26-07-2025, 01:15 PM
Hi guys, sorry I was offline for most of the time because of the office work. Here is the next update
Part 12: Drips and Dares
Scene 1: Rain and Innocence (Aditya)
The rain started late in the afternoon — the heavy kind, tropical and sudden, drowning the college in silver streaks and murky puddles. Most students had cleared out early. The corridors were quiet. The electricity flickered.
Swathi stayed back in the department office, caught halfway through checking assignments when she heard the soft knock.
Aditya stood at the door, drenched — his white shirt clinging to his frame, hair flattened against his forehead, jeans soaked and dark.
“I didn’t bring an umbrella,” he said with a sheepish smile.
Swathi tilted her head. “You couldn’t have waited until after the storm?”
“I thought you’d be gone. I… left my notes inside.”
She nodded, gesturing him in. “Dry off first. You’ll catch a fever looking like that.”
He stepped in, water dripping onto the floor. She handed him an old towel from her locker. He started rubbing his hair, shirt still plastered to his chest — and she saw it then:
His body. Leaner than she’d expected. Young, but defined. Not gym-built — natural. V-lines subtly outlined where the shirt had ridden up over his jeans.
She looked away. Too late.
He didn’t notice.
“I found your notes,” she said, handing him the folder.
He took it, their fingers brushing. Again. Familiar now.
Then silence.
Only rain pounding on the glass.
He stood too close.
And yet, so innocent — completely unaware that her nipples were hard beneath her saree. That her thighs were pressed tight under her desk. That the smell of him, fresh rain and boyish sweat, was making her pulse flutter.
“Ma’am?” he asked softly. “You okay?”
She blinked. “Yes. Just tired.”
“You do so much for us,” he said, eyes soft. “I hope we make you proud.”
That — that — hit her lower than it should’ve.
She swallowed, the heat rising in her.
“You do,” she whispered.
He smiled, thanked her, and turned to leave.
And as he walked out — shirt clinging to his back, water trailing down his spine — she exhaled like she hadn’t been breathing.
She didn’t touch herself.
But she wanted to.
Badly.
Scene 2: Sai’s Move
The auditorium was under preparation for the inter-department event. Swathi was coordinating the logistics. Sai had volunteered — mostly because it gave him time around her.
The students had gone out for refreshments. Only the two of them remained inside the darkened stage area, setting up banners and projectors.
She stood on the step ladder, adjusting the overhead cloth, one hand reaching above her head — her saree tugging tight across her back and ass.
Sai stood below, steadying the ladder. His gaze fixed squarely where he shouldn’t be looking.
“You good?” he asked, voice low.
“Just hold it steady,” she replied, not turning.
“I am,” he said — hand tightening on the ladder, brushing the bare skin of her ankle. “But you’re not making it easy.”
Swathi paused.
“Sai…”
“I mean it,” he said, not smirking now. “You climb ladders like you know what it does to me.”
She looked down, their eyes locking.
His hand slid a little higher — brushing her calf. Then her lower thigh. Still under the saree.
Not obscene.
But not innocent either.
She could have moved.
But she didn’t — not immediately.
The air between them went silent.
Then she stepped down — deliberately slow, her body brushing against his as she descended.
“Don’t test me,” she whispered, passing him.
But her voice wasn’t angry.
It was shaky.
Her nipples were hard. Again.
Sai watched her leave — no grin this time.
Just hunger.
And restraint.
Part 13: Caught in the Act
The rain had returned that evening — slow, heavy, constant. Rahul had gone out for a quick errand, but the sky had opened up, delaying him. Swathi was alone. And it was dangerous.
She stood in front of the bedroom mirror in a long, pale peach nightie — no bra underneath, just her own curves pressing softly through the fabric. Her thighs were bare, her hair pinned up lazily. The fan spun above, pushing cool air over her skin.
But nothing cooled the heat burning between her legs.
Ajay’s stare.
Sai’s hand.
Aditya’s smile.
That feeling of being wanted by boys she shouldn’t want back…
She was soaked — not from the rain.
She slid the nightie up slowly and lay on the bed, one leg bent, the other hanging off the edge. Her fingers found the wetness between her thighs instantly. She moaned — quiet and hungry.
Two fingers circled her clit slowly, spreading the slick heat, teasing herself as she imagined being bent over the lecture table, eyes locked with Ajay’s…
Then another finger slid in. She fucked herself gently, her hips rocking, her free hand squeezing one breast, twisting the nipple, moaning louder now.
She thought of Aditya’s mouth, innocent, unknowing. She imagined him trying to eat her pussy, awkward, eager, her hands in his hair…
“Fuck…” she whimpered, her body arching.
She didn’t hear the door unlock.
She didn’t hear Rahul step in, soaked from the rain, until his voice cut through the room like thunder:
“Don’t stop.”
Her eyes flew open.
He was standing in the doorway — drenched, shirt clinging to his chest, eyes dark with hunger.
“Rahul—” she started.
“Don’t. Stop.”
She didn’t. She kept rubbing, breath heavy, chest heaving — caught in the act, caught in the heat.
He watched her for a second longer, then yanked off his wet shirt, tossing it to the floor. His cock was already hard, pushing against his jeans.
“I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re fucking yourself to sleep?” he growled, stepping toward her.
She sat up, breathless. “I was… worked up.”
He knelt on the bed, grabbed her knees, and yanked her closer to the edge. Her nightie was bunched around her waist, pussy glistening, thighs trembling.
“Worked up from what?” he asked, fingers teasing her clit. “Or should I ask… who?”
Her breath caught. He didn’t give her time to answer.
His mouth went straight to her pussy — tongue flat and hard against her clit, licking in rough, fast strokes.
“Fuck, Rahul—!” she cried, hips lifting into his mouth.
He growled into her, hands locking around her thighs as he devoured her — tongue thrusting, lips sucking, chin wet with her slick.
“You taste like you’ve been thinking nasty things,” he murmured, licking her again. “Tell me who was in your head.”
“Ajay,” she gasped. “Sai. Aditya.”
His cock twitched. He stood up.
And fucked her.
Hard.
He didn’t even remove the nightie. He shoved his jeans down, grabbed her legs, and drove his cock into her in one rough, wet thrust.
She screamed.
He grabbed her throat gently — just enough pressure to pin her.
“You want them?” he hissed. “You want those boys?”
“No,” she gasped.
“Then why is your pussy so fucking wet?”
He thrust deep. Again. Again. Her walls clenched around him, pulling him in.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, nails raking his back.
He lifted her, turned her over onto her knees, and entered her from behind — slapping her ass once, then grabbing it tight as he fucked her hard, skin smacking loud over the sound of rain.
Her breasts bounced under the nightie, her moans getting louder, throat raw.
“God—fuck—yes—don’t stop!”
He grabbed her hair, yanked her back against his chest, and whispered:
“They don’t get this. They’ll never get this.”
He came deep inside her — a full-body groan, her pussy still milking him with greedy spasms.
They collapsed on the bed, wet with sweat and rain and cum.
Swathi lay breathless, body twitching, chest rising and falling.
And Rahul?
He turned to her and smirked.
“Next time you want to fuck yourself thinking about college boys,” he said, “wait for me.”
Part 12: Drips and Dares
Scene 1: Rain and Innocence (Aditya)
The rain started late in the afternoon — the heavy kind, tropical and sudden, drowning the college in silver streaks and murky puddles. Most students had cleared out early. The corridors were quiet. The electricity flickered.
Swathi stayed back in the department office, caught halfway through checking assignments when she heard the soft knock.
Aditya stood at the door, drenched — his white shirt clinging to his frame, hair flattened against his forehead, jeans soaked and dark.
“I didn’t bring an umbrella,” he said with a sheepish smile.
Swathi tilted her head. “You couldn’t have waited until after the storm?”
“I thought you’d be gone. I… left my notes inside.”
She nodded, gesturing him in. “Dry off first. You’ll catch a fever looking like that.”
He stepped in, water dripping onto the floor. She handed him an old towel from her locker. He started rubbing his hair, shirt still plastered to his chest — and she saw it then:
His body. Leaner than she’d expected. Young, but defined. Not gym-built — natural. V-lines subtly outlined where the shirt had ridden up over his jeans.
She looked away. Too late.
He didn’t notice.
“I found your notes,” she said, handing him the folder.
He took it, their fingers brushing. Again. Familiar now.
Then silence.
Only rain pounding on the glass.
He stood too close.
And yet, so innocent — completely unaware that her nipples were hard beneath her saree. That her thighs were pressed tight under her desk. That the smell of him, fresh rain and boyish sweat, was making her pulse flutter.
“Ma’am?” he asked softly. “You okay?”
She blinked. “Yes. Just tired.”
“You do so much for us,” he said, eyes soft. “I hope we make you proud.”
That — that — hit her lower than it should’ve.
She swallowed, the heat rising in her.
“You do,” she whispered.
He smiled, thanked her, and turned to leave.
And as he walked out — shirt clinging to his back, water trailing down his spine — she exhaled like she hadn’t been breathing.
She didn’t touch herself.
But she wanted to.
Badly.
Scene 2: Sai’s Move
The auditorium was under preparation for the inter-department event. Swathi was coordinating the logistics. Sai had volunteered — mostly because it gave him time around her.
The students had gone out for refreshments. Only the two of them remained inside the darkened stage area, setting up banners and projectors.
She stood on the step ladder, adjusting the overhead cloth, one hand reaching above her head — her saree tugging tight across her back and ass.
Sai stood below, steadying the ladder. His gaze fixed squarely where he shouldn’t be looking.
“You good?” he asked, voice low.
“Just hold it steady,” she replied, not turning.
“I am,” he said — hand tightening on the ladder, brushing the bare skin of her ankle. “But you’re not making it easy.”
Swathi paused.
“Sai…”
“I mean it,” he said, not smirking now. “You climb ladders like you know what it does to me.”
She looked down, their eyes locking.
His hand slid a little higher — brushing her calf. Then her lower thigh. Still under the saree.
Not obscene.
But not innocent either.
She could have moved.
But she didn’t — not immediately.
The air between them went silent.
Then she stepped down — deliberately slow, her body brushing against his as she descended.
“Don’t test me,” she whispered, passing him.
But her voice wasn’t angry.
It was shaky.
Her nipples were hard. Again.
Sai watched her leave — no grin this time.
Just hunger.
And restraint.
Part 13: Caught in the Act
The rain had returned that evening — slow, heavy, constant. Rahul had gone out for a quick errand, but the sky had opened up, delaying him. Swathi was alone. And it was dangerous.
She stood in front of the bedroom mirror in a long, pale peach nightie — no bra underneath, just her own curves pressing softly through the fabric. Her thighs were bare, her hair pinned up lazily. The fan spun above, pushing cool air over her skin.
But nothing cooled the heat burning between her legs.
Ajay’s stare.
Sai’s hand.
Aditya’s smile.
That feeling of being wanted by boys she shouldn’t want back…
She was soaked — not from the rain.
She slid the nightie up slowly and lay on the bed, one leg bent, the other hanging off the edge. Her fingers found the wetness between her thighs instantly. She moaned — quiet and hungry.
Two fingers circled her clit slowly, spreading the slick heat, teasing herself as she imagined being bent over the lecture table, eyes locked with Ajay’s…
Then another finger slid in. She fucked herself gently, her hips rocking, her free hand squeezing one breast, twisting the nipple, moaning louder now.
She thought of Aditya’s mouth, innocent, unknowing. She imagined him trying to eat her pussy, awkward, eager, her hands in his hair…
“Fuck…” she whimpered, her body arching.
She didn’t hear the door unlock.
She didn’t hear Rahul step in, soaked from the rain, until his voice cut through the room like thunder:
“Don’t stop.”
Her eyes flew open.
He was standing in the doorway — drenched, shirt clinging to his chest, eyes dark with hunger.
“Rahul—” she started.
“Don’t. Stop.”
She didn’t. She kept rubbing, breath heavy, chest heaving — caught in the act, caught in the heat.
He watched her for a second longer, then yanked off his wet shirt, tossing it to the floor. His cock was already hard, pushing against his jeans.
“I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re fucking yourself to sleep?” he growled, stepping toward her.
She sat up, breathless. “I was… worked up.”
He knelt on the bed, grabbed her knees, and yanked her closer to the edge. Her nightie was bunched around her waist, pussy glistening, thighs trembling.
“Worked up from what?” he asked, fingers teasing her clit. “Or should I ask… who?”
Her breath caught. He didn’t give her time to answer.
His mouth went straight to her pussy — tongue flat and hard against her clit, licking in rough, fast strokes.
“Fuck, Rahul—!” she cried, hips lifting into his mouth.
He growled into her, hands locking around her thighs as he devoured her — tongue thrusting, lips sucking, chin wet with her slick.
“You taste like you’ve been thinking nasty things,” he murmured, licking her again. “Tell me who was in your head.”
“Ajay,” she gasped. “Sai. Aditya.”
His cock twitched. He stood up.
And fucked her.
Hard.
He didn’t even remove the nightie. He shoved his jeans down, grabbed her legs, and drove his cock into her in one rough, wet thrust.
She screamed.
He grabbed her throat gently — just enough pressure to pin her.
“You want them?” he hissed. “You want those boys?”
“No,” she gasped.
“Then why is your pussy so fucking wet?”
He thrust deep. Again. Again. Her walls clenched around him, pulling him in.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, nails raking his back.
He lifted her, turned her over onto her knees, and entered her from behind — slapping her ass once, then grabbing it tight as he fucked her hard, skin smacking loud over the sound of rain.
Her breasts bounced under the nightie, her moans getting louder, throat raw.
“God—fuck—yes—don’t stop!”
He grabbed her hair, yanked her back against his chest, and whispered:
“They don’t get this. They’ll never get this.”
He came deep inside her — a full-body groan, her pussy still milking him with greedy spasms.
They collapsed on the bed, wet with sweat and rain and cum.
Swathi lay breathless, body twitching, chest rising and falling.
And Rahul?
He turned to her and smirked.
“Next time you want to fuck yourself thinking about college boys,” he said, “wait for me.”
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)