It was a rainy afternoon in Mumbai when Arjun first saw Priya. He was 28, a software engineer working long hours in a bustling IT firm in Andheri. That day, he ducked into a small café near the office to escape the downpour. The place was crowded, steam rising from hot chai cups, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and frying pakoras. Arjun shook the rain from his hair and scanned for a seat. That's when he spotted her—Priya, sitting alone by the window, her dupatta slightly askew, sketching in a notebook.
She was 25, with long black hair tied in a loose braid, almond-shaped eyes focused on her drawing, and a simple salwar kameez in soft pink that hugged her figure just enough to catch his eye. Arjun's heart skipped. He couldn't explain it, but something about her calm presence pulled him in. He grabbed his chai and approached. 'Excuse me, is this seat taken?' he asked, his voice steady despite the sudden nerves.
Priya looked up, her cheeks flushing a bit. 'No, please sit,' she replied softly, closing her notebook. They started talking—small things at first. She was an artist, freelancing illustrations for books, living with her parents in Bandra. He shared about his job, the endless code and deadlines. The rain pounded outside, but inside, time slowed. By the time it eased, they had exchanged numbers. 'Call me sometime,' she said with a shy smile as they parted.
Arjun called the next day. 'Hi, it's Arjun from the café.' Her laugh was light, like wind chimes. They met again that weekend at Marine Drive. The sea breeze carried the salty tang, waves crashing under the streetlights. They walked, sharing dreams. Priya wanted to illustrate her own storybook someday. Arjun confessed he dreamed of starting his own tech startup. He held her hand tentatively; she didn't pull away. 'I felt it too, that day in the rain,' she whispered.
Their dates became routine. Movies in multiplexes, where he'd sneak glances at her during romantic scenes. Street food stalls in Juhu, feeding each other spicy chaat, laughing when chili burned their tongues. One evening, at a quiet park, Arjun kissed her for the first time. Her lips were soft, tasting of mango lassi. She melted into him, her hands on his chest. 'I love you,' he murmured against her mouth. 'Me too,' she breathed, eyes shining.
But love in India wasn't just feelings; families mattered. Arjun's parents, traditional from Gujarat, wanted a match. Priya's, from Maharashtra, valued education and stability. He told his mom first. 'She's perfect, Ma.' His father nodded after meeting her over video call. Priya's family was warmer, her dad a retired teacher who grilled Arjun on his intentions. 'Treat her like a queen,' he said sternly. Months of approvals, horoscope checks, and meetings led to engagement. The ring was simple gold, slipped on her finger at a small ceremony with garlands and sweets.
The wedding was a blend of traditions—two days of rituals in a Mumbai banquet hall. Mehendi night, Priya's hands adorned with intricate henna, Arjun stealing touches. Sangeet with dances, aunties teasing about the first night. The baraat arrived with dhol beats, Arjun on a white horse, heart racing. Vows exchanged under the mandap, fire flickering as they circled it seven times. 'You'll always be mine,' he whispered during the pheras. She squeezed his hand. 'And you mine.'
Finally, the reception ended late, guests waving goodbye. In the decorated car, heading to their new flat in Powai, Priya leaned on his shoulder. 'I'm nervous,' she admitted. Arjun kissed her forehead. 'Me too. But we'll take it slow.' The flat was modest, gifted by both families—white walls, a king bed with rose petals scattered by his sister, fairy lights twinkling.
They entered, the door clicking shut. Arjun carried her over the threshold, both giggling like kids. He set her down in the bedroom, the air scented with jasmine from the garlands still around their necks. Priya's lehenga was heavy red silk, gold embroidery gleaming, her blouse low-cut revealing the curve of her breasts. Arjun's sherwani felt stiff, but he shrugged it off first, revealing his toned chest from gym sessions.
'Sit,' she said softly, guiding him to the bed. Her fingers trembled as she removed her jewelry—bangles clinking, necklace unclasped. Arjun watched, mesmerized. 'You're beautiful,' he said, voice husky. Priya blushed, stepping out of her lehenga. Underneath, red lingerie—bra and panties his gift, lacy and sheer. Her body was soft, curves from home-cooked meals, hips wide, skin glowing like polished teak.
He stood, pulling her close. Their kiss started gentle, lips brushing, tongues tentative. But passion built. Arjun's hands roamed her back, unhooking the bra. Her breasts spilled free—full C-cups, dark nipples hardening in the cool air. He cupped them, thumbs circling. Priya gasped, arching. 'Arjun...' She tugged at his kurta, exposing his boxers, his cock already straining, thick and hard.
They tumbled onto the bed, petals sticking to their skin. Priya's hand slid down, stroking him through the fabric. 'I want to feel you,' she whispered, eyes locked on his. He nodded, sliding her panties off. Her pussy was neat, trimmed, already slick with arousal. Arjun kissed down her neck, sucking lightly, leaving faint marks. His mouth found her nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing. She moaned, fingers in his hair.
Lower still, he trailed kisses over her belly, to her thighs. Priya tensed. 'What are you—oh!' His tongue touched her clit, lapping gently. She was sweet, musky, her hips bucking instinctively. 'Feels good?' he asked, looking up. 'Yes, don't stop.' He sucked her folds, finger sliding into her tight heat. She was wet, walls clenching, untouched until now.
Priya pulled him up after her first shuddering orgasm, body trembling. 'Your turn.' She pushed him back, kissing his chest, abs, then freeing his cock—seven inches, veined, tip glistening. Her hand wrapped around, stroking slow. Arjun groaned. She leaned down, lips parting to take him in. Her mouth was warm, tongue swirling the head. She bobbed, inexperienced but eager, saliva coating him.
'I can't wait anymore,' Arjun said, voice rough. He rolled her under him, positioning between her legs. Priya nodded, legs wrapping his waist. 'Be gentle.' The tip pressed at her entrance, pushing in slow. She was tight, a soft cry escaping as he broke through. He paused, kissing her tears. 'I love you.' Inch by inch, he filled her, her pussy stretching around him.
Once seated deep, he started thrusting—slow at first, building rhythm. Priya's nails dug into his back, moans mixing with his grunts. 'Harder,' she urged, hips rising to meet him. The bed creaked, skin slapping. Sweat beaded on their bodies, the room filling with their scents. Arjun's hand slipped between, rubbing her clit. She came again, walls pulsing, milking him.
He flipped her onto her side, entering from behind, spooning close. One hand on her breast, pinching nipple, the other on her hip. 'Priya, you're mine.' She pushed back, grinding. 'Forever.' Pace quickened, his balls tightening. 'I'm close,' he warned. 'Inside me,' she begged. With a final thrust, he came, hot spurts filling her pussy, her name on his lips.
They collapsed, tangled, breathing heavy. Arjun pulled out, cum leaking onto the sheets. He held her, kissing her shoulder. 'That was perfect.' Priya smiled, tracing his jaw. 'Our beginning.' They talked softly—about kids someday, travels to Kerala beaches, building a home. Sleep came with her head on his chest, hearts synced.
Morning light filtered through curtains. Priya woke first, slipping down to kiss his morning wood. 'Round two?' she teased. Arjun grinned, pulling her on top. She straddled, guiding him in, riding slow. Her breasts bounced, his hands guiding her hips. They made love again, lazy and loving, ending in shared release.
Life unfolded sweetly. Arjun's startup idea took shape with Priya's illustrations for the app. Family visits, festivals—Diwali lights, Holi colors—strengthened their bond. Intimacy grew; she learned to take him in her mouth deeper, he explored her ass with fingers one adventurous night, promising more. But always, pure love anchored them.
Years later, with a baby on the way, they'd reminisce about that first night. 'Love at first sight,' Arjun would say, hand on her belly. Priya nodded. 'And every sight since.' Their story, woven in Mumbai's chaos, was timeless romance.
She was 25, with long black hair tied in a loose braid, almond-shaped eyes focused on her drawing, and a simple salwar kameez in soft pink that hugged her figure just enough to catch his eye. Arjun's heart skipped. He couldn't explain it, but something about her calm presence pulled him in. He grabbed his chai and approached. 'Excuse me, is this seat taken?' he asked, his voice steady despite the sudden nerves.
Priya looked up, her cheeks flushing a bit. 'No, please sit,' she replied softly, closing her notebook. They started talking—small things at first. She was an artist, freelancing illustrations for books, living with her parents in Bandra. He shared about his job, the endless code and deadlines. The rain pounded outside, but inside, time slowed. By the time it eased, they had exchanged numbers. 'Call me sometime,' she said with a shy smile as they parted.
Arjun called the next day. 'Hi, it's Arjun from the café.' Her laugh was light, like wind chimes. They met again that weekend at Marine Drive. The sea breeze carried the salty tang, waves crashing under the streetlights. They walked, sharing dreams. Priya wanted to illustrate her own storybook someday. Arjun confessed he dreamed of starting his own tech startup. He held her hand tentatively; she didn't pull away. 'I felt it too, that day in the rain,' she whispered.
Their dates became routine. Movies in multiplexes, where he'd sneak glances at her during romantic scenes. Street food stalls in Juhu, feeding each other spicy chaat, laughing when chili burned their tongues. One evening, at a quiet park, Arjun kissed her for the first time. Her lips were soft, tasting of mango lassi. She melted into him, her hands on his chest. 'I love you,' he murmured against her mouth. 'Me too,' she breathed, eyes shining.
But love in India wasn't just feelings; families mattered. Arjun's parents, traditional from Gujarat, wanted a match. Priya's, from Maharashtra, valued education and stability. He told his mom first. 'She's perfect, Ma.' His father nodded after meeting her over video call. Priya's family was warmer, her dad a retired teacher who grilled Arjun on his intentions. 'Treat her like a queen,' he said sternly. Months of approvals, horoscope checks, and meetings led to engagement. The ring was simple gold, slipped on her finger at a small ceremony with garlands and sweets.
The wedding was a blend of traditions—two days of rituals in a Mumbai banquet hall. Mehendi night, Priya's hands adorned with intricate henna, Arjun stealing touches. Sangeet with dances, aunties teasing about the first night. The baraat arrived with dhol beats, Arjun on a white horse, heart racing. Vows exchanged under the mandap, fire flickering as they circled it seven times. 'You'll always be mine,' he whispered during the pheras. She squeezed his hand. 'And you mine.'
Finally, the reception ended late, guests waving goodbye. In the decorated car, heading to their new flat in Powai, Priya leaned on his shoulder. 'I'm nervous,' she admitted. Arjun kissed her forehead. 'Me too. But we'll take it slow.' The flat was modest, gifted by both families—white walls, a king bed with rose petals scattered by his sister, fairy lights twinkling.
They entered, the door clicking shut. Arjun carried her over the threshold, both giggling like kids. He set her down in the bedroom, the air scented with jasmine from the garlands still around their necks. Priya's lehenga was heavy red silk, gold embroidery gleaming, her blouse low-cut revealing the curve of her breasts. Arjun's sherwani felt stiff, but he shrugged it off first, revealing his toned chest from gym sessions.
'Sit,' she said softly, guiding him to the bed. Her fingers trembled as she removed her jewelry—bangles clinking, necklace unclasped. Arjun watched, mesmerized. 'You're beautiful,' he said, voice husky. Priya blushed, stepping out of her lehenga. Underneath, red lingerie—bra and panties his gift, lacy and sheer. Her body was soft, curves from home-cooked meals, hips wide, skin glowing like polished teak.
He stood, pulling her close. Their kiss started gentle, lips brushing, tongues tentative. But passion built. Arjun's hands roamed her back, unhooking the bra. Her breasts spilled free—full C-cups, dark nipples hardening in the cool air. He cupped them, thumbs circling. Priya gasped, arching. 'Arjun...' She tugged at his kurta, exposing his boxers, his cock already straining, thick and hard.
They tumbled onto the bed, petals sticking to their skin. Priya's hand slid down, stroking him through the fabric. 'I want to feel you,' she whispered, eyes locked on his. He nodded, sliding her panties off. Her pussy was neat, trimmed, already slick with arousal. Arjun kissed down her neck, sucking lightly, leaving faint marks. His mouth found her nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing. She moaned, fingers in his hair.
Lower still, he trailed kisses over her belly, to her thighs. Priya tensed. 'What are you—oh!' His tongue touched her clit, lapping gently. She was sweet, musky, her hips bucking instinctively. 'Feels good?' he asked, looking up. 'Yes, don't stop.' He sucked her folds, finger sliding into her tight heat. She was wet, walls clenching, untouched until now.
Priya pulled him up after her first shuddering orgasm, body trembling. 'Your turn.' She pushed him back, kissing his chest, abs, then freeing his cock—seven inches, veined, tip glistening. Her hand wrapped around, stroking slow. Arjun groaned. She leaned down, lips parting to take him in. Her mouth was warm, tongue swirling the head. She bobbed, inexperienced but eager, saliva coating him.
'I can't wait anymore,' Arjun said, voice rough. He rolled her under him, positioning between her legs. Priya nodded, legs wrapping his waist. 'Be gentle.' The tip pressed at her entrance, pushing in slow. She was tight, a soft cry escaping as he broke through. He paused, kissing her tears. 'I love you.' Inch by inch, he filled her, her pussy stretching around him.
Once seated deep, he started thrusting—slow at first, building rhythm. Priya's nails dug into his back, moans mixing with his grunts. 'Harder,' she urged, hips rising to meet him. The bed creaked, skin slapping. Sweat beaded on their bodies, the room filling with their scents. Arjun's hand slipped between, rubbing her clit. She came again, walls pulsing, milking him.
He flipped her onto her side, entering from behind, spooning close. One hand on her breast, pinching nipple, the other on her hip. 'Priya, you're mine.' She pushed back, grinding. 'Forever.' Pace quickened, his balls tightening. 'I'm close,' he warned. 'Inside me,' she begged. With a final thrust, he came, hot spurts filling her pussy, her name on his lips.
They collapsed, tangled, breathing heavy. Arjun pulled out, cum leaking onto the sheets. He held her, kissing her shoulder. 'That was perfect.' Priya smiled, tracing his jaw. 'Our beginning.' They talked softly—about kids someday, travels to Kerala beaches, building a home. Sleep came with her head on his chest, hearts synced.
Morning light filtered through curtains. Priya woke first, slipping down to kiss his morning wood. 'Round two?' she teased. Arjun grinned, pulling her on top. She straddled, guiding him in, riding slow. Her breasts bounced, his hands guiding her hips. They made love again, lazy and loving, ending in shared release.
Life unfolded sweetly. Arjun's startup idea took shape with Priya's illustrations for the app. Family visits, festivals—Diwali lights, Holi colors—strengthened their bond. Intimacy grew; she learned to take him in her mouth deeper, he explored her ass with fingers one adventurous night, promising more. But always, pure love anchored them.
Years later, with a baby on the way, they'd reminisce about that first night. 'Love at first sight,' Arjun would say, hand on her belly. Priya nodded. 'And every sight since.' Their story, woven in Mumbai's chaos, was timeless romance.
OUTPOST05
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