All characters are above 18 and this is a work of fiction. It is based on real events woven together into a story. With names and other details changed.
I was late for class, though in spite of my careless look I never preferred to miss them. It was the morning class, 9 'o' clock, and I loved the professor. She was a lady in her 50s filled with knowledge to the brim, she was kind and her way of teaching made the students lose themselves in her lectures. Venki college was just five hundred meters from my flat. And this morning I was rushing to college for this lecture when along the way I realized that I had forgotten to piss. I whizzed past the guard at the entrance checking ID card of students and rushed towards the old block where my history lessons were.
I was already 10 minutes late but I decided to hit the men's washroom first. As I entered, I saw three guys bunched about the sink. As usual, the dimly lit room had a strong and lingering smell of urine. These guys were pouring whiskey into disposable glasses, making pegs. Not an unusual sight in Delhi University where most people were into this stuff and more. It was like 50% of the students came to sincerely study while the rest just came to have a gala time. Not that I blame them. Doing History honors meant they would not be getting employed anywhere good. They would just barely graduate to have a dull future in the wide customer support industry of India where we spoke with our fake English accent to have bread crumb of a salary fall into our accounts. Our English masters had given us freedom but still kept us tied to their purse string. Or should I say that our economy was still in shackles of the rules the developed countries made.
"Hey bro. You want a peg," chirped the tall dark lanky fellow of the bunch.
"Naaah, I need to go to lecture. You guys go ahead," I replied as my piss went down the pot and some of it sprinkled on my sport shoes due to the broken drain pipe. Everybody who has ever used a public washroom in India knows that this is more common than we would like.
"Cool, see you later," he replied as I rushed out of the washroom towards my class without bothering to wash my hands.
"Maaam sorry I am late," I said as the lecture came to a halt due to my interruption. Professor looked at me and so did the whole class.
"Raghav you scoundrel," she said, her voice calm and a kind smile on her face, "You are late for the first time so I'll excuse you. Go sit."
"Maam it's your fault. You changed the class from B-1 room to B-11. I was looking all around for you." A sly smile plastered on my face.
"Yeah yeah. Offence is the best defense right" she said looking at my back as I made my way to the back of the class.
She began again outlining the role of nomads as they merged into the Vedic society and I lost myself completely immersed in her lecture. Mrs. Ahuja was the best teacher there was.
Halfway through the lecture Jacob looked back towards me and laughed. His eyes red as usual. He signaled me to meet him after class, probably to smoke weed.
This reminded me to check my WhatsApp for all the unseen messages and if anything urgent was due. There was the usual good morning from Pooja which made me happy, she never missed it. The usual morning blackmailing nude pic from Anchal. Then, a message from Nakul my college buddy and roommate which said 'weather is good today' and which actually meant 'let's get drunk'. Our code word of sorts to skip college and drink. Then there was another message, from my elder brother Atul, asking me to call him back. I fucking hated him.
I ignored Atul, sent a good morning text with a heart emoji to Pooja, asked Anchal for the millionth time to stop blackmailing me and to stop sending me her black pussy. I told Nakul that I would be free after 1 PM to get drunk when my lectures were over for the day (I never missed lectures, atleast in first year). And then I immersed myself back in Vedic history.
After class got over at 10, we had an hour free. So, Jacob and I made our way, purposefully ignoring other students who waved at us, over to the back of the football field where we blazed a joint. Summer heat poured down as dust swirled around us as we sat under a tree not giving a fuck, far from the gazing eyes of anyone. Nobody would be stupid enough to play in that weather. Except the Mallus, but those guys were very chill. Most of them were always high themselves. They came to college, smoked weed, played football and never attended any lectures. No girl cared about them and they never cared about any girl.
After getting high and getting our eyes red we slobbered on to the college canteen. The best area to see chicks flutter by in their summer clothes. Ah I loved summer for this reason alone. We ordered a plate of rajma chawal, 10 rupees each (canteen food was subsidized by the Central government). After getting our stomachs full and our eyes drowsy we headed to our next class, just stopping behind a tree to smoke a cigarette.
In class I took my usual back seat and as the male professor began his class on US history and their westward expansion towards Pacific Ocean, my mind wandered off.
First, I asked Nakul to confirm the attendees of today's afternoon high tea. Then, I made up my mind to no longer be emotionally blackmailed by the black cunt so I sent a stern message to her- We can be friends but no more fucking blackmail. And no more nudes. I know you are fucking other guys in Bangalore. I am done with you.
As weed me a bit horny I messaged Pooja asking for some nudes knowing full well she won't be sending any- Hey, I miss you. I know will say know as always but can I see your body. I am missing you terribly.
Her reply came in under a minute- Wait. Give me some time.
Jackpot. Never underestimate the value of a bold request. Fucking butterflies flew from my stomach and moved around my heart. We had been dating for three months and fucking for one and this my friends was going to be the first nude pic I got of her. I was excited. I think every guy would understand the importance of the first nude, it means she trusts the guy completely.
I waited and tried to hear what the professor was saying. He just read the textbook book and his lectures lacked effort. While all the front row guys, mostly from Bihar nodded and hummed with the professor the latter half of the class just barely existed. We lived in Limbo, not even pretending to listen. While the first half of the class was studying History to be IAS, IPS and other civil servants and latter half was just here to get a degree, some fuck, some booze and a good time.
Delhi University meant different things to different people.
My thoughts wandered off to Atul, my elder bro. He was the typical tight ass Indian. No alcohol, no meat and no pussy. Wake up, go to the temple and work all day. He was the type who didn't understand the pleasure of gambling life for its pleasures. The type who snigger their nose at people who partake in decadence. I decided to not reply to him as I knew what he had to say. 'Come back home to apologize to father. You are a blight on the family. You owe us an apology' and all the similar shit. I didn't give a damm no more. My mother died of cancer when I was 6 and I was never the typical Indian guy my father wanted. I smoked, I drank and I got into fights since I was in high school and puberty hit me like a brick. Like all typical rich Indians, I was an arrogant twat. But the final ending with my family came when high on cocaine and with two girls in my SUV I accidently killed poor guy with my car. My father like all Indian fathers paid the cops 5 lakhs and saved me but unlike other fathers he still disowned me afterwards. He threw me out of the house and told me he would kill me if he saw me again. That I was a disgrace to him. My brothers were probably happy that they didn't have to share the 1000 crore business empire with me.
But my maternal uncle saved me, he convinced my father to do right by me and a compromise was reached. I got 30 crores as inheritance and an apartment in a Noida high rise and I was no longer was to be a part of the household. All good. I made my peace.
30 crores (around 6 million dollars at that time) was enough to live, to thrive. My uncle helped me invest my money in such a way that I got around 15-20% interest on my money, yearly, and even if I used 1 crore a year, I could still put back enough so that my money kept growing.
I was suddenly alone all alone in this big dark world but I had enough money to enjoy it. I never would have work like most people unless I made foolish choices. Even though I had heartaches of loneliness from time to time, but it was nothing alcohol didn't fix.
Fuck em.
My phone vibrated in my hand and I was pleased to see the WhatsApp icon with Pooja's name on it. The first pic was her lying on the floor in front of a mirror, her legs in the air, apart, giving me a clean view of her shaved pink pussy. It was mesmerizing. The upscale room of her aunt with white marble floor and luxury decorations flaunting her walls stood nicely in the background. The second was Pooja standing and cupping her left breast, poking it towards the mirror. Third pic was her standing sideways, showing the swell of ass looking erotic as fuck.
Her last message read; Dying to meet u.
'I am the one dying to meet you,' I thought as my cock twitched in my jeans and my blood heated up. I opened the image gallery and moved her pics to my safe vault. My own kink.
One class ended and another began, but my mind had already slipped ahead to Thursday. I imagined meeting Pooja--her hair loose and heavy in my hands, her soft body under mine, my cum in her stomach after she would swallow, my lips on her pink cunt. The thought consumed me. I couldn't wait.
After my final class ended I moved towards the canteen where my friends waited. Me and Tanya went on my bike to get some food while the rest of the gang went on foot to buy alcohol. Now Tanya Singh was a rich Delhi girl from an elite socialite background. She was the prettiest girl in college, 5'4 height, a beautiful curvy figure, expensive designer clothes and sort of my best friend. On weekends when my roommates fled to their hometowns, Tanya and I partied all day and all night. We often talked deep into the night before sleeping on different beds. She knew all about my past and my relation with my family and I knew all about her. She was single and was very choosy on whom she chose to date. She knew about Pooja and about Anchal's blackmail and guilt-tripping. But we were too much alike, Tanya and me, to have considered dating.
We very both sociopaths. Emotionally dysfunctional beings who lived on pure logic and chased pleasure. Morality was a thing for the stupid folk as far as we were concerned.
So, we made our way on my bike. Her in a purple loose top that flowed to her mid-thigh with transparent-black leggings. And me in my black and blue guns and roses t-shirt and faded jeans. We sped on the black pulser bike to the nearest Dunkin donuts; some snack to go well with alcohol. Her boobs pressed to my back as her hands held around my waist.
Already high, I was extra chirpy all the way. She laughed at my stupidity that I spewed with such confidence that the irony itself became a joke. We ordered food and waited outside and smoked. Delhi was busy and loud as usual. People around us looked at us with their apprehensive judgmental eyes as they always do in India. Any couple who goes out in public knows the look. The look of hate, jealousy and disgust. Hate for enjoying a life they never had. The same look they give when you go drive an Audi or Mercedes.
"Should I stay tonight if you want to party?" she asked, in her beautiful shallow tone as she exhaled smoke.
I thought for a second, "Today would not be possible yr. Harpreet will be back by night. It will be awkward. Let's party on Saturday."
"Cool, I will tell you if I have no other plans."
I never had a girl over if my roommates were there.
We smoked, got our order and flew back home. Our whole gang was there waiting for us.
Nakul, me, Tanya, Saurabh, Tia and Ananya, the usuals. Eight of us had become friends as soon as college started. Party people have a natural affinity to find each other after all.
"Give us clothes" Tia said.
And as the usual routine went, Nakul and I rummaged through our cupboards, pulling out cotton shorts and loose tees. It was uncomfortable to drink for 5 hours straight in jeans so we all changed before we drank. Another reason for changing clothes was so that their parents couldn't smell liquor and tobacco on their clothes after they went home. The air buzzed with anticipation as the women disappeared into the other room. We changed right there. Heartbeats raced before each party. No one knew how events would unfold. Nineteen-year-olds partying all alone can lead to a lot of crazy things.
After a wait of a few minutes the girls retuned.
They were all stunning, bare-legged and soft-thighed in our shorts. But it was Tanya who stood out. She'd taken a pair of my underwear trunks--deep blue, tight, meant to hug a man's form--and now they were hugging hers. The thin cotton stuck to her hips, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her mound. The outline was unmissable. And she didn't blush. She was proud of herself no matter what. She met my stare with a faint smile on her lips. (We were short on shorts; you cannot expect two college guys to have six pairs of them, so Tanya had to wear my underwear instead).
As our AC blared on full the whiskey bottle opened, yellow light flooded the room over bare limbs, flushed cheeks and horny eyes. We crammed into the corner of the room, eight bodies on two mattresses on the floor. We had not even bothered to put much effort into our apartment; it was everything you would expect from men. Mattresses on the floor acting as beds, one chair that shared between room, cupboards and AC that our landlord had been generous enough to give us. Rest the whole apartment was empty. We had a 1 feet hookah, a big orange bong that glowed in the dark as our primary utility. A facewash and a soap in the washroom and that's all we needed. Our kitchen acted as a dustbin where we threw all our garbage and paid someone to pick is up once a week.
Back to the party. We sat so close that thighs touched. Tanya's leg was against mine, her skin warm.
The room filled with laughter as liquor flowed and AC struggled to clean all the tobacco smoke. The hookah hose passed from mouth to mouth, our shared intimacy.
By our third glass, the world had softened at the edges. Tia lit a joint and its skunky scent cut through the tobacco's haze. Saurabh moved closer to her making his first move. As the joint passed to me, Tanya shifted, her body melting into my side. I let my arm fall around her shoulders, and she settled into my side, heightening our senses that had been dull moments ago.
I don't know how to describe it but weed has a way of getting people close. I would say it is one step better than alcohol.
The topic of discussion moved from hot guys and girls of our college to how a guy from biology had asked Ananya out and how she was still debating whether to say yes or no. But we all knew the answer was going to be a no. She was a prude who wanted nothing but perfection for herself. And perfection doesn't exist in real life. She wanted a pet for a guy who would still be an asshole to the world. Like those women craving hot metrosexual Korean dudes.
Saurabh started the game of Truth or dare that we always played.
"The same rules as always," he beamed. Already somewhat drunk.
A chorus of agreement rose. Things always got erotic when we played it and even though the girls denied and pretended to dislike it, we knew they enjoyed the attention.
The beer bottle spun, wobbled and pointed to me and I chose truth.
As Tia sat opposite me, she asked the question, "If you could fuck someone in this room, who would it be?"
I made a show of letting my gaze travel the circle--past Nakul's bullish intensity, past Saurabh's polished grin, over Ananya's prim posture. I let it linger on Tia herself, just to watch her hold her breath, before finally letting it settle. "Tanya."
I felt her shiver against me. Her fingers, resting on my thigh, twitched.
The bottle spun again and same kinda questions went around. Who would fuck whom and what were the person's fantasies. Tia said that she would fuck no one and so did the other girls. Saurabh said he would not fuck anyone in the room but would fuck Shrishti from B.COM.
Things moved up a notch as when Tia got a dare for an erotic dance.
She rose with a sly smile, and swayed to a slow Bollywood track. Her hips carved fluid figure-eights in the air. Her hands slid over her own body, tracing her waist. She turned, bending slightly, swaying her ass towards us. For a full minute, the room held its breath, giving all men instant erections.
In the next spin, she chose dare again and we dared her to kiss Saurabh. And we all watched hungrily as their lips locked for ten seconds --Saurabh's palm sliding to her back, pulling her closer.
Next, Nakul was dared to kiss Ananya. He leaned in but she turned her cheek at the last second, only accepting a peck on her cheeks.
Now I should take a moment to describe all of us. Nakul was 6 feet with a muscular body but his lust was always very obvious so a lot of girls steered clear of him. His was from the farms, a country lad but nonetheless pretty rich like the rest of us. Saurabh was the typical rich dude from Delhi, well versed and well-polished and rarely met a girl that could resist his charms. He too stood at 5'10 like me. All the girls were typical Delhiites, tall, fair and with an impeccable fashion sense. To the point where most guys in college were jealous of our closed friend circle. And Tanya was like sick rich. She had a personal driver with an 80 lakh Mercedes. She had more than 10 crores to her name even before she entered college. Unlike all of them I was the only brown skinned person, I went to gym regularly but was not that muscular. I did do a lot of boxing and ju-jitsu though giving me fiery confidence.
The bottle spun, slowed, and pointed back to Tia. Nakul dared her to kiss me.
Across from me, Saurabh's smile stiffened, but he said nothing.
Tia didn't hesitate. She leaned in and I met her halfway. It was a brief game of public spectacle, but in the three seconds our mouths touched, I tasted her gloss and parted her lips with my tongue. It was shallow, a lick, and over in a moment. She pulled back laughing, swatting at Nakul. "Happy?" The room roared.
The bottle spun again and the shenanigans continued. Guys were dared to strip to their waists and dance. They moved with exaggerated, awkward thrusts before pulling their t-shirts back on. We maintained, by some unspoken rule, a threadbare veil of decency. It was a performance of morals. Until it wasn't.
Tanya pecked Saurabh on the cheek when dared to kiss him and all I could focus on in that moment was my underwear pulled taught over her ass as she got on her knees and leaned towards him.
I am not going to fucking cheat on Pooja. I am not a cheat. I re-assured myself. She is a good girl. And Tanya would never fuck a guy a like me. I am not that handsome.
The game marched on. Aananya was dared next. She pulled Nakul to his feet, turned him into a human pole, and danced around him with a giggling, teasing energy. Her hips swayed near him, but she never touched him, her fingers fluttering in the air. It was playful and safe execution of the dare.
Then it was Tanya and me.