Misc. Erotica DEEPIKA'S CELEBRATION

[divyanair]

Hi my dear fellow readers,

This is my first attempt in writing a story. Am expecting your support, feedback, criticism and suggestions. Your feedback really matters which will help me to decide whether to continue writing or if so, how to. Let me introduce the main characters of my story. Please do comment or pm your feedback.

DEEPIKA'S CELEBRATION



Deepika Menon, 28, a physics lecturer from Kerala at a Bangalore college, is engaged and focused on her career. Strict and boring in class, her plain physics talks in traditional, formal sarees or kurtas fail to hide her curves, making male students secretly desire her. At 5’6” with a 34-26-36 figure, her caramel skin shines, with wavy black hair past her shoulders. Her almond eyes sparkle, coral lips hint at fun, and C-cup breasts press against fabrics, nipples showing through silk. Her slim waist curves to swaying hips and a round ass, perfect for holding. Strong legs end in feet with anklets, a neat trimmed triangle of hair covering her private area, tight and eager.

Arjun, 21, a final-year physics student from Kerala, is charming and cares for his girlfriend Shreya but secretly wants Deepika, dreaming of opening her saree. At 5’11” and 84 kg, his strong body, wheatish skin, and toned abs show power. His 7.5-inch private part is thick, with a firm ass and strong thighs.

Karthik, 20, a final-year physics student from a rich Kerala family, is funny but shy. Shreya’s best friend, he shares all secrets with her, fueling his kinky taboo lust for her, imagining tying her up and taking her virginity in a heated, forbidden encounter, while also fantasizing about Deepika shedding her strict facade, bending her over a desk for a spanking. At 5’9” and 75 kg, his fit body has fair, freckled skin. His 6-inch private part is sensitive, with a firm ass.

Shreya, 20, Arjun’s girlfriend and a final-year physics student from Kerala, is a virgin caught between love and family rules, her science notes showing a sensual side. Best friends with Karthik, she shares everything, growing close. She knows the boys are crazy for Deepika, feeling jealous when Deepika gets Arjun’s attention, but also likes Deepika’s charm. At 5’3” with a 32-24-34 figure, her fair skin turns pink when shy. Curly black hair frames big eyes and soft lips. Her B-cup breasts have sensitive nipples, her tiny waist curves to hips and a small ass that shakes a bit. Slim legs end in delicate feet. Her natural hair hides her virgin private area.

Ashwin, 18, Shreya’s cousin and a first-year physics student, is playful, liking Deepika despite her strictness and harboring kinky taboo desires for Shreya, remembering seeing her change years ago in college, now dreaming of blindfolding her in a secret, sensual game. At 5’4” and 73 kg, his chubby body is soft, with light brown skin, bright eyes, and dimpled cheeks. His 5.5-inch private part is thick, with a soft ass and short legs.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

[divyanair]

Chapter One: The Invitation

The physics classroom was stuffy, fans spinning slowly. Deepika Pillai stood at the blackboard, her voice sharp, droning about gravity. Her long, formal kurta with leggings hugged her curves, caramel skin glowing, wavy black hair swaying past her shoulders. Her full breasts pressed tight against the fabric, her slim waist curving to swaying hips and a round ass, impossible to hide. Arjun, his strong body tense, doodled her figure in his notebook, wheatish skin flushed. Karthik, lean and freckled, squirmed, his cock stirring as he watched her move. Ashwin, chubby with bright eyes, fumbled his pen when Deepika called on him, his cheeks red. Shreya, her fair skin turning pink, caught their stares, jealousy biting her, but her eyes lingered on Deepika’s hips, a strange pull tugging at her.

Later, under the campus banyan tree, the gang sprawled on a ratty blanket, books tossed aside. The air smelled of jasmine, scooters humming in the distance. Arjun, arm around Shreya, teased, “You’re stricter than Deepika, babe.” He grabbed her wrists playfully, pulling her close, her breasts brushing his chest through her kameez. Shreya giggled, blushing, her curly black hair loose. Karthik laughed, but his eyes stuck on her lips, his dick twitching. Ashwin looked away, his dimpled cheeks red, thinking of Shreya’s curves from years ago in college.

Deepika walked up, her kurta and leggings clinging to her round ass and hips. “Hey, students,” she said, voice firm but warm. “I’m getting married next month in my village in Kerala. Come a couple of days early to see the place—it’s beautiful. I want you there since you’re from Kerala.” She sat on a low bench nearby, her kurta stretching tight, showing every curve. The boys’ eyes widened, cocks stirring as they drank in her shape. Shreya’s stomach twisted, her hand gripping Arjun’s knee, but her gaze flicked to Deepika’s coral lips, heart racing.

“Sounds awesome, ma’am,” Arjun said, his fingers brushing hers as she handed him a printed invitation, a jolt running through him.

“We’ll think about it,” Karthik said, grinning, eyes locked on her ass.

“Congrats, ma’am,” Ashwin mumbled, staring at her curves, his voice shaky.

Shreya nodded, her voice tight. “Thanks, ma’am.”

Deepika smiled and walked off, her hips swaying, ass bouncing under the kurta. The boys gaped until she vanished behind the science block. Shreya’s fingers clenched her dupatta, face flushing pink.

“Man, her fiancé’s one lucky bastard,” Karthik said, leaning back, smirking.

“Damn right,” Arjun laughed. “Guy’s got it made with her.”

Ashwin nodded, shy but grinning. “Yeah, he’s living the dream.”

Shreya rolled her eyes, annoyed. “Can we talk about the trip now?” she snapped, jealousy burning.

Shreya pulled Karthik aside, near a shady tree. “Arjun keeps staring at her,” she whispered, her breasts heaving under her kameez. “It’s driving me nuts.” Karthik’s hand lingered on her shoulder, his cock hard, wanting her closer. “He’s an idiot,” he said softly, his kinky thoughts flaring.

Back at the blanket, Arjun pulled Shreya close. “We’re going to that wedding. It’ll be a blast.” He leaned in, whispering, “We’ll sneak off for some fun, babe.” His hand slid under her dupatta, groping her breast, fingers brushing her hard nipple. Shreya gasped, her body warm, glancing around nervously.

Karthik and Ashwin looked away, cocks throbbing, jealous but turned on. “I’ll drive us in my car,” Karthik said, his voice casual, dying to stay near Shreya.

Ashwin fidgeted, worried about his strict family. “Dunno… my parents might say no,” he muttered, eyes on Shreya. She scooted closer, grabbing his arm tight, her breast pressing against his bicep, warmth seeping through their clothes. “Please, Ashwin,” she begged, her big eyes soft. “My family won’t let me go without you.” Ashwin’s mind spun back to a memory from years ago in college, during a family visit to Kerala. The air was thick with mangoes and rain-soaked earth. Shreya had been changing in the next room after a swim in the village pond, a thin curtain fluttering in the breeze. He’d glanced over as it shifted, revealing her silhouette—her fair skin curving softly, budding breasts and hips like a secret shadow play, her curly black hair damp, clinging to her back. She hummed a tune, unaware, slipping into a dress that hugged her wet form. The sight had burned into him, now twisting into taboo desires, his cock hardening. He swallowed hard, cheeks flushing, pulling back slightly. “Okay, I’m in,” he said fast, unable to resist her closeness.

The gang grinned, pumped about the trip, but the air buzzed with secrets—Arjun’s hot desire for Deepika, Karthik’s kinky want for Shreya, Ashwin’s taboo crush on his cousin, and Shreya’s mix of jealousy and pull toward Deepika. The village wedding in Kerala was gonna be more than a celebration, with their hidden wants ready to spill under the coconut trees.

[Saikarthik]

Nice start liked the characters and plot interesting

[Dorabooji]

Great start

[Sage_69]

Interesting. Waiting for next update.

[divyanair]

Chapter Two: Night Whispers

The Bangalore college campus was cloaked in darkness, the starry sky above quiet on the same night the physics gang—Arjun, Karthik, Shreya, and Ashwin—had lounged under the banyan tree, reeling from Deepika’s invite to her Kerala village wedding. The air was thick with jasmine and the soft chirping of crickets, the campus paths dimly lit by flickering streetlights. The day’s charged moments—Deepika’s curves in her long kurta sparking the boys’ lust, Shreya’s jealousy flaring as Arjun ogled and groped her under her dupatta in her kameez, and her own confusing pull toward Deepika—hung heavy, fueling a restless night.

In the boys’ dorm, Arjun, Karthik, and Ashwin sprawled on creaky cots, the ceiling fan groaning in the humid air. The room reeked of old books, sweat, and cheap deodorant, a single bulb casting long shadows across peeling walls. Arjun, tall and muscular, leaned against the wall, his wheatish skin glowing in a tight T-shirt, his cocky grin flashing as he tossed a cricket ball between his hands. “Fuck, Deepika miss is a goddamn goddess,” he said, voice low, eyes glinting with raw hunger. “That kurta today, clinging to her full breasts, that round ass bouncing as she walked away? I’d shove her against the lecture hall board, rip that kurta open, and suck her tits till she’s screaming my name. Imagine her caramel skin under my hands, her hips grinding on my cock, her coral lips begging me to fuck her hard, her wavy hair tangled as I take her from behind, her moans filling the room.” His dick stirred in his jeans, his fantasy vivid, his voice thick with lust, making the room pulse with heat. “And her lucky husband? That bastard’s gonna enjoy every night, pounding that ass, sucking those tits, making her scream. Must be heaven waking up to her curves.”

Karthik, lean with freckled skin, lounged on his cot, legs spread wide, his cock hardening as he smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “She’s pure fire, man. I’d tie her up in class, her own dupatta around her wrists, that slim waist arching as I spank her ass till it’s red and burning. Picture her coral lips gasping, wavy black hair loose, while I fuck her over the desk, her breasts bouncing with every thrust, her caramel skin flushing so fucking sexy. She’d be moaning, pleading for my cock, her eyes locked on mine, begging for more.” His voice dripped with desire, his dick throbbing as he leaned forward, caught in the image, his fingers twitching as if already binding her. “Her husband’s the luckiest guy alive—getting to enjoy that body daily, tying her up, spanking that ass, fucking her senseless. Bet he can’t keep his hands off her tits and hips.”

Ashwin, chubby with bright eyes, sat cross-legged on his cot, his dimpled cheeks flushed, dick twitching under his loose shorts. “She’s perfect,” he mumbled, shy but bold in the dark, his voice trembling with excitement. “I dream of her guiding my hands, blindfolding me with a scarf, her full breasts bouncing as she rides my cock, that ass grinding against me, her wavy hair brushing my face. I’d lick every inch of her caramel skin, worship her tits and ass till she’s trembling under me, her moans driving me wild, her body shaking as I make her come.” His cock was hard, his shy demeanor cracking as he shared, the shared fantasies charging the air with raw, electric lust, their cocks straining as they laughed, voices low and hoarse. “And her husband? He’s gonna have the best life, blindfolding her, riding that ass, licking her tits every night. Lucky bastard gets to enjoy all that caramel skin and curves forever.”

Across campus, in her staff quarters, Deepika sat on her bed, the moonlight streaming through an open window, casting soft glows on her caramel skin. Her long kurta and leggings hugged her curves, outlining her full breasts, slim waist, and round ass, impossible to conceal despite the modest fabric. Her wavy black hair fell loose, coral lips curved as she started a video call with her fiancé, Anil, in Kerala. The screen flickered, showing Anil’s rugged face, his eyes hungry as he leaned closer from his dimly lit room. “Miss you, babe,” he growled, voice thick with want. Deepika leaned back on her pillows, her kurta riding up slightly, teasing her thighs through the leggings. “Miss you more,” she purred, her voice soft and sultry, a stark contrast to her stern classroom tone. “Wish you were here to touch me.” Anil groaned, “Fuck, Dee, show me something sexy.” She smiled, teasing, and slipped off her kurta, revealing a black bra that cradled her full breasts, her curves glowing in the moonlight. “Like this?” she whispered, her fingers tracing her cleavage, her body warming as she arched slightly, her thighs pressing together. Anil’s breathing grew heavy, “You’re so fucking hot. I’d pin you down, fuck you till those tits bounce, make you scream my name.” Deepika moaned softly, her hand lingering near her bra strap, arousal sparking in her eyes.

Suddenly, Anil’s phone buzzed loudly. “Shit, work emergency,” he muttered, frustrated, his face tense. “Back in a sec, babe, don’t move.” He stepped away, leaving the call running. Deepika, thinking it was private, minimized the screen and continued browsing wedding dresses on her phone, still in her bra and leggings, her caramel skin gleaming. Forgetting the call was live, she stood, humming softly, and moved to her wardrobe. She unhooked her bra, her full breasts spilling free, nipples hard in the cool air, then slid off her leggings and panties, her round ass and slim waist bare. She bent to grab a loose nightdress, her breasts and ass swaying, oblivious to the open camera capturing every curve.

At Anil’s house in Kerala, his nephew, Rohan, visiting from the city, was already on the PC, browsing porn in a darkened room, his cock half-hard from a video of a woman stripping. The minimized video call popped up unexpectedly, revealing Deepika sitting in her bra, her full breasts and slim waist framed, her wavy hair cascading down her face. Rohan’s eyes widened, his cock hardening instantly as he watched her, transfixed by his uncle’s fiancée. From Rohan’s point of view, her caramel skin looked smooth and inviting, her coral lips parted slightly as she hummed, her fingers absently tracing her cleavage, making her breasts rise and fall with each breath. He leaned closer, his breath shallow, taking in the way her bra hugged her full, rounded breasts, the curve of her slim waist leading to her hips hidden by leggings. As she stood, her movements graceful, he got a glimpse of her round ass through the leggings, the fabric stretching tight. When she unhooked her bra, her breasts spilled free, full and firm, nipples dark and hard against her caramel skin, bouncing slightly with her motion. Then, as she slid off her leggings and panties, her ass came into view—round, smooth, and perfect, her slim waist flaring to her hips, her caramel skin glowing under the moonlight. Rohan’s dick throbbed painfully, guilt flooding him but his eyes glued to her breasts and ass, the way her wavy hair brushed her back as she bent, her coral lips still curved in a hum. He slammed the laptop shut, heart pounding, his arousal overwhelming his shame.

In her hostel room, Shreya lay under a thin sheet, the fan creaking above. Her fair skin glowed, curly black hair spread on the pillow, her tight skirt and top clinging to her breasts and ass, the skirt riding up her thighs as she shifted. She was fuming about Arjun ogling Deepika’s ass and groping her under her dupatta earlier in her kameez, his eyes on their lecturer instead of her. Feeling needy and bold, she grabbed her phone, texting Karthik, her best friend, her fingers flying, open and craving his attention, her body tingling with anticipation.

Shreya: Karthik, u up? Arjun was glued to Deepika miss’s ass today, staring like a total creep. So fucking annoying!

Karthik, on his dorm cot, grinned, his freckled skin warm, cock hardening at the chance to pull her closer. He typed fast, diving into the steamy vibe, his fingers eager.

Karthik: Yo, Shreya, I saw that shit. Deepika’s hot, no lie, but Arjun’s a fucking idiot. Why chase her when he’s got a sexy-as-hell girlfriend like u? Ur way hotter, babe.

Shreya’s nipples tightened under her top, her face lighting up with a giggle. She felt bold, safe with Karthik, and texted back, leaning hard into the flirt, her skirt shifting higher as she squirmed.

Shreya: Aww, Karthik, u really think I’m hotter? ? Come on, spill—what makes me so sexy? I need to hear it tonight!

Karthik’s dick throbbed, his kinky thoughts racing, imagining her tied up. He typed, going all in, heart pounding.

Karthik: Fuck yeah, Shreya. Ur curves are insane—that ass in that skirt today? Shit, it’s perfect, makes my cock hard just thinking about it. Those breasts in that tight top? Fucking killer. What’s ur size, babe? Bet it’s fire.

Shreya’s body buzzed, her nipples aching, her fair skin flushed. She laughed softly, typing fast, fully open and playful, her fingers trembling with excitement.

Shreya: U naughty bastard! ? My top’s so tight, shows off my breasts just right—32B, u happy? My ass looks hot in this skirt, huh? What else u like? ?

Karthik groaned, his cock rock hard, loving her flirty vibe. He typed, pushing further, his mind wild.

Karthik: 32B? Damn, Shreya, that’s fucking hot. Ur tiny waist, that ass shaking in that skirt? I’m losing it. Hip size, girl? Gotta know how u fill that tight outfit.

Shreya’s cheeks burned, her body tingling, fingers trembling as she typed, caught in the steamy game, her skirt riding up to her thighs.

Shreya: Haha, my hips? They make this skirt pop, 34 inches of trouble. ? U’re so bad, Karthik, but I love it. Think I’m hotter than Deepika’s curves?

Karthik’s dick pulsed, his mind wild with kinky thoughts. He typed, keeping it steamy.

Karthik: No fucking contest, babe. Ur curves destroy Deepika’s. Arjun’s blind as fuck. That saree at the wedding’s gonna make every guy’s cock hard, especially mine.

Shreya laughed, her body warm, nipples tight. She typed, bold and teasing, her fingers flying.

Shreya: Stop, u! ? But don’t… makes me feel so fucking sexy. U better watch urself in Kerala, or I’ll tease u till u beg.

In the dorm, Arjun slept, dreaming of Deepika’s kurta slipping off, unaware of Shreya’s texts. Ashwin, awake, heard his phone ping, wishing it was Shreya. His mind drifted to a memory from years ago in college, during a family visit in Kerala. The house was packed after a festival, and he’d “accidentally” bumped into Shreya in a narrow hallway, his hand brushing her breast, soft and warm through her thin top. Her fair skin had flushed, her curly black hair bouncing as she laughed it off, saying, “Clumsy Ashwin!” and squeezing his arm playfully, unaware of the electric jolt it sent through him. The touch had seared into his mind, now twisting into taboo desire, his cock hardening as he imagined blindfolding her, feeling that softness again, her body pressed close in a forbidden game, her moans filling his ears. He shifted on his cot, guilt flooding him, his dimpled cheeks red in the dark, his dick painfully hard as he tried to push the thoughts away.

The night settled over the campus, the Kerala trip a week away. The boys’ raw, lust-filled talk, Deepika’s steamy call gone wrong with Rohan’s forbidden glimpse, Shreya’s open, flirty texts with Karthik, and Ashwin’s guilty flashback—it all stoked their secrets. Arjun’s hunger for Deepika, Karthik’s kinky want for Shreya, Ashwin’s taboo crush, and Shreya’s jealousy and pull toward Deepika were set to ignite under the village coconut trees.

[Sage_69]

Kinda feeling that there will be many group sex in this story. Eagerly waiting.

[Saikarthik]

Nice one

[Ganesh Gaitonde]

Good start

[divyanair]

Kinda feeling that there will be many group sex in this story. Eagerly waiting.

Not planned yet. It may happen. Thanks for the support ☺️

[divyanair]

Nice one

Thank you ❤️

[divyanair]

Good start

Thank you ?

[divyanair]

Chapter Three: Tangled Bonds

The Bangalore college campus buzzed with late afternoon heat, a few days after the physics gang—Arjun, Karthik, Shreya, and Ashwin—had received Deepika’s wedding invite under the banyan tree. The trip to her Kerala village loomed, and the air still carried the jasmine scent from that charged night, now mixed with the tension of secrets: the boys’ lustful fantasies about Deepika, Shreya’s flirty texts with Karthik, and Ashwin’s taboo crush on his cousin. Deepika, ever the poised lecturer, had her own plans to wrap up before leaving.

In her staff quarters, Deepika adjusted her salwar kameez, the soft cream fabric clinging to her caramel skin, outlining her full breasts, slim waist, and round ass. The V-neck kameez hinted at her cleavage, her dupatta loosely dbangd, and the tight salwar hugged her hips, accentuating her curves. Her wavy black hair fell over her shoulders, coral lips curved in a determined smile as she clutched her wedding invitation and resignation letter. She headed to the principal’s office, her heels clicking on the tiled corridor, unaware of the eyes that followed her swaying ass.

The principal, Mr. Gupta, sat behind his heavy wooden desk, a 55-year-old man with a bald head gleaming under the fluorescent light, his unattractive face marked by deep lines and a thin mustache. His stocky frame, slightly hunched, filled out a crumpled white shirt, his belly straining against the buttons, his short legs crossed under the desk. His small, sharp eyes lit up as Deepika entered, her presence a stark contrast to the stale air of his cluttered office, filled with dusty files and a creaking fan.

“Sir, I wanted to invite you to my wedding in Kerala,” Deepika said, her voice soft yet firm, placing the ornate invitation on his desk. “And… I’m submitting my resignation notice. I’ll be moving after the wedding.” She handed over the letter, her fingers brushing the desk, her dupatta shifting slightly, teasing the edge of her V-neck.

Mr. Gupta leaned forward, his eyes flicking to her breasts, then back to her face. “Deepika, it’s a shame to lose you,” he said, his voice gravelly, a faint smirk tugging his lips. “I’m not sure if I can attend, with my schedule, but you’ll always have my blessings.” His gaze lingered on her coral lips, his cock stirring faintly in his trousers, hidden by the desk.

Deepika smiled, grateful. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot.” Following tradition, she stepped around the desk to his side, bending to touch his feet for blessings. As she leaned down, her dupatta slipped off her shoulder, falling to the floor, and the V-neck of her kameez gaped open, revealing the deep curve of her cleavage, her full breasts straining against her bra. The tight kameez pulled across her hips, outlining her round ass, the fabric stretching to showcase every curve. Mr. Gupta’s breath caught, his cock hardening as he stared, her caramel skin glowing in the light, her wavy hair brushing her back. Deepika, focused on the gesture, didn’t notice his hungry gaze.

She stood, adjusting her dupatta, her breasts bouncing slightly as she smoothed the kameez, unaware of the effect. “I hope you can make it, sir,” she said, turning to leave, her ass swaying with each step. Mr. Gupta watched from behind, his small eyes fixed on her tight salwar, her hips moving like a tease he couldn’t touch. His dick throbbed, his fingers twitching as she closed the door.

Alone, Mr. Gupta leaned back, his stocky frame creaking the chair, his bald head slick with sweat. A wave of disappointment hit him—Deepika, with her caramel skin and perfect curves, would soon be gone, her lectures and her body out of his reach forever. His cock pulsed with frustration, his mind burning with jealousy toward her husband, the man who’d get to fuck her every night, feel her breasts, grab her ass, hear her moans. “Fucking lucky bastard,” he muttered, his voice bitter, his dick straining as he imagined her husband pinning her down, her coral lips gasping in pleasure he’d never know. He pulled a small key from his pocket, hands trembling, and unlocked a drawer in his desk. Inside, nestled among papers, was a small airtight plastic bag, sealed tight to preserve its contents—a pair of Deepika’s used pink panties, soft and worn. He opened the bag, the faint scent hitting him like a drug, his cock throbbing as he pressed the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, the musky trace of her body sending a jolt through him. His mind drifted to a forbidden memory from a year ago.

It was a college trip to a science exhibition in Mysore, the bus rumbling through the night, the gang and other students asleep in their seats. Deepika, then a new lecturer, sat next to Mr. Gupta, her body warm against his in the cramped space. She wore a fitted kurta, the deep green fabric clinging to her curves, outlining her full breasts and round ass, her caramel skin glowing faintly in the dim bus lights. Her wavy black hair spilled over her shoulders, her coral lips parted slightly as she dozed, her head resting against the window, her breaths slow and steady. The hum of the bus and her closeness drove Mr. Gupta wild, his cock stirring in his trousers, his bald head sweating as he stole glances at her. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, the kurta stretched tight, hinting at the bra beneath. Aroused by her warmth, he couldn’t resist—his hand moved slowly, hesitating at first, then groping her breast over the kurta, the soft, heavy weight filling his palm. His fingers traced the curve, feeling the firmness through the fabric, her nipple hardening slightly under the pressure, the kurta catching on its outline. Deepika stirred faintly, a soft murmur escaping her lips, her body shifting closer in her sleep, her ass brushing his thigh, unaware of his touch. His cock hardened painfully, his breath ragged as he squeezed gently, savoring the fullness of her breast, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin material. His heart pounded, guilt mixing with arousal, but he couldn’t stop, his fingers lingering, tracing the edge of her bra through the kurta, her warmth driving him mad. He withdrew his hand reluctantly, his dick throbbing, the moment searing into his memory. Later, during a rest stop, Deepika stepped off the bus for a break, leaving her bag open beside him. His hands shook as he glanced around, then rifled through it, his fingers finding the pink panty folded neatly inside. The soft fabric felt like a prize, her scent faint but intoxicating. He slipped it into his pocket, his cock pulsing with the thrill, knowing he’d keep this secret forever.

Back in the present, Mr. Gupta sealed the panty back in the airtight bag, tucking it into the drawer and locking it tight, his cock still hard as he adjusted his trousers. His disappointment deepened—she’d leave soon, her curves lost to him, her husband the one to enjoy her body night after night. “Why him?” he growled, his jealousy burning, his dick aching with the thought of her caramel skin under another man’s hands. He leaned back, the image of Deepika’s cleavage and ass burned into his mind, knowing he’d cling to her stolen panty and the memory of her warmth long after she was gone.

Meanwhile, across campus, Shreya was caught up in her own preparations for Deepika’s wedding, determined to wear a saree for the first time to steal the spotlight. Her fair skin flushed with excitement and nerves, she convinced Ashwin to join her for a quick blouse stitching at a nearby shop with a “Quick Stitching” board. “Come on, Ashwin, it won’t take long,” she said, her curly black hair bouncing as they walked, her loose kurta and leggings swaying with her 32-24-34 figure, her round ass and full breasts hinting at her curves, a contrast to her usual kameez and dupatta from the banyan tree day.

Ashwin nodded, his chubby 5’4” frame and 73 kg feeling awkward but thrilled to be near her. His light brown skin and bright eyes hid his taboo crush, his mind flashing to brushing her breast years ago in college. “Alright, Shreya, but let’s make it quick,” he said, his voice shy, his dick twitching at the thought of her closeness.

The tailor shop was cramped, tucked in a narrow alley off the campus road, the air thick with fabric dust and the hum of a sewing machine. The tailor, a lecherous 40-something Bangalore man named Manjunath, with greasy hair, a paunch, and beady eyes, grinned as they entered, his gaze locking on Shreya’s curves under her kurta. “Blouse for saree? Come,” he said, his voice oily, wiping his hands on his stained vest, his cock stirring in his trousers. He led Shreya behind a thin curtain to a narrow space with a mirror and measuring tape. Ashwin sat outside on a rickety chair, pretending to scroll his phone, his heart racing, dimpled cheeks red.

Behind the curtain, the air was stuffy, Manjunath’s paunch brushing the mirror as he stood close. “Remove the kurta, ma’am, for proper blouse measurement,” he said, his beady eyes hungry. Shreya hesitated, her fair skin flushing pink, her curly black hair falling over her shoulders. Not even Arjun had seen her like this, and the thought made her heart pound. But the wedding was near, and she needed the blouse. “Okay, be fast,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she slipped off her kurta, revealing a lacy black bra cradling her 32B breasts, her slim torso bare above her leggings, her round ass outlined. She crossed her arms, her nipples hardening in the cool air, her coral lips bitten in shyness, yet a strange flutter stirred in her—a mysterious thrill she couldn’t name.

Manjunath’s cock hardened, his paunch heaving as he stared at her fair skin, her full breasts rising with each breath. “Good, ma’am,” he said, his voice thick, picking up the tape. Under the guise of measurement, he stepped closer, his hands grazing her shoulders, then sliding to her breasts, the tape brushing her nipples through the bra. “For chest,” he muttered, his fingers lingering, groping her soft breasts gently, squeezing as if to adjust the tape. Shreya gasped, her nipples aching, a forbidden heat spreading through her. Why does this feel so… intense? she thought, her body tingling with shame and an unexpected pleasure, her fair skin turning red. She should’ve stopped him, but the touch, so bold and unfamiliar, sent a mysterious thrill through her, like a secret she didn’t understand. He moved to her back, his hands grazing her upper arms, “measuring” for the blouse fit, his fingers pressing her skin, his cock pressing lightly against her leggings. “Perfect, ma’am,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck, his paunch brushing her.

Outside, Ashwin pretended to look away, his chubby frame tense, but he stole glances through a gap in the curtain. Seeing Shreya in her bra, her curves exposed, her breasts groped by Manjunath’s hands, made his cock throb in his shorts. Jealousy burned—how could that sleazy tailor touch her?—but arousal overwhelmed him, his taboo crush raging. He imagined his own hands on her breasts, feeling their softness again, her ass under his grip. His light brown skin flushed, bright eyes wide, he shifted, his dick hard, torn between fury and desire, peeking again as his heart pounded.

Shreya’s thoughts swirled—This is wrong, but why does it feel so alive? The tailor’s hands, rough and intrusive, sparked a pleasure she hadn’t expected, her body betraying her shyness. She quickly pulled her kurta back on, her nipples still hard, her ass tingling. “When’s it ready?” she asked, her voice shaky, avoiding Manjunath’s lecherous grin. “Tomorrow, ma’am, quick stitching,” he said, his cock still hard, pocketing the measurement. She paid a deposit and left, her fair skin flushed, joining Ashwin outside. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice quiet, unaware of his glances or his raging arousal.

As they walked back, Ashwin’s mind churned, jealous of the tailor’s touch, turned on by Shreya’s vulnerability, his taboo desire deeper than ever. Shreya, her body still warm, couldn’t shake the mysterious pleasure, her thoughts tangled with guilt and curiosity.

The next morning, Deepika woke early in her staff quarters, the pre-dawn light filtering through her window, casting soft shadows on her caramel skin. She stood at 5’6”, her wavy black hair loose, her coral lips set in focus as she prepared to leave for her hometown in Kerala. The train was due in a few hours, and her bags were packed—sarees, jewelry, and wedding essentials neatly arranged. She slipped into a simple kurta and leggings, the fabric hugging her full breasts and round ass, her curves impossible to hide even in haste. Her mind raced with wedding plans, Anil’s steamy video call from that night still lingering, making her body tingle.

She grabbed her phone to book a cab to the railway station, her fingers tapping quickly. The app loaded, but every cab was unavailable—either booked or too far. “Come on,” she muttered, her heart racing, her caramel skin flushing with tension. She tried another app, then another, but the screen kept showing “No cabs available.” Her train was leaving soon, and the station was too far to walk. Deepika paced, her heels clicking, her breasts bouncing slightly, her ass swaying as she dialed a local taxi service, only to hear it was busy. “Shit, not now,” she whispered, her voice tight, her coral lips trembling. The clock ticked closer, and her bags sat by the door, mocking her. She glanced out the window, the campus still quiet, no one to help. Her pulse quickened, the pressure mounting, her body tense as she faced the risk of missing her train, the start of her new life with Anil.

The campus morning held its breath, the gang’s secrets—Mr. Gupta’s stolen panty, Shreya’s forbidden thrill, Ashwin’s taboo lust—ready to unravel in the heat of Deepika’s Kerala village.

[Sage_69]

The update is big. But feels so small.

[divyanair]

The update is big. But feels so small.

Sorry dear friend, if I disappointed you. But I am planning to go a little slow. Hope you are ok with it. If you have any suggestions, feel free to comment or message.

Once again thanks for the support

[Saikarthik]

Nice update who will help her students gupta or new character

[divyanair]

Chapter Four: Tangled Touches

Dawn crept softly over the Bangalore campus, cloaking the grounds in a silvery stillness. Pale light spilled between buildings, carving sharp shadows along deserted walkways, while the air hung heavy with the mingled scent of wet soil and jasmine, stirred gently by a whispering breeze. Deepika stood outside her staff quarters, her caramel skin glistening with a thin sheen of anxious sweat, her wavy black hair tumbling in loose, tangled waves down her back, clinging to her neck in the humid air. At 5’6”, her curvaceous figure was a vision in a pale blue kurta, the soft cotton clinging to the full swell of her breasts, the fabric stretched taut across their curves, and black leggings that molded to her round, firm ass and shapely thighs, accentuating every contour. Her coral lips, glossy and full, trembled as she paced, her slender fingers gripping her phone, its dim glow illuminating the sharp angles of her tense face, her dark eyes wide with urgency. She’d swiped through every cab app—Ola, Uber, a local taxi service—but each flashed the same cruel message: “No cabs available.” Her train to Kerala, the lifeline to her village wedding, was leaving in under an hour, the railway station too far to reach on foot. Her suitcase, bulging with sarees, gold jewelry, and wedding essentials, loomed by the door, its weight a silent accusation. Her body thrummed with nervous energy, her skin prickling as if charged, a lingering heat from a late-night video call pulsing low in her belly, making her thighs clench, her breath uneven, her pussy tingling with a restless warmth she couldn’t shake.

Desperate, Deepika hoisted her suitcase, the leather handle biting into her palm, and hurried toward the main road, her heels clicking sharply on the pavement. Each step sent her breasts swaying, the kurta’s thin cotton rubbing against her sensitive nipples, sending faint, electric sparks through her chest that made her gasp softly. Her heart pounded, her caramel skin flushed hotter, her wavy hair swaying, sticking to her damp neck and shoulders. She waved frantically at passing vehicles—cars speeding by, bikes roaring past, autos ignoring her outstretched hand, their taillights mocking her in the dim light. Her breath hitched, her coral lips bitten raw, a knot of panic tightening in her chest, her body trembling with urgency, the heat between her thighs growing despite the morning chill. “Please, someone,” she whispered, her voice cracking, her eyes darting, her skin burning with frustration and that unresolved pulse of desire, her pussy throbbing faintly as her nerves frayed.

A two-wheeler slowed, its engine sputtering like a wounded animal. The rider, Shankar, a wiry Karnataka-native night watchman, had a scruffy beard and a weathered face etched with long, sleepless shifts, his stained khaki uniform hanging loose on his lean frame. His sharp eyes raked over Deepika’s curves—her heaving breasts, her round ass, the sliver of caramel skin exposed where her kurta rode up at her waist—his cock stirring in his trousers, a slow, hungry throb warming his groin. “Station? Rs. 500,” he grunted, his voice rough, the price inflated to exploit her desperation.

Deepika’s coral lips parted in shock, her dark eyes flashing with indignation—Rs. 500 was robbery—but the train’s departure loomed like a guillotine. Her fingers trembled as she fished out the cash, her skin prickling with unease, her stomach twisting with a mix of anger and necessity. “Okay, fine,” she said, her voice quivering, handing over the crumpled notes. “But go fast.” Shankar’s smirk deepened, his cock twitching as he pocketed the money, his eyes lingering on the curve of her breasts. “One stop—picking up my son, Kiran, from a friend’s place. Study sleepover,” he said gruffly. Deepika nodded, her heart sinking but her options gone, climbing onto the bike. Her round ass settled on the narrow, cracked seat, the kurta riding higher, exposing more of her waist, the leggings clinging to her thighs, the fabric stretched taut against her skin, warm and slightly damp with sweat.

Shankar revved the engine, the vibration humming through Deepika’s body, sending a jolt through her thighs that made her pussy pulse, her breath catching. She gripped his waist, her slender fingers digging into his sides, her breasts pressing against his back, the kurta’s thin cotton offering little barrier to their soft, warm weight. Shankar’s cock hardened fully, the feel of her curves against him igniting a raw lust, his pulse racing as they sped through the empty streets, the cool air whipping past. Deepika’s mind was a storm—I can’t miss this train—her nipples tightening against the kurta, the friction of the fabric against her sensitive peaks sending shivers down her spine, her pussy throbbing with a mix of anxiety and that lingering heat, her thighs clenching around the seat. The bike’s jolts made her breasts bounce against Shankar’s back, each movement heightening her awareness of her body, her skin hypersensitive, her coral lips parting in a silent gasp as the vibration pulsed between her legs, her pussy growing wetter, the heat overwhelming her focus.

They stopped at a small, rundown house, where Kiran, Shankar’s adult son, emerged, his lanky frame awkward, his messy hair falling into nervous eyes still heavy from a late-night study session. His limited experience with women made his cock stir instantly at Deepika’s glowing caramel skin, her breasts and ass outlined by the tight kurta and leggings, the sight sending a tight ache through his jeans. “Get on,” Shankar barked, and Kiran climbed behind Deepika, sandwiching her between father and son. The bike sagged under their weight, Deepika’s body pressed tight—her breasts squashed against Shankar’s back, her ass brushing Kiran’s crotch, the heat of their bodies trapping her, her caramel skin flushing hotter, her heart pounding like a drum. The leggings clung to her thighs, the kurta’s hem riding up, exposing the soft curve of her waist, her body tingling with the closeness, her pussy aching with a forbidden warmth that made her breath uneven.

As Shankar raced toward the station, the bumpy road jostled Deepika, her ass grinding against Kiran’s hardening cock, the pressure sending a sharp thrill through her core, her breasts bouncing against Shankar’s back, the kurta’s fabric rubbing her nipples raw, each touch igniting sparks that made her thighs tremble. Kiran’s hands, resting on her waist, grazed the soft, warm skin above her leggings, his fingers brushing the exposed strip at her kurta’s hem, the touch light but deliberate. Deepika tensed, her breath catching, her mind dismissing it as the bike’s motion. Just the road, she thought, her coral lips bitten harder, her heart racing, her skin burning. Kiran’s cock throbbed against her ass, his inexperience fueling his daring, his hands sliding up her waist, fingers trembling as they brushed the sides of her breasts, the kurta’s thin cotton no match for the heat of his touch. Deepika’s nipples ached, a sharp jolt of sensation shooting through her chest, her caramel skin flushing deeper, her pussy clenching with a strange, forbidden heat, echoing Shreya’s thrill at the tailor’s. Is he doing this on purpose? she wondered, her body tingling, her mind warring between shock and a growing arousal she couldn’t name, her pussy now slick, soaking through her leggings, the warmth spreading.

Kiran grew bolder, his fingers squeezing her waist firmly, then cupping the sides of her breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples through the kurta, sending electric waves to her core, her breath hitching, her coral lips parting in a soft moan. His cock pressed harder against her ass, grinding with each bump, his breath hot and ragged on her neck, the intimacy overwhelming her senses. Deepika’s mind swirled—This is wrong, but why’s it so intense?—her pussy throbbing, her body leaning into the touch despite her guilt, the mysterious thrill consuming her, her thighs quivering, her skin alive with sensation. Shankar, oblivious, pushed the bike to its limit, weaving through early traffic, but the city’s congestion slowed them, the delays heightening Deepika’s panic. Her breasts pressed tighter against his back, the friction making his cock throb, his hands gripping the handlebars hard, his mind clouded with lust. Kiran’s groping turned blatant, his hands fully cupping her breasts, squeezing softly, his fingers rolling her nipples, his cock grinding harder against her ass, each movement sending waves of heat through Deepika’s body, her coral lips trembling, her pussy pulsing, her thighs slick with arousal, her mind a tangle of shame and desire.

They reached the station 10 minutes late, the platform deserted, the train’s echo long faded. Deepika’s heart sank, her caramel skin flushed with frustration and lingering arousal, her wavy hair clinging to her sweaty neck, her kurta damp against her breasts. “No,” she gasped, sliding off the bike, her breasts bouncing, her ass tingling from Kiran’s touch, her leggings damp between her thighs, the slickness betraying her body’s response. Shankar’s eyes lingered on her curves, his cock still hard, while Kiran grinned, his dick throbbing, savoring the feel of her body. “Thank you,” Deepika muttered, her voice shaky, her coral lips trembling as she grabbed her suitcase, her body buzzing with unresolved heat, her mind a storm of guilt, anger, and forbidden pleasure, the weight of her failure pressing against the ache in her core.

Hours earlier, the campus was cloaked in midnight stillness, the air cool with the sweet scent of jasmine drifting from the hostel gardens. Shreya lay in her roommate Priya’s bed in the girls’ hostel, the fan whirring overhead, its breeze brushing her fair skin, cooling the humid night. Priya had stormed off to her family home after another breakup with her boyfriend, Vijay, their on-off relationship fracturing again, leaving Shreya uninformed. Dressed in a loose white top, the cotton soft and slightly sheer, and a tight black skirt that hugged her round ass and slender thighs, with a lacy black panty underneath—her Chapter Three saree blouse tucked away for the Kerala wedding—Shreya’s fair skin glowed in the moonlight filtering through the window, her curly black hair fanned across the pillow, framing her delicate face. Her breasts, pert and full, rose with each breath, the top clinging to their curves, her nipples faintly visible through the thin fabric, her ass accentuated by the skirt’s snug fit. She had often watched Priya and Vijay’s midnight makeouts from her own bed, their wet kisses and groping hands stirring a forbidden thrill in her chest, a heat that mirrored the tailor’s bold touches, making her pussy tingle, her skin flush. She’d shared this with Arjun, who teased, “I’ll sneak in one night, babe, and we’ll have our own fun.” The memory made her smile in her sleep, her coral lips parted, her body warm, her panty snug against her pussy, a faint pulse of anticipation lingering from the thought of Arjun’s promise, her thighs shifting restlessly.

The door creaked softly, Vijay slipping in, his lean Karnataka-native frame silent in the shadows, his messy hair and rough stubble catching the moonlight. His intimacy was mostly with Priya, and his cock stirred at the thought of patching up after their fight, his pulse quickening with expectation. Unaware of Priya’s absence, he saw a figure in her bed and assumed it was her, the darkness masking Shreya’s curly hair. He slid onto the bed, his breath uneven, his hand brushing the sheet aside, his fingers grazing Shreya’s bare thigh just below her skirt, the skin soft and warm, like silk under his touch. Shreya stirred, a soft moan escaping her coral lips, her body shifting instinctively, her thighs parting slightly, the skirt riding up to reveal the smooth curve of her leg. Mistaking the touch for Arjun sneaking in as promised, she sighed, her mind hazy with sleep, forgetting she was in Priya’s bed, the fan’s breeze cooling her flushed skin.

Vijay leaned in, his lips brushing her neck, the stubble grazing her sensitive skin, sending a shiver through her body, her pussy tingling through her panty. His hand slid up her thigh, fingers tracing the edge of her lacy panty, the fabric soft and slightly damp, the touch igniting a spark in her core. Shreya’s eyes fluttered open, her fair skin flushing pink, her nipples hardening under the thin top, her breath catching as she murmured, “Arjun,” her voice thick with sleep, her body responding with a slow arch, her pussy pulsing with a forbidden thrill. Vijay’s cock hardened in his jeans, the warmth of her thigh under his fingers driving his desire, his lips capturing hers in a deep, hungry kiss, his tongue exploring her coral lips, the taste sweet and warm. Shreya kissed back passionately, her body igniting, her hands sliding to his shoulders, pulling him closer, her breasts pressing against his chest, the top’s fabric rubbing her nipples, sending sharp jolts of pleasure through her, her pussy growing wetter, soaking her panty.

Vijay’s hand slipped under her top, his fingers finding her breast, cupping its soft weight, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing her nipple, the peak hard and sensitive, making her gasp into his mouth, her coral lips trembling. His other hand slid under her skirt, grazing her ass over the lacy panty, the fabric clinging to her curves, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, his cock grinding against her thigh, the denim rough against her skin. Shreya moaned softly, her pussy throbbing, the mysterious thrill from the tailor’s shop surging back, her mind still clouded, believing it was Arjun, her body aching for more. This is so intense, she thought, her fair skin burning, her thighs trembling, her panty slick with arousal, her hips grinding instinctively against his touch, the heat overwhelming her senses.

The makeout deepened, Vijay’s lips trailing to her neck, sucking softly, his stubble grazing her skin, sending shivers down her spine, her pussy pulsing harder. His hand squeezed her breast firmly, fingers rolling her nipple, each pinch sending a wave of pleasure to her core, while his other hand gripped her ass, pulling her closer, his cock throbbing against her thigh, the friction driving her wild. Shreya’s fingers tangled in his hair, her coral lips gasping, her hips rocking, her panty soaked, her body alive with sensation, her mind swirling with desire and confusion. Why does this feel so right? she thought, her skin flushed, her pussy aching for release, her thighs slick with arousal. Suddenly, Vijay whispered, “Priya, I’m sorry, baby,” his voice low and desperate.

Shreya’s eyes snapped open, her fair skin paling as reality crashed in—this wasn’t Arjun. Her heart pounded, her breasts heaving, her nipples still hard, her panty drenched, her body buzzing with shock and lingering arousal. “Vijay? Oh my God!” she whispered, her voice trembling, yanking her skirt down, her ass tingling from his grip, her skin burning with a mix of shame and thrill. Vijay froze, his cock still hard, his face flushed, his eyes wide with panic. “Shreya? Shit, I thought you were Priya!” he stammered, scrambling off the bed, his dick straining in his jeans, his hands shaking. Shreya’s mind reeled, her pussy throbbing, the intense makeout leaving her torn—That felt so wrong, but so good—her coral lips swollen, her body craving more despite the mistake, her thighs trembling, her panty clinging to her slick skin. Vijay muttered an apology, bolting from the room, leaving Shreya alone in the dark, her fair skin flushed, her breath uneven, her mind a tangle of guilt, arousal, and the forbidden thrill that refused to fade.

Outside, Ashwin, on a late-night stroll, glimpsed Vijay entering the hostel, his chubby frame hidden in the shadows. Jealousy flared, thinking Vijay was with Priya, but picturing Shreya nearby made his cock twitch, his taboo crush burning, his mind racing with images of her curves, his dick hardening in his trousers. Karthik, in his dorm, texted Shreya a flirty goodnight, unaware, his kinky thoughts of tying her up keeping his dick hard, his fantasies vivid. Arjun slept, oblivious, his dreams of Deepika’s caramel skin and coral lips stirring his cock, his desire for her unshaken.

Back at the station, the platform was empty, the train to Kerala long gone, leaving Deepika stranded in Bangalore’s early morning chaos. Her caramel skin glistened with sweat, her wavy black hair damp and clinging to her neck, her kurta and leggings molded to her curves, the fabric stretched tight across her full breasts and round ass, her coral lips trembling as she clutched her suitcase. The weight of her luggage—sarees, jewelry, wedding essentials—made the unreserved compartment unthinkable, the crush of passengers and long journey to Kerala too overwhelming. She swiped through her phone, the screen’s glow harsh against her tired eyes, but every app showed the same: no available trains, all seats booked for days. At the inquiry counter, a gruff clerk snapped, “No tickets, ma’am, fully packed,” his voice dismissive. A transport strike had halted all buses, the roads eerily quiet, leaving her no path to her village. Her heart sank, her caramel skin flushing with frustration, her body still buzzing from Kiran’s touches, her pussy tingling with unresolved heat. Defeated, she realized she’d have to return to her campus quarters and try again tomorrow, her mind heavy with failure, her body aching with a mix of exhaustion and arousal.

The station’s exit was a mess of honking autos and shouting vendors, the air thick with diesel fumes and dust. No cabs responded to her apps, the strike choking the city. Dragging her suitcase, its wheels scbanging the ground, Deepika’s breasts bounced with each step, the kurta’s thin cotton rubbing her nipples, sending faint jolts through her chest, her leggings clinging to her thighs, damp with sweat and arousal. She spotted a share auto, its rickety frame nearly full with passengers crammed shoulder-to-shoulder. She waved desperately, her kurta riding up, the side slit exposing a sliver of her caramel hip, her wavy hair swaying. The driver, a wiry man with a paunch and greasy hair, nodded, his eyes lingering on her curves, his cock stirring faintly in his trousers. “Hop in, ma’am, it’s tight,” he said, his voice gruff. Deepika squeezed in, her round ass barely fitting, half of it perched precariously on the bench’s edge, her suitcase wedged by her feet, her caramel skin glistening, her breath uneven as she adjusted, the kurta’s slit widening, exposing more of her hip and thigh.

As the auto prepared to leave, an old handicapped man, leaning heavily on a cane, approached, his weathered face creased with a plea for a spot. His thin frame and gray hair stirred a pang of guilt in Deepika, her heart torn—her own spot was already precarious, her ass barely accommodated, but compassion tugged at her. The driver shrugged, his eyes flicking to her breasts, and said, “Ma’am, sit on his lap,” pointing to the gentleman next to her, a stocky 40-something Karnataka native named Mahesh, with a thick mustache and a sweaty shirt that clung to his broad chest. Mahesh smirked, his cock twitching in his trousers, patting his lap. “Plenty of room,” he said, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked on her ass, the hunger in his gaze unmistakable.

Deepika’s coral lips parted in reluctance, her dark eyes flashing with hesitation, but with no other choice, she nodded, her heart pounding, her skin flushing hotter. She slid onto Mahesh’s lap, her round ass pressing against his thighs, the warmth of his body seeping through her leggings, her breasts bouncing as she adjusted, the kurta stretching tight, the side slit gaping to reveal the curve of her hip and thigh. Mahesh’s cock hardened instantly, the pressure of her ass against him sending a jolt of lust through his body, his hands resting on her hips, fingers grazing the exposed skin at her waist through the kurta’s slit, the touch warm and deliberate. Deepika tensed, her breath catching, her mind racing—He’s just holding me steady—but her caramel skin burned, her nipples tightening against the kurta, the fabric rubbing her sensitive peaks, sending shivers through her chest.

The auto lurched forward, the bumpy road jostling Deepika, her ass grinding against Mahesh’s hardening cock, the friction sending a sharp thrill through her core, her pussy pulsing, her leggings growing damp. Mahesh’s hands slid up her waist, fingers brushing the sides of her breasts through the kurta, the touch bold under the guise of balance. “Careful, ma’am,” he murmured, his voice thick, his fingers groping her waist, then her thigh, his touch lingering, squeezing softly. The old man, seated beside them, leaned closer, his cane across his lap, his frail hand slipping through the side slit of Deepika’s kurta, “accidentally” brushing her thigh over her leggings, the fabric smooth and warm under his fingers. His touch lingered, gripping her thigh for “support” as the auto swayed, his fingers creeping higher, groping the soft flesh, his eyes glinting with a sly, hungry spark. Deepika’s breath hitched, her caramel skin flushing deeper, her nipples aching, a familiar heat igniting—like the forbidden thrill on Shankar’s bike. Are they doing this on purpose? she wondered, her pussy throbbing, the slickness soaking her leggings, her body trembling with a mix of shame and arousal.

Mahesh grew bolder, his hands sliding to cup her breasts through the kurta, fingers grazing her nipples, the peaks hard and sensitive, each touch sending electric waves to her core, her coral lips parting in a soft moan. His cock pressed harder against her ass, grinding with each bump, the heat of his arousal searing through her leggings, making her thighs tremble, her pussy aching. The old man’s fingers crept higher through the kurta’s slit, groping her thigh near her pussy, the leggings tight against her skin, his “grip” a thin excuse, his breath ragged, his touch firm and invasive. Deepika’s mind swirled—This is so wrong—but the touches—Mahesh’s hands squeezing her breasts, his fingers rolling her nipples, his cock grinding against her ass; the old man’s fingers digging into her thigh, so close to her pulsing core—ignited a fire she couldn’t suppress, her body leaning into the sensation, her skin alive, her pussy slick with arousal, her breath uneven, her coral lips trembling.

The auto reached the campus gates, Deepika sliding off Mahesh’s lap, her breasts heaving, her ass tingling, her leggings damp with sweat and arousal, the slickness clinging to her thighs. “Thank you,” she muttered, her voice shaky, grabbing her suitcase, her wavy hair falling across her flushed face, her coral lips swollen. Mahesh adjusted his trousers, his cock still hard, his eyes dark with lust, while the old man smirked, his hand lingering in the air, his fingers flexing as if savoring her thigh. The driver watched her swaying ass, his dick twitching, as she hurried to her quarters, her heels clicking, her body buzzing with forbidden pleasure.

Alone in her room, Deepika collapsed onto her bed, her heart pounding, her caramel skin flushed, her pussy still throbbing, the weight of her stranded state mingling with the intense, shameful arousal. Tomorrow, she’d need another way to Kerala, her desires tangling further, her mind reeling with guilt and the thrill that refused to fade. The campus night held its secrets, Shreya’s and Deepika’s encounters weaving a web of unspoken tensions, the Kerala trip looming with promise and peril.

[Saj890]

Very good

[divyanair]

Chapter Five: Reluctant Alliances

The Bangalore campus shimmered under the morning sun, the air thick with jasmine and dust, the humidity heavy as students moved through the pathways. Deepika trudged into her staff quarters, her wavy black hair damp and tangled, her caramel skin flushed with exhaustion. At 5’6”, she still wore her pale blue kurta and black leggings from the failed train journey, the fabric slightly crumpled, her suitcase thudding against the floor. Her coral lips trembled as she sank onto her bed, the sting of missing her Kerala train sharp in her chest. The memory of Mahesh’s hands squeezing her breasts, the old man’s fingers groping her thigh through her kurta’s slit in the auto, flooded her mind—her nipples tightened against the kurta, a jolt of sensation making her breath catch, her pussy tingling with forbidden heat, her thighs clenching, her caramel skin warming with shame and arousal. I need to get to the wedding, she thought, grabbing her phone, her fingers shaking as she swiped through bus booking apps. The festival season had choked every route—every bus to Kerala flashed “fully booked,” red error messages taunting her. She dialed a local travel agency, her voice unsteady, but the agent’s curt reply confirmed no seats, the strike’s aftermath and festival rush clogging all options. Her heart sank, her coral lips bitten raw, her body tense with frustration, the lingering heat from the morning pulsing low in her belly.

Across campus, in the girls’ hostel, Shreya sat on her bed, her curly black hair in a loose bun, her fair skin flushed with disappointment. Dressed in a simple kameez and dupatta from her Chapter One wardrobe, the soft cotton dbanging her slender frame, the dupatta slipping to reveal her shoulder, she wore leggings with a lacy black panty underneath. Her coral lips trembled as she clutched her phone, her father’s stern voice echoing from a call, denying her permission for the Kerala wedding trip despite Ashwin’s presence. “It’s not safe, Shreya, even with your cousin,” he’d said, his tone final. The memory of Vijay’s mistaken touch in the hostel—his fingers grazing her thigh, squeezing her breast, his cock grinding against her—surged back, her nipples hardening under the kameez, her pussy tingling with a forbidden thrill, her thighs shifting restlessly. I need to go, to be with Arjun, to feel free, she thought, her heart racing, her body warm with longing for the trip’s freedom, her boyfriend’s touch.

By afternoon, the campus buzzed, the sun harsh overhead. Shreya, her dupatta slipping further to expose her collarbone, wandered near the canteen and spotted Deepika crossing the quad, her kurta creased, her wavy hair swaying, her tired expression softening her strict demeanor. Shreya’s stomach twisted—jealousy flared at Deepika’s beauty, Arjun’s attraction to her commanding presence, but a deeper warmth stirred, a care for her teacher she couldn’t shake, her attraction mingling with rivalry. “Miss, you’re still here?” Shreya called, her voice soft, her fair skin flushing. Deepika’s coral lips curved into a weary smile. “I missed the train,” she said, her voice low, the memory of Kiran’s hands on her breasts, his cock pressing against her ass on the bike, making her pussy pulse, her caramel skin warming. “No buses either, everything’s booked.” Shreya’s eyes widened, an idea sparking despite her unease. If Deepika comes, Dad might let me go, she thought, her nipples tightening faintly under the kameez, her body tingling with the thought of the trip, Arjun’s touch.

Shreya found the boys—Arjun, Karthik, and Ashwin—near the campus gate, their backpacks stuffed with “pleasure trip” plans for Kerala: bottles of beer and hard liquor hidden in socks, a pack of cigarettes in Karthik’s pocket, a pack of condoms in Arjun’s bag, his cock stirring at the thought of deflowering Shreya. Arjun, tall and lean at 5’11”, his dark eyes glinting, leaned against a wall, his dick twitching as he pictured Shreya’s fair skin. Karthik, wiry and restless, his kinky fantasies of tying Shreya up making his cock throb, grinned at her approach. Ashwin, chubby at 5’4”, his taboo crush on Shreya making his dick harden, shifted uncomfortably, his eyes on her kameez. Shreya’s voice was urgent, her fair skin flushed. “Deepika Miss missed her train, and my parents won’t let me go,” she said, her coral lips trembling. “If we invite Miss, a teacher, Dad might agree. We leave tomorrow morning in Karthik’s car.”

The boys froze, excitement and dread mixing. Arjun’s cock twitched at Deepika’s image, but her strictness would ruin their booze, cigarettes, and sex plans, his chance to fuck Shreya gone. Karthik’s cock throbbed, his kinky thoughts clashing with Deepika’s allure, her rules a threat. Ashwin’s cock stirred, his crush on Shreya warring with lust for Deepika, her authority unnerving. “Miss will kill the vibe,” Arjun muttered, his dick hard. “The beer, liquor, cigarettes, all gone.” Karthik nodded, his cock twitching, but said, “Shreya needs this.” Ashwin agreed softly, his dick throbbing, “If it gets Shreya on the trip…” Shreya’s heart raced, her pussy tingling with excitement for the trip, Arjun’s touch, despite her jealousy of Deepika’s allure and strictness. I don’t hate her, she thought, her body warm with care for Deepika and her need for the trip’s freedom.

Shreya returned to Deepika’s quarters, her leggings sweaty, her dupatta slipping further. Deepika sat on her bed, her kurta creased, her wavy hair loose, her phone open to empty booking apps. “Miss,” Shreya said, her coral lips trembling, “we’re leaving for Kerala tomorrow in Karthik’s car, me, Arjun, Karthik, and Ashwin. Join us. It’ll help me get permission.” Deepika’s dark eyes widened, her heart pounding, the idea of traveling with students clashing with her strict role. The memory of Mahesh’s fingers on her nipples, the old man’s grip on her thigh, made her pussy pulse, her caramel skin warming, her breath uneven. With students? she thought, her nipples tightening against the kurta, the fabric rubbing her sensitive peaks. She hesitated, her coral lips parting, but nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice shaky, her body tense with unease and anticipation, the morning’s thrill lingering.

Shreya called her father, her fair skin flushing, her curly hair sticking to her neck as she paced, her kameez soft against her skin. “Dad, Deepika Miss is coming with us,” she said, her voice pleading, her pussy tingling with hope. Her father, a stern Kerala businessman, paused, his mind flashing to a parent-teacher meeting, Deepika’s caramel skin glowing in a saree, her curves stirring his cock in private moments, his dick throbbing now. Deepika took the phone, her voice steady but her heart racing, the morning’s touches making her nipples harden, her pussy pulse under her leggings. “Sir, I’ll ensure Shreya’s safety,” she said, her coral lips trembling, inviting him to the wedding. “Come, join us.” Her father’s dick twitched, his resolve crumbling, the thought of seeing Deepika again overpowering his caution. “Alright, Shreya can go,” he said, his voice softening, “I’ll try to attend, pick her up.” His dick throbbed, his fantasies of Deepika fueling his agreement.

That night, after Shreya left, Deepika’s phone buzzed, her fiancé Anil’s name on the screen. She answered, her wavy hair loose, her caramel skin flushed as she leaned back on her bed, the kurta shifting against her breasts. “Hey, Anil,” she said, her voice soft, her coral lips curving. “I missed my train today, no buses either, so I’m joining some students tomorrow. We’re driving to Kerala in Karthik’s car—me, Shreya, Arjun, Karthik, and Ashwin.”

Anil’s voice came through, warm and teasing, a Kerala lilt softening his words. “Deepu, you’re serious? You, the bomb teacher, road-tripping with college boys? Damn, they’re lucky bastards, getting you all to themselves.” He chuckled, his tone playful but edged with mischief, his cock stirring at the thought of her curves.

Deepika’s coral lips parted in a laugh, her heart racing, her pussy tingling at his teasing, the memory of her students’ curious eyes—Arjun’s lingering stares, Karthik’s sly glances, Ashwin’s nervous looks, and other boys in class, their gazes grazing her breasts and ass in her kurta—making her skin prickle. “Oh, stop it, Anil,” she giggled, her voice light but her caramel skin warming, her nipples hardening under the kurta as she shifted, the fabric brushing her sensitive peaks, sending a jolt through her chest. “My students aren’t like that. They’re just… boys.” Her words faltered, her pussy pulsing as she recalled the hungry eyes of her male students, not just the trio, tracing her curves in the lecture hall, the forbidden thrill making her thighs clench, her leggings tight against her skin, faintly damp from the day’s heat.

“Come on, Deepu,” Anil teased, his dick twitching as he pictured her. “Those college boys must be losing it, drooling over their hot teacher’s ass in that kurta. Bet they’re dreaming of you right now. You sure you can handle them?” His laugh was flirty, his cock hardening at the image of her surrounded by lustful students.

Deepika’s laugh was nervous, her coral lips trembling, her pussy throbbing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, her caramel skin flushing deeper. “Anil, behave!” she said, her voice playful but shaky, her fingers brushing her thigh, the leggings soft and warm, the memory of Kiran’s hands on her breasts, Mahesh’s grip on her ass, intensifying the pulse between her thighs. “They’re my students, not perverts. I’ll keep them in line in the car tomorrow.”

Anil chuckled, his tone softening but still teasing, his dick throbbing. “Alright, Miss Strict, take it in the right spirit, yeah? Enjoy the trip, Deepu. Those boys are lucky, but you’re the boss. Have some fun, just save that ass for me.” Deepika giggled, her caramel skin burning, her pussy pulsing harder, her thighs shifting restlessly. “You’re impossible,” she murmured, her nipples aching under the kurta, her heart pounding with love, arousal, and unease, Anil’s advice easing her tension but stoking the trip’s forbidden promise.

Shreya’s heart soared after the call with her father, her fair skin flushed with relief, her pussy tingling with excitement for the trip, Arjun’s touch, though her jealousy of Deepika lingered, her attraction to her teacher a quiet pulse. Deepika sank onto her bed, her wavy hair fanning out, her heart pounding with anticipation, Anil’s playful words mixing with the weight of traveling with students, her pussy still throbbing from the day’s thrills. The boys, at the gate, adjusted their plans, their cocks twitching—Arjun’s desire for Shreya and Deepika, Karthik’s kinky fantasies, Ashwin’s taboo crush—all tempered by Deepika’s strict presence, the Kerala journey in Karthik’s car now a tangle of lust and restraint, its secrets pulling them closer under the festival’s glow.

[Sage_69]

Anil gave the yellow signal. But Deepika may take it as the rainbow.