Adultery Some Short Stories... From Internet

[usaiha2]

Whose baby will it be?

My name is Isha. I am now 24 years old.

I was always a very pretty girl. I have a slim body with reasonably big tits and a nice sized ass. A fair complexion, big n black eyes, long silky hair and above average height. I always got second glances from all the boys and all the old men stopped to talk to me.

My looks was of no great use, as I was born into a middle class conservative family, which did not let me mingle with boys. As I grew into puberty I started growing breasts, I started having soft hair on my pussy and a thrill ran through my body each time I felt a boy glance at me. The cuter the boy, the hotter the thrill. When getting off the public bus, the touch of shoulders was so exciting.

Initially I thought these were accidental touches. I gradually got to know that these were not all accidental. But I was not complaining. I welcomed the occasion when a hot boy slammed into my back each time the bus slammed its brakes.

My friends and I used our very basic smartphones to look at shirtless pictures of Shahid Kapoor and Ranbir Kapoor. We argued whether a smooth chest was better than a hairy chest. We giggled when somebody spoke of sex and used swear words like fuck and cunt.

At home though, I was a very quiet girl. The tv channels were changed when a little romance came on. I was discouraged from talking to male cousins. As an only daughter I had no one to really talk to. Soon I was 22 years old a graduate and an innocent. Still imagining about sex with a hot hunk, wanting to make love to Bollywood studs and having really no idea of what real fucking was.

A few of my bolder friends made boyfriends and told stories of how they made out in film theatres and in lonely places. They never went further than talking about kissing with tongue action, ass pinching and the breast squeezing. Just one a friend spoke of dry humping and the rubbing of crotches.

Lately I had discovered that rubbing my pussy lips as I imagined the faces of cute boys and hot men gave me a higher lever of thrill. I started doing this everyday. Sometimes 2-3 times a day. In the bathroom, when I was falling asleep ……

As I grew older and more desperate to know a hunk and be in be bed with him, Chandan entered the scene. Opposite our house, adjoining it was a small one bedroom house. It was vacant for some time . One day it was rented out to a widow and her son. The lady was a quiet woman who worked as a clerk in an office. Her son Chandan was was a young man of 24 years. A total waster.

The lady became friends with my mum. Chandan was a big puzzle. He had dropped out of education. He was tall and really well built. He was missing most of the afternoons and returned home late in the night. He slept most of the mornings and disappeared again in the afternoons.

He was dark in complexion, really tall and broad. He had a very hairy chest . He wore jeans and a shirt which mostly unbuttoned. He had thick and unruly hair. Whenever he saw me he would have a wolfish grin and a strangle glint in his eyes. I didn't know whether I should stare back at his sexy body or be scared of his dark and menacing face.