Hello everyone, I am Ajay, 31, living in Mysore, Karnataka. I have got that typical dad bod soft belly from too many late-night filter coffees and masala dosas, but I’m still 6 feet tall with broad shoulders that make me feel solid when I stand next to someone smaller. My cock is about 6.5 inches when it’s really worked up, thick enough to stretch, veined, and always eager after a long dry spell.
This is the real, unfiltered story of how a random Snapchat invite turned a deeply conservative, village-raised virgin girl into my secret, long-term fuckbuddy. No fairy-tale romance – just raw lust that grew quietly between us over months.
*****
It had been more than fourteen months since I broke up with my ex. We were together for almost four years – college sweethearts who turned into something comfortable but eventually boring. The sex dried up long before the breakup, and after she left, I didn’t chase anyone.
Work kept me busy: software engineer, remote most days, staring at screens in my small two-bedroom flat near Vijayanagar. Porn helped on lonely nights, but it wasn’t enough. I missed real skin, real moans, the way a woman’s body trembles when she’s close.
Two months back, the horniness became unbearable. I was scrolling dating apps every evening – Bumble, Tinder, even some shady local ones – but nothing stuck. Girls my age wanted “serious” guys or gym rats; younger ones saw my age and dad bod and swiped left.
I started sending random messages on Instagram and WhatsApp, copy-paste lines like “Hey cutie, saw your story, smile is killer 🔥”. Ghosted every time. Frustration built.
One sleepless night around 1 a.m., I opened Snapchat on a whim. I hadn’t used it much since college. I searched random Indian girl names – Priya, Pooja, Sneha – adding dozens with no bio, no story, just hoping. Sent the same lame “Hi” to each. Most ignored. I gave up, jerked off to some old videos, and crashed.
The next morning, my phone pinged at 8:30 while I was making tea. Snapchat notification: Priya_27 (name changed) accepted your request. Heart jumped. I opened it fast.
Me: Hi, are you really Priya? And are you a girl?
She: Hi, yes, I’m a girl.
Short, no emojis, no caps. I smiled and asked for a snap to see her face.
She: Why are you asking like this, Ajay? I’m your classmate, mate.
Me: Classmate? I think you’re confused. I’m Ajay, but I’m not a student.
She: Oh sorry… I thought you were my classmate… I can’t send snap to random person… sorry…
And she removed me. Just like that. I laughed to myself – classic mix-up – and forgot about it.
That night, past 11, another ping. She sent me an invite. I accepted, curious.
Me: Hi, I think you mistakenly sent me an invite again.
She: No, I wanted to apologise for being rude… that’s why I sent.
Me: It’s ok… no problem…
We started talking. She was 20, a second-year engineering student at a private college near Chikmagalur. From a proper village family – father a small coffee planter, mother homemaker, strict rules.
She lived in a hostel during the week, went home on weekends. Conservative to the core: no shorts, no sleeveless, prayers twice a day, no boys allowed near her, even in college groups. I told her I was 31, a software engineer, single, a Mysore guy.
She: Oh, you are an old guy… why are you using Snapchat??
Me: Is there a rule that only the young need to use it?
She: No, no… usually young people use it…
Me: I understand… if you don’t mind, can I ask something?
She: Yes.
Me: How do you look?
She paused a long time, typing, deleting, typing. Then a snap came. Dusky skin like warm jaggery, long black hair in a neat braid, round face with soft cheeks, big dark eyes lined with kajal, a shy half-smile.
She wore a purple chudidar, dupatta pinned neatly, but the kurti was fitted enough to show the gentle swell of her breasts and a little softness around her waist. Slightly chubby in that village-girl way – healthy, curvy, real.
Me: Hot 🔥!!
She: Hot means? Am I not beautiful??
Her innocence melted me. She genuinely didn’t know the slang.
Me: Hot means you are beyond beautiful.
She: Thanks.
We kept chatting. She mentioned waiting for a guy named Rahul, her college crush. She blushed with emojis when I teased. Then she asked for my snap.
I was already hard from her picture. The outline was obvious in my grey briefs. I sent it anyway – me standing in front of the mirror, hand adjusting the bulge, thick shaft pressing against cotton.
She: Bye.
Radio silence. I figured she’d block me. Two full days passed – no message, no view. Then, the third morning:
She: Why did you send the snap like that?
Me: Because you look hot… wanted to show the effect you made on me. Didn’t it look good?
She: You look handsome, but you are elder to me.
Me: So what? We aren’t related… and we are adults…
She: That’s right.
Me: So… what did you like?
She: Your body… I like the dad bod…
My cock twitched reading that.
She: One doubt… why did your underwear have a tent structure??
Me: Because of you.
She: I didn’t understand.
Me: You made it a tent… my tunne was erect…
She: Cheeeee…
Me: You sexy.
That “cheeeee” carried shame and thrill. From there, the tone shifted slowly, carefully. Her conservative village upbringing meant sex was taboo, whispered only among married women. But curiosity is powerful.
She started asking innocent questions: “What does it feel like when it’s hard?” “Does it hurt?”
I answered honestly, teasingly. Snaps became regular. She sent safe ones first – studying at her desk, cooking in the kitchen with her mother in the background. But one evening, she sent a mirror selfie in a loose nightie after a shower, hair wet, no dupatta.
The thin fabric clung to her damp skin, dark nipples faintly visible as shadows, full breasts heavy and round. I sent a video: slow stroke over my underwear, precum darkening the cotton. “See what you do to me, Priya?”
She watched. Then: “It’s big… scary but nice.”
Weeks passed. Text turned to voice notes. Her voice was soft, her Kannada accent sweet and hesitant. “Ajay… what are you doing now?”
I’d reply while stroking, low voice: “Thinking of kissing your neck, sucking those beautiful nipples until they’re hard for me.”
She confessed she’d never been kissed, never touched a boy, never even masturbated properly before me. But now she did – fingers slipping under her nightie at night, circling her clit while replaying my snaps.
“It gets so wet down there… sticky… I feel bad, but I can’t stop.” I guided her gently.
Late-night calls: “Touch slowly, baby. Imagine my tongue licking you there, tasting your sweetness.”
One night, she came for the first time on call – small whimpers turning into shaky breaths, “Ajay… something happened… I shook all over.”
We planned the meeting carefully. Her family owned a small farmhouse 20 km from Chikmagalur – an old tiled house surrounded by coffee plants, used mostly for storage now. Weekends when relatives went to town, it stayed empty.
She told her parents a college group project required staying back. Packed a small bag with clothes and lies. I drove the four hours on a Friday evening, stomach knotted with anticipation. Reached at dusk.
The air smelled of wet earth and coffee blossoms. She waited on the stone veranda in a simple green kurti and leggings, hair loose for the first time, her dusky skin catching the last orange light.
At 5’1″, she looked tiny next to me. Full cheeks flushed, eyes nervous but bright. I stepped close. She trembled when I hugged her. My dad bod pressed against her softness – her breasts squishing against my chest, her head barely reaching my shoulder.
“Ajay… I’m scared,” she whispered.
“We go slow. Only what you want. You say stop, we stop.”
Inside, the house was simple: wooden furniture, a single bedroom with a big cot, a thin mattress, and a mosquito net. Dim tube light. I sat her on the edge of the bed, cupped her face, kissed her forehead, then her lips.
Her first real kiss – soft, unsure. I went slow, lips brushing, then parting. Tongue touched hers tentatively. She sighed into my mouth, hands clutching my shirt.
I lifted her kurti slowly. Skin warm, dusky, smooth. Bra plain white cotton. Unhooked it. Her breasts spilled free – heavy, round, dark nipples already stiff from nerves and excitement.
I bent, took one in my mouth, tongue circling slowly. She gasped, fingers in my hair. “Ahh… Ajay… it’s tickling but good…” The other hand cupped the second breast, thumb rolling the nipple. She arched, moaning softly.
Leggings next. I peeled them down with her panties – simple white cotton, crotch dark with wetness. I knelt between her thick thighs, kissed the inside, inhaling her musky, innocent scent.
Pulled panties aside – neat black bush, pink slit glistening, virgin tight. I licked a long, slow stroke from bottom to clit.
She jolted. “Oh God… what are you doing…” I sucked her clit gently, tongue flicking. Fingers traced her entrance, not entering yet. She came fast – thighs clamping my ears, body shaking, sweet juice coating my tongue. “Ajay… I… I’m coming…”
I stood, stripped. Dad bod bare – soft belly, hairy chest, thick cock standing proud, veins pulsing, head shiny with precum. Her eyes widened. “It’s… bigger than in pictures.”
I guided her small hand. She wrapped fingers around it – warm, hesitant strokes. “Like this?” she asked.
“Perfect, baby.” I laid her back, spread her legs. Rubbed the head along her wet slit, coating myself. Pushed slowly. Tight ring resisted. She winced. “Ahh… pain…”
“Breathe, relax.” I kissed her neck, stayed still when the head popped in. Inch by inch, her walls gripped me like hot silk. A little blood, but she didn’t ask to stop.
Fully inside, balls against her ass, I paused. Kissed her tears. “You’re mine now, Priya.”
Then I moved – slow thrusts, deep. Pain eased; her moans changed. “Ajay… harder… feels so full… so good…”
I fucked her steadily – hips rolling, cock dragging along her sensitive spots. Her chubby body jiggled – breasts bouncing, soft belly trembling. Legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my back.
“Don’t stop… I’m coming again…” Her pussy clenched hard, milking me.
I pulled out, stroked fast- thick ropes of cum splashing her dusky belly, tits, even her chin. She watched, fascinated, fingers touching the warm mess.
We lay tangled, sweaty, breathing heavy. She whispered, “I never knew anything could feel like that.”
That was the beginning. Weekends became our ritual. She’d sneak away with excuses – project work, friend’s birthday. I’d drive down, park behind the coffee plants. Inside the farmhouse, we’d lose ourselves.
She learned fast. Loved doggy – ass up, face down on the pillow, me pounding from behind, hands gripping her soft hips, slapping her round cheeks lightly until they reddened.
“Ajay… deeper…” Blowjobs in the kitchen – she’d kneel on the cool floor tiles, small mouth stretching around my thickness, gagging sweetly when I hit her throat.
I’d hold her braid like a handle, guide her rhythm. She’d look up with teary eyes, proud when I groaned. Riding me on the veranda at night – moonlight on her dusky skin, stars above. She’d grind slow, then bounce hard, breasts jiggling, moaning into my neck so neighbors miles away wouldn’t hear.
No condoms after the first time – she loved feeling me bare, loved when I came inside, hot spurts filling her, dripping down her thighs later.
She stayed conservative outside – salwar kameez to college, prayers with family, and helping her mother in the kitchen. But with me, she was different.
Whispered dirty things in Kannada: “Nanna tunne beku… nimma munde naanu bittini…” (I want your cock… I’ll spread for you anytime.)
Months passed. The guilt faded. She stopped feeling “cheeeee” every time we talked about sex. Instead, she’d text late: “Ajay… missing you… My pussy is wet thinking of you.”
I never asked for more – no dates in public, no meeting friends, no future talks. Just this: stolen nights in the farmhouse, her petite dusky body under my tall dad-bod frame, her tight pussy gripping me, her moans filling the quiet hills.
She’s still my secret fuckbuddy. Conservative on the surface, wild underneath. And every time I drive toward Chikmagalur, my cock stirs knowing what’s waiting.
*****
If you like the story, please comment.
In case I get a good response, I’ll write another encounter with a mature aunty and how I seduced her.
Currently, I’m looking for more fuck buddies. Any horny chicks, ladies, and aunties can contact me at [email protected].