08-07-2025, 06:11 PM
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Fourth day,
the aroma of frying potato bajjis filled the kitchen where Geetha stood, skillfully preparing the snack.
In the adjacent hall, Bharat while being immersed in his studies. "Miss, I have a doubt," he called out, his voice breaking the quiet.
Geetha beckoned him over. He approached, book in hand, and stood beside her, his gaze fixed on her face as she began to explain. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leaned in, resting his face against her left shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair.
"Hey, listen to what I'm saying!" Geetha chided softly, though a subtle shift in her posture betrayed a flicker of awareness.
A wave of longing swept over Bharat. He gently pushed Geetha's braid aside, his lips finding the delicate skin of her neck. Geetha’s hands instinctively lowered, her body tensing in anticipation. "No, Bharat," she whispered, a plea more than a command.
Undeterred, he opened his mouth, covering her neck with his lips, and then bit down playfully. His right arm snaked around her back, pulling her flush against him. Geetha, yielding, pressed herself into his lap.
"Miss, you are missing out on all this, Miss," Bharat murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear.
"What am I missing out on?" she asked, her voice breathy.
He kissed her cheek, a soft, lingering touch.
"Mmm... Bharat, you shouldn't do this," Geetha protested, though her resistance felt fragile.
"Your husband isn't here, Miss," he began, his voice laced with a persuasive tenderness.
"How much longer will you suppress your desire and live without pleasure, without that warmth?"
"That's not true, Bharat," she countered, her words lacking conviction.
"You might hide it in your words, Miss, but you can't hide it in your eyes," he countered, his gaze piercing.
His palm found her navel, his fingers beginning to knead gently.
"Isss.... Bharat!" Geetha gasped, a soft sound of mingled surprise and pleasure escaping her lips.
As he bent back, his lips found hers in a tender kiss, a silent promise exchanged. Then, drawing her gently forward, he tilted her face with a finger, his gaze fixed on her lips before claiming them in a fervent kiss. Geeta, in turn, surrendered to the embrace, her response echoing his intensity.
"See, don't hide anything, Miss," Bharat whispered, his voice a low rumble. "I'll do whatever you ask. Make me do everything."
Geeta remained silent, her eyes downcast. His finger, tracing the delicate edge of her sari, slowly descended, his gaze drawn to the valley between her breasts.
"Look how beautiful these are," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. His hand, warm and gentle, came to rest on her left breast, a light squeeze eliciting a soft "Mmm..." from her.
"Not your legs, Miss, if you tell me, even these..." He squeezed again, and Geeta gasped, a soft "Ah..." escaping her lips.
"Tell me, Miss, do you want me to squeeze them?" he pressed, his index finger teasing her nipple.
"Ah... Mm," she responded, a tremor in her voice.
"Tell me?" he urged, his palm encompassing her entire breast, his fingers beginning to knead. Geeta, overwhelmed by pleasure, held her breath, her head nodding in silent affirmation as a soft moan escaped her lips.
With a practiced motion, he unhooked her blouse, baring her boobs to his gaze. His hand, now unencumbered, clasped it firmly, squeezing it with a deliberate pressure, "like pressing mango juice," his four fingers supporting from below, his thumb above.
"Ah... Bharat, doing this is wrong," Geeta gasped, her words a mix of pleasure and protest.
Bharat knelt, his tongue a warm caress. A gasp escaped Geetha's lips. "Aah... you're killing me!" she cried, a mix of protest and pleasure in her voice.
He looked up, his eyes locking with hers. "Tell me, Miss," he murmured, his tongue still working its magic, "is it pleasurable?"
"Ah!... Yes, it is," she confessed, her voice thick with sensation.
"Do you want more?" he pressed.
"Yes, I do."
A smile played on his lips. "As you wish, Miss. I'll give it to you wherever you want it."
With a surge of urgency, she grabbed his head, pulling him down. He complied instantly, his tongue resuming its rhythmic dance. Geetha moaned, a long, passionate sound, and then, with a shiver, she found her release.
Even as he continued to lick, Bharat's left hand drifted lower, past her navel, seeking the folds of her saree. His fingers brushed the edge of her panties, a silent query, but her hand, firm yet gentle, stopped him.
"No, Bharat," she whispered.
He looked up, his gaze questioning, then leaned in to kiss her lips, a soft, lingering promise.
His fingers, however, found their way inside her panties, a touch that elicited another soft "Ahh...." from her.
He kneaded her gently with his fingertips, his other hand moving to her neck, tracing the delicate curve as he kissed her. Geetha's eyes fluttered shut, lost in the rising tide of sensation. "Ahh... Bharat... Sss..." she breathed, his name a soft plea on her lips.
"Hmm... Miss," he hummed in response, the sound a low, resonant thrum against her skin.
Just then, the persistent ring of the doorbell pulled Geetha from the depths of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, searching for Bharath, but he wasn't there. She lay still, a surprising wave of relief washing over her as she realized it had all been a dream. Slowly, she sat up, pulling her legs close.
A strange warmth lingered between her thighs, a curious heat, a profound longing that left her bewildered. The doorbell chimed again, breaking her reverie.
With a practiced hand, she adjusted her saree, then reached for the air conditioner remote, clicking it off. Her footsteps led her to the door. Bharath stood there, a bright, cheerful smile on his face, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a cover clutched in his hand.
"Good evening, Miss," he chirped.
"Good evening, dear," Geetha replied, a gentle warmth in her voice.
"Miss, Mom gave me this for you – cauliflower, chilies, coriander, and some carrots." He extended the cover towards her.
"Thanks, Bharath," she said, taking the bag.
As she raised her hands to adjust the hair clip, briefly holding it between her lips, her gaze drifted towards the table. She separated and twisted strands of her hair, retrieving the clip from her mouth, and pinning it expertly. Bharath’s eyes, drawn by the movement, flickered to her armpits, then quickly averted, as if fearing an accidental touch. He stepped forward, placing the vegetable cover on the table, then unzipped his bag, setting it on the sofa. He settled onto the cushions, his eyes fixed on Geetha’s back.
Clad in a black saree that contrasted exquisitely with her milky white skin, Geetha continued to adjust her braid, her spine, curved like a crescent moon, momentarily revealed. His gaze swept over her hourglass figure, from top to bottom, and he unconsciously wiped his mouth drooling saliva with the back of his right wrist.
Geetha turned, catching him in the act. His head snapped down. She noticed, her eyes widening playfully, a smile touching her lips.
"How many times have I told you, Bharath?" she chided gently.
"Miss, you look super in this black saree today," he blurted, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"You say that every day," she countered, a soft laugh escaping her. "First, open your books. Getting good marks once isn't enough; you need to get them every time. Only then will you get them in the board exams too."
"Oh, I know, Miss. You say the same thing every day," he groaned, a familiar refrain.
"You study because I say it every day, otherwise, you'd just talk and waste time," Geetha teased.
"Why do you say that, Miss? I am studying, aren't I? You said I was getting good marks," he defended, a touch of exasperation in his tone.
"Exams are in two months," Geetha reminded him, her voice firm but kind. "I'm going to my native place tomorrow for three days. You're still lagging behind many others in the class."
"Miss, are you going to your village tomorrow? No tuition? Why are you going, Miss?" His questions tumbled out, a clear note of disappointment in his voice.
"I'll go and come back. It's been a long time since I met my parents," she explained.
"Hmm... but then there'll be no tuition for three days," he mused, the sulky expression returning.
"Hey, so what if there's no tuition? Don't roam around outside; study diligently at home. I'll call your mom and ask if you're studying or not," Geetha warned, though her tone held more affection than threat.
"It's not about tuition, Miss. You won't be here, so I'll be bored." He lowered his head, a childish pout on his lips. Geetha moved closer, her left arm gently encircling his shoulders.
"I'll also be bored, Bharath. But you must study, okay?"
He replied with a gloomy "Mm." Geetha turned her head, a smile playing on her lips, and gently pinched his cheek.
"Okay, let's do one thing. I'll give you an assignment."
"Oh, no, Miss, I'll study. I won't play on the phone," he protested quickly.
"I'll give you a test with eight questions from the first four chapters. Right here."
Before Geetha could finish, Bharath interrupted, "Miss, there'll be a class test anyway, right?"
"Hey, listen, you have to write everything. If you write them all, you can massage my feet again."
A spark ignited in Bharath's eyes, and a swift smile stretched across his lips. "Really?" he asked, his voice eager.
"Yes," Geetha confirmed.
"So, you like it," he said, a hint of knowing in his tone. Geetha turned her face away, a blush creeping up her neck.
"What?" she feigned innocence.
"I mean, your feet..."
She feigned a little anger, looking straight at him. "Oh, so you're being naughty again? Okay, never mind."
"Ah! No, Miss, okay, give me the test. You think I won't study, don't you? Give me the test; I'll write everything and show you." He quickly backtracked, a newfound determination in his voice.
"Oh, we'll see, then. Okay, you study another subject, and I'll teach you math after I wash the dishes," Geetha conceded.
"Should I help too?" he offered.
"Do as I say. If there's anything, I'll tell you, right? Just study," she instructed.
"Okay, Miss," he agreed, already turning back to his books.
Geetha retreated to the kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes soon filling the air. Bharath studied, his eyes occasionally drifting towards Geetha, a silent fascination.
The sun dipped below the clouds, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Bharath, immersed in his science book, encountered a doubt. He rose, book in hand, and approached Geetha. She was washing plates, her back to him. He stood beside her, his right hand brushing against her left. The brief touch instantly resurrected the morning's vivid dream, a wave of unease rippling through her. She subtly shifted away.
"Miss, in this condensation process, what happens if the air-to-water vapor content ratio increases?" he asked, oblivious to her internal shift.
"That's nothing. If the water vapor content in the air increases, due to increased moisture holding, the air temperature will be higher. When that happens, we say there's high humidity," Geetha explained, her voice steady.
"Hmm," he hummed, still looking at her, stepping back while flipping through his book. He noticed the beads of sweat glistening on her neck. Without a word, he went to the hall, placed his book down, and returned with a small towel.
"Miss, wipe yourself," he offered, holding out the towel.
"Thanks, Bharath," she said, taking it. She wiped her neck, then moved to set the towel aside, but Bharath gently took it from her.
"Miss, give it to me. If you put it there, it'll get dusty," he reasoned. He carried the towel to the hall, then paused, turning back. Geetha was still engrossed in her work.
He held the towel to his nose, inhaling deeply. For a few moments, he was utterly captivated by the faint scent of his teacher’s sweat, his eyes closing dreamily.
A sharp rap on his head startled him, his eyes snapping open in fright. From behind, Geetha’s voice, laced with annoyance, cut through the air.
"Idiot, what is this crazy thing you're doing? Didn’t I tell you to study?"
He spun around anxiously. "Miss, that..."
She snatched the towel from his hand, her gaze stern. "Don't talk. Go and study."
He lowered his head, silently retreating to his books. Geetha, clutching the towel, walked into the bedroom, a blush creeping up her neck.
“What kind of madness is this boy has? He did exactly as I thought. How did he even get such an idea?” She pondered, a strange mix of embarrassment and curiosity swirling within her.
Seeing Bharath so utterly captivated by things related to her, a new sensation, a nascent curiosity, stirred within Geetha. She hung the towel on the hanger and then went to sit on the right side of Bharath.
"Miss, can you explain matrix problems again?" he asked, already turning a page in his math book.
"Why? Are you not getting them? Okay, let's revise all of that today," Geetha replied, settling in.
Over an hour passed as Geetha patiently explained theorems and guided him through calculations.
"You're studying now, but why didn't you study last year, at the beginning of tenth grade?" she asked, a playful glint in her eye.
"I don't know, Miss. I wasn't coming to you for tuition then," he admitted.
Geetha playfully smiled and tugged gently at his ear. "Only words come to this boy."
"Ah... It's true, Miss," he chuckled.
"Anyway, are you going home? I'll be back on Wednesday," she reminded him, gathering her thoughts.
Bharath fidgeted on the sofa, then scooted closer, looking at Geetha with a pout.
"What is it, dear?" she asked, sensing his hesitation.
"Miss, can I ask something?"
"If you ask to massage my feet again, I'll hit you," she warned, though a small smile played on her lips.
"Miss, your smell is very nice. Can we play hide-and-seek for a while, Miss?" he asked, his voice soft and endearing.
His innocent plea touched her, a faint smile gracing her lips, and a wave of shyness washed over her. She coaxed him gently, "No games."
"Miss, just once," he persisted.
Geetha rose, feigning a sudden task, and headed to the kitchen. Bharath remained, undecided. As Geetha entered the kitchen, she discreetly closed the room curtain.
Bharath scratched his head, then settled back on the sofa, deep in thought.
In the kitchen, Geetha placed the washed and soaked rice into the rice cooker, switching it on. As she arranged the cleaned utensils in the stand, Bharath slowly appeared beside her.
Geetha had tucked the end of her saree into her waist, revealing her left hip, where the skin rippled gracefully with every movement. Her forelocks fell across her face, her palms were wet, and her elbows damp with sweat. He stepped forward, his gaze tracing the curve of her neck. As he brought his face near her ear, inhaling and exhaling, his breath formed a warm mist around her ear. The warmth ignited a deep, primal desire within her. Her body yearned for it, yet her mind resisted.
"It's late. Go home," she said, her voice a little strained.
"Just once, Miss. You won't be here for three days," he pleaded.
She deliberately lifted the lid off a pot and put it back, though it was already covered.
"Didn't I say no?"
He moved even closer, Geetha's left shoulder brushing against Bharath's right chest.
"Miss, I studied for three days just as you told me. And I learned a lot today too. What did you say the other day?"
Geetha remembered her slip of the tongue from the other day, the unspoken promise of something "else," and mentally chastised herself. Now, if Bharath pressed her, how could she refuse? He had, after all, studied as she had instructed. What would he think if she said no? A wave of panic began to rise within her.
"What did I say?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"Miss, just stay like this. Do your work, and let me be next to you. I want to be with you like this," he whispered, his voice a soft caress.
Geetha silently placed the morning's curry on the stove and lit it. Bharath rested his head on her shoulder, his face nestled against her neck, his fingers gently touching her hair, inhaling her scent with intoxicating pleasure. Geetha's body felt heavy, a strange lethargy settling over her.
Since Geetha remained silent, he kept his nose near the edge of her neck, moving it gently up and down without touching her skin, simply breathing in the scent. "Hmm... Miss, maybe this kind of smell doesn't come from everyone, Miss. Maybe it only comes from angels like you."
Being called an angel made a subtle tingle spread through her, and a faint smile, almost imperceptible, touched her lips.
"Ah, Miss, if anyone stays this close to you, they'd get intoxicated, you know?" Bharath continued, his voice hazy with delight.
Geetha smiled faintly. "Enough, Bharath. You're praising me too much."
"It's not praise, Miss, it's the truth. Anyway, to praise you, I'd have to write poetry, and I'm not that clever."
Her fondness for poetry made his words even more flattering. Bharath leaned further, his nose now near the front of her neck, speaking in a low, husky voice. "Miss, since I'm studying, Harish isn't talking to me properly. You're my only friend, Miss. You'll come back from the village quickly, won't you?"
With his last words, Bharath's upper lip slightly brushed against the delicate skin of her neck. A single drop of her sweat touched his upper lip.
"Mm," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
He swallowed, tasting the drop of sweat. "Really, Miss, even your sweat tastes so good."
Bharath's warm touch on, his intoxicating words, were filling her with an exquisite ecstasy. Hearing such words from her student made her blush intensely.
"Phew, naughty fellow, don't you find that disgusting?" she teased, her voice a little breathless.
He pulled back, inhaling the scent of her neck from behind, then let out a warm breath from his mouth. As it slid down, tracing the path of the drop of sweat to her back, a shiver ran down her spine. She clenched the cooking platform tightly, her knuckles white. He brought his nose near her ear. "It's not disgusting, Miss. I love your smell. Even your sweat."
"Ugh, don't talk like that," she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.
"Why, Miss? Everything about such a beautiful angel is nectar."
Those words sent a haze through Geetha's brain. Bharath also placed his hands on either side of her, pressing against the cooking platform. As he inhaled the aroma of her back, his warm breath created a storm within Geetha's body, increasing her internal heat, moistening the space between her thighs, and making her breasts heave.
He breathed in the scent, moving his nose up and down to her bra strap, then came back up. Geetha, in a sudden movement, turned off the stove.
"Miss, do you know how you look in this black saree?" Bharath asked, his voice still thick with admiration.
"Mm..." she hummed, unable to articulate more.
"You look like a vanilla cake drizzled with chocolate sauce. If Gautham Sir were here, he'd eat your back like a cream pastry."
"You say such strange things. Does anyone really do that?" she asked, a giggle escaping her.
"Look here, Miss," he urged. She turned her head back, offering him half her face. Barely an inch separated their lips, a sliver of air the only barrier. Each other's breath, warm and soft, fell upon their lips.
"I read in a story, Miss, where he went behind his wife in the kitchen while she was working and hugged her..." He used his left index finger to gently brush the forelocks falling across Geetha's face behind her ear. "Hugged her..."
A twinkle of her sweat touched Bharath's finger. While talking, he instinctively brought it to his mouth and sucked it. Geetha saw it from the corner of her eye, a shock rippling through her.
"Hmm... He licks the sweat from her neck and back, and she finds it very pleasurable, apparently," he continued, his voice a low murmur.
Geetha found his words strange, yet a smile appeared on her lips. She giggled playfully.
"What is it, Miss?" Bharath asked, noticing her reaction.
"Haha... No one does that, Bharath. That's just a story," she dismissed, though her heart pounded. She pulled her braid forward, further exposing her back to Bharath.
"Why would they write it in a story if they don't do it? Tell me?" he challenged.
"Maybe," she conceded, her voice barely audible.
"Does Goutham Sir really not do that?" he pressed.
"No," Geetha replied, her voice flat.
"Hmm... Then don't you feel like having such pleasures?"
"I don't know, Bharath," she confessed, her gaze distant.
"Anyway, Sir isn't here, is he?" he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
"Mm!" she hummed in agreement. He moved lower, putting his face under her right shoulder, burying his nose in the folds of blouse near her armpit.
"Ah... What?" Geetha gasped, a shiver running through her.
"Miss, can you turn around?"
"Why?"
"Turn around once, and I'll tell you."
She slowly turned back to face Bharath. He leaned forward, his face close to her lower neck. "Ah... Miss." Hearing Bharath hum like that sent a wave of arousal through her.
"Miss, earlier when you were putting your hair clip, you raised your hands, right? Please hold them like that."
"That's enough, Bharath. How much do you see? It's making me feel hot," she protested, her voice laced with embarrassment. He pouted like a child. "Just once, just once, Miss, please."
Just then, the wall clock struck eight. Geetha didn't know what to do. Her entire body was covered in sweat, and a wetness was gathering between her legs. She felt cold in the heat. He pleaded again, acting childishly. "Miss..."
Geetha offered a small smile and held Bharath's face with both hands. He leaned forward happily and placed his nose near her right armpit. The raw aroma of her body permeated his senses. With desire, he took a deep breath and exhaled. That breath felt like a desert warm breeze sensation on Geetha's damp armpit. Tingling spread through her body, and she closed her eyes.
Bharath pushed his nose another inch deeper, intoxicated, reveling in that fragrance. "Ah, Miss..."
"Ugh, Bharath, how do you like that?" Geetha moaned, her voice a soft, muffled sound.
"This is the best, most delicious smell, Miss," he declared, his voice thick with pleasure.
He moved to her left armpit. There, too, the warm breath touched her, causing a delicious tingling sensation, and her thighs began to clench. Her lower lips were releasing fluids, making her panties wet, driving her crazy with unspoken desire.
"Ah... Hmm, Bharath, you're embarrassing me," she breathed, a mixture of pleasure and protest in her voice.
Hearing that, he moved away. Geetha looked at him, confused. "What happened, dear?" she asked, her voice soft.
"Sorry, Miss. I don't mean to bother you."
Geetha laughed softly at his innocence. She held his face and gently pulled him towards her. "You don't need to be sorry. Come on."
With a slight smile, he put his face in her right armpit again, nodding his head up and down, inhaling the fragrance.
She stood like a statue, letting Bharath indulge in her scent. Bharath passionately breathed in the scent around her bust, touching his nose to her armpits, his nerves tingling with the sensation. Geetha closed her eyes, running her fingers through Bharath's hair, leaning back.
A long time passed, and every time Bharath exhaled, it was as if honey overflowed from a flower, spilling past the petals and wetting the branches.
Her throat became hoarse from panting for breath. Swallowing her saliva, twisting and turning, thoughts of kissing Bharath came to her mind. No matter how much she tried to resist, a hazy desire settled in her brain. Bharath, completely immersed in intoxication, relishing her beauty and fragrances, murmured, "Hmm... Miss... If you wore a sleeveless dress, I might go even crazier, Miss."
He touched her armpit with his lips. "Ah... Isss..." Geetha gasped, her body arching slightly. As Bharath put out his tongue to touch the wetness, she instinctively grabbed his hair and gently pulled his face back.
"Enough," she said, her voice a little shaky.
"A little more, Miss..." he pleaded, his eyes still closed.
"Mm... Didn't I say no?" she murmured, trying to regain control.
"Okay, Miss," he conceded, a sigh escaping him.
With a small smile, she gently kissed Bharath's forehead. "Alright, go home and study."
"Yes, Miss, of course," he replied, a renewed sense of purpose in his voice. He turned towards the hall, then paused, turning back again, looking down. "Miss, you're not uncomfortable, are you?"
"No, Bharath," Geetha assured him.
"Does Gautham Sir not do this?" he asked, his voice curious. Geetha remained silent, a sad expression momentarily clouding her face. "No, Bharath," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. She turned back. Bharath stepped forward and inhaled the scent of her neck.
"Mm, no," she reiterated, a soft hum.
"Miss, did you like it?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
"Yes," she admitted, the word a soft exhalation.
"Miss, tell me after you come back from the village, Miss. No matter how much I sniff, it's never enough; I want to inhale more."
"We'll see after I come back. Go, Bharath," she urged, a playful firmness in her tone.
"Bye, Miss."
He was gone. Geetha let out a long, shaky breath. “Ugh, he didn't let me breathe for almost an hour. Ah... I can't take it. My whole body is tingling.” She closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, then walked into the bedroom. She lifted her saree, her gaze falling to her body. “Ugh, my husband isn't here, but this place is drying up and still oozing juices.” The heat was unbearable. She stripped off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor, and stepped into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, letting the cold water cascade over her heated skin.
With those thoughts swirling in her mind, she finished her shower, her body cooled but her mind still aflame. Lying on the bed, she saw her phone screen light up. Gautham's message: "Call me after you eat, darling."
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To be continued……..
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Fourth day,
the aroma of frying potato bajjis filled the kitchen where Geetha stood, skillfully preparing the snack.
In the adjacent hall, Bharat while being immersed in his studies. "Miss, I have a doubt," he called out, his voice breaking the quiet.
Geetha beckoned him over. He approached, book in hand, and stood beside her, his gaze fixed on her face as she began to explain. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leaned in, resting his face against her left shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair.
"Hey, listen to what I'm saying!" Geetha chided softly, though a subtle shift in her posture betrayed a flicker of awareness.
A wave of longing swept over Bharat. He gently pushed Geetha's braid aside, his lips finding the delicate skin of her neck. Geetha’s hands instinctively lowered, her body tensing in anticipation. "No, Bharat," she whispered, a plea more than a command.
Undeterred, he opened his mouth, covering her neck with his lips, and then bit down playfully. His right arm snaked around her back, pulling her flush against him. Geetha, yielding, pressed herself into his lap.
"Miss, you are missing out on all this, Miss," Bharat murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear.
"What am I missing out on?" she asked, her voice breathy.
He kissed her cheek, a soft, lingering touch.
"Mmm... Bharat, you shouldn't do this," Geetha protested, though her resistance felt fragile.
"Your husband isn't here, Miss," he began, his voice laced with a persuasive tenderness.
"How much longer will you suppress your desire and live without pleasure, without that warmth?"
"That's not true, Bharat," she countered, her words lacking conviction.
"You might hide it in your words, Miss, but you can't hide it in your eyes," he countered, his gaze piercing.
His palm found her navel, his fingers beginning to knead gently.
"Isss.... Bharat!" Geetha gasped, a soft sound of mingled surprise and pleasure escaping her lips.
As he bent back, his lips found hers in a tender kiss, a silent promise exchanged. Then, drawing her gently forward, he tilted her face with a finger, his gaze fixed on her lips before claiming them in a fervent kiss. Geeta, in turn, surrendered to the embrace, her response echoing his intensity.
"See, don't hide anything, Miss," Bharat whispered, his voice a low rumble. "I'll do whatever you ask. Make me do everything."
Geeta remained silent, her eyes downcast. His finger, tracing the delicate edge of her sari, slowly descended, his gaze drawn to the valley between her breasts.
"Look how beautiful these are," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. His hand, warm and gentle, came to rest on her left breast, a light squeeze eliciting a soft "Mmm..." from her.
"Not your legs, Miss, if you tell me, even these..." He squeezed again, and Geeta gasped, a soft "Ah..." escaping her lips.
"Tell me, Miss, do you want me to squeeze them?" he pressed, his index finger teasing her nipple.
"Ah... Mm," she responded, a tremor in her voice.
"Tell me?" he urged, his palm encompassing her entire breast, his fingers beginning to knead. Geeta, overwhelmed by pleasure, held her breath, her head nodding in silent affirmation as a soft moan escaped her lips.
With a practiced motion, he unhooked her blouse, baring her boobs to his gaze. His hand, now unencumbered, clasped it firmly, squeezing it with a deliberate pressure, "like pressing mango juice," his four fingers supporting from below, his thumb above.
"Ah... Bharat, doing this is wrong," Geeta gasped, her words a mix of pleasure and protest.
Bharat knelt, his tongue a warm caress. A gasp escaped Geetha's lips. "Aah... you're killing me!" she cried, a mix of protest and pleasure in her voice.
He looked up, his eyes locking with hers. "Tell me, Miss," he murmured, his tongue still working its magic, "is it pleasurable?"
"Ah!... Yes, it is," she confessed, her voice thick with sensation.
"Do you want more?" he pressed.
"Yes, I do."
A smile played on his lips. "As you wish, Miss. I'll give it to you wherever you want it."
With a surge of urgency, she grabbed his head, pulling him down. He complied instantly, his tongue resuming its rhythmic dance. Geetha moaned, a long, passionate sound, and then, with a shiver, she found her release.
Even as he continued to lick, Bharat's left hand drifted lower, past her navel, seeking the folds of her saree. His fingers brushed the edge of her panties, a silent query, but her hand, firm yet gentle, stopped him.
"No, Bharat," she whispered.
He looked up, his gaze questioning, then leaned in to kiss her lips, a soft, lingering promise.
His fingers, however, found their way inside her panties, a touch that elicited another soft "Ahh...." from her.
He kneaded her gently with his fingertips, his other hand moving to her neck, tracing the delicate curve as he kissed her. Geetha's eyes fluttered shut, lost in the rising tide of sensation. "Ahh... Bharat... Sss..." she breathed, his name a soft plea on her lips.
"Hmm... Miss," he hummed in response, the sound a low, resonant thrum against her skin.
Just then, the persistent ring of the doorbell pulled Geetha from the depths of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, searching for Bharath, but he wasn't there. She lay still, a surprising wave of relief washing over her as she realized it had all been a dream. Slowly, she sat up, pulling her legs close.
A strange warmth lingered between her thighs, a curious heat, a profound longing that left her bewildered. The doorbell chimed again, breaking her reverie.
With a practiced hand, she adjusted her saree, then reached for the air conditioner remote, clicking it off. Her footsteps led her to the door. Bharath stood there, a bright, cheerful smile on his face, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a cover clutched in his hand.
"Good evening, Miss," he chirped.
"Good evening, dear," Geetha replied, a gentle warmth in her voice.
"Miss, Mom gave me this for you – cauliflower, chilies, coriander, and some carrots." He extended the cover towards her.
"Thanks, Bharath," she said, taking the bag.
As she raised her hands to adjust the hair clip, briefly holding it between her lips, her gaze drifted towards the table. She separated and twisted strands of her hair, retrieving the clip from her mouth, and pinning it expertly. Bharath’s eyes, drawn by the movement, flickered to her armpits, then quickly averted, as if fearing an accidental touch. He stepped forward, placing the vegetable cover on the table, then unzipped his bag, setting it on the sofa. He settled onto the cushions, his eyes fixed on Geetha’s back.
Clad in a black saree that contrasted exquisitely with her milky white skin, Geetha continued to adjust her braid, her spine, curved like a crescent moon, momentarily revealed. His gaze swept over her hourglass figure, from top to bottom, and he unconsciously wiped his mouth drooling saliva with the back of his right wrist.
Geetha turned, catching him in the act. His head snapped down. She noticed, her eyes widening playfully, a smile touching her lips.
"How many times have I told you, Bharath?" she chided gently.
"Miss, you look super in this black saree today," he blurted, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"You say that every day," she countered, a soft laugh escaping her. "First, open your books. Getting good marks once isn't enough; you need to get them every time. Only then will you get them in the board exams too."
"Oh, I know, Miss. You say the same thing every day," he groaned, a familiar refrain.
"You study because I say it every day, otherwise, you'd just talk and waste time," Geetha teased.
"Why do you say that, Miss? I am studying, aren't I? You said I was getting good marks," he defended, a touch of exasperation in his tone.
"Exams are in two months," Geetha reminded him, her voice firm but kind. "I'm going to my native place tomorrow for three days. You're still lagging behind many others in the class."
"Miss, are you going to your village tomorrow? No tuition? Why are you going, Miss?" His questions tumbled out, a clear note of disappointment in his voice.
"I'll go and come back. It's been a long time since I met my parents," she explained.
"Hmm... but then there'll be no tuition for three days," he mused, the sulky expression returning.
"Hey, so what if there's no tuition? Don't roam around outside; study diligently at home. I'll call your mom and ask if you're studying or not," Geetha warned, though her tone held more affection than threat.
"It's not about tuition, Miss. You won't be here, so I'll be bored." He lowered his head, a childish pout on his lips. Geetha moved closer, her left arm gently encircling his shoulders.
"I'll also be bored, Bharath. But you must study, okay?"
He replied with a gloomy "Mm." Geetha turned her head, a smile playing on her lips, and gently pinched his cheek.
"Okay, let's do one thing. I'll give you an assignment."
"Oh, no, Miss, I'll study. I won't play on the phone," he protested quickly.
"I'll give you a test with eight questions from the first four chapters. Right here."
Before Geetha could finish, Bharath interrupted, "Miss, there'll be a class test anyway, right?"
"Hey, listen, you have to write everything. If you write them all, you can massage my feet again."
A spark ignited in Bharath's eyes, and a swift smile stretched across his lips. "Really?" he asked, his voice eager.
"Yes," Geetha confirmed.
"So, you like it," he said, a hint of knowing in his tone. Geetha turned her face away, a blush creeping up her neck.
"What?" she feigned innocence.
"I mean, your feet..."
She feigned a little anger, looking straight at him. "Oh, so you're being naughty again? Okay, never mind."
"Ah! No, Miss, okay, give me the test. You think I won't study, don't you? Give me the test; I'll write everything and show you." He quickly backtracked, a newfound determination in his voice.
"Oh, we'll see, then. Okay, you study another subject, and I'll teach you math after I wash the dishes," Geetha conceded.
"Should I help too?" he offered.
"Do as I say. If there's anything, I'll tell you, right? Just study," she instructed.
"Okay, Miss," he agreed, already turning back to his books.
Geetha retreated to the kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes soon filling the air. Bharath studied, his eyes occasionally drifting towards Geetha, a silent fascination.
The sun dipped below the clouds, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Bharath, immersed in his science book, encountered a doubt. He rose, book in hand, and approached Geetha. She was washing plates, her back to him. He stood beside her, his right hand brushing against her left. The brief touch instantly resurrected the morning's vivid dream, a wave of unease rippling through her. She subtly shifted away.
"Miss, in this condensation process, what happens if the air-to-water vapor content ratio increases?" he asked, oblivious to her internal shift.
"That's nothing. If the water vapor content in the air increases, due to increased moisture holding, the air temperature will be higher. When that happens, we say there's high humidity," Geetha explained, her voice steady.
"Hmm," he hummed, still looking at her, stepping back while flipping through his book. He noticed the beads of sweat glistening on her neck. Without a word, he went to the hall, placed his book down, and returned with a small towel.
"Miss, wipe yourself," he offered, holding out the towel.
"Thanks, Bharath," she said, taking it. She wiped her neck, then moved to set the towel aside, but Bharath gently took it from her.
"Miss, give it to me. If you put it there, it'll get dusty," he reasoned. He carried the towel to the hall, then paused, turning back. Geetha was still engrossed in her work.
He held the towel to his nose, inhaling deeply. For a few moments, he was utterly captivated by the faint scent of his teacher’s sweat, his eyes closing dreamily.
A sharp rap on his head startled him, his eyes snapping open in fright. From behind, Geetha’s voice, laced with annoyance, cut through the air.
"Idiot, what is this crazy thing you're doing? Didn’t I tell you to study?"
He spun around anxiously. "Miss, that..."
She snatched the towel from his hand, her gaze stern. "Don't talk. Go and study."
He lowered his head, silently retreating to his books. Geetha, clutching the towel, walked into the bedroom, a blush creeping up her neck.
“What kind of madness is this boy has? He did exactly as I thought. How did he even get such an idea?” She pondered, a strange mix of embarrassment and curiosity swirling within her.
Seeing Bharath so utterly captivated by things related to her, a new sensation, a nascent curiosity, stirred within Geetha. She hung the towel on the hanger and then went to sit on the right side of Bharath.
"Miss, can you explain matrix problems again?" he asked, already turning a page in his math book.
"Why? Are you not getting them? Okay, let's revise all of that today," Geetha replied, settling in.
Over an hour passed as Geetha patiently explained theorems and guided him through calculations.
"You're studying now, but why didn't you study last year, at the beginning of tenth grade?" she asked, a playful glint in her eye.
"I don't know, Miss. I wasn't coming to you for tuition then," he admitted.
Geetha playfully smiled and tugged gently at his ear. "Only words come to this boy."
"Ah... It's true, Miss," he chuckled.
"Anyway, are you going home? I'll be back on Wednesday," she reminded him, gathering her thoughts.
Bharath fidgeted on the sofa, then scooted closer, looking at Geetha with a pout.
"What is it, dear?" she asked, sensing his hesitation.
"Miss, can I ask something?"
"If you ask to massage my feet again, I'll hit you," she warned, though a small smile played on her lips.
"Miss, your smell is very nice. Can we play hide-and-seek for a while, Miss?" he asked, his voice soft and endearing.
His innocent plea touched her, a faint smile gracing her lips, and a wave of shyness washed over her. She coaxed him gently, "No games."
"Miss, just once," he persisted.
Geetha rose, feigning a sudden task, and headed to the kitchen. Bharath remained, undecided. As Geetha entered the kitchen, she discreetly closed the room curtain.
Bharath scratched his head, then settled back on the sofa, deep in thought.
In the kitchen, Geetha placed the washed and soaked rice into the rice cooker, switching it on. As she arranged the cleaned utensils in the stand, Bharath slowly appeared beside her.
Geetha had tucked the end of her saree into her waist, revealing her left hip, where the skin rippled gracefully with every movement. Her forelocks fell across her face, her palms were wet, and her elbows damp with sweat. He stepped forward, his gaze tracing the curve of her neck. As he brought his face near her ear, inhaling and exhaling, his breath formed a warm mist around her ear. The warmth ignited a deep, primal desire within her. Her body yearned for it, yet her mind resisted.
"It's late. Go home," she said, her voice a little strained.
"Just once, Miss. You won't be here for three days," he pleaded.
She deliberately lifted the lid off a pot and put it back, though it was already covered.
"Didn't I say no?"
He moved even closer, Geetha's left shoulder brushing against Bharath's right chest.
"Miss, I studied for three days just as you told me. And I learned a lot today too. What did you say the other day?"
Geetha remembered her slip of the tongue from the other day, the unspoken promise of something "else," and mentally chastised herself. Now, if Bharath pressed her, how could she refuse? He had, after all, studied as she had instructed. What would he think if she said no? A wave of panic began to rise within her.
"What did I say?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
"Miss, just stay like this. Do your work, and let me be next to you. I want to be with you like this," he whispered, his voice a soft caress.
Geetha silently placed the morning's curry on the stove and lit it. Bharath rested his head on her shoulder, his face nestled against her neck, his fingers gently touching her hair, inhaling her scent with intoxicating pleasure. Geetha's body felt heavy, a strange lethargy settling over her.
Since Geetha remained silent, he kept his nose near the edge of her neck, moving it gently up and down without touching her skin, simply breathing in the scent. "Hmm... Miss, maybe this kind of smell doesn't come from everyone, Miss. Maybe it only comes from angels like you."
Being called an angel made a subtle tingle spread through her, and a faint smile, almost imperceptible, touched her lips.
"Ah, Miss, if anyone stays this close to you, they'd get intoxicated, you know?" Bharath continued, his voice hazy with delight.
Geetha smiled faintly. "Enough, Bharath. You're praising me too much."
"It's not praise, Miss, it's the truth. Anyway, to praise you, I'd have to write poetry, and I'm not that clever."
Her fondness for poetry made his words even more flattering. Bharath leaned further, his nose now near the front of her neck, speaking in a low, husky voice. "Miss, since I'm studying, Harish isn't talking to me properly. You're my only friend, Miss. You'll come back from the village quickly, won't you?"
With his last words, Bharath's upper lip slightly brushed against the delicate skin of her neck. A single drop of her sweat touched his upper lip.
"Mm," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
He swallowed, tasting the drop of sweat. "Really, Miss, even your sweat tastes so good."
Bharath's warm touch on, his intoxicating words, were filling her with an exquisite ecstasy. Hearing such words from her student made her blush intensely.
"Phew, naughty fellow, don't you find that disgusting?" she teased, her voice a little breathless.
He pulled back, inhaling the scent of her neck from behind, then let out a warm breath from his mouth. As it slid down, tracing the path of the drop of sweat to her back, a shiver ran down her spine. She clenched the cooking platform tightly, her knuckles white. He brought his nose near her ear. "It's not disgusting, Miss. I love your smell. Even your sweat."
"Ugh, don't talk like that," she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.
"Why, Miss? Everything about such a beautiful angel is nectar."
Those words sent a haze through Geetha's brain. Bharath also placed his hands on either side of her, pressing against the cooking platform. As he inhaled the aroma of her back, his warm breath created a storm within Geetha's body, increasing her internal heat, moistening the space between her thighs, and making her breasts heave.
He breathed in the scent, moving his nose up and down to her bra strap, then came back up. Geetha, in a sudden movement, turned off the stove.
"Miss, do you know how you look in this black saree?" Bharath asked, his voice still thick with admiration.
"Mm..." she hummed, unable to articulate more.
"You look like a vanilla cake drizzled with chocolate sauce. If Gautham Sir were here, he'd eat your back like a cream pastry."
"You say such strange things. Does anyone really do that?" she asked, a giggle escaping her.
"Look here, Miss," he urged. She turned her head back, offering him half her face. Barely an inch separated their lips, a sliver of air the only barrier. Each other's breath, warm and soft, fell upon their lips.
"I read in a story, Miss, where he went behind his wife in the kitchen while she was working and hugged her..." He used his left index finger to gently brush the forelocks falling across Geetha's face behind her ear. "Hugged her..."
A twinkle of her sweat touched Bharath's finger. While talking, he instinctively brought it to his mouth and sucked it. Geetha saw it from the corner of her eye, a shock rippling through her.
"Hmm... He licks the sweat from her neck and back, and she finds it very pleasurable, apparently," he continued, his voice a low murmur.
Geetha found his words strange, yet a smile appeared on her lips. She giggled playfully.
"What is it, Miss?" Bharath asked, noticing her reaction.
"Haha... No one does that, Bharath. That's just a story," she dismissed, though her heart pounded. She pulled her braid forward, further exposing her back to Bharath.
"Why would they write it in a story if they don't do it? Tell me?" he challenged.
"Maybe," she conceded, her voice barely audible.
"Does Goutham Sir really not do that?" he pressed.
"No," Geetha replied, her voice flat.
"Hmm... Then don't you feel like having such pleasures?"
"I don't know, Bharath," she confessed, her gaze distant.
"Anyway, Sir isn't here, is he?" he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper.
"Mm!" she hummed in agreement. He moved lower, putting his face under her right shoulder, burying his nose in the folds of blouse near her armpit.
"Ah... What?" Geetha gasped, a shiver running through her.
"Miss, can you turn around?"
"Why?"
"Turn around once, and I'll tell you."
She slowly turned back to face Bharath. He leaned forward, his face close to her lower neck. "Ah... Miss." Hearing Bharath hum like that sent a wave of arousal through her.
"Miss, earlier when you were putting your hair clip, you raised your hands, right? Please hold them like that."
"That's enough, Bharath. How much do you see? It's making me feel hot," she protested, her voice laced with embarrassment. He pouted like a child. "Just once, just once, Miss, please."
Just then, the wall clock struck eight. Geetha didn't know what to do. Her entire body was covered in sweat, and a wetness was gathering between her legs. She felt cold in the heat. He pleaded again, acting childishly. "Miss..."
Geetha offered a small smile and held Bharath's face with both hands. He leaned forward happily and placed his nose near her right armpit. The raw aroma of her body permeated his senses. With desire, he took a deep breath and exhaled. That breath felt like a desert warm breeze sensation on Geetha's damp armpit. Tingling spread through her body, and she closed her eyes.
Bharath pushed his nose another inch deeper, intoxicated, reveling in that fragrance. "Ah, Miss..."
"Ugh, Bharath, how do you like that?" Geetha moaned, her voice a soft, muffled sound.
"This is the best, most delicious smell, Miss," he declared, his voice thick with pleasure.
He moved to her left armpit. There, too, the warm breath touched her, causing a delicious tingling sensation, and her thighs began to clench. Her lower lips were releasing fluids, making her panties wet, driving her crazy with unspoken desire.
"Ah... Hmm, Bharath, you're embarrassing me," she breathed, a mixture of pleasure and protest in her voice.
Hearing that, he moved away. Geetha looked at him, confused. "What happened, dear?" she asked, her voice soft.
"Sorry, Miss. I don't mean to bother you."
Geetha laughed softly at his innocence. She held his face and gently pulled him towards her. "You don't need to be sorry. Come on."
With a slight smile, he put his face in her right armpit again, nodding his head up and down, inhaling the fragrance.
“I don't know what kind of craziness this is, but when he does that,
and his breath touches my skin, life rises within me.
I want to do what he says. Is this right or wrong?
It doesn't matter now; I'm just giving him what he asked for.
This is how I get it. Even though my mind says no, I want it.
I don't know how far it will go, but I will make Bharath devoted to me.
It feels like I should teach him everything, not just studies,
but I can't do anything wrong. That's all.”
She stood like a statue, letting Bharath indulge in her scent. Bharath passionately breathed in the scent around her bust, touching his nose to her armpits, his nerves tingling with the sensation. Geetha closed her eyes, running her fingers through Bharath's hair, leaning back.
A long time passed, and every time Bharath exhaled, it was as if honey overflowed from a flower, spilling past the petals and wetting the branches.
Her throat became hoarse from panting for breath. Swallowing her saliva, twisting and turning, thoughts of kissing Bharath came to her mind. No matter how much she tried to resist, a hazy desire settled in her brain. Bharath, completely immersed in intoxication, relishing her beauty and fragrances, murmured, "Hmm... Miss... If you wore a sleeveless dress, I might go even crazier, Miss."
He touched her armpit with his lips. "Ah... Isss..." Geetha gasped, her body arching slightly. As Bharath put out his tongue to touch the wetness, she instinctively grabbed his hair and gently pulled his face back.
"Enough," she said, her voice a little shaky.
"A little more, Miss..." he pleaded, his eyes still closed.
"Mm... Didn't I say no?" she murmured, trying to regain control.
"Okay, Miss," he conceded, a sigh escaping him.
With a small smile, she gently kissed Bharath's forehead. "Alright, go home and study."
"Yes, Miss, of course," he replied, a renewed sense of purpose in his voice. He turned towards the hall, then paused, turning back again, looking down. "Miss, you're not uncomfortable, are you?"
"No, Bharath," Geetha assured him.
"Does Gautham Sir not do this?" he asked, his voice curious. Geetha remained silent, a sad expression momentarily clouding her face. "No, Bharath," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. She turned back. Bharath stepped forward and inhaled the scent of her neck.
"Mm, no," she reiterated, a soft hum.
"Miss, did you like it?" he asked, his voice hopeful.
"Yes," she admitted, the word a soft exhalation.
"Miss, tell me after you come back from the village, Miss. No matter how much I sniff, it's never enough; I want to inhale more."
"We'll see after I come back. Go, Bharath," she urged, a playful firmness in her tone.
"Bye, Miss."
He was gone. Geetha let out a long, shaky breath. “Ugh, he didn't let me breathe for almost an hour. Ah... I can't take it. My whole body is tingling.” She closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, then walked into the bedroom. She lifted her saree, her gaze falling to her body. “Ugh, my husband isn't here, but this place is drying up and still oozing juices.” The heat was unbearable. She stripped off her clothes, letting them fall to the floor, and stepped into the bathroom. She turned on the shower, letting the cold water cascade over her heated skin.
“Oh, it felt so good. My whole body was wet,
and my heated body cooled down.
It was like taking a bath, but ah,
it feels like he should have done,
what he said instead of just talking about it.
As I thought about all this, my hand went down and
scratched between my legs.
How erect my nipples were.
Hmm, if Bharath did what he did in my dream,
I wonder if I could bear it.”
With those thoughts swirling in her mind, she finished her shower, her body cooled but her mind still aflame. Lying on the bed, she saw her phone screen light up. Gautham's message: "Call me after you eat, darling."
.
.
.
.
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To be continued……..
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