The humid Kolkata night pressed against my apartment window. The faint hum of the city blended with the whir of my ceiling fan. I was sprawled on my couch, phone in hand. I was scrolling aimlessly through a social media app when her profile popped up—Ishita.
A freelancing makeup artist with a smile that could melt steel and eyes that promised secrets. I’m Mr. X, 29, a working professional with a decent job and a not-so-decent past. I shot her a casual “Hey, loved your latest post,” and to my surprise, she replied within minutes. That’s how it began.
Ishita was 25, four years younger than me, with a playful energy that crackled through every message. She was a virgin. She’d later confess, untouched but curious, her innocence laced with a hunger I could sense even through the screen.
Me? I’d lost count after my twentieth lover. Most of them married women from Kolkata’s tangled web of desire and discretion. Two days into our chats, we were already thick as thieves, swapping stories like old friends. She’d ask about my day at the office. I’d ask about her latest gig painting faces into fantasies.
But it didn’t take long for the conversation to turn spicier. It was the third night, around 11 p.m., when she dropped the bomb. “Twenty women?” she typed, her words followed by a string of wide-eyed emojis. “And married ones? Tell me everything.”
I grinned, leaning back in my chair, the thrill of her curiosity igniting something in me. I started slow—Mrs. Sen, the bored housewife from Salt Lake who’d slipped me her number at a party. Riya, the corporate wife from Ballygunge, had begged me to meet her in a seedy hotel.
I painted the scenes in vivid detail: the stolen glances, the whispered promises, the way their sarees slid off silk-smooth skin. I unravelled their pent-up desires. Ishita’s replies grew shorter, breathier—“Oh my God,” “You’re insane,” “How did you even…”—and I knew I had her hooked.
She’d ask questions, her innocence peeking through her boldness. “How did you know they wanted you?” she’d type. I’d tell her about the signs—the lingering touches, the way their voices dropped when they spoke my name. The heat in their eyes screamed louder than words.
“And then what?” she’d press, and I’d describe the rest. The first kiss tasted like forbidden fruit, the way their bodies arched under my hands. The moans I coaxed out of them until they forgot their husbands’ names.
Ishita would go quiet for a minute, then come back with, “You’re trouble, X. Dangerous trouble.” I’d laugh, but I could feel the tension building between us, electric and unspoken.
The clock ticked past 1 a.m. when Ishita’s voice slithered through my earphones, low and daring. “X, seduce me,” she said, a challenge wrapped in a whisper. My pulse thundered, heat pooling low in my gut. “You ready for me, Ishita?” I rasped, my voice gravelly, edged with hunger.
“Take me there,” she replied, her breath already uneven, “make me feel you.” I sank into the fantasy, letting my words drip like molten desire. “You’re in my room,” I started, slow and deliberate, “the air’s heavy, clinging to us. You’re in that black dress, tight against your curves, and I’m right behind you—close, so close you can feel me without a touch. I brush your hair off your neck, my lips grazing your ear, and I growl, ‘You’re driving me fucking crazy, Ishita.’ You turn, eyes wide, lips parted, and I pull you into me—hard, your tits pressed against my chest, my hands digging into your hips.”
“Mmm, X…” she moaned softly, and I let a rough groan roll out, feeding her fire. “I kiss you,” I said, “deep, messy, my tongue claiming yours till you’re dizzy. You grab me—your hand slides down, bold as hell, wrapping around my dick through my jeans. Fuck, it’s throbbing for you, Ishita, so hard it hurts, and you squeeze just right like you own it.”
Her gasp was sharp, needy. “God, it feels big,” she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement. “It’s all yours, baby,” I shot back, my tone dark and promising. “I lift you onto my bed, peeling that dress off slowly—your skin’s glowing, perfect, and I can’t wait. I push you back, spread your arms, and bury my face in your armpit—clean, smooth, that faint salty taste of you. I lick it, long and slow, sucking the skin, moaning into it while you squirm under me.”
“Ohhh, X, that’s so dirty,” she panted, her words breaking apart. “You love it,” I growled, my voice thick. “I trail my tongue down your side, kissing every inch till I’m between your thighs. You’re soaked, Ishita—those panties are useless, clinging to you, and I rip them off. My hands spread you wide, and I look up at you—‘You ready for this?’ I ask, and you nod, biting your lip, desperate.”
“Yes, please,” she begged, her voice a whine, and I let a hungry moan rip from my throat.
“I dive in,” I said, “my tongue flat against you first, licking slow, tasting how sweet you are. Then I find your clit—fuck, it’s swollen, begging for me—and I tease it, circling, flicking, till you’re bucking against my face. ‘More,’ you say, and I give it—my tongue slides inside you, right into your clit, pushing deep, curling, fucking you with it while my lips suck around it, relentless.”
“X, oh my God, I can feel it,” she cried, her moans turning wild, jagged. I matched her, my breath ragged, groaning into the phone like I was there.
“You’re gripping my hair,” I rasped, “pulling me closer, and I don’t stop—tongue thrusting, lips sucking, tasting every drop you give me. Your hand’s back on my dick, stroking through the fabric, and I’m losing it, Ishita—growling into you, ‘You’re gonna make me come just like this.’”
“X, I’m… I’m so close,” she whimpered, her voice a high, broken plea. “Let it hit you,” I commanded, my tone raw, primal. “I’m licking you clean, sucking you dry, tongue buried in that tight little clit till you shatter. Come for me, Ishita—scream it.”
Her cry exploded through the line, a wild, shuddering sound, followed by gasps and a soft, “Fuck, X… I’m dripping.”
I grinned, chest heaving, my own body coiled tight. “Good girl,” I said, voice still thick with lust. “You taste like heaven—I’d lick you all night.” She laughed, breathless, spent. “You’re insane,” she murmured, “and I’m… ruined.” “Just wait,” I teased, “next time, it’s for real.”
Ishita’s late-night release over the phone only fanned the flames. The next day, her texts were bolder, dripping with a new kind of heat. “X, I can’t stop thinking about it,” she typed, “my body’s aching… it’s like it’s begging for you—for someone—to fill me.”
Her words hit me like a shot of whiskey, igniting a primal itch I couldn’t shake. She was a virgin no more in her mind, her innocence torched by desire. I knew it was only a matter of time before we’d collide for real.
A few days later, we planned an evening out—shopping, something casual to test the waters beyond our digital dance. I picked her up, and fuck, she stole the air from my lungs. She wore a red velvet saree that clung to her like a lover’s hands.
The deep cleavage-cut blouse—sleeveless, backless—baring her shoulders and teasing the swell of her breasts. Her hair was pinned up, a cascade waiting to be unleashed. I kept it simple—kurta and jeans—but the way her eyes roamed over me told me she liked what she saw.
We hit the bustling streets of Kolkata, weaving through shops. Her laughter rang out as she modelled accessories, her fingers brushing mine too often to be accidental. The air between us crackled every glance a promise. But as we headed back, the sky split open—rain, torrential, drenched us in seconds.
The streets turned to rivers, waterlogging choking the city. “We’re stuck,” I said, shielding her with my arm as we ducked under an awning. She shivered, saree plastered to her skin, and I spotted a small hotel nearby. “Let’s wait it out there,” I suggested, and she nodded, her eyes glinting with something wild.
Inside, the lobby was dim, the hum of the storm muffling the world. Ishita shook out her hair, letting it tumble free—wet, dark waves framing her face—and I couldn’t look away. The saree hugged her every curve, translucent now, outlining her hips, her waist, and the dip of her navel.
Water dripped from her, pooling at her feet, and she caught me staring. “What?” she teased, a sly smile tugging her lips. I smirked, peeling off my soaked kurta baring my chest. “Just enjoying the view,” I said, voice low, and her gaze dropped to my torso, lingering.
The air shifted, thick with unspoken need. My hormones roared, a beast clawing to break free, and I couldn’t resist anymore. I stepped behind her, close, my bare chest brushing her exposed back. My arms slid around her waist, pulling her against me, her wet body moulding to mine.
She stiffened for a heartbeat—surprised—then melted, a soft gasp escaping her. “X…” she whispered, but there was no protest, only hunger.
“You want this, don’t you?” I murmured into her ear, my lips grazing the damp skin of her neck. She tilted her head, giving me more, a silent yes. I kissed her there, slow and deliberate, tasting the rain and her warmth, my tongue flicking out to savour her.
My hands moved up, bold, cupping her breasts over that flimsy blouse. The velvet was soaked, her nipples hard beneath it, and I massaged them—firm, possessive, thumbs circling till she arched into me.
“Oh,” she moaned, soft and sweet, her voice trembling with the thrill of it. “X… that feels…” She didn’t finish, didn’t need to—her body spoke louder, pressing back against me, her ass grinding into my groin where I was already rock-hard.
I growled low, nipping her neck, my fingers kneading her tits harder, feeling their weight, their softness through the wet fabric. “You’re so fucking perfect,” I rasped, my breath hot against her skin, “been dying to touch you like this.”
She turned her head, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. I could see it—she wanted the adventure, craved the plunge into the unknown. Her moans grew louder, a melody of surrender. I kissed down her shoulder, my hands relentless, teasing her nipples into peaks.
The storm raged outside. But in here, it was just us—wet, wild, and teetering on the edge of something unstoppable. Ishita’s moans still echoed in my ears, her body trembling against mine. I kneaded her breasts through that drenched blouse.
Then, in a sudden move, she spun around, her wet hair whipping against my shoulder. Before I could react, her arms were around me, pulling me into a tight hug. Her soaked frame pressed into mine, and fuck—my bare chest met her hard, swollen boobs.
The thin velvet of her blouse did nothing to hide how aroused she was. Her nipples poked against me, firm and insistent. I groaned low, the friction sending a jolt straight to my groin.
“X…” she breathed, her voice a mix of nerves and need, her face buried in my neck. I could feel her heartbeat hammering, matching mine, and the heat between us was unbearable. My hands slid up her back, fingers finding the knot of her blouse—two quick tugs.
It unravelled, the fabric peeling away like a second skin. I grabbed the edge of her saree, untucking it from her waist with one smooth pull, letting the red velvet pool at her feet in a wet heap. She stood there, panting, in just a black bra and petticoat—her curves bare, glistening, a vision of raw temptation.
Her eyes flicked over me, wide and hungry, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I reached for my jeans, popping the button and yanking them down along with my soaked boxers. They hit the floor with a slap, and there I was—completely naked, my dick springing free, hard as steel and pulsing with want.
Ishita froze, her gaze locking onto it, her lips parting in a soft, “Oh…” It was her first time seeing one up close—an adult dick, thick and ready. I watched her take it in, her cheeks flushing deeper, her breath hitching.
“Like what you see?” I teased, stepping closer, my voice a low rumble. She swallowed hard, nodding, her eyes darting up to mine, then back down, mesmerized. “It’s… big,” she whispered, almost to herself, and I smirked, the compliment stoking my ego and my lust.
Her bra clung to her, barely containing her tits, and the petticoat hugged her hips, outlining the shape of her ass. I closed the gap, my naked body brushing hers. My cock grazed her thigh through the thin fabric. She gasped, her hands hovering, unsure but curious.
I tilted her chin up, locking eyes with her—hers dark, dilated, screaming desire. “Touch it,” I murmured, guiding her hand down. Her fingers hesitated, then wrapped around me—tentative at first, then tighter, and I hissed, the heat of her grip driving me wild.
“Fuck, Ishita…” I growled, my chest pressing harder against her bra, her nipples digging into me. She stroked once, slow, exploring, and I couldn’t take it—I needed more, needed her, right there in that rain-soaked hotel lobby.
The Kolkata night pulsed with heat, the lobby’s dim glow catching the sheen on Ishita’s skin. Her bra dangled, useless, and my hands claimed her breasts—soft, plump—squeezing as my thumbs teased her hard nipples. “X…” she moaned, voice quivering, her back arching as I kneaded her flesh.
My mouth followed, sucking one nipple, tongue flicking, then the other, nipping gently. I trailed down, lips brushing her stomach, pausing at her navel—wet, warm. I licked it slow, tongue circling the edge, then plunged in, sucking hard, tasting rain and her skin as she gasped, “Oh, X… that’s…”
I turned her, pressing my chest to her back, stripping her petticoat away. Naked now, she shivered as I lifted her arm, kissing her armpit—smooth, faintly musky. I licked it, long and deliberate, then sucked the tender skin, moaning into it.
She whimpered, her body trembling. I lingered, tongue tracing the curve, sucking again, her soft cries driving me wild. My hands roamed—one slid to her pussy, fingers teasing her slick folds, circling her clit, dipping inside her tight heat.
I licked my fingers, tasting her sweetness, then dove in—face between her thighs, tongue lapping her pussy slowly. Flat strokes up her pussy and sucking her clit, “X, please… more…” My other hand gripped her ass, teasing her tight hole with a fingertip, her moans growing desperate.
I stepped back, jeans and boxers hitting the floor, my cock hard and thick. Ishita stared, “So big,” she breathed, reaching out. Her hand wrapped around me—tentative, then bold—stroking slow, her grip tightening as she explored, her thumb brushing the tip, slick with pre-cum.
“Fuck, Ishita,” I groaned, hips twitching as she jerked me, her rhythm uneven but eager, her eyes locked on mine, hungry. I pushed her down, spreading her legs on the cool floor. Kneeling, I teased her—rubbing my cock along her pussy, then her ass, back to her clit, making her writhe.
“Fuck me, X,” she begged, voice breaking. I hovered over her, missionary-style, pinning her wrists. Our gazes clashed—hers wild, mine ravenous. I thrust in, slow, her tight pussy gripping me. She cried out, and I growled, “So damn tight.”
I licked her navel again, quick and wet, then her armpit once more, sucking. I rocked into her—deep, steady—her tits bouncing, her moans rising. My thumb rubbed her clit, fast, and she screamed, clenching around me as she came.
Her handjob had primed me—I thrust harder, spilling inside her with a guttural groan. Panting, we lay there, the storm softening outside. Her eyes gleamed, wicked and sated. “You’re trouble, X,” she whispered, smirking. I grinned, “And you’re addicted.”
Hey readers, hope you enjoyed this steamy encounter! You can dive into my previous sizzling stories. If there are any lonely women around Kolkata looking for temporary companionship, feel free to connect with me at [email protected].
