home, the campus emptying behind him, the day’s weight settling deeper with every step.

At Home – Arjun’s Obsession

Arjun’s house was quiet, his parents out for the evening, his sister at a friend’s. He dropped his bag by the door and went straight to his room, locking the door behind him. The silence was heavy, pressing against the storm in his mind. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, his hands trembling, his body still buzzing from the day.Today had been different. Until now, Meera had been a vision in the classroom—her waist, framed by sarees, the soft curve under her pallu, the scent of jasmine that followed her. 

But today, he’d seen more. He’d seen her under the waterfall, her churidar clinging to her curves, her ass round and perfect, amplified by the wet fabric. He’d seen her armpits, smooth and glistening, when she raised her arms to tie her hair. And then, the moment that had stopped his heart—the breeze lifting her pallu, revealing her navel, round and deep, a secret he’d dreamed of but never dared hope to see.His thoughts spiraled, each image sharper than the last. 

The churidar, soaked and translucent, had traced her hourglass figure—her waist, her hips, her chest—like a second skin. Her ass, so striking under the falls, had been a revelation, full and curved, a detail that felt both sacred and forbidden. Her armpits, exposed for that fleeting moment, were soft, flawless, a private hollow that made his mouth water.

 And her navel—God, her navel. It was perfect, a delicate dip in her smooth midriff, framed by the black saree, a mark of her beauty that had been hidden for so long. That one second had been everything, the culmination of months of watching, waiting, wanting.He couldn’t think of anything else. Not his friends, not the falls, not the bus ride. Just her.

 Meera, drenched and radiant, posing against the tree, her black saree shimmering, her arm raised, her body a vision he couldn’t unsee. She was more than his teacher now, more than a crush. She was a fire in him, and he didn’t know how to put it out.His hand moved to his pocket, pulling out his phone. 

His fingers shook as he opened the gallery, finding the photo he’d taken—the one he shouldn’t have. There she was, leaning against the tree, one arm raised to grip the trunk, the black saree taut across her waist, the sleeveless blouse baring her arms. Her damp hair framed her face, her expression confident, playful, a smile that made his chest ache.

 The pose was hot, undeniable, her body elongated, her curves accentuated, her armpit just visible under her raised arm, smooth and inviting.He stared, his breath shallow, his body tensing. He wanted to kiss her there, in that pose, to press his lips to the soft hollow of her armpit, to taste the warmth of her skin. 

The thought was overwhelming, forbidden, and it consumed him. His eyes traced the photo—her waist, the hint of her hips, the memory of her navel layered over the image. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he couldn’t have.His hand moved instinctively, his breathing quickening as he stroked, the photo still open on his phone. 

The images flooded him—her under the falls, her navel in the breeze, her pose against the tree. His body responded, the tension building, unstoppable. When the release came, it was fast, powerful, leaving him gasping, his chest heaving, his phone still clutched in his hand.

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, the photo still glowing on the screen. Guilt crept in, but it was drowned out by the weight of her image, by the mark she’d left on him. Today had changed everything. He’d seen her differently—her navel, her armpits, her ass, her curves in a way he’d never imagined. And now, with this photo, he had a piece of her, a secret he could keep.But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

To be continued…

[olumannan]

Will the boys plan and bed priya and meera before Arjun do anything. he is just dreaming all time.

[redarc]

Bhai ye masturbation wali story hai kya jisme sirf masturbation hi karta hai hero herione ko dekh ke uske body parts dekh ke ya phir sex bhi hoga

[Muthiah Sivaraman]

Nice buildup

[shamson9571]

Episode 45: The Dream That Devoured

The night cloaked Arjun’s room in heavy silence, broken only by the soft creak of the ceiling fan. He lay in bed, his body still humming from the release earlier, his phone dark on the bedside table. The stolen photo of Meera—leaning against the tree, arm raised, black saree taut—was a secret that burned in him, layered over the memories of the Ranga Falls trip: her drenched churidar, the perfect curve of her ass, the fleeting glimpse of her navel. Sleep came slowly, pulling him under like a warm tide, and when the dream took hold, it was vivid, searing, and all-consuming.

The Dream

The dream was Ranga Falls, but transformed—a golden twilight bathed the scene, the waterfall’s roar softened to a hypnotic hum. Warm mist hung in the air, fragrant with jasmine and wet earth, wrapping the clearing in a private, surreal glow. The students and teachers were gone, leaving only Arjun, standing on the rocky bank, his breath shallow, his body heavy with longing.

Meera appeared under the falls, summoned by his desire. She wore the cream churidar from the trip, its fabric glowing, almost translucent, clinging to her like liquid light. The water cascaded over her, molding the churidar to her hourglass figure—her slender waist, flared hips, soft chest, and the round, breathtaking shape of her ass, outlined with sculptural precision. 

Her arms were raised, loosening her hair, and the sleeveless kurta revealed her armpits—smooth, glistening, a delicate hollow catching the golden light. Wet strands of hair clung to her neck, droplets sliding down her arms, pooling at her collarbones. She was ethereal, a goddess of water and light, her lips curved in a faint, unaware smile.

Arjun stood frozen, his heart pounding, unable to move. She was untouchable yet so close, her beauty a weight he couldn’t bear. Then Priya emerged from the mist, her green kurta vibrant but dimmed by Meera’s radiance. Priya’s smile was teasing, her eyes holding a bold, intimate purpose that made Arjun’s chest tighten with awe and aching jealousy.

Priya stepped close to Meera, her movements slow and deliberate, the air between them charged with quiet intensity. She circled behind Meera, her hands finding Meera’s hips, fingers pressing gently against the wet churidar, where the fabric clung to the full, rounded curve of Meera’s ass. Meera’s body tensed, a soft shiver rippling through her, her breath catching in a faint gasp. 

Priya’s hands tightened, holding Meera’s ass with a tender but possessive grip, her fingers tracing the sensitive curve through the soaked fabric. She leaned in, her breath warm against Meera’s lower back, and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the round, perfect shape of her ass, just above the waistband. The fabric, wet and taut, amplified the sensation, and Meera trembled, her knees buckling slightly, a quiet moan escaping her lips. 

Her ass, so sensitive under Priya’s touch, quivered with each lingering kiss, Meera’s body swaying as if struggling to stay upright, her gasps soft but sharp, betraying the intensity of the moment.Priya lingered there, her hands still holding Meera’s hips, her lips brushing the curve of Meera’s ass once more, drawing another shiver, another gasp, Meera’s fingers clutching the air for balance. 

The intimacy was slow, reverent, Priya’s touch both commanding and gentle, and Meera’s responses—trembling, vulnerable—made her seem both divine and achingly human.

The dream shifted, the falls fading into a warmer, softer space—a room bathed in golden light, like the changing room but intimate, surreal. Meera was in the black saree now, the sleek fabric dbanging her like a shadow, the sleeveless blouse baring her arms. Priya stood close, her fingers brushing Meera’s waist, just above the pleats, her touch light but deliberate. The pallu slipped, revealing the smooth plane of Meera’s midriff, her skin glowing in the warm light. Priya’s hands slid to Meera’s belly, her fingers tracing slow, teasing circles around the sensitive skin, drawing a soft tremble from Meera, her breath hitching as the touch grew closer to her navel. 

Priya knelt, her breath warm against Meera’s midriff, and kissed the skin just below her navel, then above, then to the side, each kiss slow and deliberate, building the tension. Meera’s body quivered, her hands hovering in the air, her gasps sharper now, her belly trembling under Priya’s lips.Finally, Priya’s lips found Meera’s navel—that round, deep mark Arjun had glimpsed in the breeze. 

The kiss was soft, lingering, Priya’s lips pressing gently into the sensitive dip, her breath warm and teasing. Meera shuddered, a low moan escaping her, her body trembling as the sensation rippled through her core. Her navel, delicate and responsive, quivered under Priya’s touch, Meera’s fingers clutching the edge of a nearby table for support, her eyes fluttering closed in a moment of unguarded vulnerability.

 Priya lingered, kissing the navel once more, her hands resting on Meera’s waist, steadying her as Meera’s trembling deepened, her gasps soft but raw, betraying the intensity of the sensitive spot.

Priya rose slowly, her hand gently lifting Meera’s arm, exposing the smooth, glistening hollow of her armpit. She leaned in, her breath brushing the sensitive skin, and kissed it with slow, deliberate care, her lips soft but firm against the delicate hollow.

 Meera’s body trembled harder, a sharp gasp escaping her, her armpit—so private, so intimate—reacting with a shiver that ran through her entire frame. 

The golden light caught the faint sheen of her skin, amplifying the moment, making it sacred and searing. Priya kissed the armpit again, her hand steadying Meera’s arm, drawing another moan, Meera’s body swaying as if overwhelmed by the sensitivity of the touch.

Meera turned, her eyes meeting Arjun’s across the dream’s impossible space. Her gaze was soft, unreadable, neither inviting nor rejecting, but piercing enough to break him. She stepped closer, the black saree swaying, her armpit visible as she raised a hand to brush her hair back. 

Arjun wanted to move, to touch her, to kiss her where Priya had, to feel her tremble under his lips. But he was frozen, a silent observer, drowning in her beauty and Priya’s intimacy.The dream grew brighter, the light swallowing the room, the falls roaring back into focus. 

Meera stood under the water again, churidar and saree blending, her curves glowing, her navel a beacon in the mist. Priya’s laughter echoed, but Meera’s eyes stayed on Arjun, a fleeting connection that shattered him.

The Wake-Up

Arjun woke with a sharp gasp, his chest heaving, his body flushed and trembling. The sheets were tangled, his shirt damp with sweat, his body marked by the release the dream had pulled from him. 

He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to steady his breath, but the images clung—Priya’s slow, intimate kisses on Meera’s ass, belly, navel, and armpit, Meera’s trembling and gasping, the sensitive parts of her body responding with unbearable intensity. 

The dream had been too real, too vivid, weaving the day’s moments into something eternal, something sacred and forbidden.He lay still, staring at the ceiling, his heart slowing but his mind racing. Priya’s possessive touches, her lips claiming Meera’s most sensitive parts, had amplified his longing and his pain. 

Meera’s trembling, her vulnerability, made her more reachable yet still untouchable. The navel—round, deep, perfect—was the center of it all, a mark he’d seen but could never touch. Her ass, quivering under Priya’s kiss, and her armpit, shivering with each press of lips, were now sacred details, burned into him by the dream’s golden light.

He reached for his phone, the photo of Meera still there, but he didn’t open it. The dream was enough, too fresh, too raw.

 He didn’t know how to face tomorrow, how to see her in the classroom and pretend the falls, the dream, hadn’t changed him.

Back at college – The Next Day

Monday morning at St. Mark’s felt heavier, the campus settling back into routine as if the trip had never happened. Students moved through the corridors, some still whispering about the falls, others buried in books. Arjun walked to math class, his bag slung over his shoulder, his steps slow, his mind a storm of Meera.She was already there, standing at the chalkboard, writing equations in her precise script. She wore a soft green saree, the cotton dbanging neatly, the pleats sitting modestly at her waist. The blouse was half-sleeved, covering her arms, nothing revealing—a stark contrast to the churidar, the black saree, the dream. 

Her hair was tied in a low bun, her bangles clinking faintly, and she looked every inch the teacher—composed, professional, untouchable. But to Arjun, she was the Meera of the falls, of the dream, her navel, armpits, and ass hidden but unforgettable.

He took his seat, his eyes tracing her every move. The way her pallu shifted as she turned, the way her hand rested on her hip—it was all layered with memory. The dream had made her larger, her beauty sharper, and he couldn’t look at her without seeing Priya’s lips on her navel, her shivers under the kisses to her ass and armpit. 

His notebook stayed blank, his pen untouched, his thoughts consumed by her.She taught with her usual calm, her voice steady, but Arjun barely heard the math. Every gesture—tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning over a student’s desk—felt like an echo of the dream, of the falls. 

When she passed his desk, collecting worksheets, the faint scent of jasmine brushed over him, and his breath caught, his hands clenching under the table. She didn’t notice, didn’t pause, but the moment sent his mind reeling back to the dream, to her trembling, to the navel he’d seen.

In the Staff Room – Meera and Priya

During the lunch break, Meera sat in the staff room, a cup of tea cooling beside her. The green saree glowed softly in the light, the half-sleeve blouse modest but fitted, her arms partially covered. She was grading papers, her focus steady, but a faint smile played on her lips, a remnant of the trip’s freedom. Priya dropped into the chair across from her, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So,” Priya said, leaning forward, “still dreaming about the falls? You were the star of that trip, you know.”
Meera laughed, shaking her head. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Priya teased. 

“You in that churidar, then the black saree? Meera, you were serving looks. I’m still recovering from that pose against the tree. You knew you were hot.”Meera’s cheeks flushed, but she swatted Priya’s arm playfully. 

“I only did that because you wouldn’t stop nagging. And this?” She gestured to her saree. 
“Back to normal. No more of your nonsense.”Priya grinned, undeterred. 

“Normal? Please. You’re still glowing from yesterday. Don’t think I didn’t notice you enjoying the attention.”
“Attention?” Meera raised an eyebrow, her tone mock-serious. 

“The only attention I got was you harassing me for photos.”
“And you loved it,” Priya shot back, her voice warm. 

“Admit it, you felt like a queen out there. Green saree or not, you’re still killing it.”Meera laughed, shaking her head, but the smile stayed. 

“You’re impossible.”“And you’re gorgeous,” Priya said, softer now, sincere. 

“Don’t hide that, okay?”Meera didn’t respond, but her smile deepened, and she turned back to her papers, a quiet warmth settling over her. The trip had been a moment of freedom, a chance to be more than the teacher she always was, and Priya’s teasing, playful as it was, reminded her of that.

Arjun’s Struggle

In the afternoon session, Arjun sat through another of Meera’s classes, his mind a battlefield. The dream had changed him, made her presence overwhelming. 

Every time she moved—adjusting her pallu, writing on the board—he saw the dream-Meera, trembling under Priya’s kisses, her navel glowing, her armpit and ass quivering with sensitivity. The green saree, modest and unrevealing, couldn’t erase what he’d seen, what he’d dreamed. The photo in his phone was a secret he carried, a piece of her he could return to, but it was also a weight, a reminder of how far he’d fallen.

When the bell rang, he lingered, pretending to pack his bag, watching as Meera gathered her things and left the room. Her saree swayed with her steps, the half-sleeve blouse covering the arms he’d seen bare, and he felt the familiar ache, the need to see more, to hold onto her. 

He didn’t follow her—not like at the falls—but the urge was there, sharper than ever.He walked home, the dream clinging to him, the photo a silent promise in his pocket. Meera was no longer just his teacher. She was a vision, a fire in his soul, and he didn’t know how to let her go.

To be continued…

[Muthiah Sivaraman]

Looks like Arjun is cuckold. He will enjoy his friends fucking priya and meera?

[shamson9571]

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