Aunt’s Daughter Becomes My Sugar Baby
Yamini is my neighbor’s daughter from India. Last year she moved to Paris for her masters. Our neighbors back home are not rich, but their daughters always wanted to study abroad. Especially after looking at my success, whenever I used to bring chocolates for them, from different countries in Europe. That was about 15 years ago, now ‘free’ education in France is not really free. The initial expense to do an MBA is about 2 lacs INR. Then the monthly cost of living is nothing less than 30k rupees. In our time there were few students and plenty of jobs. Nowadays, there are hardly any jobs and less cheap apartments for rent. It has become difficult to study in France, though the tuition is still mostly free. She is the youngest of three siblings and very free-spirited. When I received her first time, she’d surprised me by calling me by my name. Ever since this unknown relationship has established itself. She is just Mini for me, and I’m just Som. Needless to say, I’m taking care of her expenses, that is hardly anything. We are like friends, except we are not in any normal relationship. She isn’t a mistress or a girlfriend. The only relation considering our age difference is she is my sugar baby that I’m taking care of as her sugar daddy. She satisfies my need for love and cuddles. In contrast, I satisfy her smaller financial needs along with physical intimacy that we both started enjoying lately. This is how it all started. Every time I see her, there is a change. Last time it was the sexy layered haircut. This time the change was her septum (nose) ring. It made her sharp nose, and pretty rose-like lips stand out even more. She had asked if a nose ring would suit her. I’d given my 2 cents that she should not mess with her perfectly shaped nose. Everything was not alright. Due to COVID, her classes had moved online. She had constant fights with her roommate girls because the flats in their student apartment were too small. They were never designed for staying inside, only meant for sleeping at night. I could tell that her restaurant job was long gone. She had even stopped asking if there are any other jobs available. So that I wouldn’t be embarrassed about saying ‘no’ every time. She was wearing a loose sleeveless t-shirt. I caught a glimpse of a tattoo inside her left arm and commented, “Is that an inner arm tattoo?” She turned, giving her 100-watt smile with her pearl lined teeth and pouting lips, raised her arm, and showed me something written inside, saying, “This is the oldest one. I got this in Somajiguda.” “What do you mean by the oldest? How many do you have?” I said, lighting a cigarette. I was totally free with no pretenses in her flat. She was a Parisian girl. She made black coffee for me in her small expresso machine and sat down on the arm of my single sofa. I had the deepest secret lust for her, and she either didn’t seem to notice or maybe she didn’t mind. Her long waxed legs were crossed. They were shining in a shade of rose gold in the afternoon sunlight coming from the full-length French window. She showed me her fingers. They had tattoos on the side with small symbols, like an anchor, arrow, etc., and something is written on the side of her left finger. I was holding her hand, admiring her baby-like skin and long fingers, with multicolored fingernails. “This is new,” she said and raised her right hand to show me her underarm tattoo with ‘gorgeous’ tattooed in a pretty script along half the length of her forearm. “Wow, Mini, how many tats do you have?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “Just these, the rib cage, behind left ear, nape and right armband,” she said, showing me one by one. I was getting an erection really fast. I hoped Mini would turn away for a second, so I could adjust my dick. After all, she is like 22, almost 13 years younger than me. Any friendship other than formal would be frowned upon, plus my marriage was already fixed. Luckily she turned to show me her nape tattoo, lifting her long layered hair out of the way. I adjusted my dick in a flash. Then she turned back, flipping her hair very close to my face. She lifted her t-shirt with one hand, showing me a thin-lined delicate rib tattoo. I almost got a glimpse of her under boob and flat stomach. “Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, wondering how it would be to make love to this young temptress. She smiled with her big kajal-lined eyes turning into half-moons. “Ya, I’m looking at him!” she said mischievously. “But seriously, I wish I had a boyfriend, I’m stuck in this loop, college, job, then back to college.” I knew the story, it was the same for all international students – no time for personal life. “Don’t worry, just keep looking good, and your prince will come one day,” I said. Her parents had arranged for a local IT guy to meet her for an arranged marriage, but she wasn’t interested. She had met many, but they were all short of her expectations. “Come on, get ready, and come home. Meeting the guy is just a formality. It will be a good change for you,” I said, trying to convince her. Yamini’s parents had arranged a meeting at my place. “Ok first, he’s not tall, I clearly said atleast 5”10’ because I’m also 5’6”. So I don’t want to look taller with my heels on, then he’s not fit like you,” and she stopped her argument. It’s true, I had maintained myself well over the years. Mini had confessed I was her teenage crush and still complimented me on my skinny pants and Ted Baker shirts. Plus, traveling by the metro had helped to keep my 6ft body quite lean. Mini got ready in a decent one-piece dress and started straightening her thick bangs. “Did you cut your own bangs?” I asked, suddenly interested in her. She had satisfied my hair fetish to no end.