Vivek couldn’t focus. His disciplined mind, once obsessed with exam cut-offs and current affairs, now drifted into forbidden territory. At night, when he lay in bed, the memories replayed in painful clarity: the moment she pulled her t-shirt over her head, the bounce of her breasts beneath thin cotton, the way her ass curved so perfectly in those boxers.
Every accidental glimpse became an obsession. Every time she passed too close, every careless brush of her arm, every flash of bare skin beneath her clothes—each one pushed him deeper into a desire he had no name for, no control over.
And though he tried to fight it, the hunger only grew.
One sweltering afternoon, as monsoon clouds gathered over Lucknow, the air thick with unspoken tension, Sonam announced she was heading upstairs to shower. The house was quiet, Ajay at work, Kalpana napping, only the hum of the ceiling fan breaking the silence. Akshay, restless and unable to focus on his notes, felt the pull of temptation. The bathroom door, as always, was left slightly ajar—her careless habit from their college hostel days. His pulse quickened, guilt warring with desire as he climbed the stairs, drawn to the sliver of light spilling from the door.
Through the narrow gap, he saw her. Sonam stood in the bathroom, the dim bulb casting a golden glow over her bare skin. She slipped her t-shirt over her head, the fabric catching briefly on her breasts before falling to the tiled floor, revealing their gentle curves, the rosy peaks tightening in the cool air. Her boxers followed, sliding down her thighs to pool at her feet, exposing the smooth expanse of her legs, the delicate flare of her hips, and the shadowed curve of her navel. Water cascaded from the shower, kissing her skin, each droplet tracing paths over her collarbone, down the valley between her 34B breasts, and along the taut plane of her stomach.
Sonam’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting as she stepped fully under the stream. The water amplified every sensation, her skin alive with its caress. Her hands moved with purpose, one trailing down her neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her throat, the other sliding lower, grazing the curve of her stomach. She paused, her breath catching, as memories of college nights flooded back—whispered fantasies with friends, dreams of lovers who’d claim her with bold, unrelenting touches. Trapped in Lucknow’s relentless routine, her body craved release, a rebellion against the monotony.
Her fingers dipped between her thighs, teasing the sensitive folds, a soft gasp escaping as she found her rhythm. The water’s warmth mingled with the heat of her desire, her movements slow at first, then urgent, her hips swaying slightly as she surrendered to the pleasure. Her other hand cupped her breast, thumb circling the hardened peak, drawing a low moan that echoed faintly in the tiled room. Her breath grew ragged, her body arching as waves of sensation built, her fingers moving faster, chasing the crescendo. A shudder ran through her, her lips parting in a silent cry as she reached her peak, the orgasm washing over her like the water itself, leaving her trembling, her skin flushed with heat.