27-05-2026, 06:35 AM
**Story Continuation: The Tempo Ride & Delivery**
A few days after Uncle Rajesh’s visit, we decided to go shopping again for innerwear. The previous pieces were getting worn out, and after all the recent embarrassments, we wanted fresh ones. We went to the small local market near Kaiserbagh and bought simple, affordable sets (nothing over ₹180 each).
- I (Pragya) got 2 skin-coloured hipster panty + bra sets.
- Aanya picked bright pink and black bikini-style sets.
- Maa chose 2 full-coverage beige bras with matching high-waist boy shorts.
We packed them in a thin plastic bag and took a shared tempo back home because autos were expensive that day.
---
The tempo was crowded. We somehow managed to sit together on the side bench. Opposite us sat a young man in his late 20s — dark complexion, wearing a simple shirt and jeans. From the moment we boarded, he kept staring at us continuously. His eyes moved from Maa’s heavy chest pressing against her saree, to Aanya’s thighs in her short kurti, and then to my tight leggings.
The tempo was bumpy. Suddenly, the thin plastic bag slipped from my lap. One by one, our new panty sets fell out and scattered on the dirty tempo floor.
My skin-coloured hipsters landed near his feet. Aanya’s bright pink bikini panties fell right between his legs. Maa’s beige high-waist boy shorts also dropped open. The guy’s eyes widened. He slowly picked up one piece (Aanya’s pink panty) pretending to help, but instead of handing it back immediately, he stared at them openly. His other hand moved to his crotch and he started rubbing slowly over his jeans, not caring that we could see.
The sexual tension was thick. We quickly gathered our scattered panties, faces burning red with shame. He kept staring with a dirty smile, his hand still pressing his growing bulge. No one spoke. The entire ride felt endless.
---
Two days later, we ordered food online for dinner. When the doorbell rang, I (Pragya) went to receive it, thinking it was just another delivery boy.
It was the **same guy** from the tempo!
He looked at me and smirked. “Ma’am… your house number is 247, right? I remembered after seeing you that day.” I tried to act normal and avoid eye contact, but he clearly recognized all three of us. He handed over the food packet with a knowing look.
When we opened the packet inside, a small chit fell out along with the food.
On the chit was written in bold letters:
“Pragya – Skin hipster
Aanya – Pink bikini
Nalini ji – Beige boy shorts
Call me if you need more ‘comfort’ ?
[His phone number]”
He had noted down the exact sizes and colours of the panties that had fallen in the tempo. He now knew our house and had our “secret” from that embarrassing ride.
Maa’s face turned pale. Aanya whispered, “He must have been rubbing while thinking about our panties…”
I felt a deep shiver of embarrassment mixed with strange excitement. Another man had been added to the list — the tempo guy — who now knew intimate details about what we wore underneath.
Our simple shopping trip had once again turned into another shameful incident.
---
A few days after Uncle Rajesh’s visit, we decided to go shopping again for innerwear. The previous pieces were getting worn out, and after all the recent embarrassments, we wanted fresh ones. We went to the small local market near Kaiserbagh and bought simple, affordable sets (nothing over ₹180 each).
- I (Pragya) got 2 skin-coloured hipster panty + bra sets.
- Aanya picked bright pink and black bikini-style sets.
- Maa chose 2 full-coverage beige bras with matching high-waist boy shorts.
We packed them in a thin plastic bag and took a shared tempo back home because autos were expensive that day.
---
The tempo was crowded. We somehow managed to sit together on the side bench. Opposite us sat a young man in his late 20s — dark complexion, wearing a simple shirt and jeans. From the moment we boarded, he kept staring at us continuously. His eyes moved from Maa’s heavy chest pressing against her saree, to Aanya’s thighs in her short kurti, and then to my tight leggings.
The tempo was bumpy. Suddenly, the thin plastic bag slipped from my lap. One by one, our new panty sets fell out and scattered on the dirty tempo floor.
My skin-coloured hipsters landed near his feet. Aanya’s bright pink bikini panties fell right between his legs. Maa’s beige high-waist boy shorts also dropped open. The guy’s eyes widened. He slowly picked up one piece (Aanya’s pink panty) pretending to help, but instead of handing it back immediately, he stared at them openly. His other hand moved to his crotch and he started rubbing slowly over his jeans, not caring that we could see.
The sexual tension was thick. We quickly gathered our scattered panties, faces burning red with shame. He kept staring with a dirty smile, his hand still pressing his growing bulge. No one spoke. The entire ride felt endless.
---
Two days later, we ordered food online for dinner. When the doorbell rang, I (Pragya) went to receive it, thinking it was just another delivery boy.
It was the **same guy** from the tempo!
He looked at me and smirked. “Ma’am… your house number is 247, right? I remembered after seeing you that day.” I tried to act normal and avoid eye contact, but he clearly recognized all three of us. He handed over the food packet with a knowing look.
When we opened the packet inside, a small chit fell out along with the food.
On the chit was written in bold letters:
“Pragya – Skin hipster
Aanya – Pink bikini
Nalini ji – Beige boy shorts
Call me if you need more ‘comfort’ ?
[His phone number]”
He had noted down the exact sizes and colours of the panties that had fallen in the tempo. He now knew our house and had our “secret” from that embarrassing ride.
Maa’s face turned pale. Aanya whispered, “He must have been rubbing while thinking about our panties…”
I felt a deep shiver of embarrassment mixed with strange excitement. Another man had been added to the list — the tempo guy — who now knew intimate details about what we wore underneath.
Our simple shopping trip had once again turned into another shameful incident.
---
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