Ragini bhabhi – Part 2 (Hot saree clad neighbour)
The days after that one accidental, sinful glimpse of Ragini Bhabhi’s waist were pure torture for me. I couldn’t focus anywhere. College lectures? Just noise. Football practice? Total waste. I was only running around, but my mind was stuck on one thing. The moment when her saree moved in the wind, and I saw her deep navel. So neat, so perfect. Like some fucking magnet pulling my eyes. Married woman or not, it didn’t matter. That image kept coming back like some curse. Every time I stepped out of my room, my eyes would automatically go towards her flat, hoping maybe she would open the door, maybe I would see her again. And honestly, my stomach would twist with excitement mixed with fear. I used to get hard just like that, without any reason. By Sunday evening, I was restless like anything. I was lying on bed, shorts loose, scrolling Insta reels and all, when suddenly ‘thak thak thak.’ Knock on my door. My heart jumped. Who now? The landlord never comes without telling. My friends don’t visit here. I quickly adjusted my crotch and opened the door. And fuck me… it was her. Ragini bhabhi. Saree in dark green, blouse so tight on her boobs that I literally forgot how to breathe. Pallu is just hanging casually on the shoulder, showing some collarbone, her skin glowing in the yellow corridor light. I swear in that moment, no woman on earth looked hotter. She was holding one steel dabba, wrapped in cloth. “Namaste, Saurav ji,” she said. Her voice was soft, sweet. A little hesitant, but it melted in my ear. I almost choked. “Y-yeah bhabhi,” I replied, trying hard not to stare at her cleavage. “Rudresh told me you live alone… so I thought maybe you want some home food.” She stretched out the dabba. When our fingers touched, a shock went straight down. My cock twitched instantly. I swallowed and stammered, “Th-thank you.” She stood there one second more, like she wanted to say something else, then she just turned to leave. And like an idiot, I blurted out, “Bhabhi… you want to come inside?” She paused. Her eyes flickered, like she was confused. Maybe fear, maybe curiosity, I don’t know. But before she could answer, a door in the hall opened, creaked. She suddenly pulled her saree tight around herself and said, “I have to go. See you.” And just like that, she left. I stood holding the hot dabba, watching her hips sway as she walked away. That night I ate like a madman. Every bite felt like her. Spicy, tasty, full of flavour. While chewing, I kept imagining her rolling rotis, bangles clinking when she mixed curry, her fingers dipped in masala. My dick went hard again just thinking about how those same fingers would feel on my skin. Fuck, it was like eating her. The next evening, I found myself outside her flat with the empty dabba. Like a fucking puppy. Knocked on the door. Who opens? Rudresh bhaiyya. Arre yaar. “Ah, Saurav ji!” he smiled widely. “Returning dabba? Good, good.” “Yeah, Bhaiyya, thank you. The food was really nice.” “Come inside, come inside! Ragini made biryani today. You must try.” For a second, I thought, No, it will look bad. But the smell of biryani and, honestly, the temptation to see her again, I stepped in. Their house was simple, small. Some family photos on the wall. Rudresh looks proud in all pictures. Bhabhi was standing next to him with a polite smile. And then she came out. From the kitchen, carrying plates. Saree today was yellow, tight on her curves. The blouse was a little loose at the neck, and when she bent to keep things on the table, the neckline opened enough to give me a view of her cleavage. I froze. She noticed. Our eyes met. She caught me looking. Her cheeks turned pink immediately. Fuck. “Sit, sit!” Rudresh patted my back. “Ragini, give him a plate also.” She nodded, avoided my eyes, and went inside again. Dinner started. Honestly, I don’t remember the taste. I was too busy stealing glances. Every time she leaned to serve, the saree shifted, showing her bare waist. Once her hip brushed my arm, I almost jumped. My fingers were itching badly to touch that skin. Then, when she passed me water, our fingers touched, and we stayed for a moment, like a small electric spark. I looked at her. She was already looking at me. Her lips opened slightly. Then Rudresh’s voice came. “So, Saurav, how’s college?” I snapped out. Gave some useless answer. Couldn’t even focus. My eyes are only on bhabhi. She looked all flustered, like she was burning inside but couldn’t say anything. That night in my bed, I just lost it. I kept imagining her waist, her ass moving under that saree, her shy eyes when I got caught staring. My hand was already inside my shorts before I even thought. I started stroking myself fast, imagining my tongue circling her navel. My lips are sucking on her milky waist; her hips are grinding on my lap. Guilt and excitement are both mixed. I groaned into a pillow, cum shot all over my stomach. Only her face in my head. The next morning, leaving for college, I heard sounds from their flat. They were arguing. Rudresh speaking softly, Bhabhi crying. My chest felt heavy, but I kept walking. When I came back, Rudresh was standing outside with his boss. Fat potbelly fellow, slimy smile, eyes going up and down on Bhabhi like a hungry dog. She was standing in the doorway, holding her pallu tight like a shield. The boss was cracking nasty jokes in Kannada, double-meaning types. Rudresh, poor fellow, was smiling, trying to please him. Then the boss said, “Arrey Rudresh, your wife is too shy! Tell her to join us for drinks.” And he even touched her shoulder. She flinched. My blood boiled. I walked fast, footsteps loud. They all turned. “Ah, Saurav!” Rudresh forced a smile. “Back from practice? Late today, haan.” “Yeah Bhaiyya,” I said, my eyes only on Bhabhi. Relief flashed in her eyes seeing me. The boss frowned.