21-08-2019, 04:36 AM
(This post was last modified: 21-08-2019, 05:10 AM by vishy88. Edited 1 time in total. Edited 1 time in total.)
I couldn't sleep that night. I thought of all the things I should have told her to get more time with her. I thought of the smell she had when we in the lift. Alcoholic rose and mint. I thought about being the mint in her mouth. Her teeth pulling the sides of those pink, fleshy lips. And her smile. Her hypnotizing smile. The alluring, lustful smile that seemed to call me like a thirsty traveler for water in a desert. Megha. Megha. The cloud raining on my peace.
"Did you know that the penthouse is occupied?" I said to Janaki.
"What? Really? I don't think that's possible," she said.
"Because the lift has no sixteenth floor?"
"Exactly."
So was I daydreaming? The more I thought about her, our meetings, the more desperate I became. I looked for her in the gym, in the lift, even waited for hours in the morning to see if she went down to get something.
But nothing happened. The lift never came or went to the sixteenth floor.
It was raining and I had just finished a massive workout. That made me really horny. I remembered the smell she had when were in the lift last time. It was still lingering. If I could go there now, maybe I can catch up with her and chit chat about the bad weather.
I pressed fifteen and almost jumped up and down because of the excitement. When the lift opened, I rushed out, went into our kitchen, grabbed the tin of gulab jamuns that Janaki kept for her midnight snacking and ran back to the lift.
I pressed 15&1. The lift went up.
It opened to an empty passage that had a door to its left and the terrace to the right. Whoever came to the pool and cafe came to our floor and took the staircase. The terrace for tenants was separated by a wall, and it was not that noisy with everyone taking a peaceful rainy evening on the other side.
I knocked on the door. There was no response. But as I turned to leave, I heard footsteps inside, approaching.
"Vishal!" Megha said peeping out through the gap between the chained door and its latch.
"Hey," I said, lost for words. The first thing I noticed was her cleavage as she leaned on the door. "Gulab jamun for a better figure?"
"What" she said, "Oh, where have you been? In the rain?"
Well, my shirt was sticking to my sweat. "The gym. Remembered you. Thought I'll make a visit to my neighbor with a housewarming gift."
She opened the door. This time she was wearing a similar attire but in black.
"How thoughtful," she said, taking the gulab jamun from me. "Come in, Vishal."
As she took the gulab jamun tin and turned, the current went off. For a single breath I saw her back. Her almost bare back. The pallu fell beside her curvy hips, nicely framing her muscly spinal column. She had held her hair on the front, tied up this time, so the nothing but the noodle straps covered her back. I didn't see the straps of her bra. And the blouse she had on was sleeveless, not full-sleeved. Thank god.
I guided myself by the wall, with flashes of lightning intermittently showing me the way. I stole a glance of her back again, the curves of her ass outlined against the grey sky beyond the balcony. The white-blue light fleshed out her figure, flooding me with visions of all the pleasure it can give me. I was lost in the sight of her fading into darkness with her fragrance, fair skin, that smile which can pulse out any drooping penis. She was gone. I was lost for a moment from this life by the lust that vacuumed my soul. I sat down on the sofa I had stumbled into
I felt the footsteps approaching, again. I looked up. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black with shafts of grey blinking now and again. "Sorry, Vishal. We don't have an inverter. You are sitting on the candle."
"What? No. I am sitting on a sofa," I said, recovering my stupid sense of humor.
"The candle, the only candle in the house, that is," she emphasized, "is in the crack of the seat. Give it to me."
"Where?" I felt the sides of the plush coverings. "I don't think it's here."
"Oh!" Megha leaned to the right side from left. I thought she was in front. The fragrance of alcoholic rose and mint wafted up from her hair. The mint came from a shampoo. A lightning struck outside and her bare back came to life for my eyes. It was so close that I could lick it if I leaned forward.
Megha's fingers groped to the back of the sofa seat. She leaned even closer, with her breast throbbing up and down against my wet chest. She was not wearing a bra. The full weight and softness pressed against me lightly, her nipple swelling to life inside that nearly transparent black blouse. Another lightning flashed. The cleavage between her ball-sized, tender breasts shifted from a deep-V to a shallow-U. Her hair fell by my right cheek as she leaned past me. Something solid moved beneath. It was the candle. As she took it, her nipple grazed on my fingers and I let it slide as she slowly straightened up. Her nipples were damp, or it was her blouse. Or it was my fingers. I slipped my finger into my mouth and the current came back on. Megha stared at me with a candle in her hand.
"Did you know that the penthouse is occupied?" I said to Janaki.
"What? Really? I don't think that's possible," she said.
"Because the lift has no sixteenth floor?"
"Exactly."
So was I daydreaming? The more I thought about her, our meetings, the more desperate I became. I looked for her in the gym, in the lift, even waited for hours in the morning to see if she went down to get something.
But nothing happened. The lift never came or went to the sixteenth floor.
It was raining and I had just finished a massive workout. That made me really horny. I remembered the smell she had when were in the lift last time. It was still lingering. If I could go there now, maybe I can catch up with her and chit chat about the bad weather.
I pressed fifteen and almost jumped up and down because of the excitement. When the lift opened, I rushed out, went into our kitchen, grabbed the tin of gulab jamuns that Janaki kept for her midnight snacking and ran back to the lift.
I pressed 15&1. The lift went up.
It opened to an empty passage that had a door to its left and the terrace to the right. Whoever came to the pool and cafe came to our floor and took the staircase. The terrace for tenants was separated by a wall, and it was not that noisy with everyone taking a peaceful rainy evening on the other side.
I knocked on the door. There was no response. But as I turned to leave, I heard footsteps inside, approaching.
"Vishal!" Megha said peeping out through the gap between the chained door and its latch.
"Hey," I said, lost for words. The first thing I noticed was her cleavage as she leaned on the door. "Gulab jamun for a better figure?"
"What" she said, "Oh, where have you been? In the rain?"
Well, my shirt was sticking to my sweat. "The gym. Remembered you. Thought I'll make a visit to my neighbor with a housewarming gift."
She opened the door. This time she was wearing a similar attire but in black.
"How thoughtful," she said, taking the gulab jamun from me. "Come in, Vishal."
As she took the gulab jamun tin and turned, the current went off. For a single breath I saw her back. Her almost bare back. The pallu fell beside her curvy hips, nicely framing her muscly spinal column. She had held her hair on the front, tied up this time, so the nothing but the noodle straps covered her back. I didn't see the straps of her bra. And the blouse she had on was sleeveless, not full-sleeved. Thank god.
I guided myself by the wall, with flashes of lightning intermittently showing me the way. I stole a glance of her back again, the curves of her ass outlined against the grey sky beyond the balcony. The white-blue light fleshed out her figure, flooding me with visions of all the pleasure it can give me. I was lost in the sight of her fading into darkness with her fragrance, fair skin, that smile which can pulse out any drooping penis. She was gone. I was lost for a moment from this life by the lust that vacuumed my soul. I sat down on the sofa I had stumbled into
I felt the footsteps approaching, again. I looked up. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch black with shafts of grey blinking now and again. "Sorry, Vishal. We don't have an inverter. You are sitting on the candle."
"What? No. I am sitting on a sofa," I said, recovering my stupid sense of humor.
"The candle, the only candle in the house, that is," she emphasized, "is in the crack of the seat. Give it to me."
"Where?" I felt the sides of the plush coverings. "I don't think it's here."
"Oh!" Megha leaned to the right side from left. I thought she was in front. The fragrance of alcoholic rose and mint wafted up from her hair. The mint came from a shampoo. A lightning struck outside and her bare back came to life for my eyes. It was so close that I could lick it if I leaned forward.
Megha's fingers groped to the back of the sofa seat. She leaned even closer, with her breast throbbing up and down against my wet chest. She was not wearing a bra. The full weight and softness pressed against me lightly, her nipple swelling to life inside that nearly transparent black blouse. Another lightning flashed. The cleavage between her ball-sized, tender breasts shifted from a deep-V to a shallow-U. Her hair fell by my right cheek as she leaned past me. Something solid moved beneath. It was the candle. As she took it, her nipple grazed on my fingers and I let it slide as she slowly straightened up. Her nipples were damp, or it was her blouse. Or it was my fingers. I slipped my finger into my mouth and the current came back on. Megha stared at me with a candle in her hand.
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