9 hours ago
Chapter 5 – Close Calls
The move-in happened faster than Nivi liked.
Prakash’s apartment felt like a palace after the chawl room — two bedrooms, attached bathrooms, a proper kitchen, even a small balcony where sunlight poured in.
Prem was grateful. “Safer for you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “And Prakash is a good guy.”
Nivi nodded, uneasy but trusting Prem’s judgment.
Prakash played the perfect host — carried their bags, showed Aara the balcony, cooked a simple dinner.
But once they settled, he began.
Subtly.
The master bedroom door had an old-fashioned keyhole, large enough.
One night, Prem asleep early from exhaustion, Nivi in their room preparing for bed.
Prakash “passed by” in the hallway, silent on bare feet.
He knelt, eye pressed to the keyhole.
Nivi stood in the soft lamp light, back partially to the door, unaware.
She unpinned her pallu, let the saree slide down her body in a whisper of fabric, pooling at her feet. Fair skin glowing warm, smooth and flawless. She unhooked her blouse, buttons one by one, shrugging it off.
Bra next — simple cotton, but straining against her full breasts.
She reached behind, unclasped it. Breasts spilled free — round, heavy, nipples dark and erect in the cool air.
She bent to pick up her nightie, body stretching, backside curving perfectly in her petticoat.
Prakash’s breath fogged the metal. Hand pressed hard against his crotch.
Fuck. Look at her. So pure. So ready.
The next morning, opportunity.
“My bathroom pipe’s leaking bad,” he told Prem at breakfast, casual. “Mind if I use yours quick?”
Prem nodded. “Go ahead.”
Nivi was in the kitchen, making coffee.
Prakash slipped into their bathroom.
The laundry basket — her yesterday’s panty and bra on top, still faintly warm. He grabbed them, heart hammering.
Panty first — soft cotton, slight dampness at the crotch. He pressed it to his face, inhaled deep.
Her scent — clean soap mixed with womanly musk, faint sweat from the day.
Cock out instantly, hard and throbbing.
He wrapped the panty around his shaft, stroking slow at first, then faster.
Bra in the other hand, imagining her fair breasts in his mouth, nipples between his teeth.
Innocent little thing. Thinks she’s safe. I’ll ruin that tight body. Pound her till she cries my name.
He came hard, biting his lip to stay silent, spilling thick into the fabric. Cleaned up fast, left them damp in the basket.
No one knew.
Nivi continued her secret shifts at the textile shop.
Once Prem and Prakash left for office, she’d lock the door and go — back by evening, before they returned.
Rakesh was waiting every day.
Friendly. Too friendly. Standing close when showing stock, breath on her neck.
Eyes on her blouse when she reached high. “Fair skin like yours, Nivi — silk blouses would look stunning.”
She move away politely, stayed near the other women staff. Never alone.
Prakash grew impatient.
Prem’s new desk job meant more time together at office — tea breaks, lunch chats, friendship deepening.
But Prakash didn’t want to stop at stolen panties and stolen glances. Masturbating to her scent was good, but not enough. He wanted to taste her. Feel her fair skin under his hands. Hear her gasp his name.
He planned it carefully.
Headache. Half-day leave. Nivi will be home alone. I’ll ask her to apply balm on my forehead. When she leans close… hug her tight, push her on the bed, take her hard. She’ll resist at first, but she’ll give in.
He fixed the day.
That morning at office, he clutched his head. “Bad migraine, boss. Need half day.”
Pratap nodded, but his eyes lingered.
Prakash rushed home, heart racing.
Key in lock — door opened.
Empty.
“Nivi?”
Silence.
He checked every room. Balcony. Bathroom.
Gone.
Where the fuck is she?
Frustration boiled.
They hadn’t got her a mobile yet. If they had, he could’ve called, checked.
Next morning, opportunity.
At breakfast, Prem there, Prakash pulled out a new basic phone, wrapped simply.
“Nivi, this is for you.”
She looked surprised.
He smiled warmly. “Prem once told me he panicked when you were out late. Thought something happened. So I thought — gift from a friend. Now he can always reach you. Don’t make him worry.”
Nivi glanced at Prem.
Prem nodded, grateful. “Good idea. Thanks, man.”
She accepted, shy smile. “Thank you, Prakash.”
Prakash saved her number immediately.
The move-in happened faster than Nivi liked.
Prakash’s apartment felt like a palace after the chawl room — two bedrooms, attached bathrooms, a proper kitchen, even a small balcony where sunlight poured in.
Prem was grateful. “Safer for you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “And Prakash is a good guy.”
Nivi nodded, uneasy but trusting Prem’s judgment.
Prakash played the perfect host — carried their bags, showed Aara the balcony, cooked a simple dinner.
But once they settled, he began.
Subtly.
The master bedroom door had an old-fashioned keyhole, large enough.
One night, Prem asleep early from exhaustion, Nivi in their room preparing for bed.
Prakash “passed by” in the hallway, silent on bare feet.
He knelt, eye pressed to the keyhole.
Nivi stood in the soft lamp light, back partially to the door, unaware.
She unpinned her pallu, let the saree slide down her body in a whisper of fabric, pooling at her feet. Fair skin glowing warm, smooth and flawless. She unhooked her blouse, buttons one by one, shrugging it off.
Bra next — simple cotton, but straining against her full breasts.
She reached behind, unclasped it. Breasts spilled free — round, heavy, nipples dark and erect in the cool air.
She bent to pick up her nightie, body stretching, backside curving perfectly in her petticoat.
Prakash’s breath fogged the metal. Hand pressed hard against his crotch.
Fuck. Look at her. So pure. So ready.
The next morning, opportunity.
“My bathroom pipe’s leaking bad,” he told Prem at breakfast, casual. “Mind if I use yours quick?”
Prem nodded. “Go ahead.”
Nivi was in the kitchen, making coffee.
Prakash slipped into their bathroom.
The laundry basket — her yesterday’s panty and bra on top, still faintly warm. He grabbed them, heart hammering.
Panty first — soft cotton, slight dampness at the crotch. He pressed it to his face, inhaled deep.
Her scent — clean soap mixed with womanly musk, faint sweat from the day.
Cock out instantly, hard and throbbing.
He wrapped the panty around his shaft, stroking slow at first, then faster.
Bra in the other hand, imagining her fair breasts in his mouth, nipples between his teeth.
Innocent little thing. Thinks she’s safe. I’ll ruin that tight body. Pound her till she cries my name.
He came hard, biting his lip to stay silent, spilling thick into the fabric. Cleaned up fast, left them damp in the basket.
No one knew.
Nivi continued her secret shifts at the textile shop.
Once Prem and Prakash left for office, she’d lock the door and go — back by evening, before they returned.
Rakesh was waiting every day.
Friendly. Too friendly. Standing close when showing stock, breath on her neck.
Eyes on her blouse when she reached high. “Fair skin like yours, Nivi — silk blouses would look stunning.”
She move away politely, stayed near the other women staff. Never alone.
Prakash grew impatient.
Prem’s new desk job meant more time together at office — tea breaks, lunch chats, friendship deepening.
But Prakash didn’t want to stop at stolen panties and stolen glances. Masturbating to her scent was good, but not enough. He wanted to taste her. Feel her fair skin under his hands. Hear her gasp his name.
He planned it carefully.
Headache. Half-day leave. Nivi will be home alone. I’ll ask her to apply balm on my forehead. When she leans close… hug her tight, push her on the bed, take her hard. She’ll resist at first, but she’ll give in.
He fixed the day.
That morning at office, he clutched his head. “Bad migraine, boss. Need half day.”
Pratap nodded, but his eyes lingered.
Prakash rushed home, heart racing.
Key in lock — door opened.
Empty.
“Nivi?”
Silence.
He checked every room. Balcony. Bathroom.
Gone.
Where the fuck is she?
Frustration boiled.
They hadn’t got her a mobile yet. If they had, he could’ve called, checked.
Next morning, opportunity.
At breakfast, Prem there, Prakash pulled out a new basic phone, wrapped simply.
“Nivi, this is for you.”
She looked surprised.
He smiled warmly. “Prem once told me he panicked when you were out late. Thought something happened. So I thought — gift from a friend. Now he can always reach you. Don’t make him worry.”
Nivi glanced at Prem.
Prem nodded, grateful. “Good idea. Thanks, man.”
She accepted, shy smile. “Thank you, Prakash.”
Prakash saved her number immediately.
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