Genda ke haar ki dor meri ungli par atak gayi. Kritika ne usko nikaalne ke bajay apni ungli meri kalaai par rakh di aur wahan thodi der dabaaye rakha.
Hum Pune ke is do kamre wale flat ke hall mein farsh par baithe the. Uske maa-baap ki bees saal ki anniversary puja shaam ko thi, isliye haar banana hamara saajha kaam ban gaya tha.
India ke is college shehar mein Sunday ki dopahar kapdon ko chipka deti hai. Window se aati hawa genda ki sugandh le kar aayi, aur Kritika ka off-white cotton kurta uski kamar se sat gaya.
Kal raat usne saaf kaha tha ki parents ke saamne sirf baat rahegi, koi chhulai nahi. Rishta pakka tha, lekin uske hisaab se hum dono ko hadd par rakhna tha.
Aaj uski ungli meri kalaai se chipki hui thi. Kurta ke kapde se uski breasts ki golai itni saaf dikh rahi thi ki andar wala support nahi lag raha tha. Yeh uske kal wale control ke bilkul ulta tha.
Teen mahine pehle dono ghar isi shehar mein mile the. Kritika college mein padhati thi, main hisaab ke daftar mein kaam karta tha. Families ne muh dikhai kar di thi.
India bhar ke families ki tarah uske ghar wale bhi shaadi se pehle doori maante the. Kritika unke saamne naram rehti thi. Mere saamne aaj kadi awaaz ghayab thi.
Haar ki adhuri dor maine side ko dhakel di.
“Kal tumne kaha tha door rehna hai,” maine seedha poocha. “Aaj tumhara haath meri kalaai par kyun ruka hua hai? Tum asal mein kya chahti ho is rishta se?”
Phoolon ke beech sawal
Genda ka dher hamare beech pada tha, kaam adhura. Kritika ki aankhen meri taraf uthin, honth khule.
“Main jhoot bol rahi thi,” usne kaha. “Woh control unke liye tha. Mere liye nahi. Main tumhe chahti hoon, abhi, yahin.”
Uska haath meri jaangh par aaya. Palazzo cream rang ka tha, patla. Ungli ne meri navy shorts ke hem ko chhua aur wahan ruki.
Main uske kareeb gaya. “Toh yeh haan hai?”
Usne meri grey t-shirt ka kinaara pakda aur halke se kheencha. “Haan. Mujhe chodo, Yash.”
Maine uska muh chuma. Uski honth narm the, thode namkeen, genda ki mitti si khushbu ke saath. Kritika ne meri zubaan pakdi, aur uski saans meri saans se takra gayi.
Kurta ke pehle do button usne khud khole. Teesra maine khola. Andar bra nahi thi. Uski breasts haath mein bhari thi, garam, nipple tight. Maine muh lagaya to usne mere baal pakad liye.
Farsh par genda ke phool dhakne lage. Kritika ghutnon ke bal uth kar meri t-shirt sar ke upar se nikaalti gayi. Meri chest par uske honth phire, neeche ki taraf.
Shorts ki cord khul gayi meri ungliyon se. Uski ungliyan mere underwear ke andar gayi aur mere lund ko pakad kar upar se neeche sarkaya. Main zor se nahi bola, bas daant bichha liye.
Palazzo ke nara usne khud khola. Kapda ghutnon ke neeche gir gaya. Uski chut par patli nangi line thi, geeli chamak ke saath. Do ungliyan uski thighs ke beech se sarkayi, phir uski chut par rakh di.
Kritika ki kamar meri taraf jhuki. “Andar mat rukna. Kal ka jhoot yahin khatam karo.”
Geelapan ungliyon par phailla. Uski aankhen band hui, phir khuli, jaise woh dekhna chahti thi ki main hatt to nahi raha. Main nahi hata.
Kritika ki haan
Underwear pairon se nikal gaya. Kritika ne mujhe farsh par khincha, khud upar aa kar meri god mein baith gayi. Mera lund uski chut ke bahar se raga, geela aur garam.
“Itne din se yahi soch rahi thi,” usne meri gardan ke paas kaha. “Unke saamne nahi, yahan. Is hall mein. Tumhare saath.”
Maine uski kamar pakad kar neeche utara. Lund ka sir uski chut ke muh par ruka, phir dheere andar gaya. Woh tang ho gayi, phir khuli, aur meri shoulder par daant rakhe.
Genda ke do teen phool uski palat ke neeche kuchle gaye. Sugandh tez ho gayi. Fan dheema ghoom raha tha, khidki band thi, bahar society ki awaaz door lag rahi thi.
Kritika hilne lagi pehle chhote daire mein. Uski breasts meri chest se ragad khati thi. Maine uska ek nipple muh mein liya, usne mere baal aur zor se pakde.
“Aur do,” usne kaha, awaaz phati hui. Main neeche se upar dhakka diya. Uski chut ne pakad liya, chhodha, phir aur kas kar liya.
Rishta ki woh seedhi line, jo kal raat usne khinchi thi, yahin tut rahi thi. Koi bada natak nahi tha. Sirf uska wazan, meri jaangh, aur beech mein woh geeli pakad.
Kritika ne mujhe palat diya. Ab woh farsh par let gayi, ek ghutna upar. Maine uski thighs kholi aur lund dubara uski chut mein ghusa. Is baar gehrai zyada mili.
Uski aankhen meri aankhon par atki. “Yash, tez.” Maine kamar se maror diya, dhakke lambe kiye. Uski chut se awaaz aayi, geeli, chhoti.
Mere kandhon par uske naakhun lage. Woh nangi thi kurta ke alawa, jo ab bahon tak atka pada tha. Main bhi nanga tha. Pasina uski kamar ki line se neeche bahne laga.
“Kal wala doori wala lecture,” maine saans ke beech kaha, “woh tumhare is haath se match nahi kha raha tha.”
Kritika hans padi, phir uski awaaz kaanp gayi kyunki maine usi pal gehra dhakka diya. “Isliye poocha na tumne. Achha kiya. Ab baat mat badhao, chodo.”
Maine choda. Pehle naap ke, phir uski ungliyon ke ishara par tez. Uski chut nehar ki tarah khinchti thi. Meri kalaai uski jaangh ke andar dabi thi, jahan subah ke haar ki dor pehle atki thi.
Phool aur bikhre. Ek genda uske baal mein atak gaya. Maine nikaala nahi. Kritika ne sir ghumaya, woh phool kaan ke paas hi reh gaya.
Uski saans lambi ho gayi, phir tuti. “Wahan… haan, wahi.” Maine usi jagah ko ragda, lund ko andar tak chhoda aur bahar sirf thoda sa. Uski thighs meri kamar par lapet gayi.
College ki madam wali seedhi awaaz ab nahi thi. Jo thi, woh geeli thi, mera naam le kar tut’ti hui. Main uske andar raha, dhakke chhote kiye, kyunki uski chut itni kas gayi thi ki tez nikalna mushkil ho raha tha.
Kritika ne apna haath apni chut aur mere lund ke beech sarkaaya. Ungli ne khud ko ragda, mere dhakke ke saath. Uska pet kasa, pair tan gaye, aur woh meri gardan mein muh daal kar aa gayi.
Geelapan aur badh gaya. Maine uski kamar pakad kar do aur dhakke maare, tez, phir ruk nahi paya. Lund uski chut ke andar hi dhadka, garam, khatam. Kritika ne mujhe andar hi dabaye rakha, jaanghein kas kar.
Dono ki saansein phooli hui thi. Fan ki hawa ab thandi lagi. Genda ki sugandh paseene se mil kar bhari ho gayi thi.
Kritika ne meri peeth par haath phera, ek baar, bina baat kiye. Main uske upar se hat kar bagal mein let gaya. Uska kurta ab bhi ek bah par latak raha tha. Palazzo door, shorts door, haar adhura.
Uski aankhen chhat ki taraf thi, phir meri taraf aayi. Koi lamba vaada nahi nikla. Sirf itna, “Shaam ko yeh haar poora karna hoga.”
Adhura haar
Maine kuch nahi joda. Kritika uth kar baithi. Kurta usne pehna, button upar tak nahi lagaye, sirf do beech wale. Palazzo pairon mein khincha, nara jaldi bandha.
Farsh par kuchle genda pade the. Adhuri dor usne uthayi, jaise kaam ab bhi usi hall ka ho, lekin haath ka matlab badal chuka ho.
Paseena uski gardan se ponchha usne apne hi kinaare se. Mujhe dekha, ek pal. Phir bathroom wale darwaze ki taraf chal di, haar ki dor haath mein liye, bina peeche mude.
Main farsh par hi raha, nanga, kalaai par ab bhi uski pehli dabav ki yaad. Hall waisa hi tha, sirf phool bikhre the, aur Kritika us darwaze se andar chali gayi.