[sakurasan]

Chapter 15 Other Lips — Part 3

The next three days went by in a blink. It got sharpest at the stove.

“We are going to play Ratatouille.”

“Don’t pull my hair.”

His hands went in through the shoulder holes of her sleeveless gown. His palms pushed her bra cups down and caught her nipples.

“This is my controller. From now, my orders come only through this.”

“Let’s calibrate.” She winked.

He shifted her left boob toward the salt. Her left hand followed.

“Did I do it right.”

He pressed that nipple. Her fingers closed on the salt box.

“Ouch. Press lightly.”

He pressed again, lighter. He pulled her left boob in the direction of the pan. Her left hand carried the box that way. He kept pulling.

“Should I keep going till you put my boob in the center.”

He tapped once, light.

He drew her right boob in a small circle. Her left hand moved.

He pressed the left nipple harder.

“Ouch. Wrong hand.”

She moved the spoon to her right. He drew the right boob again. Her right hand followed. He tapped once, light.

He used both. The left boob took her left hand to the salt. The right kept the spoon turning. A light press on the left dropped salt into the stir. Her nipples stood stiff under his fingers. She was wet. She finished the dish with his hands still on both boobs.


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After that she wore a crop top to cook. She started getting the hang of it. By the second day she lifted the top above her boobs before he came into the kitchen.

In the evenings Rohan tasted the food and kept praising it.

“This is really good. Yesterday also. This vacation is doing you real good. You are learning so much.”

Only my boobs know how much work this took, she thought.

“All inspiration from your Ma.”

After Rohan finished the boxes, they started their house hunt talks. He came around again to the same building they had seen on Saturday. She said she had read the parent documents and they were looking fine. Once her brother confirmed after legal verification, they would see. In between those talks she used video game references here and there. Rohan heard them and understood Kunal was spending more time talking with her in the mornings. Rohan assumed they were still by the tree. He had no idea Kunal had already entered the flat.

Friday late afternoon Kunal and Isha came back from the market. She was in a t-shirt and jeans for the bike.

“I have no shoot today. I will leave after I arrange these and wash the utensils.”

“Thanks. But Rohan should be coming now. Let me go change.”

“This dress is nice. Why change.”

“Rohan always sees me in a saree.”

“I am saying the same. Give my brother some variety.”

Kunal had a point. Rohan had always told her to dress the way she liked. She stayed in the t-shirt and jeans.

Isha got into the car. Her boobs stood more freely than they did in a blouse. Rohan was happy to see them, and he looked at her chest the whole way. At the park she sat with his head in her lap.

“Do you like my dress.”

“They are fine.”

“I saw the drool in the car. Don’t act like you noticed nothing.”

“Yes. It is as good as a saree. But by now, in a saree, my head would be inside the pallu, playing with your belly button.”

“Who is stopping you.”

She took the end of the t-shirt and pulled it over his face. The cloth held him tight against her stomach. He licked her tummy.




“Stop it. It is tickling.”

He moved his head up instead. His face went between her boobs and met the bra cups, still under the shirt. He turned from one cup to the other, his open mouth and his nose rubbing the skin between them and the cloth of the cups. Each turn pressed his cheek into one cup and then the other. The shirt hid him and showed the shape of his head moving.

“Someone might see us.”

“My fiancée. My head. I am not stopping.”

He stayed there, shaking his face between the cups, until his neck tired and sweat ran from his hair down her ribs. He pulled his head out. His face was red and wet.

That night she wrote to him.

“The pictures from the studio evenings.”

“Yes. You still have not shown me.”

“I thought I will gift it on honeymoon.”

“Oh. That sexy, is it.”

“Dirty fellow. Just different dresses. That is all.”

She sent the tight T-shirt and jeans from the studio. He opened it. He had already come to that frame on other nights. He typed.

“I am getting hungry.”

“Why.”

“You look so delicious to eat.”

“You want more.”

“Are you kidding. I need all of it.”

She sent the crop top. Her belly was bare, the navel in the frame.

“God. Send the next one also.”

She sent the cocktail dress, the slit high on her thigh. He sent a gif of a man drooling, and she sent Wonder Woman. He sent the gif where a heart bursts out of a shirt. She sent Supergirl after it. He sent a gif with hearts for eyes. He was in bed. He took his cock in his hand and came before he typed.

That weekend they went back to the building. They walked each area and painted the walls in their imagination, saying what the space could be.

Monday afternoon she hugged Kunal for the goodbye kiss. He held her tight. He had missed her all weekend, and his hands went all over her back. She was in a gown. He pressed her ass. There were no panties.

“I want a different kiss.”

“What can be different in a kiss.”

“Close your eyes. I will show you.”

She closed them.

He crossed his arms, took her hips, and lifted her upside down. The gown slid and piled on his hands at her hips. Her ass and her cunt were bare in the air. Her legs went every way. Her hands closed on his hips. His cock stood hard under his clothes.




“What the hell are you”

His mouth was on her cunt before she could finish.

He licked her in one long stroke, from the bottom of her slit to the top. She heard it, wet. The first taste was salt and warm skin, only a thin film.

“Ahh.”

“Is Cathy liking it.”

He licked her again. A clear wet came onto his tongue, light, still salt. No mouth had been on her pussy before.

“Ahh. Ahh. Yes.”

“That is Tyson. Kiss him. Cathy is getting hers.”

Her open mouth found his cock through the cloth. She kissed the hard length of it.

“Mmm.”

He licked her again, and her hips jerked in his hands.

“Ahh. Kunal. Ahh.”

They went on like that. Her arms hurt from holding his hips. He kept her up. Then she said, “Suck me. Ahh. Suck Cathy.”

He sucked. His lips sealed around her clit. She heard the pull. He drew on her until the juice ran thicker, sweet under the salt, and filled his mouth. He swallowed.

“Ahh. Don’t stop. Ahh.”

“Not stopping. Cathy is pouring.”

He sucked again. She forgot the world. Her fingers dug into his hips. She moaned.

“Mmm. Ahh. Mmm.”

It went on. She hung in his arms. Then she said, “Inside. Ahh. Your tongue. Ahh.”

He pushed his tongue into her and fucked her with it. Each push went in wet. Inside, she was hotter. The taste went heavy, thick cream coating his tongue.

“Ahh. Inside. Ahh. Ahh.”

“Cathy wants the tongue. Take it.”

Cream kept coming onto his tongue. Each push touched a different part of her pussy, and each one felt like she was coming.

I will need a mouth on me always, she thought. This is the same pleasure as fucking, and there is no pain. This is not baby making. So it is not really sex. It gives so much pleasure. Why should you even stop doing this.

She locked her legs behind his head. Her thighs closed on his neck like a vice and pulled his face in. He worked his face with his tongue. His nose hit her asshole each time his head moved, and she came.

“Kunal. Ahh. I am. Ahh.”

She shook. She kept moaning.

“Ahh. Ahh. Ahh.”

When it passed, Kunal put her on the sofa. She looked at him like someone high on drugs.

“Thanks,” Isha said.

He laughed. He tapped her pussy and pulled the gown down. “You owe Tyson two times now.”

He left.