04-10-2026, 11:39 AM
EPISODE 9-The Game involving Milk Boy
The next few days passed quietly, but not without purpose. I kept the packet from Jatin's shop unopened in my wardrobe, just as I had promised Bikram. The mystery of what lay inside—the dress, the surprise—kept my excitement simmering beneath the surface. I busied myself with writing, my special hobby that mixed real life with fantasy, weaving our stolen moments into stories that made my heart race.
But today, I decided I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to push Bikram for the surprise. So at 5:30 AM, I slipped into my shortest white skirt—the one that barely reached mid-thigh—and a white top that I deliberately dampened near the sink until the fabric clung to my skin like a second layer, revealing the outline of my red thong bikini bra beneath. I applied glossy pink lipstick, took a deep breath, and padded barefoot to Bikram's room with a cup of steaming tea. He was awake, sitting on the edge of his cot, scrolling through his phone. When I entered, his eyes lit up, sweeping over my body with hungry appreciation. "Good morning, darling," I said softly, setting the tea on his bedside table. He pulled me onto his lap, his hand sliding up my thigh, fingers brushing the hem of my skirt. "You look incredible," he murmured against my neck, pressing a kiss there. "Eager for the surprise?"
I nodded, my voice catching. "You said it would come soon. I want it. I want to know what you've planned." He smiled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Patience, my sweet. But I have exciting news. Rohan is looking for another car to expand his rental business. I've found a perfect offer—from someone far away. Rohan will need to go out of station to close the deal. I've arranged everything so you and I will have the house to ourselves for at least two days." My heart leaped. "But what if he takes you with him?" "I've thought of that too. He won't. You'll see when the time comes." I kissed him, my excitement mounting. I felt the hardness pressing against my thigh through his pajamas. A playful idea sparked in my chest. I let my hand drift down, brushing over the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath my touch. Bikram groaned softly, his hand tangling in my hair. "You're playing with fire, Saini." I smiled, leaning down to press my lips against the bulge. Through the thin cotton, I kissed him—slow, deliberate, letting my breath warm the fabric. His hips lifted slightly, and I could taste his need in the air. But when he tried to guide my head lower, I pulled back, shaking my head. "Not yet," I whispered, my voice steady even as my heart hammered. "I'm not ready for that." He paused, then chuckled, releasing my hair and leaning back on his hands. "Fair enough. You set your own pace." His eyes danced with that mischievous glint I loved. "But you've given me an idea."
I stayed on his lap, my skirt riding up dangerously high, skin against his rough pajamas. "What kind of idea?" He reached for his tea, took a sip, then set it aside. "I met Chotu yesterday. He mentioned you. Said you look very sexy when you go out in the mornings. How you tease him with those short skirts and low-cut tops." A flush crept up my neck. I hadn't realized Chotu noticed me that much. "He said that?"
"He did." Bikram's hand slid up my thigh again, fingers pressing into the soft skin just below my hip. "So here's the game. Every morning at six, you'll go to collect milk from him. Wear your most revealing clothes. But you cannot let him touch you. Not a f inger. The day Chotu says 'Mazaa aaya'—the day he admits he enjoyed watching you— you win. And you'll get your surprise." My breath caught. The thought of parading in front of Chotu, feeling his eyes on me, while Bikram watched from a distance—it made my stomach flutter with nervous excitement. "And if I lose?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. "Then you wait longer. And you fulfill one wish of mine without question." I bit my lip, imagining what that wish could be. But I wasn't going to lose. I could feel the heat pooling between my thighs, the challenge lighting a fire inside me. "I'll win," I said, sliding off his lap and smoothing down my damp top. "Ask him to come at six. Rohan sleeps like a log. I can experiment more." Bikram grinned, reaching out to trace the line of my jaw. "I knew you'd say that. I'll arrange it. Now go—before you wake the whole house with that look in your eyes." I kissed him once more, quick and fierce, then slipped out of his room. My heart raced as I padded back to my own room, already planning what I'd wear tomorrow. The shortest skirt I owned. The top that barely covered my breasts. Maybe a little more gloss. The game was on. And I intended to win.
Every morning for the past few days, I had gone to collect milk wearing something scandalous—a short skirt, a low-cut top, a dress that showed just enough to leave Chotu stammering. He had started complimenting me, his eyes lingering, but never spoke the magical words. This morning, I decided to take it further. I let the damp top cling to my breasts, the red bra clearly visible through the fabric. I walked to open the door with deliberate slowness, my hips swaying, my heart pounding. Chotu was already there, his eyes widening as I approached. "Didi, aap aaj bahut sexy lag rahe ho," he said, his voice thick.
I smiled, bending down to pick up the empty milk can—and as I did, I deliberately dropped the clothes I was carrying onto the floor. I bent lower to pick them up, knowing my short skirt rode up, revealing the red thong bikini bottom that barely covered my ass. I could feel his gaze burning into me. When I straightened, Chotu's mouth was hanging open, his eyes fixed on my body. He didn't speak. He just stared, frozen. I knew in that moment—I had won the game. But that night, when I asked Bikram, he shook his head. "He just said 'he did not enjoy fully.'"And somehow, that made me even more excited. I smiled, not disappointed, but thrilled. Because I understood now. Bikram had set this game not for me to win, but to push me further. And the thought of what wish he would demand—what filthy, unrefusable command he had waiting—made my body hum with anticipation. As I lay in bed that night, I shivered, imagining what he would ask of me. Something that would push every boundary I had. Something I couldn't say no to. And I couldn't wait.
The next few days passed quietly, but not without purpose. I kept the packet from Jatin's shop unopened in my wardrobe, just as I had promised Bikram. The mystery of what lay inside—the dress, the surprise—kept my excitement simmering beneath the surface. I busied myself with writing, my special hobby that mixed real life with fantasy, weaving our stolen moments into stories that made my heart race.
But today, I decided I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to push Bikram for the surprise. So at 5:30 AM, I slipped into my shortest white skirt—the one that barely reached mid-thigh—and a white top that I deliberately dampened near the sink until the fabric clung to my skin like a second layer, revealing the outline of my red thong bikini bra beneath. I applied glossy pink lipstick, took a deep breath, and padded barefoot to Bikram's room with a cup of steaming tea. He was awake, sitting on the edge of his cot, scrolling through his phone. When I entered, his eyes lit up, sweeping over my body with hungry appreciation. "Good morning, darling," I said softly, setting the tea on his bedside table. He pulled me onto his lap, his hand sliding up my thigh, fingers brushing the hem of my skirt. "You look incredible," he murmured against my neck, pressing a kiss there. "Eager for the surprise?"
I nodded, my voice catching. "You said it would come soon. I want it. I want to know what you've planned." He smiled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Patience, my sweet. But I have exciting news. Rohan is looking for another car to expand his rental business. I've found a perfect offer—from someone far away. Rohan will need to go out of station to close the deal. I've arranged everything so you and I will have the house to ourselves for at least two days." My heart leaped. "But what if he takes you with him?" "I've thought of that too. He won't. You'll see when the time comes." I kissed him, my excitement mounting. I felt the hardness pressing against my thigh through his pajamas. A playful idea sparked in my chest. I let my hand drift down, brushing over the fabric, feeling him twitch beneath my touch. Bikram groaned softly, his hand tangling in my hair. "You're playing with fire, Saini." I smiled, leaning down to press my lips against the bulge. Through the thin cotton, I kissed him—slow, deliberate, letting my breath warm the fabric. His hips lifted slightly, and I could taste his need in the air. But when he tried to guide my head lower, I pulled back, shaking my head. "Not yet," I whispered, my voice steady even as my heart hammered. "I'm not ready for that." He paused, then chuckled, releasing my hair and leaning back on his hands. "Fair enough. You set your own pace." His eyes danced with that mischievous glint I loved. "But you've given me an idea."
I stayed on his lap, my skirt riding up dangerously high, skin against his rough pajamas. "What kind of idea?" He reached for his tea, took a sip, then set it aside. "I met Chotu yesterday. He mentioned you. Said you look very sexy when you go out in the mornings. How you tease him with those short skirts and low-cut tops." A flush crept up my neck. I hadn't realized Chotu noticed me that much. "He said that?"
"He did." Bikram's hand slid up my thigh again, fingers pressing into the soft skin just below my hip. "So here's the game. Every morning at six, you'll go to collect milk from him. Wear your most revealing clothes. But you cannot let him touch you. Not a f inger. The day Chotu says 'Mazaa aaya'—the day he admits he enjoyed watching you— you win. And you'll get your surprise." My breath caught. The thought of parading in front of Chotu, feeling his eyes on me, while Bikram watched from a distance—it made my stomach flutter with nervous excitement. "And if I lose?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. "Then you wait longer. And you fulfill one wish of mine without question." I bit my lip, imagining what that wish could be. But I wasn't going to lose. I could feel the heat pooling between my thighs, the challenge lighting a fire inside me. "I'll win," I said, sliding off his lap and smoothing down my damp top. "Ask him to come at six. Rohan sleeps like a log. I can experiment more." Bikram grinned, reaching out to trace the line of my jaw. "I knew you'd say that. I'll arrange it. Now go—before you wake the whole house with that look in your eyes." I kissed him once more, quick and fierce, then slipped out of his room. My heart raced as I padded back to my own room, already planning what I'd wear tomorrow. The shortest skirt I owned. The top that barely covered my breasts. Maybe a little more gloss. The game was on. And I intended to win.
Every morning for the past few days, I had gone to collect milk wearing something scandalous—a short skirt, a low-cut top, a dress that showed just enough to leave Chotu stammering. He had started complimenting me, his eyes lingering, but never spoke the magical words. This morning, I decided to take it further. I let the damp top cling to my breasts, the red bra clearly visible through the fabric. I walked to open the door with deliberate slowness, my hips swaying, my heart pounding. Chotu was already there, his eyes widening as I approached. "Didi, aap aaj bahut sexy lag rahe ho," he said, his voice thick.
I smiled, bending down to pick up the empty milk can—and as I did, I deliberately dropped the clothes I was carrying onto the floor. I bent lower to pick them up, knowing my short skirt rode up, revealing the red thong bikini bottom that barely covered my ass. I could feel his gaze burning into me. When I straightened, Chotu's mouth was hanging open, his eyes fixed on my body. He didn't speak. He just stared, frozen. I knew in that moment—I had won the game. But that night, when I asked Bikram, he shook his head. "He just said 'he did not enjoy fully.'"And somehow, that made me even more excited. I smiled, not disappointed, but thrilled. Because I understood now. Bikram had set this game not for me to win, but to push me further. And the thought of what wish he would demand—what filthy, unrefusable command he had waiting—made my body hum with anticipation. As I lay in bed that night, I shivered, imagining what he would ask of me. Something that would push every boundary I had. Something I couldn't say no to. And I couldn't wait.
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