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His hands cupped around, squeezing both chubby breasts as he stood behind her trying to caress her from the back. Her thoughts drifted away from the disgusting sensation to the ticking clock, wondering when her daughter would return from piano class, giving her the perfect excuse to bid good bye to this jackass.
Why had she allowed him to come over in the first place? More than anything else, it was an attempt to prove to herself that emotionless sex isn’t her cup of tea. Rohit had been in an unfulfilling marriage and had been wooing Sara for over a year on the telephone, after she had settled down in a new place, months after her divorce. She had been having fun taking his calls at times when she had nothing better to do, but ignoring his calls and messages when she had more meaningful things to handle.
He began to talk sex when he became fascinated by the objective pointers she gave him about sorting his rocky marriage – the pros and cons of being in the turbulent ship, and the consequences of jumping ship. Rohit’s relationship with his wife had been reduced to a low, lethargic and stressed marriage, which would drag on till the contract terminated with the demise of either of the spouses. His situation had turned him cold and lethargic wherein he no longer wanted to work through issues or meet with a counselor. He wanted to suit his convenience by continuing to benefit from staying in the comfort zone while still getting a piece of sex pie from here and there.
Sara had no feelings for him right from the start, and actually found his voice a turn-off when he called with the same non-provocative, “What did you eat for breakfast this morning?” She needed a man more challenging and intellectual who could at least be creative in asking the same question with a different choice of words or in a different tone of voice.
Still, just for the sake of fun, she kept leading Rohit on. She had been in a profoundly sexually satisfying and intellectually stimulating relationship with a dynamic versatile man before Rohit appeared on the scene. But she had ended up getting hurt when the man of class made a choice to withdraw coldly for reasons and issues in his personal life he couldn’t sort. Sara had seen that coming and, although anticipating the pain the break up would bring, boldly disconnected herself from her lover. She realized the baggage of his unsorted personal past was taking away the charm and glamour of the beautiful and sensuously intimate times she had been enjoying with Girish.
After her break up with Glamorous Girish, Rohit would call every Friday and schedule a sex session the following Saturday afternoon, and Sara would reject his idea of coming over to her place. Then, every Monday, she would make it to the hills, with a sham remorse in her voice, making it sound like she wished he had come over the previous weekend. Analysing to herself why she was playing such a stupid game with the jerk, Sara concluded it was part of her way of getting back at Girish, whom she hadn’t fought back, allowing feelings of pain and rejection to build within her.
Girish and she had years of secret sex, at her place, in the presence as well as the absence of her ex-husband with whom she had already decided to part ways. During trips to the mountains, they had sneaked into each other’s rooms and relished foreplay even with people sleeping around in the same room, touching and caressing in moving train travel, thankful to railway authorities who provided curtains in sleeper coaches.
* * * *
On one trip they took together, Girish and Sara couldn’t wait to keep their hands off each Anadolu Yakası Escort other. While most people were out filling their shopping carts, Sara only had to pick up the intercom in her seductive hotel room and, with her nervous but excited finger tips, dialed room 225 for her guy to receive the call and hear her mouth only the word, “Come”. She had slipped into her silvery pink lingerie as soon as her husband had taken off. The smooth velvety touch of her laced bra and panties highlighted the seductive curves of her breasts and the hips that caught Girish’s fancy the most.
“The next time we meet,” he had yearned, whispering in her ear, “I wish to bite your smooth and OH so perfect hips.” Then, as if to make sure his move would be welcomed, he inquired, “Would you like that, darling?” Sara, passionately involved in the act of love-making, had never been too startled by all the man’s ideas, for they had always co-incidentally been what her hungry body had been pining for. With Girish, she was lucky to have all her heart’s desires taken care of without having to ask for a thing, though she’d kept asking him if she was fulfilling him in a manner that he would want from a woman.
Now, dabbing her perspiring brow with a sanitizer, she quickly fastened the knot of her bathing gown as she unlatched the door to let Girish in. His big, protective arms instantly wrapped her in a clasp as her breasts pressed to his chest in desperation. His hot fingers traced the outline of her silky laced bra, tingling her as she let the grey bathing gown drop to the red carpet. Latching the door with his free hand, Girish teasingly stepped backward, taking each move slowly so as to maximize the time leading upto giving Sara a gradually escalating but profoundly sensuous orgasm.
Feeling warm and comfortable between cotton sheets, he broke the ice by demonstrating to her what French kissing was all about. His tongue pressed urgently into her mouth, searching for hers. She loved it so much that, unable to hold back, she pulled herself over him, repeating the pleasurable act time and again. He went on spontaneously from move to move, showering her with passionate kisses all over her cheek, down to her breasts where he took a little more time devouring her straight and hard tits. It turned her on so much so that she begged him to suck harder till it hurt. Her ecstatic heaves and sighs had turned him on. Repositioning himself, he placed his tight hard and hot cock between her breasts, relishing the friction as he rubbed it between them.
* * * *
By the time she had matured, Sara had come to realize that, not her husband but Girish, had been the love of her life. Girish had referred to her as his “Perfect Sex Partner” and taught her what luscious sex was all about. With her husband, Sara had experienced routine hugging and kissing and “penis in – penis out; baby, I am off to sleep”. But Girish’s appearance on the scene had open the doors of exploring the sexual world for her.
One day, he’d teach her all about French kissing, on another, he’d turn her around and try doggie positions. The next time, he’d heighten her pleasure by fingering her wet vagina till she grabbed him tight, kissing his face passionately. He referred to her as his “bottle of sex” since, according to him, she was a new turn on every time they had sex. He was overflowing with ideas and experiments to perform with her, while still calling afterwards to care and find out if his moves had caused discomfort to her in some way after his departure, making sure she had settled back in her routine before her immoral, emotionless husband returned.
Although there was always a risk in the meetings they planned, Girish and Sara were always on the same page when it came to working out the time, place and logistics of their next intimate session. Sara had discovered Girish pretty unexpectedly yet easily while she was looking for work from home opportunities. She hoped to be able to express her creative self even as she performed duties of a loving Mom to her toddler. Meanwhile, her sadist husband slyly kept her from going out and making a career. Girish, being a friend of her husband’s and a visionary had seen the potential in having Sara join his organization as a fundraiser, even if it meant allowing her to work comfortably from her own home.
What began over the telephone as a boss-secretary kind of fun relationship between Girish and Sara, gradually moved beyond work to a mutual attraction, with both of them talking about personal situations and comforting each other’s painful hearts. In such situations, with two people similarly facing feelings of dissatisfying intimacy, lack of emotions, and a longing for a true friend who could be an emotional anchor, it was inevitable for the two of them to end up between the sheets. Sara always reciprocated well to her lover’s sexual moves and followed through with Girish’s ideas for every next session. Her heaves, sighs and initiative-taking attitude in bed was a turn on to him.
* * * *
Rohit now inched closer, trying to smooch the left side of Sara’s neck and then approach her cheek, but it was becoming more and more irritating for Sara to tolerate him. Five minutes after she had let him into her house, she already knew that he was no match for her, either sexually or emotionally. But, alas! now that he was inside, she thought it would be okay to allow him to touch her once, despite every inch of her body feeling disgust at the thought of him.
When Rohit had called earlier that evening, to get directions on how to reach her house, Sara had rummaged through her clothes, looking for a fine blue and silver tight, sleeveless t-shirt and a short white skirt in an attempt to create a romantic ambiance. She loosened her hair, letting it fall over both shoulders. The step cut highlighted features of her fair complexion, and the softness of her rosy pink lips accentuated by her glow. After dropping off her daughter at piano class, she had felt around her boobs, round hips and thighs to get a feel of how the outfit felt, and if it would be a turn-on for Rohit.
When she answered the door bell, Sara had an irrational hope that Girish, instead of Rohit, would be standing at her doorstep. That it would be Girish’s fingers running up and down her thighs and hips, causing a warm tingling with every stroke, his passion to bite onto her buttocks and her hunger to have him there had melting her like a wax-doll.
Sara had to fight to keep her thoughts focused and tell herself again that Girish didn’t matter to her anymore, because now she had gone beyond emotionally bonded sex to having sex for fun! The bad girl in her whispered again and again, ‘In the Girish-Sara relation, the former called the shots, but in the Sara-Rohit situation, poor bruised cowardly Rohit will be wrapped around my little finger for here, I call most of the shots. It gives me a sense of power and control for a change’.
Over the telephonic conversations they had, Rohit had referred to her by words she now found childish, “my darling, my sweet kachori”, and stuff. The words were to her like dispassionate stones that she wanted to hurl back. Had the same words been coming from her ex-lover, they would have topped the entire sensuous sexual pastry like a cherry on top.
* * * *
Jolting her thoughts back to the present, Sara picked up her cell phone lying on a hexagon-shaped table to her right, restlessly fiddling away with it while the jerk continued to unimaginatively squeeze her fleshy breasts, pretending to receive an important call or respond to an urgent message so as to break free from his clasp.
How ridiculous it felt to have a man touching her despite having no feelings. She allowed herself to give in, if rather unwillingly, when Rohit slid his hands down and untied the pink strings on her skirt. His loosening it would only serve to let his hand find her dry vagina. She turned her head away toward the wall, deciding to let him play for a while before showing him the door. His feel, his voice, his touch, his soft but numb fingering and, as he moved further down, even his forceful tongue licking the walls of her vagina, meant absolutely nothing sexless to her. It was worse than the sensation an imaginary vibrator or masturbation would have conjured up for her.
Sexually starved in his marriage, Rohit was intensely fascinated by her sexuality. She herself had become very aware of her own desirable bodily features after the time spent with Girish. It had helped her rediscover her curved sensuous body and highlight her sexual features in a way her monotonous ritual with her husband had failed to bring out.
Now, flat on the couch, beginning to roll up her smooth blue-silvery t-shirt in an attempt to get a closer feel of both fleshy breasts, Rohit advanced his mouth toward the left nipple, then the right, licking and gnawing at her tits. Still nothing. Nothing, no feeling, no sensuousness, no arousal; like a robot at play.
She began to excuse herself in the midst of acts and run away to the washroom pretending to freshen up, not too emotionally hurt or too weak to weep, just disgusted and cold. There by the window, she pulled out her cell phone, quickly surfing through her text messages and even turning on the radio to switch her mind to something more meaningful. Till she heard the jerk coming to look for her, she made the most of the time to escape from the farce which was her own creation.
What had this evening meant to her? Merely calling Rohit over to explore possibilities of her own mind and sexual capacities. It had reinforced her already embedded belief that she was a traditionally brought up, traditional woman, destined only to enjoy sex to the fullest with a man who could match her intellectual and emotional wavelength.
Turning her cell phone to vibrate mode, she unlatched the door and stepped out. How bland and unsatisfying could a sex session with a man like Rohit be! “Got to run now,” she said fumbling and beginning to put together few things into her golden-green handbag lying by the table, “Monica’s coach wants to meet with me about her piano lessons.”
Rohit was disappointed though Sara couldn’t care a damn! Either he followed through with her instructions and found his way to the door, or she would use the ultimate weapon of calling to inform his wife of his whereabouts. He found her to be a luscious treasure of sex but, to her, he was trash. Her mind had by now formed a clear picture of the man she would be on the look out for. Someone close to all that Girish stood for – love, passion, intellect – a sort of, if not perfect, balance between emotions and practicality, caring and yet distant, passionate and yet passive, a man who would want her for the values she stood for, a gentleman who would be a compliment for all her not so pronounced characteristics.
And more than anything else, a partner for life who had himself sorted out first.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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