23-11-2024, 09:51 AM
(This post was last modified: 23-11-2024, 09:52 AM by Naruto411. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
The morning sun beat down as you stepped out of your flat, the rush of hot air from the corridor hitting your face. You adjusted the strap of your bag lazily, your mind not on your upcoming classes, but on the thought of finding someone—someone open, willing, eager to be molded into your personal plaything. You didn’t need friends, not really. Not when the idea of bending someone to your will had you harder than any silly conversation ever could.
The sound of voices caught your attention as you locked your door. Across the corridor, the bald man from next door—uncle, as you mockingly referred to him in your head—was buttoning up his shirt, clearly late for work. His daughter followed close behind, her books clutched to her chest. She was young, too young, and you barely spared her a second glance as she chirped, “Hai, anna!” in her bright, naive voice.
You offered a nod, a polite enough "Hai," without breaking stride. Uncle, however, wasn’t content to let it end there. He turned, gesturing proudly toward you. “You know, this boy cracked JEE Mains with an All India Rank of 24! Top college, mechanical engineering. A bright future ahead, you’ll see.”
You half-smiled, trying not to roll your eyes. He’d clearly heard it from his wife—akka, as you called her when she wasn’t around to feel the sarcasm in your tone. Last week, you’d helped her haul some rice bags into the flat. She had been struggling, beads of sweat rolling down her temples, her blouse sticking to her chest in all the right ways. You’d taken the chance to flex a little, dropping your rank and college into the conversation like spare change. She’d been impressed, and you’d caught the glint in her eyes as she’d smiled, wiping her forehead with the edge of her pallu.
"She liked that," the voice in your head murmured now, as it always did when you thought about her. "A young, smart, successful boy, strong enough to help her and sharp enough to brag about it. Her husband might be called a ‘ stud ’ by the neighbors cause he got this arabian horse like wife , but we both know who she’s imagining someone in her bed."
Uncle’s voice dragged you back to the present. “I keep telling her,” he said, gesturing to his daughter, “study hard, and she could get into a top college like you someday.”
The girl smiled shyly, clearly uncomfortable with the comparison, and you forced another polite nod. “All the best for your studies,” you said, your tone neutral, already moving past them. She wasn’t the target of your thoughts; she was too innocent, too unformed. But her mother? Now that was a different story.
As you made your way to the stairs, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to akka. She was one of those rare women who seemed frozen in time, her body defying age in ways that made you ache just thinking about her. Her full hips, her generous breasts, the way her saree always seemed to cling just a little too tightly—it was enough to make you want to invent reasons to knock on their door, just to catch another glimpse.
"She’s ripe for the taking," the voice teased. "You’ve seen the way she looks at you, haven’t you? The way her smile lingers, the way she brushes past you just a little too closely? She knows you’re young and hungry, and you know she’s got needs that her ‘stud’ of a husband isn’t fulfilling."
Your cock stirred at the memory of her, the way her ass swayed as she led you into their flat, her laugh soft and throaty as she thanked you for your help. You’d caught her adjusting her saree as you left, her eyes darting up to meet yours before quickly looking away. She’d been blushing. That much you were sure of.
"You’ll have her eventually," the voice promised as you stepped into the sunlight outside. "It’s only a matter of time before akka’s yours."
The sound of voices caught your attention as you locked your door. Across the corridor, the bald man from next door—uncle, as you mockingly referred to him in your head—was buttoning up his shirt, clearly late for work. His daughter followed close behind, her books clutched to her chest. She was young, too young, and you barely spared her a second glance as she chirped, “Hai, anna!” in her bright, naive voice.
You offered a nod, a polite enough "Hai," without breaking stride. Uncle, however, wasn’t content to let it end there. He turned, gesturing proudly toward you. “You know, this boy cracked JEE Mains with an All India Rank of 24! Top college, mechanical engineering. A bright future ahead, you’ll see.”
You half-smiled, trying not to roll your eyes. He’d clearly heard it from his wife—akka, as you called her when she wasn’t around to feel the sarcasm in your tone. Last week, you’d helped her haul some rice bags into the flat. She had been struggling, beads of sweat rolling down her temples, her blouse sticking to her chest in all the right ways. You’d taken the chance to flex a little, dropping your rank and college into the conversation like spare change. She’d been impressed, and you’d caught the glint in her eyes as she’d smiled, wiping her forehead with the edge of her pallu.
"She liked that," the voice in your head murmured now, as it always did when you thought about her. "A young, smart, successful boy, strong enough to help her and sharp enough to brag about it. Her husband might be called a ‘ stud ’ by the neighbors cause he got this arabian horse like wife , but we both know who she’s imagining someone in her bed."
Uncle’s voice dragged you back to the present. “I keep telling her,” he said, gesturing to his daughter, “study hard, and she could get into a top college like you someday.”
The girl smiled shyly, clearly uncomfortable with the comparison, and you forced another polite nod. “All the best for your studies,” you said, your tone neutral, already moving past them. She wasn’t the target of your thoughts; she was too innocent, too unformed. But her mother? Now that was a different story.
As you made your way to the stairs, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to akka. She was one of those rare women who seemed frozen in time, her body defying age in ways that made you ache just thinking about her. Her full hips, her generous breasts, the way her saree always seemed to cling just a little too tightly—it was enough to make you want to invent reasons to knock on their door, just to catch another glimpse.
"She’s ripe for the taking," the voice teased. "You’ve seen the way she looks at you, haven’t you? The way her smile lingers, the way she brushes past you just a little too closely? She knows you’re young and hungry, and you know she’s got needs that her ‘stud’ of a husband isn’t fulfilling."
Your cock stirred at the memory of her, the way her ass swayed as she led you into their flat, her laugh soft and throaty as she thanked you for your help. You’d caught her adjusting her saree as you left, her eyes darting up to meet yours before quickly looking away. She’d been blushing. That much you were sure of.
"You’ll have her eventually," the voice promised as you stepped into the sunlight outside. "It’s only a matter of time before akka’s yours."
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