Hi readers, I’m Tarun (name changed). I am 45 years old, married, and have two wonderful kids. I am currently living in Bangalore. I’ve been a long-time reader here. But this is my first attempt at writing something of my own — something that’s stayed in my memory all these years.
This story goes back nearly two decades, to when I was in my mid-20s. I was working in Chennai back then – fit, full of energy, 5’11”, with an athletic build and a fair complexion. Life was exciting. I had a decent job, plenty of friends, and a social circle that kept things lively.
The attention I got from women didn’t go unnoticed either. It all changed when I got a job offer in Bangalore. I was curious and excited for a new start, and I took it without a second thought.
About a month into my new role, I walked into the office one morning. I saw a familiar face at the reception. I’d seen her in my previous office, but we’d never spoken. She had a presence – 5’4, fair skin, a slim, sporty figure, striking dark eyes, and a smile that seemed to hold a secret.
She saw me, her eyes lit up, and she walked straight over. “Hi, I’m Deepika,” she said, re-introducing herself with a warmth that made me feel welcome. We clicked effortlessly. Lunch breaks turned into coffee, and coffee turned into long conversations.
I was single then. I never voiced it aloud. I could feel a subtle spark — glances that lingered too long, smiles that said more than words. I was beginning to wonder if there was more between us. But then I saw her at a bar over the weekend — with another guy.
On Monday, I asked her about him. “He’s my boyfriend,” she said hesitantly. “We were classmates in college, and our parents are asking us to get married.” That moment stung, I won’t lie. I figured I was now firmly in the friend zone.
The same week was Holi. It was a Friday. As neither of us was North Indian, we hadn’t really celebrated it before. That evening, we were on the office bus together. She teased me for not bringing back any chocolates from my office trip abroad the previous week.
I laughed and told her they were at home. That’s when she said she’d come over to get them. My heart skipped a beat. We planned it subtly. She’d get off one stop before mine and walk over to avoid raising any eyebrows.
We reached my humble 1BHK apartment. She stepped in with curiosity and comfort, settling in naturally. We chatted for a bit. I handed her the chocolates and was about to see her off. She suddenly pulled out a packet of Holi colour from her bag and pounced — laughing as she tried to smear some on my face.
I grabbed her wrists instinctively, half-laughing, half-stunned by how close we suddenly were. She struggled playfully, trying to reach my face, and I held her back. In that moment, time slowed. Her breath was warm against my skin. Her hair brushed my cheek, and we both felt it — that undeniable closeness.
I didn’t kiss her. Something in me held back. She paused too, looked into my eyes for a moment, then stepped away. After a short silence, she left.
The following week, we agreed to have a drink together. She didn’t want to risk running into her boyfriend somewhere in public. So I offered my place, and she accepted.
That Friday, I was a bundle of nerves. I cleaned up the place, shaved, and set up a few snacks and drinks. When she arrived, I could tell she was nervous too. But we hid it well under smiles and casual conversation. After our second drink, we talked freely and laughed again.
The evening breeze in Bangalore was too good to waste. My apartment was a penthouse, so I had access to a terrace that no one else used after sundown— a quiet space with a view of the glowing city skyline. She sat on the parapet, slightly above me. I stood beside her, our drinks in hand.
By the fourth drink, something shifted. We were closer now, arms brushing, laughter softening into whispers. It started to drizzle— a warm, sweet Bangalore rain. I placed my hands on either side of her where she sat, and she leaned in. We were inches apart.
And then, without words, she buried her face into my neck — not out of passion. But I thought, out of vulnerability, of wanting to feel safe in that moment. Our lips met — soft, unsure, slow. A kiss that wasn’t just about desire but about permission, about feeling seen. She pulled back gently.
Deepika: “We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”
Tarun: “I know… but I really want to.”
She looked away but held me tighter.
Tarun: “If you want me to stop, I will.”
She didn’t say anything. The rain had grown heavier, turning the terrace into a silver-washed world of half-light and whispered feelings. Deepika and I had moved under a parapet. We were holding each other for what felt like hours, our breaths mingling, hearts racing in sync.
The kiss we’d shared still lingered — soft, confusing, unforgettable. Eventually, we went back into my apartment. The mood had changed. There was no more laughter or teasing, just a kind of quiet energy that pulsed between us. We sat on the edge of my cot, still slightly damp from the rain.
She looked at me. I looked at her, unsure of what would happen next. Then, slowly, we leaned in again. This kiss was different — deeper, longer. We kissed with our eyes open. Looking at each other as we got to know each other more intimately.
The kind of kiss that asks questions and answers them at the same time. Our hands began to explore carefully and respectfully. She pulled back just slightly and whispered, “We shouldn’t, but I don’t want to stop either.” This went on for hours.
Hot, passionate kisses with a lot of tongue and saliva, her saying we shouldn’t, but then refusing to let me go. By now, my raging hard-on was getting exceedingly difficult to manage. We were rolling on the bed kissing. My hands went under her t-shirt, feeling her back.
Her hands were doing the same, feeling the soft skin of my back. I took the initiative and took my T-shirt off. Her hands instinctively went to my chest, feeling the hardness, her fingers playing with the slight hair on my chest. The kissing continued unabated.
Our tongues wrestling, exploring each other’s mouths, sucking and chewing on each other’s lips. I wanted to feel more of her. I lifted her t-shirt, trying to get it over her head, but she stopped me. “No, we shouldn’t” she whispered again.
“I want to see you,” I said, and she cooperated this time when I lifted her top off. Her black bra contrasted perfectly with her skin.
Dipika: “Can you switch the lights off? I am shy.”
Tarun: “Please, no, I want to see you now. Don’t tease me, please.”
She pulled me onto herself in response. Devouring my lips with her own. My weight is crushing her. She spread her legs slightly to give me room, and I wiggled in between her thighs. Our jeans-clad lower halves grinding each other as she moaned and stuck her tongue deep into my mouth.
My experienced hands went to her back and snapped the hook off her bra in one smooth move, surprising her and making her giggle. She immediately brought her hands forward to clasp the unhooked cups over her tender boobs.
Dipika: “I’m shy, Tarun. Please switch off the lights.”
Tarun: “No please baby.”
I started sucking and licking her neck, making her moan louder. I bit her sexy collarbone and started leaving wet kisses down to her cleavage. This forced her hands off her boobs as they snaked into my hair. Her fingers pulled my hair hard. And there it was, my first glimpse of her glorious boobs.
Fair and firm, much bigger than what I had expected. A perfect 34C with stiff, dark brown/almost black, mouth-watering nipples with a small areola. My mouth went onto clasp her left nipple as I cupped her right boobs into my rough hands.
I kept licking and sucking her boobs, alternating from one to the other, till she pulled me up for another deep wet kiss. As the kissing got wilder, I was grinding my big bulge on her crotch even harder. I could feel the heat coming from between her legs, showing me how turned-on she was.
I was sure her panties were soaked. Suddenly, she stopped kissing and pulled me up even further and did the most incredible and cutest thing. She kissed my chest, rubbed her face on my chest and chest hair and started sucking my nipples. It was so sexy and cute, and I could feel my cock throbbing.
I came down now to give her some air, and again, our lips locked. Skin touched skin. We lay together, half-bare, our bodies close enough to feel the tremors in each other. We kissed for what felt like forever — on lips, necks, shoulders. Her skin was warm beneath my fingers.
Every brush of her hand on my chest sent a wave through me. It was passionate but also tender. She stopped me when I tried to unbuckle her jeans.
Dipika: “Can we not? Today? I don’t know what I am thinking.”
Tarun: “Yeah, babe, let’s not when we are so drunk. But I am dying to see what’s creating all this heat from here.”
I cupped her crotch in my palm outside her jeans. She flinched when I did that but then giggled and said, “Uff baby, I’m dripping wet, but I think we shouldn’t go further. If not, there is no way I wouldn’t be grabbing this hardness.” She playfully grabbed my bulge over my jeans.
Eventually, we fell asleep in each other’s arms, our bodies tight against each other, half her body on mine. Her firm boobs pressed against my chest, and the faint scent of rain was still in the air.
In the morning, she got up quietly. She gave me a soft kiss on the forehead, smiled — a sad, quiet smile — and left. I lay there for a long time after, torn between the euphoria of what had happened and the weight of what it meant. It felt different from all my previous encounters. Later that morning, I texted her.
Tarun: “Hey, I want to say I’m sorry if I crossed a line last night. I never meant to put you in a position you didn’t want to be in.”
She took a while to respond. My chest tightened with every passing minute. Then, finally, her reply came.
Dipika: “You didn’t force me, Tarun. I wanted it, too. But I’m feeling a bit guilty. That’s all.”
I didn’t know what to say back. I typed out several replies, deleted them all, and finally just sent: “I understand. I’ll respect whatever you feel, always.”
A few hours later, another message came through.
Dipika: “Will you be home this evening?”
Tarun: “Yeah… I’ll be around.”
Dipika: “I might drop in.”
It was a short message, but I could feel the weight behind it. The hesitation and the decision. That evening, she came again. This time, there was no awkwardness, no fumbling. She stepped inside, looked at me, and, without a word, walked up and placed her hands on my chest.
I was about to speak, to say we shouldn’t, but she silenced me with a finger on my lips. “Don’t say anything,” she said. “Let’s just feel.” She slid my shirt off with gentle hands, her eyes never leaving mine. Then, without hesitation, she removed her top, revealing herself fully.
Her proud boobs are waiting to be caressed. Her confidence took my breath away. I reached out and touched her, feeling the softness and warmth of her body, and the emotion that had built up between us over the past few weeks seemed to burst free.
Dipika: “I have been attracted to you since Chennai. I have imagined you like this so many times.”
Tarun: “I haven’t thought of anything else these past many weeks, too.”
She guided my hands and moved against me, letting herself be seen and touched, trusting me completely. Her fingers worked at my waistband and then hers. There were no more words, just the sound of our breaths and the quiet rhythm of desire.
I looked at her naked body with desire, the same desire I could see in her eyes. We both looked at each other in our naked glory. Taking in everything we had imagined about each other’s bodies as we had secretly pleasured ourselves to orgasms these past weeks.
Her 5’4 body looked perfect to me, with a small cute birthmark on her flat tummy. She had slender hips, and where her long legs met, I could see her pussy glistening with her desire, shaved and ready for me as I was for her. I reached over and rubbed my fingers in her pussy, bringing out a moan from her.
My fingers were drenched with her juices even before they found their way into her pussy. She immediately grabbed my hard, glistening, throbbing cock, and then we kissed. Again and again passionately. She pushed me onto the bed and climbed over me.
Her dripping pussy right over my hard vertical cock. “Are you sure about this, D?”
“Yes, I want this. I have been thinking all day. I want this now.”
She rubbed my engorged hardness over her pussy lips. My dark brown cock with a pink head matching her dark brown nether lips with the pink insides. And then, we were together — fully, completely. I could feel my cock sliding into her tight hot wetness, the insides of her pussy gripping my cock tight.
We both moaned loudly. “Condoms?” I said. “I can’t take it out now. It feels too good. Tell me when you are close,” she replied. We moved together, sweating in our intense passion. Every movement, every kiss, every moan was a language only we understood then.
The intensity, the hunger, the connection was unlike anything I had felt before. And in that perfect moment, we both let go completely, finding release together, wrapped in each other.
Afterwards, we just held each other. No regrets. No confusion. Just silence, the kind that says this meant something.
Let me know if you found this incident interesting. Then, I can add the next part on whether we went further or drifted apart. I am reachable at [email protected].