indiansexstories
Two fully clothed adults, one adult Indian man and one adult Indian woman in a contemporary Indian city apartment entry.

Haan bolne ke baad Ahmedabad shop mein Kritika ke saath sex

9 min readHindi Sex Stories

Kritika ne mere haath se pipe chheen li jab main Sunday subah watering kar raha tha. Pani ki dhaar money plant ke patton par atak kar tapakne lagi. Usne pipe ko tap ke paas rakh diya aur mere muh ki taraf dekha, jaise koi hisab maang rahi ho.

Ahmedabad, India ke is purani gali wali plant shop mein mera Sunday hamesha yahi chalta tha. Pehle paudhe, phir do cup chai, phir counter ki dhool. Aaj usne woh silsila beech se tod diya.

Kapdon par paani ke chheente the, lekin uski cotton kurti sookhi thi. Dupatta kandhe se sarak kar bahu par pada tha. Gali mein do scooter khade the. Koi aadmi nazar nahi aa raha tha.

Usne seedha faisla maanga

“Harsh, aaj shop band kar. Ek ghanta. Ya main yahin se wapas chali jaun aur phir na aaun.” Awaaz tez nahi thi. Seedhi thi.

Haath par mitti chipki thi. T-shirt ke pallu se ungliyan ponchhta raha. Teen hafte se woh paudhe dekhne aati thi, baat karti thi, meri aankhon mein rukti thi, phir nikal jati thi. Aaj rukna nahi chahti thi.

“Band karne se kya hoga?” sawal nikal gaya.

“Wohi jo tu sochta hai aur bolta nahi. Main battis saal ki hoon. Tu bhi ikattis ka hai. Ghumne ka khel bas kar. Sex chahiye to haan bol. Nahi chahiye to nahi bol. Beech ka rasta mat nikal.”

Shutter ke handle par haath raha. Watering adhuri thi. Agar patti giri to paudhe pyaase reh jaate. Agar na giri to woh nikal jati, aur yeh sawal phir na aata.

“Haan. Band karta hoon.” Itna kaafi tha. Usne sir hilaya. Roll-down shutter dono banhon se neeche aaya, sil par takkar khakar ruka. Dukaan andheri ho gayi. Peeche ke vent se dhoop ki ek patti farsh par giri rahi.

Joota nahi utara usne. Seedha mere paas aa gayi aur t-shirt ke neeche haath ghusaya. Pet garam tha. Honth pehle gale par pade, phir munh par. Chumma geela tha, jaldi mein, jaise time ginta ho.

Meri banhon ne uski kamar pakad li. Kurti ke kapde ke neeche elastic soft thi. Uski aankhen andhere mein bhi pakki thin, intezaar nahi kar rahi thin.

Andar geeli dhoop

India ke is garm shehar mein Sunday ki garmi shutter ke peeche aur bhi chipchipi ho gayi thi. Paseena uski gardan se kurti ke gireban mein utar raha tha. Mitti aur geele patton ki khushbu table ke round se uthi, jaise koi bhi bahar ki hawa ab andar na aaye.

Potting table ke kinare par khali plastic trays thi. Kritika ne unhe ek dhakke se sarkaya, phir meri shorts ki cord khol di. Elastic dheeli padi. Mera lund kapde ke andar pehle se tight tha. Uski ungli ne usko bahar nikaala, halke se ragda, phir ruk gayi.

“Yahan. Table par. Paudhe mat gira.” Uski saans meri gardan par padi.

Kurti ke pehle do button khul gaye. Chhoti si bra saadi nahi, saadi cotton ki, hook aasan tha. Uske boobs haath mein bhar gaye, garam, paseene se chipke. Main munh jhuka kar ek nipple ko chusa. Woh shor nahi karti, bas mere baal pakad leti, jaise control uske paas rahe.

Churidar ke naade mein ungli atak gayi. Kritika khud jhuk kar naada kholti rahi, phir kapda ghutnon tak utar aaya. Dupatta table ke kone par gir gaya. Uski thighs par geela pan nahi tha shuru mein, lekin jab meri ungli uski chut par rahi to woh khud ko meri taraf dhakelti rahi.

“Andar mat soch. Main yahin hoon.” Itna bolkar usne meri nazar pakad li. Main uske honth phir chuma, is baar dheere, aur do ungliyan geeli jagah par ghumati rahi jab tak uski kamar meri kalaai ke against nahi kampi.

Table ki lakdi meri jaangh se takrai. Kritika ne khud ko kinare par bithaya, taange meri kamar ke dono taraf. Churidar ek taang se latak raha tha. Main shorts ko ghutne tak dhakka dekar beech mein aa gaya. Lund uski chut ke muh par laga, ruk gaya.

Usne apna ek haath neeche bheja aur khud ko khola. “Ab.”

Andar jaate hi dono ki saansein phooli hui thi. Geeli, tight, garam. Main ek pal ruka, is liye nahi ki sochna tha, balki is liye ki table hil na jaye. Plastic pot ek inch sarka, lekin gira nahi. Kritika hans di, woh bhi dabi hui hansii, phir meri gardan kaatne lagi honthon se.

Pehle dhakke dheeme the. Uski chut ne lund ko kheench liya, chhoda, phir kheench liya. Meri ungliyon ne uski thighs dabaye rakha. Vent ki dhoop uske pet par ek patti ki tarah chal rahi thi, upar neeche, jaise koi bahar se dekh raha ho. Bahar koi nahi tha. Sirf shutter ki sil se halki gali ki awaaz aa rahi thi, scooter, door kutta.

“Tez kar, lekin shor mat nikal.” Uski baat meri kaan ke paas thi. Main tez kiya. Table ki taangein farsh par halki si ghisne lagi. Ek tray kinare se latki, main ne usko haath se pakad kar wapas dhakela. Is harkat se lund gehra gaya. Kritika ki ungliyan mere kandhon par gaddi ho gayin.

Kapdon ka hisaab bigad gaya tha. Meri t-shirt pet tak uthi padi thi. Uski bra ek taraf sarak kar bazu ke neeche atak gayi thi. Main munh utha kar uski aankhen dekhta raha. Woh palak nahi jhapka rahi thi. Har dhakke par uski honth khulte, phir band.

Beech mein usne meri kamar dhakka dekar rok di. “Nikal. Ek second.” Lund bahar aaya, chamakdaar, thanda hawa laga. Kritika ne khud ko table se utara, palat kar table ke kinare ko pakda, kamar peeche ki. Churidar ab farsh par tha. Uski gaand ki golai dhoop ki patti mein aa gayi. Main peeche se andar gaya, is baar aur gehra.

Is angle par uski chut aur bhi naram lagi. Meri jaanghein uski jaanghon se takrati rahi. Ek haath uski kamar par, doosra aage jakar chut ke upar wale naram hisse ko ragadta raha. Uski awaaz ab gale mein atak kar rah gayi, jaise shabdon ki jagah saans bachi ho.

Paudhon ki mitti ke dabbe pair ke paas the. Ek ko main ne joota laga kar door sarka diya, is liye ki gir na jaye. Yeh soch bhi sex ke beech aati rahi: kal subah yeh paudhe yahi khade honge, lekin abhi yeh table sirf uske haath ke neeche hai. Kritika ne peeche mudkar dekha. “Tu paudhe dekh raha hai?”

“Nahi giren, isliye.”

“To dekh mat. Mujhe dekh.”

Main jhuka. Uski peeth par honth rakhe, gardan ke neeche, jahan paseena geela tha. Phir dhakke tezz nahi, tez ho gaye, lambe. Uski chut ne pakad liya. Meri saans uske baal mein ulajh gayi. Ek pal ko laga shutter ke bahar koi ruka, lekin woh sirf kisi cycle ki ghanti thi, door, gali ke kone par.

Kritika ki taang fisli. Main ne usko kamar se uthaya, wapas table par bithaya, saamne se. Ab uski aankhen meri aankhon ke bilkul paas thin. Lund phir andar gaya. Is dafa usne khud ko upar uthaya, neeche aayi, meri jaanghon par baithkar rhythm apna liya. Table ki lakdi karrahi. Main ne uske boobs ko munh mein liya, ek, phir doosra. Uski ungliyan mere baal kheench rahi thin, dard halka, pasand ka.

“Main aane wali hoon. Mat nikal.” Itna kehkar uski kamar kas gayi. Uski chut ne lund ko dabaya, chhoda, phir dabaya. Geela pan meri jaanghon par bahne laga. Main ruk nahi paya. Do dhakke aur, tez, aur main uske andar hi utar gaya, garam, lamba. Dono ki saansein ek doosre ke munh par takrai.

Kuch second aise hi rahe. Lund andar dheela hota gaya. Kritika ne meri gardan se munh hataya, maathe ko mere maathe se lagaaye rakha. Vent ki patti ab uske kandhon par thi. Uski bra ab bhi ek taraf atki thi. Main nikal aaya. Thoda pani table ki lakdi par gir gaya. Usne koi taana nahi maara, sirf t-shirt ke pallu se woh daag ponchha, jaise yeh bhi paudhe ki mitti ho.

Andar ki garmi ab bojh lagi. Meri shorts ghutnon par hi thi. Kritika ne churidar uthaya, taangein pehle ek, phir doosri. Naada jaldi mein ulajh gaya. Main ne hook lagaane mein madad ki, bra seedhi ki, kurti ke button upar se neeche. Dupatta table ke kone se utha, uske kandhon par rakha. Uski aankhen ab itni pakki nahi thin. Thakaan thi, lekin pachhtawa nahi.

Pipe ab bhi tap ke paas padi thi. Money plant ke patte geele the, neeche mitti geeli thi. Watering adhuri hi thi. Main t-shirt neeche khincha, shorts ki cord bandhi. Lund ab naram tha, kapde ke andar geela mehsoos ho raha tha. Kritika ne apna baal kaan ke peeche kiya, aaine ki tarah shutter ke dhaathe mein apna chehra dekha, jo saaf nahi dikhta tha.

“Paudhe zinda rahenge,” usne kaha, jaise meri chup ko padh rahi ho. “Tu bhi. Main bhi.”

Haan mein sir hilaya. Koi agla plan nahi bana. Chai ka kettle bhi nahi chala. Sirf dono kapde theek karte rahe, aur vent ki dhoop farsh par chhoti hoti gayi, jaise dopahar paas ho.

Gali mein dhol

Pehle dhol door se aaya, phir nazdeek. Shaadi ka jaloos gali ke us kone se mudkar aa raha tha. Shehnai ki ek line shutter ke lohe se takrakar andar ghus aayi. Kritika ka haath dupatte par ruk gaya. Main shutter ke handle tak pahuncha, lekin turant nahi khola.

Dhol aur paas aaya. Koi taaliyan, koi cheekh, koi “maharaja” wala naara. Patti ke neeche se laal jhandi ki jhalak dikhi. Hum akele nahi reh sake is shor ke saath. Kritika ne joota thik kiya. Main ne apni t-shirt ke neeche haath daal kar pet saaf kiya, jo ab bhi chipchipa tha.

Shutter ko main ne kamre bhar upar khincha, itna ki ek aadmi jhuk kar nikal sake. Dhoop ankh mein lagi. Gali rangon se bhari thi. Band wale seedhe shop ke saamne ruk kar ek taal de rahe the, phir aage badhe. Pichhe ek aurat tulsi ka pot uthaye hue intezaar kar rahi thi, jaise dhol ke peeche hi uska kaam khada ho.

“Beta, yeh tulsi wali nikaal dena. Subah se ghoom rahi hoon.” Uski nazar Kritika ke geele baal par gayi, phir meri shorts ke geele dhabbe par nahi gayi, kyunki main counter ke peeche khada ho gaya.

Kritika ne sirf itna kaha, “Main nikalti hoon.” Dupatta muh par kheench kar woh jaloos ke kinare se nikal gayi, bina mudkar. Main tulsi ka chhota pot uthaya, aurat ke haath mein pakda, paise baad mein lene ko kaha kyunki billing register ab bhi dhool mein tha. Usne sir hilaya aur dhol ke peeche chali gayi.

Pipe se ab bhi ek boond tapak rahi thi. Money plant ke neeche mitti geeli thi, baaki pots sookhe. Main ne shutter poora upar kar diya. Gali ka shor shop ke andar ghus aaya, jaise koi darwaza hi na ho. Watering dubara shuru ki, lekin haath mein wazan nahi tha. Kritika gali ke kone se gayab ho chuki thi, aur tulsi wali aurat ke paise counter par rakhne ke liye koi nahi tha, sirf dhol ki goonj aur adhure paudhe.

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