18-05-2019, 02:24 PM
I felt the first guy's hand reach my bra strap under my kurta. Effortlessly he unhooked my bra and then proceeded to stretch the two shoulder straps in either direction. My mind was vehemently opposing the happenings even as my body lay paralysed in the grip of the two men on either side of me. Those two got into the act, pulling at the straps under the sleeve of my kurta, stretching it so as to get it to my hands and then pulling them through. After the straps were free of my hands, they let go of them and the recoil of their elastic made a hurtful snapping contact with my skin. My bra was now free under my kurta, unhooked from behind and made free from my hands. The original guy reached down under the front of my kurta and pulled it off me completely. Within a matter of seconds, I was braless.
The four of them sniggered as the original guy pulled out my bra from under my kurta. It was a black one which I had brought as a lingerie set on my last anniversary. He sniffed at the cups of my just removed bra and let out a sigh of pleasure.
Even though I was wearing a kurta, my hands went to my breasts, covering them as if I were naked.
"I wish we could take your panty too!" he said before embracing me and planting a rough kiss on my lips.
"Take this," he said as he released me from his grip. I thought he was returning my bra but he handed me a piece of paper.
"It's my phone number, give me a call if you want some real sex!" he whispered into my ear.
Before I could even mumble the word 'what' in its entirety, the four of them vanished into the crowd, leaving me on the platform, my hands criss-crossed in front of my breasts, my mouth gaping wide open with surprise and my vulva drenched in my womanly juices, desperate for pleasure.
Although I had seeked pleasure in this market for a long time by means of exhibitionism, rubbing and groping, it had all been anonymous, not leaving even an iota of physical trace. It all had been at a mental level, imagining and recollecting the touches and gropes drove me to orgasms, alone or when I was being used by my husband. But this was different. I had left me different.
Very consciously, I lowered my hands and looked around, hoping that no one was noticing me. I saw a couple of men, who looked like rickshaw-w,.'s, staring at me with looks that suggested that they knew what I had been up to. Normally, the piercing stares of such –w,.'s had drawn me to further initiate some 'activities' but I was no longer normal.
I alighted down from the platform with a sense of emergency and made my way out of the garden, as fast as I could, my bra-less breasts juggling up and down with the hurried steps that I took. I was acutely aware of the sloppiness between my legs. My head was drooping with shame, thinking about my husband and children. How easily could I have destroyed my family life? How could I have allowed myself to take part in such an 'activity'?
The four of them sniggered as the original guy pulled out my bra from under my kurta. It was a black one which I had brought as a lingerie set on my last anniversary. He sniffed at the cups of my just removed bra and let out a sigh of pleasure.
Even though I was wearing a kurta, my hands went to my breasts, covering them as if I were naked.
"I wish we could take your panty too!" he said before embracing me and planting a rough kiss on my lips.
"Take this," he said as he released me from his grip. I thought he was returning my bra but he handed me a piece of paper.
"It's my phone number, give me a call if you want some real sex!" he whispered into my ear.
Before I could even mumble the word 'what' in its entirety, the four of them vanished into the crowd, leaving me on the platform, my hands criss-crossed in front of my breasts, my mouth gaping wide open with surprise and my vulva drenched in my womanly juices, desperate for pleasure.
Although I had seeked pleasure in this market for a long time by means of exhibitionism, rubbing and groping, it had all been anonymous, not leaving even an iota of physical trace. It all had been at a mental level, imagining and recollecting the touches and gropes drove me to orgasms, alone or when I was being used by my husband. But this was different. I had left me different.
Very consciously, I lowered my hands and looked around, hoping that no one was noticing me. I saw a couple of men, who looked like rickshaw-w,.'s, staring at me with looks that suggested that they knew what I had been up to. Normally, the piercing stares of such –w,.'s had drawn me to further initiate some 'activities' but I was no longer normal.
I alighted down from the platform with a sense of emergency and made my way out of the garden, as fast as I could, my bra-less breasts juggling up and down with the hurried steps that I took. I was acutely aware of the sloppiness between my legs. My head was drooping with shame, thinking about my husband and children. How easily could I have destroyed my family life? How could I have allowed myself to take part in such an 'activity'?
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