[Hotgiri]

I guess image and gif upload are working, in few of the recent update in other stories writer are uploading it

[sakurasan]

Chapter 19 Closing Eyes — Part 2

Rohan was lying in a valley between two white hills. The hills were warm. He pressed his palm into one slope, and it sank in and pushed his hand back out, and the whole hill wobbled for a long time after he let go. He laughed and stood up. The ground gave under his foot and tossed him up a little, and he floated down slowly, as if the air had decided to hold him. He took another step and went higher. Soon he was running, every step a spring, and both hills shook behind him each time he landed.

On top of each hill sat a round pink peak. He climbed the nearer one. It was softer than anything he had ever touched. He sat at the top, pushed off, and slid all the way down on his back, and the hill jiggled behind him until he reached the bottom and rolled to a stop in the valley.




The whole land smelled warm and sweet, a smell he knew. Birds sang in the trees on the ridge, and one of them whistled like a collegeboy calling his friend home. A small stream ran past his feet, and he followed it down the valley.

At the end of the stream stood a well with a low stone wall. He leaned over the edge. It was full to the brim with milk, white and still. He remembered what she had said about drinking all her milk and leaving none for the kids. He grinned, cupped his hands, and bent down to drink.




A ring came from somewhere past the hills, tring tring, tring tring.

He looked up at the ridge. None of the birds made that sound. He bent to the milk again. The ring came again, closer, and the milk shivered in the well. He tried to scoop it, and it ran through his fingers. The ring came a third time, so loud now that the hills shook with it, and the valley went pale around him.

Rohan opened his eyes. The honeymoon suite was in broad daylight. His face was pressed between her breasts. One arm was around her waist, and one leg lay across her thighs. He was holding her the way he held his pillow at home. The warm smell was her skin. Isha lay asleep with her arms around his head. Her hair was spread over the pillow, her lips were parted, and her breathing was slow and peaceful. To him she looked as beautiful as the most beautiful mermaid in the world.

The phone on the side table rang again.

He lifted her hands off his head, laid them on the sheet, and picked up the phone. He lay back with it at his ear, and she turned in her sleep and pressed her face into his chest.

“Good morning, sir. This is the reception. Your trek group is gathering at the garden gate. The walk starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes. We will be there.”

He put the phone down. Isha had not moved. Her cheek was on his chest, and she was still asleep.

He slid down the bed until his face was level with her breasts. In her sleep her nipples had gone soft. He took the left one between his teeth and bit it.

She jerked. Her eyes stayed shut. She pushed his head away with one hand. “Go away.”

He bit the right one.

“Rohan.” She rolled onto her side and pulled the pillow over her head. “Let me sleep.”

“The trek starts in fifteen minutes.”

“Let it start. I will come for the next one.”

“We signed for it.”

“You signed. I only said yes.”

She pulled the sheet up to her chin. He tugged it down. She tugged it back. He slid his hand under the sheet and pinched her nipple, and she kicked at him without looking, laughing into the pillow.

He leaned over the pillow. “Who is lazy now?”

She went still under the pillow. On the balcony she had called him lazy for passing her to other men. Now he had thrown the word back at her, and she could hear the grin in his voice. She threw the pillow at his face.




“Fine. Ten minutes. And wipe that grin off your face.”

She went to her suitcase and took out her gym clothes and the sports bra she had packed with them. She looked across the room at Rohan, who was pulling on his shorts. She thought, yesterday you survived as a good boy, but today you are going to yield to me. I am going to tease you until you beg.

She pulled on a tight grey crop top with nothing under it. It ended above her navel and clung to her bare breasts, and her nipples, still tender from his teeth, showed through the cotton. She pulled on black capri track pants with white stripes down the sides. They hugged her hips and her ass. She tied her hair up high and turned around with the sports bra hanging from one finger.




“This bra is not right,” she said. “It pinches me here.” She ran a finger under her breast, through the top. “Should I just go like this?”

Rohan looked up from his laces and stopped. His eyes went to her chest and stayed there. Both nipples pressed clear points into the grey cotton. He could see their exact shape.

“Like this?”

She turned sideways to the mirror and touched the tips of two fingers to her nipples through the top. “It is not showing, right?”

It was showing. Anyone could see it from across a garden. He swallowed.

“It is not showing.”

“Good.” She tossed the bra onto the bed.

He had lied because he wanted to see her like this all day. But every man on that path would see it too, and that sat hot in his chest.

“The wind outside is cold,” he said at last.

“Then I will wear a hoodie.”

She took a navy zip-up hoodie from her bag, pulled it on, and zipped it to her chin. He did not know if he was relieved or disappointed. She smiled and walked out. He knew exactly what she was doing, and she was not even hiding it. His cock was hard before he reached the door. He pulled his t-shirt down over the front of his shorts and followed her to the lift.

About twenty people stood at the garden gate with water bottles. There were a few couples, a family with two teenagers, a group of five young men in caps, and the guide, a thin local man with a bamboo stick. None of the men who had felt her last night was there, and Isha felt at ease.

“Good morning,” the guide said. “This is an easy trek, family level. Even uncles and aunties come back smiling. If anyone wants night treks or rappelling down the fort walls, take my number after the walk. Through the hotel it costs double. With me, it is half. And no leopard has been seen here for two years.”

One of the young men, in a red cap, raised his hand. “And if he comes in the third year?”

“Then you run.”

“Faster than the leopard?”

“No. Faster than your friends.”

The whole group laughed. Rohan laughed too.

The path left the gate and went into the trees. The ground was red earth packed hard, with roots running across it, and the morning was cool and green. Ten minutes in, the hotel roofs were gone behind the trees. Isha stopped, unzipped the hoodie, and pulled it off.

She held it out to him. “Carry this. I am hot.”

He tied it around his hips. Her nipples stood hard against the cotton, and the heat in his groin rose. Seeing them inside four walls, with only the two of them in the room, was one thing. Out here, anyone on the path could see them, and that made it far more intense. When she shifted her weight, her whole breast moved, not just the nipple, and the short top showed every bounce above her bare stomach. She saw sweat on his face in that cold wind. She was turning him on, and it made her happy. She turned and walked on.

Soon the path tipped up into a slope of rough stone steps. Isha went up ahead of him to tease him with her ass, and Rohan was left looking at it. With the hoodie gone, the thin black pants hid almost nothing. They clung so tight they looked painted on, and the seam ran up between her cheeks. With each step up the stones, one cheek lifted and tightened while the other dropped and shook. He wished he could record it. He would have watched it every night.

The five young men in caps were a few steps ahead of her. The one in the red cap turned to say something to his friend, and his eyes landed on her chest. Her breasts were bouncing with every step. He turned back and whispered to the others. One by one they slowed until they had fallen back on either side of her, two on one side and three on the other, and the narrow steps had no room left for a sixth man. Rohan climbed faster, but he could not get past them. He was stuck a few steps behind, and from there he could see everything.




The red cap looked at her for a moment. “Sorry. Have I seen you somewhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I am sure I have. Some ad, maybe?”

She laughed. “I teach.”

“Where?”

“At Pune University.”

While she smiled at the red cap, the boy on her left leaned forward a little and looked past her arm at the side of her breast.

“No way,” the red cap said. “We are at Deccan college of Management. MBA, final year.” He shook his head. “Thank god you are not in our college.”

“Why?”

“We would have been sitting in your class instead of cutting it for movies.”

Isha laughed with her eyes on him. Behind her, the tall one in the white cap dropped half a step back to look at her ass. He caught a friend’s eye and raised his eyebrows. Rohan saw how it worked. Whoever was talking kept her eyes on his face, and the rest of them looked wherever they liked. Isha had no idea.

“It would be tough to call you ma’am, looking like that,” the white cap said.

She turned to him, and the moment she did, the red cap’s eyes dropped to her breasts.

“Try,” she said.

He straightened up like a boy caught by the head of department. “Good morning, ma’am.”

The other four burst out laughing. One of them pressed a hand to his heart behind her back, and the rest had to swallow their laughs. Rohan’s cock stood fully hard, and he tugged the hoodie lower around his hips.

“Very good,” she said. “Now walk.”

Isha glanced back once. Rohan’s eyes were on her, and the hoodie around his hips was doing a poor job. That was the only look she had dressed for.

The red cap followed her glance to Rohan. “Ma’am, the gentleman behind us. Brother?”

“Fiancé.” She lifted her left hand and turned it so the ring caught the sun.

The five of them looked at the ring, then at Rohan, then at each other. Their shoulders dropped together, like a team that had lost the match in the last over.

The red cap recovered first. “Now I remember where I saw you, ma’am. The jewellery ad. Engagement collection.”

Isha burst out laughing.

He turned and called back to Rohan. “Congratulations, sir. You have ruined five careers.”

Rohan laughed before he could stop himself. Inside, he was laughing for a different reason. Five young men had been trying their best lines on her, and she had lifted his ring to them without even looking back at him. Warmth spread through his chest, and he walked a little taller.

“Eyes on the path, all of you,” she said. “If one of you breaks a leg, my fiancé is not carrying anybody.”

They laughed and walked on beside her, and this time their eyes stayed on the path.

The path ran down to a stream. Flat stones crossed the water in a crooked line. The boy in the red cap stepped onto the first stone and held out his hand.

“Allow me. Those stones look slippery.”

Rohan stepped past him and took her hand himself.

While she balanced on the first stone, he pinched her ass hard through the pants. She squealed and nearly went into the water.

“Rohan!”

“Balance,” he said.

The young men laughed. He wanted them to see it.

On the far bank he put his arm around her and rested his hand on her ribs, right under her breast, his thumb against the lower curve. When the guide stopped to point at a grey hornbill in a tree, Rohan kissed her temple. When the young men caught up again, he bent and bit the side of her neck.

“What has got into you?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

She knew what it was. He was showing every man on that path that she was his. She liked it more than she would ever tell him, and with his thumb under her breast, her nipples stood harder against the top.

[Lucifer8797]

Perfect… isha became so bold now compared to what she was when the story started

[Hotgiri]

Hi lucifer- when you will add gif to this story

[naruto9211]

Fantastic narration..
Awesome flow..
Keep it up ?

[sakurasan]

Chapter 19 Closing Eyes — Part 3

The waterfall was small, a white rope of water falling off a black rock into a round pool. The group stopped to rest, and Isha sat on a flat rock at the edge of the pool. Spray blew off the pool, and within a minute the front of her grey top was damp. It stuck to her breasts, and her nipples showed darker through the wet cotton. Water ran down her bare stomach into the waistband. Rohan saw the young men see it. He moved to stand in front of her and handed her his water bottle.




“Do not drink from the pool,” the guide said. “Upstream there is a village. They also have buffaloes.”

The boy in the red cap lowered his cupped hands. “Too late.”

The group laughed again, and this time Isha laughed hardest.

The way down was a forest road, wide enough for a jeep, with dry leaves along the edges. Halfway down she started to limp.

“My heels are hurting.”

“From the stones?”

“From last night. Somebody made me dance all night.”

“I only passed you on. They did the dancing.”

“Exactly. You passed me to them, so now you carry me.”

He crouched on the road. She climbed onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He caught her thighs and stood. Her breasts pressed into his back through her damp top and his shirt, and her breath was warm at his ear.




One of the young men, a tall one in a white cap, came alongside.

“Need a hand? We can do shifts.”

“No. I am fine.”

“Sure? It is a long way down.”

“I am sure.”

The young man smiled and dropped back, and the group walked down the road behind them.

Rohan knew what they were looking at. Where his hands held her thighs, the black pants pulled tight across her ass, and every step he took showed them that round ass sitting on his arms. For a moment he was angry with them. Then pride came over the anger. She was on his back. They could walk behind her and look all the way down the hill, and that was all they could do.

Neither of them knew what else the boys could see. With her legs spread wide, the pants had slid low. Above the waistband, the top of the crack between her cheeks showed, and the thin white string of her thong ran straight down into it. The white cap saw it first and nudged the red cap. None of the five said a word. They only slowed a little to keep the view.

“They are all looking at my ass,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Are you angry?”

“A little.”

“And?”

“And you are on my back, not theirs.”

She smiled into his neck and bit his ear.

Five minutes further down, the road bent, and the group passed them and went ahead, out of earshot. Isha put her lips to his ear.

“You are getting slow, good boy.”

“You are getting heavy.”

“Then you should have said yes to the white cap. Poor boy offered so nicely.”

Rohan’s hands tightened on her thighs.

“I am only thinking of you,” she said. “You are panting.”

“I am not panting. I think you were eyeing his back.”

She put her chin on his shoulder. “His back did look wider.”

He slid his palms back under her and hitched her higher. His fingers spread wide over her ass cheeks, and his fingertips met at her crotch from both sides, with her pussy lips in the gap between them. She bit her lip.

“There is no shift,” he said. “I am doing all of them.”

“All the way down?”

“All the way to the room.”

She laughed into his neck. A minute ago he had been tired, and now he was nearly running down the hill. He passed the group at the next bend and kept going until they were ten feet behind.

His fingertips were still pressed into her crotch, and through the thin pants they found her damp and warm. He slowed down.

He turned his head to her ear. “One look at a wider back, and you are already like this.”

“Like what?”

He pressed his fingertips in a little. “Like this.”

Her face went hot. “That is from the waterfall.”

“That was long back.”

“It was a very wet rock.”

He opened his mouth, and she knocked her sneaker against the knot of the hoodie at his front.

“One more word,” she said, “and I kick lower.”

He laughed and walked. It had started the moment his grip tightened and he said there was no shift, and she knew it. She was keeping that win from him.

Back in the room, both of them were dripping with sweat. Her grey top was stuck to her back, and his t-shirt was dark down the middle.

“You go and bathe first,” he said. “I will wait.”

She caught his wrist and pulled him toward the bathroom.

“The tub is big enough for two.”

“Isha.”

“What? You carried me down a hill. Now you are shy of water?”

The tub sat in the middle of the bathroom floor, shaped like a heart, with gold taps at the point. She turned them on full and stripped her top over her head. Her pants went next, and she stood in only her panty while the tub filled. Rohan stood by the door with his shirt in his hands.

“Do you need help with that?”

He pulled his shorts down and stood in his brief. He kept his hips turned a little away from her, hiding how hard he already was.

She stepped into the warm water and sank down to her shoulders. He got in at the other end. The heart was big, but their four legs had to share it. Her feet found his thighs first. His shins slid along hers. Soon their legs were knotted in the water, her calf hooked over his knee, his foot pressed against the side of her hip, and every time one of them moved, the other got pulled along.



“Stop kicking me,” she said.

“I am not kicking. My leg has nowhere to go.”

“Then give it to me.” She pulled his foot into her lap and pressed her thumbs into his sole. “You carried me. My turn.”

He groaned and let his head fall back against the rim.

After a while she let his foot go and reached for the shampoo. She knelt up in the water in front of him. Her wet breasts were level with his face as she worked the shampoo into his hair, her fingers rubbing his scalp. He sat still and stared at her nipples a few inches from his mouth.

“Close your mouth. Water will go in.”

“Let it.”

Then he saw the marks. Small red bites ran over both her breasts, around the nipples and up the soft top curve, where his teeth had gone last night. Some had turned purple at the centre. He touched one with his fingertip and traced the little curve his teeth had left.

“I did all this?”

“Who else?”

“I went mad last night. Does it hurt?”

“Only when you look at them like a crime scene.”

He bent and kissed the one on top of her left breast. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Each one felt nice.” She looked down at them. “I wish they would never fade.”

He looked up at her. The guilt had left his face. “Then I will have to make them darker.”

Then it was his turn. She turned around and sat between his knees with her back to him, and he soaped her shoulders and down her spine. His hands slid around to her front, and he soaped her breasts slowly, cupping them, the soap making them slippery in his palms. She leaned back against his chest and let him.

The soap washed away into the water, and they stayed like that. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he folded his arms around her waist. The warm water came up to their necks. She closed her eyes. He felt her breathing slow down, her back rising and falling on his chest, her skin soft and slippery on his. For a long time the only sound was the tap dripping into the tub.

After a while she sat forward to give him room, and his finger began to move on her wet back. He drew one slow line between her shoulder blades, then a curve around it. By the second stroke she knew the shape. It was their symbol.

“I think I will tattoo our symbol,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yes. Now choose where I should put it.”

His hand went down under the water and pinched her ass cheek. “How about here?”

She jumped, and water slopped over the rim. “You are very naughty.” She settled back between his knees. “I hope Kunal knows a good female artist.”

“Why another one? Kunal can do it.”

She twisted around and hit his chest. “You are too much.”

“What? I know he does it well.”

Isha went still for a breath. Then she turned back around.

“Then I will make him do yours first.”

“Please. I am scared of needles.”

“I am not accepting that excuse.”

He went back to drawing on her back. “We may have to add our kids’ names in the symbol.”

“Then let us decide them now, and we mark you with it.”

“I like this. Not the tattoo. But let us decide the names.”

“Okay. You go first.”

“Our first son should be Ishan.”

“Then our daughter will be Rahini.”

“And the next…”

“Stop. Don’t keep going.” She leaned back against his chest. “I am not tattooing a whole family tree on you.”

He laughed into her hair. She could feel him hard behind her, held just away from her back. He was still being good. The water was getting cold anyway.

“I am getting out,” she said.

“I am closing my eyes.”

She stood up in the tub and stepped out onto the mat. She looked back. He was sitting with his head against the rim and his eyes squeezed shut, like a boy playing hide and seek. She almost laughed. He really was closing them.

She hooked her thumbs into her wet panty and pushed it down her legs. She stepped out of it, picked it up, and threw it. The wet cloth hit him in the face with a slap. She turned and walked away.

Rohan opened his eyes at the impact and pulled the cloth off his face. Then he saw her.

She was walking away from him, fully naked, and he was seeing her bare back for the first time in his life. Her wet hair hung down past her shoulder blades, and water ran out of it in thin lines down her spine. Her back narrowed into her waist, and on each side of her spine, just above her ass, sat a small dimple. Below them, her ass was bare. It was round and full and pale, still wet from the tub, and with each step one cheek lifted and the other dropped, the soft flesh shaking a little as her heel came down. Where her ass met her thighs there was a soft crease, and through the gap between her thighs he could see the light from the bedroom. Her wet feet left prints on the marble.

His mouth hung open.

At the bathroom door she stopped with her back to him.

“Bring my panty when you come,” she said, and walked into the bedroom.

[Hotgiri]

Awasome update, missing sex scene in story

[Lucifer8797]

Seductive update.. rohan still controlling pta nhi q

[sakurasan]

Chapter 19 Closing Eyes — Part 4

He sat in the cold water with her wet panty in his hand. He could still see her ass moving away from him. He pushed his brief down under the water, wrapped her panty around his cock, and stroked. The cloth was wet and still warm from her. He closed his eyes and saw the dimples, the shaking cheeks, the gap between her thighs. He came in less than a minute, into her panty, and sat there breathing hard.

He rinsed the panty under the tap, wrung it out, and hung it on the towel rail. He dried off, tied a towel around his waist, and came out.

Isha was already dressed. She stood at the mirror in a fitted black strapless dress that ended at her knees. Padding stitched into the bodice pushed her breasts up, and the neckline sat so low that most of each breast was bare above the cloth. She was putting in an earring and watched him in the mirror.




“Where is my panty?”

He stopped in the middle of the room in his towel.

“I washed it.”

She looked at him in the mirror a moment longer. Then she smiled and put in the other earring.

“Your hand is on my ass in every single photo.”

Rohan kept his eyes on the road. The expressway ran down the ghat in long curves, and in the mirror the sun had already gone behind the hills. Isha sat sideways in the passenger seat with her bare feet up on the dashboard, swiping through her phone.




“Not every photo,” he said.

“Tiger’s Point.” She held the phone up near his face. The two of them stood at the railing with the valley behind them, and his hand sat on her ass like it had been stuck there with glue.




She swiped. “Bhushi Dam. Same hand.” She swiped again. “The chikki shop. Even with the chikki uncle in the frame.”

“He was busy with the chikki.”

“He gave us one packet extra, free. Do you know why?”

“Because I am a good customer.”

“Because he was watching your hand.”

Rohan laughed. “What could I do? Somebody went out without a panty.”

“Somebody washed my panty.”

“Somebody had four more in her bag.”

She swiped to the next photo instead of answering.

“And that dress,” he said. “Every time you climbed a step, it got caught in your ass. Somebody had to pull it out before the whole of Lonavala saw.”

“So it was public service.”

“Social service. Free of cost.”

All afternoon his hand had gone back there, a little bolder at every stop, and each time she had leaned into it.

She stopped swiping. “And this one.”

At the next straight stretch she turned the screen to him. He had lifted her off the ground with both hands under her ass, her legs locked around his waist, and his face was pressed to her breast above the dress, his teeth on the bare skin. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were squeezed shut.

He looked for one second and put his eyes back on the road. His ears went hot.

“I felt so shy,” she said. “That poor aunty only asked us to come closer for the photo. She did not ask you to eat me.”

“Don’t lie. You enjoyed it.”

“And her? She should be embarrassed by you.”

“She took four photos. She was not embarrassed. She was envying you.”

“You are becoming impossible.”

She zoomed into the corner of the photo. “And look at uncle.”

A few steps from the railing, the aunty’s husband stood holding her handbag and staring at the sky like he was counting clouds.

“Poor man,” Rohan said. “Thirty years of marriage, and he is holding her bag.”

“That will be you.”

“I will hold your bag.” He took one hand off the wheel and put it on her thigh. “And other things.”

She lifted his hand by the wrist and put it back on the wheel. “Both hands. I want to reach Pune alive.”

She put the phone face down in her lap. For a while they drove without talking, and the lights of the first Pune exits came up ahead.

“What was your best moment?” she asked. “The whole trip. Only one.”

“All of it.” He kept his eyes on the road. “These two days were like a dream. You were an angel, and you showed me heaven.”

“No. That is not an answer. Choose the best one.”

He glanced at her face and changed his answer. “The candles. My heart stopped.”

“Only your heart?”

He laughed. “And this morning.”

“That is two.”

“Then I am cheating. When I woke up, the sun was lying all over your body. For the first time in my life, I was jealous of the sun.”

“Then why didn’t you block it?”

“I tried. My face was not big enough.”

She laughed and hit his arm.

“What was yours?” he asked.

Her real answer was the big man’s second song last night, when she looked over his arm and saw Rohan possessive for her for the first time. She did not feel like saying it, because it would remind him of her in that man’s arms.

“Mine is midnight too. Your face when you saw the cakes. You forgot to breathe.”

“I remember breathing.”

“You forgot. I counted.” She pulled her feet down from the dashboard and tucked them under her. “And the tub. Before the names.”

“We were not even talking then.”

“That is why.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. He drove into the city with one hand, and this time she let him.

“So how is campus?” Isha asked. “Still no vacation for you?”

They had stopped for dinner at a small Punjabi place ten minutes from her building. He could have dropped her first. He was not ready to.




“These two days were my vacation.” He smiled at her across the table.

“And now?”

He tore his naan in half. “Now work. Everything has piled up.”

“Like what?”

“The bridge courses are over, so there are no students. That part is easy.”

“Then you are alone on campus?”

“In our block, yes.” He dipped the naan in the dal. “I have to start on the syllabus changes.”

“You have more than a week.”

“It will not be enough.”

She stirred her lime soda with the straw. “I was planning to clean my lab anyway. Why don’t you take me with you? I can help you also.”

“It will be only you and me in the whole block.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Sounds wonderful.”

He thought of the empty block, the long corridors with nobody in them, and her lab door that locked from the inside. He drank half his glass of water.

“Pass the pickle,” she said, as if she had asked for nothing at all.

[sakurasan]

Chapter 20 Out for Delivery — Part 1

Friday morning Isha walked toward the car. She was in a saree, the pallu across her chest, the steel lunch carrier in both hands. Rohan was in the car.




He still could not stop thinking about the last two days, when she had attacked him in short clothes.

He felt pity for everyone around them, gorgeous casualties of the curves peeking out.

“Good morning, madam,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Don’t start.”

“I am only saying good morning.”

“I know the meaning of the look.”

He laughed. “I was just remembering a wild cat from Lonavala.”

“This is my campus dress. I cannot dress like that here.”

“Campus is empty.”

“It does not matter.”

He looked at the carrier, then at the road, and drove. In the campus parking she got out, and he took the carrier. They walked to their block, where the corridor lay in shade.

“It feels like a ghost town,” she said.

“This month, very few are on campus. None on our side.”

“If I shout, you will come for me. Right.”

“I will think about it. What is your plan today.”

“I will be in the lab. Cleaning.”

“That is a big job.”

“Months of dust. It is a real job.”

“All right. We meet for lunch, then.”

“Yes. I will call you.”

She took the carrier and went ahead to her lab. He took his keys and went up to his room. He saw the long list of syllabus work he had written himself. He was in a race against time. The dean's email, asking every day for a status update, was no help either.

He sat down and opened the first book.

The thought of having Isha alone in her lab was too tempting. The memory of eating the cake from her breasts flashed across the page. He scolded himself, then set his hand back on the page and started the unit again.

Isha walked into the lab and shut the door. She switched the lights on and saw spider webs on the window frames, in the corners, and around the legs of the benches. The shelves were thick with dust.

She saw that the pallu would trail in the dust and the hem would come up black. Cleaning in the saree would not work.

She shut the windows. The two cameras came to mind. She shifted the equipment along the benches and wiped where it had stood, and she left it in front of both lenses.

Then she took the saree off, folded it on a chair, and set it clear of the dust. In her blouse and petticoat she reached up to one shelf and her breasts rose, then dropped when she came down to the next, and sweat poured into her cleavage. She turned from shelf to shelf, and her belly twisted with each reach.

She lifted the petticoat and wiped her face and her breasts with it, and the panty flashed. A thrill went through her, as if the camera were still watching. She looked at the cameras and saw both lenses blocked.

She gathered the petticoat, pulled the length up, and tucked the extra cloth in at her hip, and the hem sat on her thighs. Then she cleaned at full speed, both hands hard on the cloth, and she went back over every streak until the shelves were clean.

By an hour past noon, the lab was as clean as she kept it every day.

She set the cloth aside and rested against a bench. Her thoughts drifted to Rohan, and to the two days she had spent teasing him. She wanted to keep teasing him, so she took the saree from the chair and spread it on an empty stretch of floor, then set the steel carrier in the centre.

She opened the door, saw the corridor empty, and shut it again. She sat on the saree with the petticoat still tucked at her hip. Savita had stitched this blouse with a deep cut, and the pallu had covered it in the car.

She held the phone out, the carrier and her cleavage in the frame, and took the picture. She looked at it. The cleavage was not enough. She lay back on the saree and pushed her breasts up in the blouse until the cleavage filled the cut. She held the phone over herself, the carrier and that cleavage in the frame, took the picture, and sent it to Rohan. Under it she wrote, “Lunch ready.”

In the faculty room he still could not keep his mind on the reference book. His mind went back and forth between the syllabus and Isha. His phone lit against the open page. He went hard in his trousers. He was ready to eat both things in the picture, the lunch and her breasts.

He was not going to sit in that room and pretend he could read. The draft could be checked in her lab. He stacked the reference books into a tall pile, set the draft on top, and carried it across the corridor at a fast walk. She opened the door, let him in, and latched it behind him.

She reached for the pile. He lowered it, and she took the books from his arms and laid them along both sides of the saree. His shirt was stuck to his back. He had brought his work to her. She was happy. He had been missing her too.

“You need to read all these.”

“This is not even the full list.”

“Okay. Let’s eat first, and you can see these.”

He sat cross-legged on the saree. The petticoat was still tucked at her hip.

She opened the carrier and leaned across to set his box in front of him. Her breasts came forward and spilled over the deep cut of the blouse. Rice and a potato fry, still warm.




He looked at them and forgot the box.

“I cooked this for your mouth, not your eyes.”

He laughed and took a bite from his box. She ate from hers. After a few bites she pinched rice and potato from her box and held it to his lips. When she leaned, the cleavage filled the cut, and the tucked petticoat left her navel bare.

He opened. Her fingers came in with the food.

“You said this is not even the full list.”

“Eight here.” He took the rice. “I opened the first one this morning. I am still on that page. The rest are in my room.”

She took a pinch from his box and fed him. A smear of potato stayed at the corner of his mouth. She took it on her thumb and put it on his tongue.

“Nine days,” he said, after he swallowed. “Then the campus opens. He wants the file before the students are back. Every morning he sends a mail asking where I am and when he will get it. If I miss one, the next mail is there before I have eaten.”

He gathered rice from his box and held it out. She opened her mouth. He set it on her tongue, and his eyes went from her cleavage to her navel.

“Will lecturers do this much work,” she said, after she swallowed.

“Most sign off last year’s work. I cannot. It is the students’ future.”

“True that.”

“That is why the dean put all of this on my plate.”

She put the last of the rice in his mouth and let her fingertip stay until he let it go. Both boxes were finished. She put them back into the carrier and shut the lid. The eight books lay along the left side of the saree.

He pulled one book into his lap and opened it in his left hand. He set the draft on the saree to his right and took the pen in his right hand. When he had a line, the pen went to the draft.

She took the carrier to the lab sink, washed both boxes, and set them to dry. Then she came back and sat on the saree, watching him. After a while her eyes grew heavy.

“I feel sleepy.”

“Come. Use my lap.”

“I will disturb you.”

“You sleep. I read. It is fine.”

She stood, untied the petticoat, and set it on the saree. She put her head in his lap. Her hair spread across his thigh. He kept the book open above her hair.




“Your leg will go numb.”

“I will manage. Sleep.”

He read the heading. His eyes dropped to the blouse.

“The book is in your hand,” she said, her eyes almost shut.

He looked at the page again. His right hand was in the air, shaking the pen.

She reached up, caught that hand, and set it on her breast, the pen still between his fingers. His left hand stayed on the book. The blouse was warm. The weight of her filled his palm.

“You look tense. Use my stress balls.”

She used the petticoat as a blanket and put it over herself. Then she went heavier in his lap, and her breath slowed. The petticoat slid down below the blouse, and he saw the bare skin under the hem, her navel, and the shadow where the blouse lifted from her. Her breast rose and fell under that hand. He brought his eyes back to the page, then down again to the dark of her cleavage. He pictured walking into that dark, the soft flesh closing on him from both sides, and holding him there. He went hard in his trousers.

The book stayed open in his left hand. The pen lay against her blouse.

She slept. He tried the page. His eyes kept leaving it for the valley of her cleavage. He lifted his right hand, took a book from the left of the saree, opened it, and laid it over that dark, over both breasts. He went back to the unit. His eyes slid to her navel. He opened another book and set it there, the page on her belly.

She slept for two hours. The draft had three lines. He was still on the first unit.

She woke and felt the weight on her chest and on her belly. She lifted her head from his lap, and the books slid. She caught the one on her navel before it hit the floor.

“What are these books doing on me.”

“I was using you as bookmark.”

She looked at the draft, then at his face.

“How far did you get.”

He showed her the three lines.

“This is all you wrote in two hours.”

“I know.”

“Give me a book. I will help.”

He smiled. “You cannot help with these.”

“Why not.”

“They are not your subject.”

“I can read.”

“That is not the same.”

“Then what. Putting books on me.”

“That was part of the process.”

“I challenge you. You say a topic. I will find it in the book in sixty seconds.”

“Impossible.”

“Let’s make a game out of it.”

“What do we play for.”

“There are six buttons on your shirt. My blouse has four, and my bra has two.”

“I am liking the sound of it. Go on.”

“If I don’t find the topic in a minute, you remove one hook from me. If I find it, I remove a button from your shirt.”

“What are the stakes.”

“If I win, you let me help. If you win, you can drink my boobs.”

“Sounds delicious. Let’s start.”

“Just one more rule. We both unhook only using the mouth. No hands.”

“Even better.”

[sakurasan]

I tried writing a unique story..
I hardly got 10 likes for 20 updates..
I was fed up with crude indifference..
I like both praise and hate... But indifference makes you question yourself.
In my honest view.. Wait for atleast 5 or more updates.. And see the response..
If its not satisfactory stop wasting your time

I think we have reached this stage

[Hotgiri]

Please don’t stop posting update, your story is missing

One thing reader is missing is Isha having sex with different people, which is not happening from long ago

[sakurasan]

Please don’t stop posting update, your story is missing

One thing reader is missing is Isha having sex with different people, which is not happening from long ago

Senior, Every scene cant be a intercourse scene. Then, there will be repeat of same thing again and again. 

Anyway i will publish what i have written already and take the break. It is not like anyone is missing it anyway. With GTA 6 date nearing, not sure if i will have time and motivation to continue for some months.

[sakurasan]

Chapter 20 Out for Delivery — Part 2

He gave her a book, opened the stopwatch on his phone, and said a chapter title.

She turned to the index. The title was there. She found the page and held it up before the minute was gone.

“I found it.”

She came onto her knees on the saree, put her mouth on his top button, and worked it with her teeth and her tongue until it slipped free. His hands stayed on the floor.

“Give me the next one,” she said.

He said the next topic. She found it, and his second button came open.

He named a topic the index did not have. The minute ran out.

He came forward on the saree and closed his mouth on the top hook of her blouse. The hook held in the eye. His tongue pressed it, his teeth caught it, and his breath was warm on the skin above the cut. He worked it until it slipped free. The blouse opened wider over her breasts. She held the saree with both hands and let him.

She missed the next. His mouth opened the second hook, then the third. On the last miss the blouse came loose on her shoulders. She shrugged it down her arms, and he took the blouse.

The bra was still on.

He named a topic. She found it and took the next button of his shirt in her mouth until it opened. He named another. She found that too, and the button under it came free. His shirt hung open on his chest.

She missed the next. His mouth closed on the hook between her breasts and drew it free. She missed again. He took the last hook in his teeth. The bra opened, her breasts came out, and the bra was in his hands.

Four of his buttons were open. All six of hers were open.

She lay back across his lap. Her back rested on his folded legs, and her breasts rose to his mouth. He set the bra on the blouse. He was still hard in his trousers. He bent and closed his lips on her left nipple. His tongue pressed under it, and he drew the nipple in so hard that her whole breast lifted toward his mouth. She had expected his teeth. Heat went through her chest. She put her hand in his hair.

“Leave some for the kid,” she said, in a roleplay of their future. “You are drinking that side dry.”

He drew the nipple deeper onto his tongue. It thickened in his mouth. He swallowed, then let it go, and it stood wet on her breast.

“The kid is sleeping,” he said, joining the roleplay. “I am thirsty.”

“The kid can cry anytime,” she said.

“I will leave the other boob for the kid.”

“Drain half from each,” she said. “I don’t want one heavier than the other.”

He bent to the right breast and drew that nipple deep into his mouth. His cheek hollowed with the suck, and the breast rose toward him. He swallowed. The left nipple cooled in the air, wet from his mouth. She kept her hand in his hair.

“A little,” she said. “Now come back. Both have to match.”

She drew his head across. He sucked the left nipple, and she moved him to the right before he could stay. He laughed against her breast.

He let the nipple slip from his lips and licked from it over the top of her right breast. Then he went under it, his tongue wide against the weight. He crossed to the left, licked the full underside, and drew his tongue up over the nipple to the top. She held his hair.

The books lay open around them, forgotten.

That evening he stopped the car at the front gate of her building.

“Why are we not going to the park,” she asked.

“I have to meet someone.”

She laughed, got out, and leaned in at the window. “Go then.”

He waited until she was inside the gate before he drove off.

Upstairs, Isha set the carrier in the kitchen, went to her room, and took everything off. The flat was empty. The whole evening was hers, and she was bored.

She opened Kunal’s chat. WhatsApp showed he had last been online a week ago. She closed it.

She called Sneha.

“When are you back.”

“Next Sunday,” Sneha said.

She called Riya, and they caught up on the vacation. Riya was coming back on Sunday too, the same day as Sneha.

Before they hung up, Riya said, “My room key is behind the TV cupboard.”

Isha looked behind it. “I see it now.”

“Can you check my room once. I want to see if I left my Kindle there.”

She took the key, opened Riya’s room, and looked in. The Kindle was on the bed.

“Yes. It is here.”

“Okay. I thought I lost it. Thanks.”

Isha cooked, ate, and washed her plate. She looked down. The heart was in the hair on her mound, grown out a little.

She lathered the inside of the heart until the foam hid the hair. The symbol was too fine to cut by feel. She lay on the bed, knees up, and set a small mirror on the sheet between her feet so it faced her pussy.

In the mirror she set the razor to the foam and cut their symbol, one short stroke at a time. She wiped the blade and followed the next curve.

She moved the razor lower and groomed the foam along her labia. His mouth came back to her. On her breasts that afternoon he had licked more than he had sucked. He had been soft, not the animal from Lonavala.

A day ago that mouth had bitten her. Making him a bad boy was still mission one. Finding out why he had been so soft today was mission two, and she was going to enjoy it.

She was wet under the razor. She finished the last curve, rinsed the foam away, and looked in the mirror. Their symbol sat inside the heart.

Across town, Rohan sat with the builder and talked about the building until late.

Saturday morning he picked her up at the gate. At the big signal he went straight instead of turning toward campus.

“You missed the turn.”

“I did not miss it.”

“Campus is that side.”

“I know where campus is.”

She looked at him. He was smiling at the road. She turned to the window. A temple went past, then a sweet shop on a corner, then a petrol pump where the road narrowed. She had come down this road twice, once with the broker and once with his parents.

“We are going to the house.”

“You took your time.”

“Why did you not tell me.”

“Then it would not be a surprise.”

Outside the gate the street was crowded with workers. A tractor stood half on the road. Bricks were stacked in red walls along the compound, and cement bags sat in a grey pile under a tarpaulin. Masons in vests squatted near the stacks, and women in bright sarees were carrying pans of sand on their heads. The builder came out through them with his hands joined.

“Namaste, madam. Sir said the first brick should be from your hand.”

She looked at Rohan. He only lifted his shoulders.

A mason’s wife held out a steel plate with turmeric, kumkum, a few marigolds, an incense stick, and a coconut. Isha tucked her pallu into her waist. She lit the incense and turned it three times in front of the bare concrete pillars. She pressed turmeric and kumkum on a brick and set a marigold on top.

The builder pointed at a stone by the front pillar. She lifted the coconut in both hands and brought it down hard. It cracked in two on the first try, and coconut water ran over her fingers and onto the stone. The workers cheered.

“Good sign, madam,” the builder said. “One time only. Very good.”

A mason had already spread a bed of wet mortar along the base of the front wall. He held out the brick she had marked. She set it on the mortar and pressed it down with both palms. The mason tapped it twice with the handle of his trowel and laid his level on top. The bubble sat in the middle.

“Straight,” he said.




The builder opened a box of pedas and went down the line of workers. Rohan took one and held it to her mouth. She bit half and pushed the other half into his.

The masons went back to the stacks, and the sound of trowels on brick started along the front wall.

“Our house,” he said.

They walked in among the bare pillars, her hand in his. Sun came through where the walls would be.

The staircase had no railing yet. He went up first and held his hand back for her, and she held it with one hand and her saree with the other. On the first floor the slab was open on every side, and the wind came straight through. From the edge they could see the line of masons bent over the front wall, where her brick sat with the marigold still on it.

She leaned into his side, and he put his arm around her waist. They stood there and watched the wall grow one brick at a time.

“Our kids will run on this floor,” she said.

“And fall down these stairs.”

“Not if you put a railing.”

“First thing,” he said, and kissed her hair.

The builder came up the stairs with a rolled sheet under his arm.

“Madam, the final plan. Sir approved it last night. If you also say okay, we go with this.”

“It is her plan only,” Rohan said. “We just discussed the dimensions.”

She warned him with her eyes not to oversell her. He zipped his mouth.

“Show it to me, bhaiya,” she said. “I have not seen it on paper.”

The builder unrolled it on the slab and held the corners down with four half bricks. Isha crouched beside it. Every room on the sheet had a name printed inside it.




“Ground floor, madam. Big hall in the front. Kitchen at the back, window over the sink, the way you wanted. Pooja room beside the kitchen. Utility behind that. This bedroom is for you and sir.”

Her name and Rohan’s were printed in that room. His finger moved to the next two. Her parents’ names were printed in one. His parents’ names were printed in the one beside it.

“Your parents. Sir’s parents beside them.”

“Putting them next to each other is dangerous,” she said.

“Then we will invite one at a time,” Rohan said.

The builder smiled and shifted the sheet. “First floor. Centre hall. Game on this side, gym on that side. Three rooms for the children.”

Those three rooms were printed Kid 1, Kid 2, and Kid 3. Rohan took the pen from his pocket and wrote Ishan over Kid 1. Isha took the pen and wrote Rahini over Kid 2.

“And this,” the builder said, tapping the last room. “Master bedroom, right above yours.”

Kunal’s name was printed in it, in the same letters as every other room.

Isha said nothing. Sweat broke on her back. Her palm went damp on the paper. That room sat above the bed she would share with Rohan, and Rohan did not know what she had done with Kunal. She kept her face on the sheet.

The builder waited. “Take your time, madam. I am downstairs.”

He went down. She heard him shout at someone about the sand.

She stood up. “What is this. Is he going to live with us.”

“Someday he will have his own place. Till then, this is his.”

“You could have just named it guest room, no.”

“I thought of that first. But Kunal is family. How can I call him a guest.”

“You and your bromance. Do whatever.”

[Givemeextra]

She stood up. “What is this. Is he going to live with us.”

“Someday he will have his own place. Till then, this is his.”

“You could have just named it guest room, no.”

“I thought of that first. But Kunal is family. How can I call him a guest.”

“You and your bromance. Do whatever.”