Pune rain & intimacy between two old friends
Hi readers, I am Krittika. You can read my previous stories here . This time, I am going to share a few different stories that I am not involved with, but these led Aman to me. Out of many, it is the story of Aman, who had fun with a girl from his past (a childhood friend) a long time ago. Now I am narrating the story on behalf of Aman (the man of my life). I had just wrapped up a long week of work and stepped into a pub in Koregaon Park. I needed a quick drink. Just one whiskey to wash down the entire week’s stress before heading towards the flat. It was only a 10-minute walk away. I ordered a whiskey and sat at the bar. Swirling the ice in the glass, I was scanning the room out of habit. That’s when I saw her (the heroine of the story). She was sitting at a high table near the window, staring at the rain through the glass. She wore the body-hugging black one-piece ending just below her ass (barely covering her thighs). “Is it Smita?” I said to myself 1st. At this moment, she turned her head, scanning the crowd, and her eyes locked on mine. There was a pause. After a few seconds, recognition lit up her face. I picked up the glass and walked over. Smita: “Aman?” Aman: “The one and only.” I smiled and asked, “It’s been 10 years since we last met, and here we are meeting in a pub, and you are drinking alone.” Smita: Sit down. Don’t make me drink alone in this rain. Aman: You look different. Smita: Good different or bad different? Aman: (Looking into her eyes) Dangerously different Smita: (smirking) I will take that. The waiter came over, and I ordered whiskey, and she ordered a vodka tonic. Aman: So…. Where is the husband? Or the boyfriend? Smita: (smiles flattered) history. As of 2 weeks ago. Aman: Fresh wound then. Smita: I am not wounded, Aman. I am liberated. He was boring. I realised I don’t do boring anymore. Aman: And here I thought you came here to cry. Smita: I came here to forget the past and to feel something different. The air between two friends grew heavy. Aman: What do you want to feel? Smita: (took a long sip from her drink) Alive and wanted. I shifted in my seat. My knee brushed against hers under the table. She didn’t pull back. Instead, she pressed her knees firmly against mine. The contact sent a jolt straight to my groin. Aman: You were the quiet one in school, and now look at you. Smita. I grew up in Aman. Didn’t you? Aman: Oh, absolutely, in all ways that matter. Smita laughed, listening to this, and said, “Is it a fact?” Aman: You can verify if you want. That was bold, and I wanted to take a risk with her at that moment. She didn’t flinch, but rather leaned further towards me, and the gap between us was shrinking. Smita: Maybe I will. We finished our drinks, and the alcohol was already doing the job. Smita: Do you live far? Aman: 10 minutes walking or 2 mins by cab. Smita: Is it empty? Aman: Always for a beautiful lady! She looked into my eyes and said: I don’t want to go home (Hinjewadi). My flat is anyway quiet and cold. Aman: Let’s go to my flat. It is warm. I promise. Smita: Lead the way. We started walking, and suddenly she stopped and asked: “Are you being nice because we were classmates? Or do you actually look at me and want me?” I didn’t answer her question. I stepped in, closing the distance until our bodies were touching chest to chest. I reached out and grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against me. Aman: (near her ears) Does it feel like I am just being nice? I leaned down and kissed her. It was not a soft kiss. I crushed my mouth onto hers, and she opened up instantly, her tongue meeting mine. Her hands moved up to my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me harder against her. We made out right in the middle of the street at midnight. After a few minutes of intense kissing, I pulled back breathless. “Let’s go, before I remove all your clothes right here on the street.” We practically ran the rest of the way. The moment I unlocked the door, we stepped inside, and the light didn’t even go on. She kicked the door shut behind us and pushed me against the wall. Smita: You talk too much, Aman. (while her hands work on my belt) Aman: And you are quite impatient. I grabbed her hips and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around my waist instinctively. I carried her to the sofa, not bothering to carry her to the bedroom. Aman: You are beautiful. She was not in the mood for the compliments; what she needed was action. She grabbed my face and kissed me again to prevent me from talking while grinding her hips down on me. I reached for the zipper at the back of her dress and slid it down with a hiss. I peeled her dress off her body, exposing her bra and panties. She was wearing black. Her skin was glowing in the dim light. I ran my hands all over her curves, exploring the woman she had become. Hands cupped her boobs over the lace, squeezing gently and then harder. Smita arched her back, and a moan escaped her throat, “Yes, Aman, just like that.” I moved my mouth down to her neck, sucking on the sensitive spot below her ears. She shivered violently. I unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. Her boobs spilt out, perfect and heavy. I didn’t wait for her and buried my face in them, tasting, licking and biting. I forgot to mention her stats: She is 34 C 28 36. She grabbed my head, pressing against her boobs, “Oh god, it feels great. It’s been so long” In the meantime, my hands started sliding up until I found the lace of her panties. She was already wet, soaking wet. I slipped a finger inside her clean-shaven pussy. She screamed into my mouth and her nails digging into my shoulders, “Aman” Aman: “You like that?” I started moving my finger in a steady rhythm. Smita: More…Please, more … faster. I added a second finger curling inside her pussy, hitting that sweet spot. She was tight, hot and clamping down on me with every thrust of my hand.