Meera - The new Teacher

[magneticpersonality]

Dear Redarc,

Thanks for the effort taken to give an update from your side.

However, the original Author - Shamson had confirmed to me yesterday, that he was out of station and very soon he will be back with an update.

Let's wait for the update from the original Author & let him continue to sail this erotic ship.

[redarc]

Dear Redarc,

Thanks for the effort taken to give an update from your side.

However, the original Author - Shamson had confirmed to me yesterday, that he was out of station and very soon he will be back with an update.

Let's wait for the update from the original Author & let him continue to sail this erotic ship.

yaa  i will delete it surely but i thought people are waiting so lets gave them something lol sorry for this guys

[Haran000]

I never had a problem when a writer asks for likes or comments and its least they expect. In your case my problem is your inconsistency, One day you say you will continue, other day you say you want to discontinue. Some days you will behave rudely saying I have a life and need to set career but the next moment I see you will start a new story in parallel thread, there is no weight to your word. This happened a lot back then in your old thread. 
We understand its your story but so are the emotions of readers, both should be balanced. I am here for entertainment and I even paid for some writer who needed money so my interests are best for the site not for individual tantrums.

Anyways I have stopped reading your story long time back and no regrets. I do not crave for a story, there are many here..good luck with yours. No hard feelings. 

~RCF

For your information, I completed part 1. Haha … 

[Cuckoldindian]

https://xossipy.com/thread-69055.html

Slutty wifes story

[magneticpersonality]

https://xossipy.com/thread-69055.html

Slutty wifes story

Dear Cuckoldian,

First you do some progress with the story of Nazrin, then you start a new story.

Hopeful you will hit the wall within couple of Episodes of this new story, like that of the story of Nazrin.

I lost trust in you.

I don't recommend the stories of this Author to any of the readers of Xossipy.

[RCF]

For your information, I completed part 1. Haha … 

I know you will, You are a good writer and hence I was one of your earlier episodes fan and gave other stories that could help you initially. I only left reading it because back in those days getting an update from you require lot of drama lol 

Like I said, you are top 5 writer in Telugu and wide fan base, congrats on your part 1 completion , Some day i will read it with your permission :) 

~RCF

[Sand.y2971]

Waiting for a lovely update broo. Plzz don't make it too long broo for an update. Thank you - ur sandy.

[Sand.y2971]

It's been long waiting badly for an update broo. Plzz give an update

[shamson9571]

Episode 48: The Hidden Poems

The week following the science fair was a deliberate retreat for Meera. The pink saree, the crimson saree, the thrill of Arjun’s mesmerized stare, his mouth watering at her armpit, had stirred a forbidden excitement she couldn’t fully reconcile.

She needed to cool off, to reclaim her professional boundaries, to quiet the warmth that had pulsed through her. On Monday, she chose a simple cream cotton saree, its modest pleats high on her waist, paired with a full-sleeve blouse that covered her arms. Her hair was tied in a tight bun, minimal kohl lining her eyes, no gloss on her lips.

The outfit was understated, professional, a shield against the allure she’d wielded. Yet, as she looked in the mirror, her fingers brushing her waist, a faint shiver lingered, a memory of his gaze, Priya’s pinch, the dream where her skin trembled. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She was a teacher, not a muse, and this week, she’d keep it that way.

The Classroom – A Return to Routine

St. Mark’s math classroom settled into its familiar rhythm, the air cooler with the onset of rain outside. Meera stood at the front, her cream saree soft against her skin, the full-sleeve blouse concealing her arms, her bun neat and unadorned. She taught with her usual precision, explaining differential equations, her voice calm, her movements deliberate. The class listened, pencils scratching, but Arjun, in his usual seat, was a quiet storm. His glances were subtle, less overt than last week, but persistent—her face, her waist, the way the saree dbangd over her hips. The cream fabric, modest as it was, couldn’t dim her radiance, her jasmine scent still trailing, her presence still magnetic.Arjun’s heart raced, his body tensing with every glance.

The pink saree, the armpit glowing, the dream—they haunted him, but her simpler outfit only sharpened his longing. She was untouchable, a goddess in cotton, her waist hidden but imagined, her navel a secret he’d glimpsed at the falls. His notebook lay open, his pen idle, his mind lost in her. The photo was still on his phone, a dangerous secret, but his obsession had found another outlet: words, scribbled in moments of feverish desire, hidden in the back of his notebook.Meera noticed his glances, softer but unmistakable, his flushed cheeks, his distracted gaze. She kept her expression neutral, her voice steady, but her skin prickled, a faint echo of last week’s thrill. She was trying to cool off, to distance herself, but his attention was a weight she couldn’t ignore. She focused on the lesson, determined to maintain control, to be the teacher she was meant to be.

The Slip Test – The Discovery

On Wednesday, Meera conducted a slip test, a quick assessment of the week’s material. The classroom was silent, students hunched over their papers, the rain pattering against the windows. Meera moved among the desks, her cream saree swaying softly, her full-sleeve blouse a barrier, her bun undisturbed. She observed the class, her eyes lingering on Arjun, noting his tense posture, his quick glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. His focus was off, his answers slow, but she said nothing, her professionalism a shield.

After the test, she collected the answer booklets, a stack of papers piling up on her desk. “I’ll return these tomorrow after grading,” she announced, her voice calm, dismissing the class. Arjun handed in his booklet, his hand trembling slightly, his eyes avoiding hers. He’d forgotten, in his distraction, the back page of his booklet—a page not meant for submission, filled with poems he’d written in a haze of longing, each dedicated to Meera’s beauty.

In the quiet staff room, Meera began grading, the rain a soft backdrop. She opened Arjun’s booklet, her pen marking his answers, which were incomplete, rushed. As she flipped through, her eyes caught the last page, a section he hadn’t torn out. Three poems, handwritten in fervent script, titled “Navel’s Secret,” “Curve of Grace,” and “Hollow of Light.” Her breath caught, her fingers pausing as she read, unable to look away.

Navel’s Secret
Her navel, a delicate whirl, hides in silk’s embrace
A secret glimpsed at the falls, a forbidden trace
It beckons, soft and warm, a dip my heart pursues
In dreams, my lips linger, lost in its tender muse

Curve of Grace
Her ass, a curve of silk, sways with every stride
A rhythm that consumes, where my thoughts reside
Each step a tease, a shape that haunts my sleepless night
A beauty carved in motion, burning in my sight.

Hollow of Light
Her armpit, a glowing hollow, smooth as whispered sin
In sunlight’s touch, it calls, a place I’d wander in
Its curve, so soft, so warm, a shrine my soul desires
To kiss, to taste, to drown in its radiant fires.

Meera’s heart raced, her body tensing, a strange feeling washing over her—shock, unease, and a forbidden thrill. The poems were vivid, intimate, each word a testament to Arjun’s obsession, his desire laid bare. Her navel, her ass, her armpit—parts of her she’d never thought of as objects of such fervent worship—were described with a passion that was both unsettling and electrifying. Her skin flushed, goosebumps rising on her arms, her waist tingling as if his words had touched her. She closed the booklet, her hands trembling slightly, and took a deep breath, trying to quell the warmth spreading through her.She was his teacher, bound by duty, yet the poems stirred something primal—a pride in her beauty, an excitement at being so desired. His obsession was clear, deeper than a crush, a fixation that crossed lines. She controlled herself, her professionalism a lifeline, and resumed grading, her pen steady but her mind a storm. When she finished, she stacked the booklets, Arjun’s on top, the poems a secret she carried. Tomorrow, she’d return them, act normal, but the words would linger.

The Distribution – A Tense Facade

Thursday morning, Meera entered the classroom, another modest outfit—a beige saree with a full-sleeve blouse, her bun tight, her demeanor composed. She distributed the graded booklets, her voice steady as she offered feedback. When she reached Arjun’s desk, she placed his booklet down, her eyes meeting his briefly. “Good effort, Arjun, but focus on completing all questions,” she said, her tone professional, betraying nothing.Arjun nodded, his face flushing, his heart pounding. He hadn’t realized the poems were in the booklet until last night, and the fear that she’d seen them gnawed at him. Her calm demeanor gave him hope she hadn’t, but her gaze felt heavier, searching. He opened the booklet, seeing her neat corrections, the last page untouched, and exhaled, relief and guilt mingling.

Her presence—her beige saree, her jasmine scent, her hidden waist—was still overwhelming, his desire undimmed.Meera moved on, her composure intact, but her body was alive, her waist tingling as if the poems’ words lingered on her skin. She felt his stare, softer but persistent, and the thrill, though subdued, was there. She focused on the lesson, determined to maintain control, but the poems had changed something, a secret she carried alone.

Meera’s Reflection – A Storm of Feelings

After college, Meera sat in the staff room, the beige saree soft against her skin, her full-sleeve blouse a shield, a cup of tea cooling in her hands. The poems replayed in her mind—Arjun’s words, fervent and intimate, describing her navel, her ass, her armpit with a passion that was both shocking and alluring.

Each line had painted her body as a shrine, a muse for his obsession, and the realization unsettled her. His crush was no longer just glances or a stolen photo; it was a deep, consuming fixation, documented in poetry that crossed boundaries.The strange feeling from reading the poems lingered—a mix of unease, pride, and a forbidden excitement. Her navel, hidden now, felt alive, as if his words had traced its contours, recalling the breeze at the falls. Her ass, modest under the saree, seemed to carry the weight of his gaze, its curve a secret he’d worshipped. Her armpit, covered today, tingled as if exposed, glowing in his imagined kisses. Her body responded, unbidden, her breath deepening, goosebumps rising, a warmth spreading through her.

She pressed her hand to her waist, the spot sensitive, as if Priya’s pinch, Arjun’s words, and her own dreams converged there.She was his teacher, bound by duty, yet the poems had stirred something primal. To be desired so intensely, to be the center of his world—it was intoxicating, a power she hadn’t sought but couldn’t fully reject. The pride in her beauty, the thrill of his awe, battled with her responsibility. She’d seen crushes before, but this was different—obsessive, creative, dangerous. She needed to act, perhaps speak to him privately, set clear boundaries, or involve a counselor.

But the thought of confronting him, of acknowledging his words, made her heart race, her skin flush. What if he admitted it? What if his desire mirrored the spark she felt?She shook her head, sipping her tea, trying to ground herself. She’d returned the booklet, acted normal, but the poems were a secret she carried, a weight that changed how she saw him. His glances today, softer but persistent, suggested he didn’t know she’d seen them, but she couldn’t be sure.

The uncertainty added to the tension, a dance of hidden desires. For now, she’d watch him, keep her distance, maintain her modest outfits. But the thrill, the strange feeling, lingered—a spark she couldn’t fully extinguish, a part of her that wanted to feel it again, just a little longer.She stood, gathering her things, her beige saree swaying, and resolved to stay professional. But as she left the staff room, her hand brushed her waist, the tingling sensation a reminder of his words, her allure, and the dangerous line she walked.

Arjun’s Unseen Burden

Arjun lay in his room, the lights off, his booklet on his desk, the poems untouched by Meera’s pen but heavy in his mind. The fear of discovery gnawed at him, but her calm return of the booklet suggested she hadn’t seen them. Her beige saree, her covered arms, hadn’t dimmed her radiance—her waist, her presence, her jasmine scent still consumed him. The poems were his secret, a way to hold her beauty, safer than the photo but more intimate. His body was alive, his desire overwhelming, her image a fire he couldn’t escape.He opened his phone, the photo glowing—her black saree, her pose at the falls. But it was the cream saree, the beige saree, her hidden navel, her imagined armpit that haunted him. His breath quickened, his body responding, and as he gave in, the release was intense, leaving him trembling, guilt and longing intertwined. Meera was his obsession, and the poems had only deepened it.

To be continued…

[Haran000]

Give updates bro.

[shamson9571]

........

[shamson9571]

Episode 49: The Pink Allure Rekindled

Monday morning dawned with a sultry warmth, the air thick with the promise of rain. Meera stood before her mirror, her bedroom bathed in soft light, her heart a quiet pulse of resolve and rebellion. The week of modest outfits—cream and beige sarees, full-sleeve blouses—had been an attempt to cool the forbidden thrill sparked by Arjun’s poems, his fervent words about her navel, ass, and armpit igniting a strange mix of unease and pride. But those words had lingered, caressing her thoughts, stirring a desire to reclaim her radiance.

Today, she chose the pink silk saree from the science fair, its vibrant hue glowing like a blush, paired with a sleeveless blouse that bared her toned arms and dipped slightly deeper at the back—not fully backless, but low enough to reveal the smooth curve of her spine, a daring tease. The saree dbangd sensuously, the pleats low on her waist, accentuating her hourglass figure, the pallu teasing the curve of her midriff. She tied her hair in a loose bun, strands brushing her neck, and applied kohl to her eyes, a touch of gloss to her lips.

The reflection was intoxicating—professional yet provocative, a woman embracing her allure with deliberate grace.Her fingers grazed her waist, a shiver rippling through her, her body recalling Arjun’s mesmerized stare, his mouth watering at her armpit, the poems’ vivid worship. The thrill of being desired, of holding such power, sent goosebumps across her arms, a warmth stirring within. She was playing with fire, she knew—her role as an adult, a professional, demanded restraint—but the poems had awakened a need to feel radiant, to be seen. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She’d maintain boundaries, but today, she’d let herself shine, just a little.

The Staff Room – Priya’s Mesmerized Admiration

St. Mark’s buzzed with the start of a new week, but the staff room was a quiet haven when Meera arrived. The pink saree glowed in the morning light, the sleeveless blouse baring her smooth, toned arms, its deep back revealing the elegant curve of her spine, a subtle but striking detail. Her waist, framed by the low pleats, was a delicate tease, the pallu fluttering to hint at her navel.

Her jasmine scent trailed her, her bun swaying, bangles clinking, her presence magnetic.Priya, sipping coffee, froze mid-motion, her eyes widening as Meera entered. “Well, damn, Meera,” she said, her voice low, a grin spreading.
“Back in that pink saree? And that blouse—low back, bare arms? You’re serving fire today, woman.” Her tone was teasing but laced with genuine awe, her eyes tracing Meera’s figure, lingering on her bare arms, the curve of her back.
“You’re owning this glow, aren’t you? Making it impossible to look away.”Meera’s cheeks flushed, a smile tugging at her lips, the compliment sending a shiver through her.
“I just felt like dressing up today, Priya,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with confidence, adjusting her pallu, her fingers brushing her waist, sensitive from the memory of the poems.
“It’s not a big deal.”Priya raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, her tone playful but pointed.
“Not a big deal? You’re practically radiating seduction. I bet Arjun’s going to forget how to blink when he sees you. And honestly, I’m struggling myself.”
She winked, her gaze warm, almost daring, as if inviting Meera to revel in her power.Meera laughed, her heart racing, the words stirring a spark of pride in her allure. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice light but breathless, trying to deflect the intensity.
“I’m just here to teach, not to turn heads.”

But Priya’s admiration, so bold, so teasing, made her skin prickle, her body responding with a faint warmth. She busied herself with her papers, steadying her composure, but Priya’s grin lingered, a knowing spark in her eyes as she left for her class.

The Entrance – A Dance of Gazes

Mid-morning, Meera’s phone rang—a colleague discussing a curriculum update. She stepped out of the staff room, leaning against the entrance doorframe, the pink saree catching the light, her sleeveless blouse baring her arms, the deep back exposing her spine’s elegant curve. Her voice was calm as she spoke, but a gentle breeze played with her pallu, lifting it slightly, revealing glimpses of her bare waist—smooth, soft, the navel a delicate dip just visible in fleeting moments.

Her posture was relaxed, one arm raised to hold the phone, the other resting on the doorframe, her body a vision of effortless grace.Priya, still in the staff room, glanced up and froze, her breath catching. Meera’s back was to her, the deep-back blouse revealing the smooth expanse of her spine, the pink saree clinging to her ass, its full, rounded curves outlined with every subtle shift. The shape was mesmerizing—perfectly proportioned, swaying slightly as Meera adjusted her stance, the silk accentuating its rhythm.

Priya’s eyes darkened with admiration, a lustful spark igniting, her pulse quickening. She couldn’t look away, captivated by Meera’s beauty, the allure of her back and ass a silent command that held her spellbound.

At the same moment, Arjun entered the college courtyard, heading to class after a late arrival. He stopped dead, his heart pounding, as he saw Meera at the staff room entrance. The pink saree, the same one from before, was even more devastating with the deep-back blouse, her bare arms glowing, her waist exposed by the breeze’s tease. The pallu fluttered, offering glimpses of her navel—that secret dip he’d glimpsed at the falls, now taunting him. His mouth watered, his body tensing, a heat spreading, his jeans tightening.

He stood like a statue, fixated on her waist, the smooth skin, the navel’s delicate curve, his mind replaying the poems, his longing to touch, to taste. The breeze was a cruel tease, lifting the pallu just enough to drive him wild, his eyes locked, forgetting to move, to breathe.

Meera finished her call, lowering her phone, and turned slightly, catching Arjun’s gaze. His eyes, wide and intense, were fixed on her waist, his flush betraying his fixation. She realized the breeze’s play, her pallu betraying her modesty, and adjusted it quickly, her fingers grazing her waist, sending a shiver through her. As she turned, she caught Priya’s stare from inside, those eyes dark with lustful admiration, locked on her ass, the intensity unmistakable.

For a moment, Meera stood between them—Arjun’s gaze burning her front, Priya’s devouring her back—and a tingling sensation coursed through her, her skin alive, her navel and waist tingling, her spine warm where the blouse bared it. Their attention, so intense, so simultaneous, was intoxicating. She was making them forget where they were, their eyes fixated, lost in her beauty. She savored it, just for a heartbeat, the power of her allure a thrill she couldn’t deny.She straightened, her composure returning, and walked back into the staff room, her saree swaying, her heart racing. Priya said nothing, but her eyes lingered, a knowing spark in them. Arjun, snapping out of his trance, hurried to class, his body still alive, his desire overwhelming.

The Corridor – A Stolen Glance

Later, Meera needed a moment to collect herself and headed to the staff bathroom. The pink saree swayed as she walked, the deep-back blouse revealing her spine, the silk clinging to her ass, its full, rounded curves swaying in a hypnotic rhythm. She felt the weight of the morning’s gazes, her body still tingling, her mind a storm of pride and unease. As she exited the bathroom, Arjun was returning from the student restroom, their paths crossing in the quiet corridor.He froze, his breath catching, seeing her from behind.

The deep-back blouse exposed her spine’s elegant curve, the pink saree molding to her ass, its shape swaying with each step, a rhythm that consumed him. His body reacted fiercely, a heat spreading, his jeans tightening, his mind replaying the poems, the photo, the dream. Her ass was a vision—sexy, captivating, a curve he longed to trace. Driven by impulse, he pulled out his phone, snapping a quick photo of her from behind, the image capturing her swaying ass, the deep back, the silk’s cling. He shoved the phone into his pocket, heart pounding, ensuring no one saw, and hurried to class, a great sense of excitement burning within, the anticipation of viewing the photo privately a thrill he carried with him.

To be continued…

[Pompykjha]

I'm a college teacher too and since I dress very provocatively no student misses the class and all eye me hungrily

[magneticpersonality]

Dual lusting by Priya & Arjun at the single point of time was an innovative approach.

Good going buddy

Keep it up

Thanks for the pic, it is like a cherry on the cake.

[shamson9571]

Episode 50: The Fever of Desire

Monday’s sultry warmth enveloped St. Mark’s, the air thick with rainclouds and the electric undercurrent of unspoken desires. Meera’s pink saree and deep-back blouse had set the morning ablaze, Priya’s lustful gaze and Arjun’s fixation on her waist leaving her skin tingling with a dangerous thrill.

The poems from last week—Arjun’s fervent words about her navel, ass, and armpit—still echoed in her mind, mingling with the morning’s intensity: Priya’s bold compliments, Arjun’s statue-like stare as the breeze teased her pallu, revealing her navel. Meera moved through her classes, her composure a fragile shield, her body alive with sensation—her waist sensitive, her navel tingling, her spine warm where the blouse bared it. The pink silk clung to her curves, its vibrant hue glowing in the soft light, the sleeveless blouse accentuating her toned arms, the deep back revealing the smooth, elegant curve of her spine.

Her loose bun, with strands brushing her neck, carried her jasmine scent, a subtle tease that lingered in every room.Arjun, meanwhile, carried the secret photo in his pocket, a forbidden treasure burning to be seen. The image of Meera’s swaying ass and deep-back blouse consumed him, his excitement a constant pulse, his body tense with anticipation. The poems, the falls photo, the morning’s glimpse of her navel—they fueled his obsession, and the new photo was a spark waiting to ignite.

The Elusive Moment – Arjun’s Burning Anticipation

Arjun sat through his morning classes, his mind far from the lessons. His phone, tucked in his pocket, was a heavy weight, the photo of Meera’s back and ass a promise he couldn’t yet claim. His heart raced with every thought of her—her pink saree clinging to her curves, her spine’s elegant curve, her ass swaying in the corridor. During the morning interval, he sought solitude, slipping toward a quiet corner near the library, his fingers itching to open the photo. But his friends intercepted him, pulling him into a lively game of cards under the courtyard’s banyan tree, their laughter and banter drowning his frustration. “Come on, Arjun, don’t zone out!” they teased, oblivious to the fire in his mind. He forced a smile, his thoughts on Meera’s curves, the anticipation gnawing at him.

At lunch break, he tried again, stealing away to a secluded stairwell, the air cool and dim, perfect for privacy. His hand hovered over his phone, but footsteps echoed—a teacher patrolling the corridors, her sharp voice calling out to lingering students. Arjun shoved the phone back, his pulse pounding, and rejoined his friends in the canteen, their chatter a blur against his growing need. The image of Meera’s ass, the silk’s cling, her spine’s glow, haunted him, his body tense, a heat spreading, his jeans tightening with every thought.

By the afternoon interval, his desperation was unbearable. The ten-minute break was his chance. He excused himself, claiming a need for the restroom, and hurried to the men’s bathroom at the end of the corridor, its tiled walls echoing faintly with the drip of a leaky faucet. In his haste, he pushed the door shut but didn’t notice the latch fail to catch, leaving it slightly ajar. Alone in a stall, he pulled out his phone, his hands trembling, his breath shallow. The screen glowed, revealing the photo—Meera’s deep-back blouse framing her spine’s smooth curve, the pink saree molding to her full, rounded ass, its sway frozen in a moment of hypnotic allure. The silk clung to her curves, accentuating every detail, the light catching the sheen of her skin, her back a vision of elegance, her ass a provocative tease.

Arjun’s mouth went dry, his body reacting fiercely, a heat surging through him, his jeans impossibly tight. “Sss… Meera ma’am, what a sexy back you have,” he whispered, his voice a low, fervent moan, thick with longing. He began stroking himself, his hand moving in rhythm with his racing pulse, his mind lost in the image—her ass swaying, her spine glowing, the poems he’d written, the dream where her skin trembled under his touch. The pleasure built, intense, consuming, his moans growing louder, “Meera… your back… your curves…” His body shuddered, and within moments, he released a huge load, the volume startling even him, a wave of relief washing over him as he leaned against the stall, gasping, his heart pounding.

The Unseen Witness – Meera’s Shock and Awe

Unbeknownst to Arjun, Meera had slipped into the adjacent women’s bathroom minutes earlier, needing a moment to cool the heat of the morning’s gazes. Her pink saree swayed as she adjusted her pallu, her fingers grazing her waist, the sensation sending a shiver through her, her navel tingling as if still exposed to Arjun’s stare. She splashed water on her face, the mirror reflecting her flushed cheeks, her loose bun slightly mussed, strands clinging to her neck. As she exited, her bangles clinking softly, she heard faint moans from the men’s bathroom, the door ajar, a sliver of light spilling out.

Curiosity, laced with unease, drew her closer, her heart quickening. She peeked through the gap, her breath catching in her throat.There was Arjun, his phone glowing, his hand moving rhythmically, his voice a low moan, “Sss… Meera ma’am, what a sexy back you have.” Meera’s eyes widened, shock crashing over her like a wave, followed by a strange, electric excitement. He was masturbating to a photo of her—her back, her ass, captured in the pink saree, the deep-back blouse. Her gaze darted to his arousal, bigger than she’d expected for his age, a detail that sent a jolt through her, her body responding unbidden. Her waist tingled, her navel sensitive, her spine warm as if his words caressed her. The sight was raw, forbidden, yet intoxicating, her skin flushing, goosebumps rising on her bare arms.

When Arjun released, the sheer volume of his load left her in awe, her breath shallow, her mind reeling. The intensity of his desire, so focused on her, was both unsettling and thrilling, a spark igniting a dangerous warmth within her. She stepped back quickly, her heart pounding, avoiding detection, and hurried toward the staff room, her pink saree swaying, her body trembling with a mix of shock, excitement, and unease. The realization hit her: he’d taken another photo, not the falls image of her waist and navel, but a new one, likely from today’s corridor, capturing her back and ass. The thought sent a shiver through her, her skin alive, her body betraying her with a tingling sensation she couldn’t ignore.

The Staff Room – Meera’s Trance of Thoughts

In the staff room, Meera stood by the window, the pink saree glowing in the soft light filtering through rainclouds, her sleeveless blouse baring her toned arms, the deep back revealing her spine’s elegant curve. The breeze from the open window teased her pallu, brushing her waist, amplifying the tingling sensation that hadn’t faded. The incident replayed in her mind—Arjun’s moans, his hand, the glowing phone, his whispered words, “What a sexy back.” She was in a trance, her thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions.Was he taking photos regularly, behind her back? The falls photo, her waist and navel, was one thing; the poems, with their fervent worship of her navel, ass, and armpit, another. But this new photo, of her back and ass, suggested a pattern—a secret collection of her beauty.

Had he taken it in the corridor, her ass swaying, her spine bared? Or was he capturing her daily, unnoticed, his obsession growing with each image? The thought was unsettling, yet the thrill of being so desired, so worshipped, sent a warmth through her, her navel tingling as if exposed, her spine alive where the blouse left it bare.Her mind lingered on Arjun’s arousal—bigger than she’d expected, a detail that shocked and fascinated her.

The sheer volume of his release, the intensity of his desire, was a testament to his fixation, a fire that consumed him. She wondered, unbidden, how it would feel to touch it, to be the object of such raw passion, the thought sending goosebumps across her arms, her breath deepening. She was an adult, a professional, bound by boundaries, yet the sight of him, lost in her image, had stirred something primal, a forbidden excitement that made her body hum. She pressed her hand to her waist, the spot sensitive, as if his gaze, his words, still lingered there.

The Heated Moment – Priya’s Intimacy

As Meera stood lost in her trance, Priya entered the staff room, her eyes lighting up at Meera’s radiant figure, the pink saree a beacon of allure. “Well, well, madam, lost in a daydream by the window?” she teased, her voice low and playful, stepping close behind Meera.
“Are you thinking about all the hearts you’re breaking today, or is it something more… specific?” Her tone was teasing but charged, her eyes tracing Meera’s bare arms, the curve of her back, a spark of admiration flickering.Meera turned slightly, her cheeks flushed, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Just catching my breath, Priya,” she said, her voice soft but unsteady, the morning’s intensity still coursing through her.
“It’s been a long day already.”Priya raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, her presence warm, intimate.
“Long day? You’re glowing like it’s your first. That saree, that blouse—you’re making it hard to focus on anything else.” Her voice dropped, a playful challenge in her words, her gaze lingering on Meera’s spine, the pink silk clinging to her curves.

Before Meera could respond, Priya’s fingers grazed her bare waist, a light, teasing touch that sent shivers through Meera’s body, already primed by her trance. Meera let out a soft, erotic moan, the sound involuntary, charged with the morning’s intensity.

Priya, sensing the moment’s heat, pressed closer, wrapping her arms around Meera from behind, her hands resting on Meera’s waist, gently tracing the smooth skin toward her stomach.The touch was electric, sending shivers through Meera’s already primed body, her breath hitching. Priya’s lips brushed Meera’s shoulder, planting soft, deliberate kisses, moving slowly toward her neck, each kiss a spark of heat.

Meera trembled, a soft, continuous moan escaping, her body alive, her waist tingling, her navel sensitive. She raised her hand, placing it on Priya’s head, her fingers tangling in her hair, her arm lifting to expose her armpit—smooth, sheened with warmth, a glowing hollow catching the light.Priya’s kisses deepened, her lips warm and teasing on Meera’s neck, her hands caressing Meera’s stomach, the touch intimate, almost possessive. Meera’s expressions were erotic, her eyes half-closed, her moans soft but persistent, “Mmm… Priya…” The moment was heated, a dance of desire, Priya’s touch amplifying the thrill of Arjun’s earlier act. Meera’s skin flushed, her spine warm, her body surrendering to the sensation, the morning’s intensity converging in this intimate embrace.

The Witness – Arjun’s Secret Record

Unbeknownst to them, Arjun approached the staff room, sent by his social studies teacher to retrieve a set of reference books. He stopped short at the doorway, his breath catching at the sight: Priya hugging Meera from behind, her hands caressing Meera’s waist and stomach, her lips kissing Meera’s shoulder, moving to her neck. Meera’s arm was raised, her armpit exposed, glowing in the soft light, its smooth curve a vision of allure.

Her expressions were intensely erotic, her soft moans—“Mmm… Priya…”—echoing, her pink saree swaying, the deep-back blouse revealing her spine. The scene was overwhelming, a sensual tableau that shook Arjun to his core.His body reacted fiercely, a heat surging through him, his jeans tightening, his heart pounding. The sight of Meera’s armpit, Priya’s kisses, the interplay of their bodies—it was more than his dreams, more than the poems, more than the photos. Driven by impulse, he pulled out his phone, his hands trembling, and began recording, capturing every detail: Meera’s exposed armpit, Priya’s lips on her neck, the pink saree’s cling, Meera’s moans.

The moment was a treasure, a forbidden vision that fueled his obsession, his excitement bordering on euphoria.As Priya’s hands moved to the saree pleats at Meera’s waist, her fingers brushing the fabric hiding her navel, poised to loosen it, the college bell rang loudly, its shrill tone shattering the moment. Meera and Priya snapped back to reality, their eyes meeting in an awkward, flushed glance.

Meera quickly adjusted her saree, her hands trembling slightly, her face warm as she moved to her desk to collect books for her next class. Priya, her own cheeks flushed, stepped outside for air, her heart racing, the intensity of the moment lingering. Arjun pocketed his phone, his excitement undimmed, and entered the staff room, pretending normalcy.Meera glanced up as he approached, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second, a spark of tension passing between them. She saw the flush in his cheeks, the intensity in his gaze, and wondered if he’d seen, if he knew. Arjun, retrieving the books, kept his expression neutral, but his mind was a storm, the recording a burning secret in his pocket. They both proceeded with their tasks, the air thick with unspoken desires, the weight of their shared moments hanging heavy.

The Math Class – A Tense Anticipation

An hour later, Meera entered the math classroom for her afternoon session, the pink saree radiant in the soft light filtering through the windows, its silk clinging to her curves, the low pleats accentuating her waist. Her sleeveless blouse bared her toned arms, the deep back a subtle tease, her loose bun swaying, strands brushing her neck. Her composure was intact, but her body carried the day’s weight—Arjun’s moans in the bathroom, the photo of her back, Priya’s kisses, the tingling sensation of their desires. Her waist and navel were sensitive, her spine warm, her armpit tingling as if still exposed. She began the lesson, her voice steady, explaining integrals, but her eyes flicked to Arjun, noting his tense posture, his fixed gaze.Arjun sat in his usual seat, his heart racing, the recording and photo in his pocket a secret fire.

The sight of Meera—her pink saree, her bare arms, the memory of her armpit and Priya’s kisses—consumed him. His body was alive, his jeans tight, his mind replaying the staff room scene, her moans, her allure. He waited patiently, his eyes tracing her every movement, her waist, her grace, his obsession deepening with every glance. The class proceeded, but the tension between them, unspoken, hung heavy, a prelude to what was to come.

To be continued.....

[shamson9571]

[magneticpersonality]

Superb update

[redarc]

great updates

[magneticpersonality]

Please Update

[shamson9571]

Episode 51: Tangled Desires and Silent Avoidance

Monday’s sultry warmth enveloped St. Mark’s, the air thick with rainclouds and the electric undercurrent of unspoken desires. Meera’s pink silk saree, vibrant as a blush, clung to her hourglass figure, its low pleats accentuating her slender waist, the pallu teasing her navel’s delicate dip. The sleeveless blouse bared her toned arms, its deep back revealing her spine’s elegant curve, a detail that had driven Arjun to capture her in a secret photo and Priya to lose herself in a heated embrace.

The day’s events—Arjun’s moans in the bathroom, his arousal over her photo, his whispered words, “What a sexy back”; Priya’s lips on her neck, her hands caressing her stomach—left Meera’s body alive, her waist tingling, her navel sensitive, her spine warm. She stood at the front of the math classroom, her composure a fragile mask, her jasmine scent trailing, her loose bun swaying, strands brushing her neck. The weight of their desires—Arjun’s obsession, Priya’s intimacy—pressed against her, a fire she couldn’t extinguish.

Arjun sat in his usual seat, his heart pounding, the phone in his pocket a burning secret—the photo of Meera’s back and ass, the recording of her with Priya, her armpit exposed, her moans echoing. His body was tense, his jeans tight, his mind replaying the staff room scene, her swaying curves, Priya’s kisses, a vision that fueled his obsession. Meera’s presence now, radiant in the pink saree, was overwhelming, her every movement a spark to his longing.

The Math Class – Meera’s Overwhelmed Heart

The math classroom was a crucible of tension as Meera began her afternoon lesson, her voice softer than usual, tinged with a tremor she couldn’t fully hide. The pink saree shimmered in the soft light filtering through rain-streaked windows, the silk molding to her hips, her bare arms glowing with a delicate sheen, the deep-back blouse a subtle tease. Her thoughts were a storm, the day’s incidents crashing over her—Arjun’s moans in the bathroom, his arousal, the photo of her back; Priya’s lips on her neck, her hands on her stomach, her own moans betraying her. She tried to focus, her chalk scratching the board as she wrote a problem on limits, her voice explaining, “The limit as x approaches infinity…”
But as she turned to the board, her back to the class, the deep-back blouse exposed her spine, the pink saree clinging to her ass, its full, rounded curves swaying slightly with her movements.

She felt a prickle on her neck, a certainty that Arjun was staring, his eyes fixed on her back, her ass, just as he had in the bathroom, his words—“What a sexy back”—echoing in her mind. The thought sent a heat surging through her, her body responding unbidden, her waist tingling, her navel sensitive, her spine warm where the blouse left it bare. She gripped the chalk tighter, her hand trembling, her breath shallow. Was he picturing the photo, the recording, her armpit, her moans with Priya? His obsession, so raw, so intense, was a weight she couldn’t shake, a thrill she couldn’t fully deny.

The heat in her body grew, her skin flushing, goosebumps rising on her bare arms. She turned to face the class, her eyes catching Arjun’s—wide, intense, his cheeks flushed, his gaze betraying his fixation. The sight jolted her, the memory of his arousal, bigger than expected, the volume of his release, flashing through her mind. Her heart raced, her composure crumbling. She couldn’t teach, not like this, not with his eyes on her, Priya’s touch lingering, her own desires stirring.

“I… I’m not feeling well today,” Meera said, her voice faltering, a flush creeping up her neck. “Please work on the problems in your textbook, page 47, for the rest of the period. I’ll check them tomorrow.” The students murmured, some concerned, others relieved, as they opened their books. Meera sank into her chair at the front, her saree pooling around her, her bare arms resting on the desk, her loose bun slightly mussed. She stared at her papers, unseeing, her mind a storm of thoughts.

Arjun’s gaze lingered, softer now, but persistent, his notebook untouched, his body tense. He sensed her unease, his heart pounding, wondering if she knew about the recording, the photo. Her excuse—feeling sick—felt like a veil, a cover for something deeper. He stayed quiet, his eyes tracing her waist, her arms, the memory of her with Priya fueling his obsession.
Meera’s thoughts swirled. Arjun’s obsession was undeniable—the poems, the falls photo, the new photo, possibly a video. His bathroom moment, his moans, his arousal, had shocked her, yet the thrill of being so desired, so worshipped, sent a warmth through her. And Priya—her lips on her neck, her hands caressing her stomach, her own moans—had crossed a line, blurring friendship into something more. How could she face Priya now, after such intimacy, such vulnerability? The embarrassment was overwhelming, the memory of her own surrender making her skin flush, her navel tingling as if exposed. She was a professional, an adult, but the day’s events had unraveled her, her body alive with sensations she couldn’t suppress.

The Staff Room – Priya’s Fevered Memories

Meanwhile, in the staff room, Priya sat at her desk, her lesson plans untouched, her mind consumed by the morning’s intimacy with Meera. The pink saree, the deep-back blouse, Meera’s radiant allure—they haunted her, but it was the staff room moment that burned brightest. Her hands on Meera’s waist, so soft, so smooth, the skin warm under her fingers as she caressed her stomach, tracing the delicate curve above her navel. Meera’s scent, jasmine and warmth, had been intoxicating, drawing her closer, her lips brushing Meera’s shoulder, its smoothness like silk against her mouth. The kisses on her neck, soft and yielding, had tasted of forbidden sweetness, Meera’s moans—“Mmm… Priya…”—echoing in her ears, a sound that sent shivers through her now.
Priya’s body was alive, her pulse quickening as she replayed every detail—the way Meera’s arm had lifted, exposing her armpit, glowing and smooth; the way her body trembled, her expressions erotic, her eyes half-closed. The moment had been a fire, a dance of desire she hadn’t anticipated, and Meera’s surrender had ignited something in her. But now, confusion gripped her. How could she face Meera after such intimacy? They were friends, colleagues, yet that embrace, those kisses, had crossed a line.

The memory of Meera’s skin, so soft, so yummy, made her heart race, but the thought of seeing her now, of speaking as if nothing had happened, was daunting. Would Meera be angry, embarrassed, or—worse—distant? Priya leaned back, her fingers grazing her lips, still warm with the memory of Meera’s neck, her body tingling with a mix of excitement and unease.

She stood, pacing the staff room, the empty space amplifying her thoughts. Meera’s radiance, her power, had captivated her, but the intensity of their moment was a secret they couldn’t ignore. She wanted to see her, to tease as always, but the weight of their closeness made her hesitate. For now, she’d avoid Meera, give her space, but the fire in her lingered, a spark she couldn’t extinguish.

Meera’s Continued Reflection – A Storm of Confusion

Back in the classroom, Meera sat at her desk, her pink saree pooling around her, the silk clinging to her hips, her bare arms resting on the chair, her deep-back blouse a subtle reminder of the day’s desires. The students worked quietly, their pencils scratching, but Meera’s mind was elsewhere. The bathroom incident replayed—Arjun’s moans, his hand, the photo of her back, his words, “What a sexy back.” The sight of his arousal, bigger than expected, the volume of his release, had shocked her, yet the thrill of being his obsession was undeniable. Was he taking photos daily, capturing her unaware? The falls photo, the poems, the new photo—perhaps a video, glimpsed in class—suggested a pattern, a fixation that consumed him. The thought sent a shiver through her, her waist tingling, her navel sensitive, her spine warm.

And Priya—her touch, her kisses, her own moans in response—had complicated everything. The memory of Priya’s lips on her neck, her hands on her stomach, sent goosebumps across her arms, her body responding with a warmth she couldn’t suppress. How could she face Priya now, after such vulnerability? The embarrassment was crushing, the thought of their eyes meeting, of acknowledging that moment, making her flush. They were friends, colleagues, but the intimacy had blurred lines, stirring a desire she hadn’t expected. She wondered if Priya felt the same, if she was equally confused, equally caught in the fire of that embrace.

Meera pressed her hand to her waist, the spot sensitive, as if Arjun’s gaze, Priya’s touch, still lingered there. She was a professional, bound by boundaries, but the day’s events—Arjun’s obsession, Priya’s desire, her own responses—had unraveled her. She needed to act, perhaps confront Arjun subtly, set boundaries with Priya, but the thought of either conversation made her heart race, her body warm. For now, she’d avoid them both, keep her distance, but the tingling sensation, the thrill of their fixation, was a fire she couldn’t extinguish.

The Avoidance – A Silent Dance

As the day continued, Meera and Priya moved through their routines, their paths carefully diverging. Meera stayed in the classroom, collecting papers, her pink saree swaying, her bare arms glowing, her composure a shield. She avoided the staff room, knowing Priya might be there, the thought of their eyes meeting too much to bear. Priya, meanwhile, lingered in the staff room, grading papers with uncharacteristic focus, her thoughts on Meera’s skin, her moans, but her resolve to avoid her firm. When their schedules forced them near—passing in a corridor, Meera’s jasmine scent trailing, Priya’s eyes flickering—they exchanged only brief nods, their gazes averted, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Arjun, too, carried his secrets, the phone in his pocket a weight of guilt and excitement. He watched Meera from afar, her radiance undimmed, his obsession burning. The math class had ended, but the day’s intensity lingered, a silent promise of more to come. Meera and Priya, caught in their confusion, avoided each other, their hearts racing with the memory of their moment, the weight of Arjun’s fixation a shadow neither could escape.


To be continued…