05-04-2025, 07:51 PM
(This post was last modified: 24-04-2025, 06:09 PM by yazhiniram. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.
Edit Reason: Changed char name Ram to Raj
)
7:30 AM.
The sun had already slipped through the grill, painting lines across the dining table.
Inside the kitchen, the idli cooker whistled low.
Pavitra moved in rhythm.
Pour. Flip. Wipe. Serve.
Two plates. Two kids. One husband—half-awake, half-scrolling.
“Take it hot,” she said, dropping the last idli on Kartik’s plate.
He nodded, still rubbing his eyes. “You made chutney also?”
“Mmm.”
She placed a cup of tea next to him. “Strong. No sugar.”
“Perfect,” he murmured.
She didn’t reply. She was already filling the kettle.
By 8:00, the kitchen was clean.
Lunch prep done halfway. Tamarind soaking. Rice measured. Dabba lids clicked shut.
She stood in front of the mirror, wiping her forehead.
Today’s chudi was a deep green cotton, with white threadwork near the sleeves.
Fitting. Clean. Not flashy.
But her curves?
Still spoke.
She tied her hair into a ponytail. Slipped on her slippers.
Lift key. Wallet. Cloth bag.
Out.
The lobby was half-lit.
Newspaper bundles still near the pillar. Someone’s child’s bicycle resting against the wall.
She walked straight across toward the exit.
And then—
That look.
From the corner.
Security cabin.
That same man.
He was sitting on the plastic chair, phone in hand.
But his eyes?
Lifted. Followed her.
Started at her face.
Dropped.
Paused.
Stuck around her chest.
Moved lower.
Stayed near her hips.
Didn’t blink.
Pavitra walked past.
Then stopped.
Paused.
Took a breath.
Turned back.
He blinked.
She stepped forward—just two feet.
P: “Don’t do that.”
S: “Uh?”
P: “You heard me.”
S: “Sorry… what madam?”
P: “That staring. Don’t do it.”
He stood up, awkward.
S: “No madam… I wasn’t—”
She didn’t raise her voice.
P: “You were. I walked right past you and you didn’t even look away.”
S: “Sorry madam… I was just sitting here—”
P: “I didn’t say you shouldn’t sit. I said don’t stare like that.”
He rubbed his hand against his pants, looking away.
S: “I didn’t mean it madam… just looked once—”
P: “You looked once. Then again. Then didn’t stop.”
S: “Please madam… not intentional. I respect you.”
She stared.
P: “You think respect means keeping your mouth shut and doing your job, but your eyes can go wherever they want?”
S: “No madam. I’ll be careful.”
She looked at him, calm.
P: “I’m not asking you to be careful. Just be decent.”
He nodded quickly.
P: “I’ve seen this before. I’m not stupid.”
S: “No no… I won’t repeat.”
P: “Don’t. Because I’m not going to ignore it next time.”
He looked nervous. “Madam… please… don’t tell association…”
She tilted her head.
P: “Then don’t give me a reason to.”
He nodded again.
She turned, walked toward the gate.
Didn’t slam her slippers. Didn’t look back.
But her message?
Clear as glass.
Her Mind:
That’s it.
I don’t need to shout.
I just need to stop pretending like I don’t see it.
Let him sit with that.
Let him learn.
She stepped out into the sun.
A gentle breeze moved through her hair.
For the first time in weeks…
She didn’t feel watched.
She felt in control.
The main road outside was already stirring.
Vendors had started laying out their vegetables.
A boy ran past with a basket of tomatoes.
Pavitra kept walking. Chin up. Cloth bag swaying with each step.
Her green chudi stuck lightly to her lower back. Sunlight warms the back of her neck.
She was four steps from the tea shop corner when she heard it.
The engine.
Smooth.
Low.
Stopping beside her without drama.
She glanced to the side.
Ram.
One hand on the handle. Elbow resting. Calm face. Half smile.
“You’re going somewhere?”
“Yeah. Vegetable shop.”
“Come. I’ll drop you.”
She looked down at the road.
Then at him.
“It’s fine. I can walk.”
“Why walk? Just sit. I’m heading there anyway.”
She hesitated.
Raj didn’t repeat himself.
Just looked at her.
Soft. Sure.
She took a breath.
Stepped forward.
Lifted the back of her chudi slightly.
Gripped the side bar of the Unicorn.
And climbed on.
Both legs on either side.
Chudi folding under her thighs.
Seat warm.
Body closer than she meant it to be.
Her Mind:
God.
His back is right in front of my face.
If I move even a little, my breasts will press against him.
This seat is snug. My ass feels like it’s touching him already.
Why the fuck is this making me wet?
I’m going to buy tomatoes. Not get fucked.
But my pussy?
It’s acting like I climbed on top of him—not the bike.
My thighs are already warm.
If he brakes hard even once, my whole body’s going to land on his back.
My nipples are tight.
My panties are wet.
And the worst part?
I haven’t even sat properly yet.
She adjusted her dupatta.
Sat straight.
Hands on the side rail.
Eyes forward.
The engine purred again.
The bike turned past the first curve.
Wind brushing the sides of her cheeks.
Her dupatta fluttered just behind her shoulder.
She didn’t hold him.
She held the side bar.
Knuckles white.
Breath tight.
Then—
Thud. Lift. Drop.
The bike rolled over a speed bump.
And her chest?
Bounced.
Straight into his back.
Her Mind:
Shit.
My boobs just slapped his spine.
I didn’t even get a warning.
Fuck. That bounce was full.
I could feel my nipples drag across his shirt.
He didn’t react.
He didn’t shift.
But I know he felt it.
That was full skin-to-shirt contact.
My breasts haven’t touched a man properly in years.
And now?
They just introduced themselves without permission.
My pussy just twitched.
My thighs pressed the seat tighter.
I can’t even look at him now.
The bike slowed near the small local veg shop.
Few baskets on the ground. Brinjal. Beans. Curry leaves.
Pavitra looked to the side, ready to get down.
Raj didn’t stop the engine.
He turned his head slightly.
“Two kilometers from here, there's a proper market. Better vegetables. Cleaner stuff.”
She opened her mouth.
“Ram, no need—”
But the bike had already pulled forward.
No waiting.
No question.
Just motion.
Her Mind:
He’s not even asking.
He’s taking me.
And I’m not stopping him.
I’m still wet from that bounce.
My boobs are still tingling.
And now I’m riding behind a man who didn’t even flinch when they touched him.
If he hits another bump…
I might just moan.
The road stretched ahead.
And she stayed on the seat.
Not because she agreed.
But because her body already had.
The market was alive with sound.
Plastic sheets flapping in the breeze.
Crows hopping across crates.
Vendors calling out prices like a song.
Pavitra stepped off the bike.
Her salwar stuck slightly to the back of her thighs.
She adjusted her dupatta—tight across her chest.
Tried to walk ahead like it was just a normal errand.
Raj parked and walked beside her.
No hesitation.
Just like that, he was next to her.
“Ladyfinger for Brinjal?”
“Yeah. Get half kilo.”
He leaned toward the vendor, pointing.
“Half kilo. Put properly. No damaged pieces.”
He picked one. Pressed gently.
“No good. Next.”
He was talking with ease.
Bargaining.
Getting prices down.
Holding her cloth bag like he’d done it every weekend.
Her Mind:
He’s acting like this is his job.
Like I’m his wife.
He’s not letting me lift anything.
He’s checking brinjals like he’s feeding his kids.
My husband doesn’t even know how much beans cost.
And this man?
He knows the price, the smell, the weight.
And all the while…
He keeps looking at me.
My neck.
My fingers.
My side when I bend to check onions.
He’s not staring.
He’s watching.
And that’s worse.
Because I feel seen.
I feel… owned.
A tomato vendor called him “anna.”
Raj just smiled and asked for two kilos.
Pavitra stood behind, brushing her hair back from her cheek.
The sun had made her skin sticky.
But his gaze?
Made it burn.
He handed the bag to her.
She reached for it.
But he didn’t let go.
Just held it for an extra second.
Their fingers touched.
Only a little.
But the heat from his hand…
stayed.
Her Mind:
He’s holding my bag like he holds my place in this market.
Quiet.
But permanent.
People are seeing us together.
And no one’s confused.
They already think we’re a couple.
And me?
I’m not correcting them.
They turned the corner toward the coriander stand.
Pavitra looked up.
Raj was already talking to the next vendor.
She followed.
And deep inside her salwar…
Her pussy was pulsing.
Not from his words.
But from the way he behaved like she belonged to him.
And how is her body?
Wasn't resisting.
The market was behind them now.
Plastic rustling.
Smell of banana leaves.
Pavitra stood near the bike, one hand wiping her face with the edge of her dupatta.
Raj loaded the final items into the cloth bag.
Full. Round. Heavy.
She tried to lift it.
“Wait,” he said.
Took the bag gently.
Placed it near the petrol tank.
Between his legs.
“You hold it. Won’t slip.”
She looked at the space.
Then at him.
Her mind is already tightening.
But she climbed on.
Softly.
Sat.
And this time—
There was no gap.
Her knees touched the back of his thighs.
Her hands reached forward, around the bag.
And her chest?
Pressed softly, fully—
against his back.
Her Mind:
Fuck.
My boobs are fully smashed against him.
There’s no bra that can hide this.
He can feel it.
He has to.
How can he not?
I can feel the shape of his spine against my nipples.
They’re hard already.
The bag is pressing against my stomach.
My pussy is heating again.
I’m holding the bag like a seatbelt.
But really?
I’m hugging him.
I didn’t mean to.
But this is a full, slow hug from behind.
My breasts are saying sorry and thank you at the same time.
If he moves even a little—
My nipples will drag across his back like fingers.
God help me if there’s another speed bump.
Raj didn’t speak.
He just leaned slightly forward.
Started the engine.
The bike shook gently under her.
And Pavitra?
Stayed there.
Pressed.
Wet.
Alive.
The road curved past a half-closed mechanic shop.
Dust blew across their path.
Pavitra was holding the cloth bag tight.
Her hands curved around it like a brace.
The bike turned.
Wobbled.
And hit a rough patch—
Two bumps back-to-back.
Her body lifted.
Thudded forward.
Her chest crashed into his back.
And one hand slipped off the bag.
Fell forward.
Palm-first—
Right over the curve of his pants.
Right over his cock.
Her Mind:
Oh fuck.
Oh god.
That’s his cock.
That’s his actual cock under my palm.
I can feel the shape of it.
Soft… but not small.
Firm enough to know exactly what I touched.
And my breasts?
They’re not just touching his back now—
They’re fucking glued to it.
My nipples just flattened against his spine like they belong there.
And my hand…
My hand is still on him.
Why am I not pulling it back?
Why is my pussy throbbing like it just got kissed?
She pulled her hand back slowly.
Hold the bag again.
Didn’t say a word.
Raj didn’t turn.
Didn’t react.
Just said, soft—
“Careful.”
Her Mind:
Careful?
That's all?
I just touched your cock by mistake and you say be careful?
What if I did it on purpose next time?
What if my fingers don’t slip…
But curl?
The engine hummed again.
The bike moved smoothly.
And behind him?
Pavitra was sitting in full silence.
But inside?
Her mind was fingering itself.
The road behind them faded.
The familiar curve of the apartment gate appeared.
The watchman looked up.
Saw them together.
Two people. One bike.
Her chest pressed against his back.
Bag tight between their bodies.
The watchman blinked.
But he looked down.
Didn’t say a word.
Her Mind:
He saw.
He saw how I’m sitting.
How close I am.
Maybe he saw my breasts pressed into Ram’s back.
Good.
Let him see.
Let someone know what it feels like to ride behind a man who knows how to hold space.
The bike slowed into the parking lot.
Corner spot. Shadowed.
The engine went silent.
Pavitra took a breath.
Hold the bag with both hands.
Started to slide off.
But as she leaned forward to dismount—
Her breast dragged across his back again.
This time, heavier.
Longer.
She couldn’t stop it.
And then—
his hand moved.
Reflex?
Or not?
Either way—his palm brushed across her breast.
Warm.
Full.
A gentle press.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Her Mind – Me:
Aiyo.
That’s my boob.
That’s his hand.
That’s not fabric. That’s skin.
He touched it.
Maybe he didn’t mean to.
Maybe he did.
But fuck…
My nipple felt his lifeline.
I want to stop breathing.
Or start moaning.
My pussy is not just wet.
It’s slippery.
One more second and I would’ve grabbed him.
She stepped back.
Steady feet.
He didn’t turn.
Didn’t apologize.
Just got off.
Lifted the bag like nothing happened.
And started walking toward the lift.
No words.
No look.
Just quiet masculinity.
And Pavitra?
She followed.
Her Mind:
He’s carrying the weight.
I’m carrying the sin.
And both feel light.
The parking was quiet.
Not even the hum of a second bike.
Raj walked ahead.
Pressed the lift button.
The door opened.
He stood aside.
Pavitra stepped in.
He followed.
Placed the heavy vegetable bag down near his feet.
Then—
He lifted both arms.
Stretched his shoulders.
Slow.
Quiet.
His shirt lifted just enough to show a line of skin near his hip.
She looked once.
Then looked away.
Her Mind:
Don’t look.
Don’t stare.
But fuck… that stretch…
That forearm…
That side curve…
I could fuck that bone with my eyes.
Why is my pussy acting like it’s standing in water?
He exhaled once. Casual.
She tucked her hair behind her ear.
Lift moved.
No words.
Just silence.
And breath.
Then—
He looked at her.
Straight.
She looked back.
For half a second.
Too long.
Too open.
Too full of what they didn’t say in the parking lot.
Ding.
The lift stopped.
His floor.
He didn’t move.
She glanced at him.
He didn’t even blink.
Just wait.
Doors closed again.
Her Mind:
He didn’t get down.
He’s staying with me.
For what?
For the bag?
Or for something else?
My nipples are tight again.
There’s nothing innocent about this ride.
Her floor came.
She stepped forward.
Bent slightly to lift the bag.
Pulled.
Nothing moved.
She tried again.
He stopped her hand.
Held it.
Warm fingers over her wrist.
“Don’t. I’ll bring it.”
She looked at him.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t flirt.
Just lifted the bag.
As if it was nothing.
“Go.”
She stepped out.
Walked forward.
And behind her—
His eyes didn’t leave.
Her Mind – Me:
He’s watching my ass.
I know it.
I can feel it.
The heat from his stare is moving up my spine like slow fingers.
Let him look.
Let him stand there and swallow me with his eyes.
Because my panties?
Are soaked with everything I didn’t say in that lift.
The main door clicked open with a soft squeak.
The flat was still cool from the morning shade.
A half-filled tumbler of tea stood on the center table.
Kartik, in his faded navy T-shirt and shorts, lay reclined on the sofa, one leg up, phone in hand.
The muted sounds of a YouTube video played from his screen.
He didn’t look up immediately.
But Pavitra had already entered.
She stepped to the side, letting the door swing wider.
Behind her—Ram.
Carrying the full cloth bag of vegetables with one hand, balanced, easy.
No strain.
No noise.
Kartik finally glanced up, blinking out of screen-world.
“Oh—Raj anna?”
Raj gave a gentle smile.
“Good morning.”
“Hey… good morning. You both went together?”
Pavitra, setting her slippers on the rack, just nodded once. “We met outside.”
“I was heading out,” Raj added, “and saw her walking. Thought I’d drop her.”
Kartik sat up straighter, rubbing his neck.
“You didn’t have to carry the bag all the way up though…”
Raj moved past the hall gently.
“Not a problem. It’s heavy today. Better I carry it than make her struggle.”
He turned, looked at Pavitra for a brief moment, then turned to Kartik.
“Where should I keep it?”
Pavitra spoke for the first time since entering.
“Kitchen counter.”
Raj nodded.
Walked in.
His slippers made almost no sound.
Kartik turned to her. “You really went far? What did you get?”
Pavitra moved to the fridge, pulled the door open halfway. “Normal stuff. The usual place was too crowded.”
He hummed. “Even then… next time just take the car, no?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Still… I would’ve dropped you.”
From the kitchen, Ram’s voice came, soft.
“There’s good stock today. Got some nice green chillies, and the tomatoes are firm.”
Kartik smiled faintly. “You know how to shop ah, anna?”
Raj returned from the kitchen, wiping his palm lightly on his pants.
“I lived alone for four years. Chennai’s vegetable rates will make anyone smart.”
Kartik chuckled. “True. That’s why I survive on zomato. Easier to tap than bargain.”
They shared a brief laugh.
Pavitra walked to the dining table, took a glass of water.
Didn’t speak.
Just stood.
Listening.
Watching.
Her Mind:
He’s speaking with so much calm.
That same mouth said only one word to me: Careful.
And now it’s chatting with my husband like nothing ever happened.
I touched his cock in the during bike ride.
He felt my breast press into his back.
And now he’s standing near my fridge like it never happened.
God, the control of that man.
And me?
My salwar is still wet between the legs.
Kartik leaned forward. “Sit, anna. You just came from outside. I’ll ask Pavi to make tea.”
Raj raised a palm.
“No no… it’s okay. I have to step out again. Just wanted to drop the bag.”
“At least sit for two minutes.”
“I’ll come properly one day. Today, I’ve got something to handle at home.”
Pavitra glanced at him once.
A second too long.
Raj didn’t meet her eyes.
Kartik gave a friendly shrug. “Alright. But next time you’re not escaping tea.”
Raj smiled. “Promise.”
He turned to Pavitra. Nodded gently.
“Thanks for the ride back.”
She nodded.
No smile.
Just a soft blink.
As if to say, I’m not done feeling you yet.
Raj walked to the door.
Opened it.
Then paused.
Looked back at Kartik.
“Tell me if you need anything else, okay?”
“Of course, anna. Thank you.”
And he left.
The door clicked shut.
Kartik flopped back into the sofa.
Yawning.
Pavitra stood near the fridge.
Opened it.
Pulled out coriander, tomatoes.
Started washing quietly.
Her back to her husband.
Her hand on the tap.
Her thighs pressing together slightly under her salwar.
Her Mind:
I felt his cock.
I felt the heat of it.
I felt how natural it was to have him behind me, under me, around me.
And now I’m standing here…
cutting tomatoes.
Like I’m normal.
Like I’m untouched.
But my breasts still remember the stretch of his back.
My fingers still ache to grab what they accidentally grazed.
And my pussy?
It knows this is just the start.
The steel tumbler clinked as Pavitra rinsed it in the sink.
Kartik leaned against the fridge, arms folded.
“You could’ve called me, Pavi,” he said mildly. “I’d have dropped you.”
She wiped her fingers on the towel, didn’t turn fully.
“Raj was already outside. It just happened naturally.”
Kartik nodded slowly.
Didn’t argue.
“Hmm. Anyway, next time just tell me. That road’s not great for walking.”
“Mmm.”
Quiet.
Fan whirred.
A few birds chirped near the balcony grill.
Evening slipped in like a soft cloth being pulled across the floor.
By 6:15, the flat felt dimmer.
Ceiling lights are still off.
TV on low volume.
Kids on the carpet, playing with Beyblades and bursting into laughter.
“Is Chithappa coming today-aa?” one of them asked.
Pavitra smiled, folding a towel. “Yes. He’s coming with Appa.”
“He’s going to stay with us?”
“Just for a few days, kanna. Until he settles down.”
They nodded like they understood—though their minds were already on whether he’d bring chocolates.
7:10 PM.
The sound of the lift arriving.
Then voices outside.
Laughter.
Kartik’s familiar tone:
“Come, come… keep your bag inside. You’ll get used to the heat.”
And then—
The lock turned.
The door opened.
And Arjun stepped in.
Taller than Kartik by a bit.
Half-sleeve shirt, tucked loose over jeans.
Hair slightly longer than usual—college-boy style not fully gone.
He held two bags—one backpack, one trolley-style.
His smile was wide.
“Hi anni.”
Pavitra nodded, matching his smile.
“Welcome home.”
He walked in.
Set the bags down near the sofa.
The kids ran up.
“Chithappa! Chithappaaa!”
He crouched down, arms open.
Lifted one, hugged the other.
“They’ve grown, huh!”
“They missed you,” Kartik said, locking the door behind him. “I told them no chocolates until you unpack.”
“I brought something lah. Let me settle.”
He stood up, brushed his palms on his jeans.
Then looked at Pavitra again.
Not in any special way.
Just… warmly.
Her Mind:
He’s not a stranger.
We’ve spoken on calls.
He stayed with us during Kartik’s wedding.
We’ve had laughs, silly jokes, quick hellos.
But now?
He’s grown up.
And the way he fills this space…
Something tells me he’s not just here for now.
Pavitra turned toward the kitchen.
Put water to boil.
But her eyes kept glancing through the shelf gap.
At the bags.
At the new pair of shoes near the entrance.
And at the boy—
Who had suddenly become a man.
The sun had already slipped through the grill, painting lines across the dining table.
Inside the kitchen, the idli cooker whistled low.
Pavitra moved in rhythm.
Pour. Flip. Wipe. Serve.
Two plates. Two kids. One husband—half-awake, half-scrolling.
“Take it hot,” she said, dropping the last idli on Kartik’s plate.
He nodded, still rubbing his eyes. “You made chutney also?”
“Mmm.”
She placed a cup of tea next to him. “Strong. No sugar.”
“Perfect,” he murmured.
She didn’t reply. She was already filling the kettle.
By 8:00, the kitchen was clean.
Lunch prep done halfway. Tamarind soaking. Rice measured. Dabba lids clicked shut.
She stood in front of the mirror, wiping her forehead.
Today’s chudi was a deep green cotton, with white threadwork near the sleeves.
Fitting. Clean. Not flashy.
But her curves?
Still spoke.
She tied her hair into a ponytail. Slipped on her slippers.
Lift key. Wallet. Cloth bag.
Out.
The lobby was half-lit.
Newspaper bundles still near the pillar. Someone’s child’s bicycle resting against the wall.
She walked straight across toward the exit.
And then—
That look.
From the corner.
Security cabin.
That same man.
He was sitting on the plastic chair, phone in hand.
But his eyes?
Lifted. Followed her.
Started at her face.
Dropped.
Paused.
Stuck around her chest.
Moved lower.
Stayed near her hips.
Didn’t blink.
Pavitra walked past.
Then stopped.
Paused.
Took a breath.
Turned back.
He blinked.
She stepped forward—just two feet.
P: “Don’t do that.”
S: “Uh?”
P: “You heard me.”
S: “Sorry… what madam?”
P: “That staring. Don’t do it.”
He stood up, awkward.
S: “No madam… I wasn’t—”
She didn’t raise her voice.
P: “You were. I walked right past you and you didn’t even look away.”
S: “Sorry madam… I was just sitting here—”
P: “I didn’t say you shouldn’t sit. I said don’t stare like that.”
He rubbed his hand against his pants, looking away.
S: “I didn’t mean it madam… just looked once—”
P: “You looked once. Then again. Then didn’t stop.”
S: “Please madam… not intentional. I respect you.”
She stared.
P: “You think respect means keeping your mouth shut and doing your job, but your eyes can go wherever they want?”
S: “No madam. I’ll be careful.”
She looked at him, calm.
P: “I’m not asking you to be careful. Just be decent.”
He nodded quickly.
P: “I’ve seen this before. I’m not stupid.”
S: “No no… I won’t repeat.”
P: “Don’t. Because I’m not going to ignore it next time.”
He looked nervous. “Madam… please… don’t tell association…”
She tilted her head.
P: “Then don’t give me a reason to.”
He nodded again.
She turned, walked toward the gate.
Didn’t slam her slippers. Didn’t look back.
But her message?
Clear as glass.
Her Mind:
That’s it.
I don’t need to shout.
I just need to stop pretending like I don’t see it.
Let him sit with that.
Let him learn.
She stepped out into the sun.
A gentle breeze moved through her hair.
For the first time in weeks…
She didn’t feel watched.
She felt in control.
The main road outside was already stirring.
Vendors had started laying out their vegetables.
A boy ran past with a basket of tomatoes.
Pavitra kept walking. Chin up. Cloth bag swaying with each step.
Her green chudi stuck lightly to her lower back. Sunlight warms the back of her neck.
She was four steps from the tea shop corner when she heard it.
The engine.
Smooth.
Low.
Stopping beside her without drama.
She glanced to the side.
Ram.
One hand on the handle. Elbow resting. Calm face. Half smile.
“You’re going somewhere?”
“Yeah. Vegetable shop.”
“Come. I’ll drop you.”
She looked down at the road.
Then at him.
“It’s fine. I can walk.”
“Why walk? Just sit. I’m heading there anyway.”
She hesitated.
Raj didn’t repeat himself.
Just looked at her.
Soft. Sure.
She took a breath.
Stepped forward.
Lifted the back of her chudi slightly.
Gripped the side bar of the Unicorn.
And climbed on.
Both legs on either side.
Chudi folding under her thighs.
Seat warm.
Body closer than she meant it to be.
Her Mind:
God.
His back is right in front of my face.
If I move even a little, my breasts will press against him.
This seat is snug. My ass feels like it’s touching him already.
Why the fuck is this making me wet?
I’m going to buy tomatoes. Not get fucked.
But my pussy?
It’s acting like I climbed on top of him—not the bike.
My thighs are already warm.
If he brakes hard even once, my whole body’s going to land on his back.
My nipples are tight.
My panties are wet.
And the worst part?
I haven’t even sat properly yet.
She adjusted her dupatta.
Sat straight.
Hands on the side rail.
Eyes forward.
The engine purred again.
The bike turned past the first curve.
Wind brushing the sides of her cheeks.
Her dupatta fluttered just behind her shoulder.
She didn’t hold him.
She held the side bar.
Knuckles white.
Breath tight.
Then—
Thud. Lift. Drop.
The bike rolled over a speed bump.
And her chest?
Bounced.
Straight into his back.
Her Mind:
Shit.
My boobs just slapped his spine.
I didn’t even get a warning.
Fuck. That bounce was full.
I could feel my nipples drag across his shirt.
He didn’t react.
He didn’t shift.
But I know he felt it.
That was full skin-to-shirt contact.
My breasts haven’t touched a man properly in years.
And now?
They just introduced themselves without permission.
My pussy just twitched.
My thighs pressed the seat tighter.
I can’t even look at him now.
The bike slowed near the small local veg shop.
Few baskets on the ground. Brinjal. Beans. Curry leaves.
Pavitra looked to the side, ready to get down.
Raj didn’t stop the engine.
He turned his head slightly.
“Two kilometers from here, there's a proper market. Better vegetables. Cleaner stuff.”
She opened her mouth.
“Ram, no need—”
But the bike had already pulled forward.
No waiting.
No question.
Just motion.
Her Mind:
He’s not even asking.
He’s taking me.
And I’m not stopping him.
I’m still wet from that bounce.
My boobs are still tingling.
And now I’m riding behind a man who didn’t even flinch when they touched him.
If he hits another bump…
I might just moan.
The road stretched ahead.
And she stayed on the seat.
Not because she agreed.
But because her body already had.
The market was alive with sound.
Plastic sheets flapping in the breeze.
Crows hopping across crates.
Vendors calling out prices like a song.
Pavitra stepped off the bike.
Her salwar stuck slightly to the back of her thighs.
She adjusted her dupatta—tight across her chest.
Tried to walk ahead like it was just a normal errand.
Raj parked and walked beside her.
No hesitation.
Just like that, he was next to her.
“Ladyfinger for Brinjal?”
“Yeah. Get half kilo.”
He leaned toward the vendor, pointing.
“Half kilo. Put properly. No damaged pieces.”
He picked one. Pressed gently.
“No good. Next.”
He was talking with ease.
Bargaining.
Getting prices down.
Holding her cloth bag like he’d done it every weekend.
Her Mind:
He’s acting like this is his job.
Like I’m his wife.
He’s not letting me lift anything.
He’s checking brinjals like he’s feeding his kids.
My husband doesn’t even know how much beans cost.
And this man?
He knows the price, the smell, the weight.
And all the while…
He keeps looking at me.
My neck.
My fingers.
My side when I bend to check onions.
He’s not staring.
He’s watching.
And that’s worse.
Because I feel seen.
I feel… owned.
A tomato vendor called him “anna.”
Raj just smiled and asked for two kilos.
Pavitra stood behind, brushing her hair back from her cheek.
The sun had made her skin sticky.
But his gaze?
Made it burn.
He handed the bag to her.
She reached for it.
But he didn’t let go.
Just held it for an extra second.
Their fingers touched.
Only a little.
But the heat from his hand…
stayed.
Her Mind:
He’s holding my bag like he holds my place in this market.
Quiet.
But permanent.
People are seeing us together.
And no one’s confused.
They already think we’re a couple.
And me?
I’m not correcting them.
They turned the corner toward the coriander stand.
Pavitra looked up.
Raj was already talking to the next vendor.
She followed.
And deep inside her salwar…
Her pussy was pulsing.
Not from his words.
But from the way he behaved like she belonged to him.
And how is her body?
Wasn't resisting.
The market was behind them now.
Plastic rustling.
Smell of banana leaves.
Pavitra stood near the bike, one hand wiping her face with the edge of her dupatta.
Raj loaded the final items into the cloth bag.
Full. Round. Heavy.
She tried to lift it.
“Wait,” he said.
Took the bag gently.
Placed it near the petrol tank.
Between his legs.
“You hold it. Won’t slip.”
She looked at the space.
Then at him.
Her mind is already tightening.
But she climbed on.
Softly.
Sat.
And this time—
There was no gap.
Her knees touched the back of his thighs.
Her hands reached forward, around the bag.
And her chest?
Pressed softly, fully—
against his back.
Her Mind:
Fuck.
My boobs are fully smashed against him.
There’s no bra that can hide this.
He can feel it.
He has to.
How can he not?
I can feel the shape of his spine against my nipples.
They’re hard already.
The bag is pressing against my stomach.
My pussy is heating again.
I’m holding the bag like a seatbelt.
But really?
I’m hugging him.
I didn’t mean to.
But this is a full, slow hug from behind.
My breasts are saying sorry and thank you at the same time.
If he moves even a little—
My nipples will drag across his back like fingers.
God help me if there’s another speed bump.
Raj didn’t speak.
He just leaned slightly forward.
Started the engine.
The bike shook gently under her.
And Pavitra?
Stayed there.
Pressed.
Wet.
Alive.
The road curved past a half-closed mechanic shop.
Dust blew across their path.
Pavitra was holding the cloth bag tight.
Her hands curved around it like a brace.
The bike turned.
Wobbled.
And hit a rough patch—
Two bumps back-to-back.
Her body lifted.
Thudded forward.
Her chest crashed into his back.
And one hand slipped off the bag.
Fell forward.
Palm-first—
Right over the curve of his pants.
Right over his cock.
Her Mind:
Oh fuck.
Oh god.
That’s his cock.
That’s his actual cock under my palm.
I can feel the shape of it.
Soft… but not small.
Firm enough to know exactly what I touched.
And my breasts?
They’re not just touching his back now—
They’re fucking glued to it.
My nipples just flattened against his spine like they belong there.
And my hand…
My hand is still on him.
Why am I not pulling it back?
Why is my pussy throbbing like it just got kissed?
She pulled her hand back slowly.
Hold the bag again.
Didn’t say a word.
Raj didn’t turn.
Didn’t react.
Just said, soft—
“Careful.”
Her Mind:
Careful?
That's all?
I just touched your cock by mistake and you say be careful?
What if I did it on purpose next time?
What if my fingers don’t slip…
But curl?
The engine hummed again.
The bike moved smoothly.
And behind him?
Pavitra was sitting in full silence.
But inside?
Her mind was fingering itself.
The road behind them faded.
The familiar curve of the apartment gate appeared.
The watchman looked up.
Saw them together.
Two people. One bike.
Her chest pressed against his back.
Bag tight between their bodies.
The watchman blinked.
But he looked down.
Didn’t say a word.
Her Mind:
He saw.
He saw how I’m sitting.
How close I am.
Maybe he saw my breasts pressed into Ram’s back.
Good.
Let him see.
Let someone know what it feels like to ride behind a man who knows how to hold space.
The bike slowed into the parking lot.
Corner spot. Shadowed.
The engine went silent.
Pavitra took a breath.
Hold the bag with both hands.
Started to slide off.
But as she leaned forward to dismount—
Her breast dragged across his back again.
This time, heavier.
Longer.
She couldn’t stop it.
And then—
his hand moved.
Reflex?
Or not?
Either way—his palm brushed across her breast.
Warm.
Full.
A gentle press.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Her Mind – Me:
Aiyo.
That’s my boob.
That’s his hand.
That’s not fabric. That’s skin.
He touched it.
Maybe he didn’t mean to.
Maybe he did.
But fuck…
My nipple felt his lifeline.
I want to stop breathing.
Or start moaning.
My pussy is not just wet.
It’s slippery.
One more second and I would’ve grabbed him.
She stepped back.
Steady feet.
He didn’t turn.
Didn’t apologize.
Just got off.
Lifted the bag like nothing happened.
And started walking toward the lift.
No words.
No look.
Just quiet masculinity.
And Pavitra?
She followed.
Her Mind:
He’s carrying the weight.
I’m carrying the sin.
And both feel light.
The parking was quiet.
Not even the hum of a second bike.
Raj walked ahead.
Pressed the lift button.
The door opened.
He stood aside.
Pavitra stepped in.
He followed.
Placed the heavy vegetable bag down near his feet.
Then—
He lifted both arms.
Stretched his shoulders.
Slow.
Quiet.
His shirt lifted just enough to show a line of skin near his hip.
She looked once.
Then looked away.
Her Mind:
Don’t look.
Don’t stare.
But fuck… that stretch…
That forearm…
That side curve…
I could fuck that bone with my eyes.
Why is my pussy acting like it’s standing in water?
He exhaled once. Casual.
She tucked her hair behind her ear.
Lift moved.
No words.
Just silence.
And breath.
Then—
He looked at her.
Straight.
She looked back.
For half a second.
Too long.
Too open.
Too full of what they didn’t say in the parking lot.
Ding.
The lift stopped.
His floor.
He didn’t move.
She glanced at him.
He didn’t even blink.
Just wait.
Doors closed again.
Her Mind:
He didn’t get down.
He’s staying with me.
For what?
For the bag?
Or for something else?
My nipples are tight again.
There’s nothing innocent about this ride.
Her floor came.
She stepped forward.
Bent slightly to lift the bag.
Pulled.
Nothing moved.
She tried again.
He stopped her hand.
Held it.
Warm fingers over her wrist.
“Don’t. I’ll bring it.”
She looked at him.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t flirt.
Just lifted the bag.
As if it was nothing.
“Go.”
She stepped out.
Walked forward.
And behind her—
His eyes didn’t leave.
Her Mind – Me:
He’s watching my ass.
I know it.
I can feel it.
The heat from his stare is moving up my spine like slow fingers.
Let him look.
Let him stand there and swallow me with his eyes.
Because my panties?
Are soaked with everything I didn’t say in that lift.
The main door clicked open with a soft squeak.
The flat was still cool from the morning shade.
A half-filled tumbler of tea stood on the center table.
Kartik, in his faded navy T-shirt and shorts, lay reclined on the sofa, one leg up, phone in hand.
The muted sounds of a YouTube video played from his screen.
He didn’t look up immediately.
But Pavitra had already entered.
She stepped to the side, letting the door swing wider.
Behind her—Ram.
Carrying the full cloth bag of vegetables with one hand, balanced, easy.
No strain.
No noise.
Kartik finally glanced up, blinking out of screen-world.
“Oh—Raj anna?”
Raj gave a gentle smile.
“Good morning.”
“Hey… good morning. You both went together?”
Pavitra, setting her slippers on the rack, just nodded once. “We met outside.”
“I was heading out,” Raj added, “and saw her walking. Thought I’d drop her.”
Kartik sat up straighter, rubbing his neck.
“You didn’t have to carry the bag all the way up though…”
Raj moved past the hall gently.
“Not a problem. It’s heavy today. Better I carry it than make her struggle.”
He turned, looked at Pavitra for a brief moment, then turned to Kartik.
“Where should I keep it?”
Pavitra spoke for the first time since entering.
“Kitchen counter.”
Raj nodded.
Walked in.
His slippers made almost no sound.
Kartik turned to her. “You really went far? What did you get?”
Pavitra moved to the fridge, pulled the door open halfway. “Normal stuff. The usual place was too crowded.”
He hummed. “Even then… next time just take the car, no?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Still… I would’ve dropped you.”
From the kitchen, Ram’s voice came, soft.
“There’s good stock today. Got some nice green chillies, and the tomatoes are firm.”
Kartik smiled faintly. “You know how to shop ah, anna?”
Raj returned from the kitchen, wiping his palm lightly on his pants.
“I lived alone for four years. Chennai’s vegetable rates will make anyone smart.”
Kartik chuckled. “True. That’s why I survive on zomato. Easier to tap than bargain.”
They shared a brief laugh.
Pavitra walked to the dining table, took a glass of water.
Didn’t speak.
Just stood.
Listening.
Watching.
Her Mind:
He’s speaking with so much calm.
That same mouth said only one word to me: Careful.
And now it’s chatting with my husband like nothing ever happened.
I touched his cock in the during bike ride.
He felt my breast press into his back.
And now he’s standing near my fridge like it never happened.
God, the control of that man.
And me?
My salwar is still wet between the legs.
Kartik leaned forward. “Sit, anna. You just came from outside. I’ll ask Pavi to make tea.”
Raj raised a palm.
“No no… it’s okay. I have to step out again. Just wanted to drop the bag.”
“At least sit for two minutes.”
“I’ll come properly one day. Today, I’ve got something to handle at home.”
Pavitra glanced at him once.
A second too long.
Raj didn’t meet her eyes.
Kartik gave a friendly shrug. “Alright. But next time you’re not escaping tea.”
Raj smiled. “Promise.”
He turned to Pavitra. Nodded gently.
“Thanks for the ride back.”
She nodded.
No smile.
Just a soft blink.
As if to say, I’m not done feeling you yet.
Raj walked to the door.
Opened it.
Then paused.
Looked back at Kartik.
“Tell me if you need anything else, okay?”
“Of course, anna. Thank you.”
And he left.
The door clicked shut.
Kartik flopped back into the sofa.
Yawning.
Pavitra stood near the fridge.
Opened it.
Pulled out coriander, tomatoes.
Started washing quietly.
Her back to her husband.
Her hand on the tap.
Her thighs pressing together slightly under her salwar.
Her Mind:
I felt his cock.
I felt the heat of it.
I felt how natural it was to have him behind me, under me, around me.
And now I’m standing here…
cutting tomatoes.
Like I’m normal.
Like I’m untouched.
But my breasts still remember the stretch of his back.
My fingers still ache to grab what they accidentally grazed.
And my pussy?
It knows this is just the start.
The steel tumbler clinked as Pavitra rinsed it in the sink.
Kartik leaned against the fridge, arms folded.
“You could’ve called me, Pavi,” he said mildly. “I’d have dropped you.”
She wiped her fingers on the towel, didn’t turn fully.
“Raj was already outside. It just happened naturally.”
Kartik nodded slowly.
Didn’t argue.
“Hmm. Anyway, next time just tell me. That road’s not great for walking.”
“Mmm.”
Quiet.
Fan whirred.
A few birds chirped near the balcony grill.
Evening slipped in like a soft cloth being pulled across the floor.
By 6:15, the flat felt dimmer.
Ceiling lights are still off.
TV on low volume.
Kids on the carpet, playing with Beyblades and bursting into laughter.
“Is Chithappa coming today-aa?” one of them asked.
Pavitra smiled, folding a towel. “Yes. He’s coming with Appa.”
“He’s going to stay with us?”
“Just for a few days, kanna. Until he settles down.”
They nodded like they understood—though their minds were already on whether he’d bring chocolates.
7:10 PM.
The sound of the lift arriving.
Then voices outside.
Laughter.
Kartik’s familiar tone:
“Come, come… keep your bag inside. You’ll get used to the heat.”
And then—
The lock turned.
The door opened.
And Arjun stepped in.
Taller than Kartik by a bit.
Half-sleeve shirt, tucked loose over jeans.
Hair slightly longer than usual—college-boy style not fully gone.
He held two bags—one backpack, one trolley-style.
His smile was wide.
“Hi anni.”
Pavitra nodded, matching his smile.
“Welcome home.”
He walked in.
Set the bags down near the sofa.
The kids ran up.
“Chithappa! Chithappaaa!”
He crouched down, arms open.
Lifted one, hugged the other.
“They’ve grown, huh!”
“They missed you,” Kartik said, locking the door behind him. “I told them no chocolates until you unpack.”
“I brought something lah. Let me settle.”
He stood up, brushed his palms on his jeans.
Then looked at Pavitra again.
Not in any special way.
Just… warmly.
Her Mind:
He’s not a stranger.
We’ve spoken on calls.
He stayed with us during Kartik’s wedding.
We’ve had laughs, silly jokes, quick hellos.
But now?
He’s grown up.
And the way he fills this space…
Something tells me he’s not just here for now.
Pavitra turned toward the kitchen.
Put water to boil.
But her eyes kept glancing through the shelf gap.
At the bags.
At the new pair of shoes near the entrance.
And at the boy—
Who had suddenly become a man.
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