This is a real story that happened to me almost a year ago. The place names and character names have been changed for privacy purposes.
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My name is Sudesh, and I am a 50-year-old man working for a private company in Hubballi. One of my friends, Manish, works in Mysore. I’ve known him since our high school days when his family moved from Belagavi to Hubballi. We have been good friends ever since.
After graduating, he worked in Hubballi for a few years before moving to Mysore for a better job. Although he is ethnically Marathi and his family speaks Marathi at home, he was born and brought up in Belagavi. Now, we are both married and have children of roughly the same age.
One fine afternoon, I received a call from Manish asking if I was free that evening. I said that I was, and he then asked for a favor.
It seemed that the brother-in-law of one of his cousin sisters had passed away near Hubballi. She was traveling alone to Hubballi by bus and would arrive late in the evening, so he needed me to help her get to the deceased’s place.
He told me the location, which was about an hour’s drive from the city. I agreed, as I was free and always happy to help someone in need.
I had never met this lady before and didn’t even know that Manish had relatives living in Mysore, as he had never mentioned it.
I asked for her name so I could identify her at the bus station. He said they called her by her nickname, Shammi, and he wasn’t sure of her formal name. He shared her mobile number and the bus details, which I saved.
After finishing work, I returned home and informed my wife about the situation, asking if she could accompany me since Shammi would be alone with me.
She declined, saying she was feeling bored. The bus was expected to arrive at 10 p.m. At 9:30 p.m., I got another call from Manish saying that some of Shammi’s other relatives had also arrived in Hubballi and would pick her up from the bus station, so I no longer needed to go.
I said that was fine, as I had nothing to lose. After this incident, I forgot all about it, and life went on as normal.
I haven’t been very active on social media recently; I rarely check Facebook and have an Instagram account that was auto-created from it, but I never log in. However, I do occasionally post things to my WhatsApp Status, like good quotes or pictures from events.
I have my privacy settings set so that only my contacts can view my status. Lately, I noticed that Shammi was also viewing my statuses, which meant she had saved my number as well.
A few days later, I came across her statuses. Since I had never seen her, I didn’t know who was who in the pictures. She didn’t have a photo of herself as her display picture (neither do I). She was posting pictures from wedding functions and other events.
One day, I messaged her, introduced myself, and asked if she was in one of the pictures. She said no. I had no idea about her age, so I was hesitant to ask more questions.
Manish had referred to her in the singular, but I wasn’t sure if she was younger or older than him. Slowly, we started exchanging greeting messages during festivals and other occasions, and our friendship began to develop.
One day, I asked if she would share a picture of herself. She asked me to share one first, so I sent a family photo. That gave her the courage to show me her family picture.
She was an average-looking lady in her 40s with two children. Although she has been living in Mysore for many years, she is not very fluent in Kannada and often mixes in Marathi words.
She was born and brought up in Sangli, a border town in Maharashtra, and it seems she married a man from Mysore and moved there after the wedding.
I spoke with her on the phone a couple of times. Even though she has lived in Mysore for almost 15 years, her Kannada was just okay.
We chatted about films; she was well-versed in Hindi and Marathi films but knew little about Kannada movies and stars. We still used to share good songs and videos.
Once, she shared a song in which the actress’s face resembled hers. I told her so, but she disagreed, saying the actress didn’t play decent roles and wore sexy dresses.
Slowly, our conversations turned to sex. She also began to chat more openly. This led to different topics like our sex lives, past and present girlfriends and boyfriends, and so on.
I asked if she was looking for some “extra fun.” She hesitated at first, but later showed interest. She had taken a liking to me after seeing my picture (though I’m just an average guy myself).
So, we decided to meet once. I planned a trip to Mysore, pretending it was for office work. As she had a small job in Mysore, getting out was not a problem for her.
I arrived in the morning, and we met before traveling to a nearby town (for safety reasons). We booked a hotel there. I thought she would be a village girl who was shy, but she proved me wrong.
Unlike my wife, she was very active in bed. She had planned the date so that we could enjoy ourselves without protection. I enjoyed sex like never before.
She was adventurous, and we tried almost every position. I licked her cunt, which she enjoyed. In turn, she sucked my dick; I never expected that. It was a first for me. We spent the whole day in the hotel, and I returned the same night.
After that, we kept in touch via WhatsApp but haven’t had the chance to meet again. However, I’m sure we will meet again, and I’m eagerly looking forward to our next encounter.