As an Athlete who plays for India, I spend a lot of time travelling and living in places like Delhi, Bangalore, Mumbai, etc., to play tournaments and also tutor some people.
On my first visit to Mumbai, I was 20, and little did I realise that I was about to have the time of my life.
Even though I was a bit young to be travelling alone and barely visiting home, I enjoyed it a lot. I never liked to stay at hotels as I used to feel anxious and liked to be around people, so I used to stay at guesthouses, couchsurf, or Airbnb. At that time, I was a virgin and had little to no experience other than some makeout sessions. So I used to make sure that I would book a place in an area where young girls would be found.
I had always hoped to meet someone during my travels, someone who would actually stick around for more than a night. I am 5’11, athletic, decent-looking, and I never struggled to catch a girl’s attention…but my lifestyle meant I was never in one place long enough for anything real to happen.
That all changed the summer I arrived in Mumbai as a young rookie coach, assigned to train a group for two months. I needed a place to stay, so I booked a room in a quiet four-storey guesthouse near Chembur.
On my first evening, I was welcomed by Pranjal, the owner. She greeted me with a wide, warm smile that instantly made me feel at home. She was in her early forties, radiant and confident, wearing a light knee-length summer dress that clung softly to her curves. Her dark hair was cut into a sleek bob, and she wore just enough makeup to highlight her striking features. She had this effortless, mature beauty that hit me harder than I expected.
As she led me upstairs to my room, I couldn’t help but notice the sway of her hips and the way her legs moved, smooth, lightly tanned, with delicate ankles and perfectly painted toenails in deep midnight blue. She wore white peep-toe stilettos that clicked softly on the wooden steps. Even then, I didn’t fully understand how much those legs and feet would stay with me forever.
After I dropped my bags, she invited me down for tea in the living room. She sat across from me, legs crossed, one heel dangling lazily from her toes as we talked. Her questions were gentle but curious – about my work, my life, my girlfriends. Every time she laughed or shifted, her dress rode up just a little, and I had to fight not to stare.
By the end of that first conversation, I was already hooked. She even teased me about bringing girls back, saying she didn’t mind as long as we were quiet. The way she said it, with that little sparkle in her eye, made me wonder if she was flirting.
The first couple of weeks passed quietly. I barely saw her, but every time I did, she was wearing a skirt – always showing off those incredible legs. I would hear her heels clicking along the hallway and feel my pulse quicken.
By the second weekend, the monsoon had arrived with a vengeance. I had planned to head home to Pune, but the trains were a mess. I called Pranjal and asked if I could stay. She sounded genuinely relieved, even happy. “I’d hate to be alone in this big house during the storm,” she said.
That evening, I came back soaked to the bone, only to realize I’d left my key inside. I stood in the pouring rain until she opened the door – hair damp, wrapped in a long silk robe, barefoot, clearly fresh from the bath. She didn’t scold me for forgetting the key; instead, she fussed over me, insisting I shower and join her for tea.
When I came back down, she was sitting on the sofa, robe still on but hair now pinned up, exposing the soft curve of her neck. She smelled like jasmine and warm skin. She tucked her bare feet under her and leaned close.
We talked about the storm, about the weekend. She squeezed my arm lightly, pressed a little closer. “I am so glad you stayed,” she murmured, looking right into my eyes.
Something shifted. I pulled her in and whispered, “I think you are fucking gorgeous.” She gasped softly, smiled, and cupped my face. Our first kiss was slow, tentative – then deeper, hungrier. She tasted sweet, like honey and something darker. Her tongue met mine with confidence, and she let out a quiet moan that made my whole body tighten.
When we broke apart, she looked at me seriously. “Have you…been with a woman before?”
I shook my head, suddenly feeling exposed.
She smiled, kissed me again, softer this time. “Then, let me show you,” she whispered. “I have always wanted to teach a young man everything he needs to know… everything I wish someone had taught me.”
She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. She undressed me quickly, then let her robe fall. I stood there, speechless, taking in her body for the first time – full breasts, soft curves, tan lines that made her pale skin look even more inviting. Her nipples were already hard, dark, and perfect. Her stomach was softly rounded, and between her thighs was a neat, dark patch of hair that made my mouth water.
She was already wet – I could see it glistening. She guided my hands over her, letting me explore, teaching me how to touch her. Then she knelt in front of me, took me into her warm, wet mouth, and looked up at me through the mirror behind her. I didn’t last long. She knew exactly what she was doing, and when I came, she took every drop – some spilling over her lips and chin, thick and white.
After she cleaned up, she lay back on the bed, legs spread wide, and beckoned me closer. She taught me how to touch her, how to taste her. The smell of her was intoxicating -musky, sweet, overwhelming. When I finally licked her, she moaned loudly, fingers in my hair, hips lifting off the bed. She was soaked, dripping, and I loved every messy second of it. She came hard, thighs trembling, cursing and begging me to keep going.
When she recovered, she climbed on top of me, grinding slowly, teasing me with her wetness. Then she sank down onto me, taking me deep, and I groaned so loud I swear the neighbors heard. She rode me with skill – slow, then fast, controlling every movement, using me like I was hers to play with. When she came again, she collapsed onto me, kissing me messily, praising how good I felt inside her.
But I wasn’t done. I flipped her onto her back, spread her legs wide, and slid back in. She pulled her knees up toward her ears, feet in the air, giving me the perfect angle. I went deeper than I thought possible, hitting something firm inside her. She gasped, “That’s my cervix… fuck, I love it when you go that deep.”
I fucked her hard, our bodies slapping together, her tits bouncing, her nails digging into my arms.
She screamed my name, begged me to fill her, and I did – coming hard inside her, pulsing deep as she clenched around me.
Afterward, we lay tangled together, her head on my chest, both of us breathing hard. She traced lazy circles on my skin.
I will be signing off at this point, or maybe write a part 2. I am open to casual relationships, so feel free to email me at [email protected]
I hope you enjoyed!