Sneha sat quietly on the bed. But her mind was elsewhere. Again and again, thoughts of Anurag Sir flooded her. She felt terribly sad for him.
On top of that, she felt so terribly alone herself!
No, Sneha could bear it no longer.
Wrapping the coat tightly around herself, she soon found herself standing outside Sir's room. There was not a single sound from inside. Worried, she gently pushed the door open and stepped in.
A faint mixture of light and shadow fell across the sofa. But Anurag Sir was nowhere to be seen.
Sneha, growing more anxious, moved further inside.
In a whisper, she called,
"Sir?"
No response.
She advanced slowly.
Then she noticed him—Sir had collapsed helplessly on the floor beside the sofa. His bare torso was covered in countless marks and bruises. Seeing them again, pain pierced Sneha's heart.
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Sir… are you alright?"
Suddenly Sir stirred. His eyes opened.
He became agitated, scrambling up like a madman.
Sneha had been standing a little distance away. She flinched in fright.
Sir stared at her with wild, desperate eyes. The shirt and trousers he had given her hung very loosely on her frame, yet even so, the swell of her chest appeared prominently raised.
Then, in a voice thick with intoxication, Sir began to speak:
"Sneha… Sneha… come here. Come here, please. Come to Sir."
Sneha took hesitant, small steps toward him.
Anurag Sir's throat had gone dry. His voice trembled.
"Sneha… I feel so alone. So… empty inside."
Sneha froze. Tears rose in her eyes too. Slowly, she drew closer to him.
"Sir, I'm here. I'm right here with you."
Sir looked at her. His eyes held only an unspoken, aching plea.
"Sneha… can you… can you just… love your Sir a little?" — his voice carried utter helplessness, a broken yearning.
Sneha stood motionless.
Sir was leaning back against the sofa. His face was exhausted, sorrow pooling at the corners of his eyes. His voice was dry, shaking.
"Sneha…"
He spoke her name as though he had been holding it on his lips for years.
"I can't take it anymore."
Sneha remained silent. Seeing such helplessness in Sir's eyes made her chest tremble.
For a long moment, Sir gazed at her without blinking, then said,
"Sneha… please… open the buttons of your shirt."
Sneha was utterly stunned. Worry clouded her face.
Anurag Sir (pleading desperately):
"Sneha…"
Sneha stood like a stone pillar.
Anurag Sir (growing impatient):
"Sneha… please…"
Sneha (in a trembling voice):
"Sir…"
Anurag Sir:
"Sneha, please… open them."
Without another word, Sneha slowly began to undo the shirt buttons. Her hands were shaking.
Sir watched her fixedly, unblinking.
When she reached the last button—
Anurag Sir (impatiently):
"Please… hurry…"
As Sneha parted the fabric of the shirt—
Sir's breath caught for a moment.
It felt as though two soft mounds of butter were straining to burst free from behind the pink bra.
Sir's heart began to pound furiously, pumping blood with force. The whisky in his veins seemed to blaze awake again.
Sir:
"Sneha… take off that bra."
Blood rushed to Sneha's face in shame.
She said shyly,
"But Sir…"
Sir (sternly):
"Take it off…"
Sneha hesitated. She felt overwhelming embarrassment. Never before had she stood like this in front of any man.
Sir (frantic):
"Take it off…"
Sneha (softly):
"Sir…"
Sir, suddenly agitated, shouted,
"Take it off!! Aren't you listening?"
Sneha shuddered.
Sir realized the whisky had driven him mad. His mind wasn't working. He felt awful for snapping at Sneha in anger. Yet he knew he would do it again.
So he stood up and began to walk away from her.
Further away.
But Sneha followed behind him.
Sneha (gently):
"Sir…"
Sir said nothing. He only kept walking forward.
Sneha (softly):
"Sir, I'm sorry…"
Sir could hold himself back no longer. He turned, lifted Sneha in his arms, and carried her to the bed.
The moment he laid her down, Sir began kissing the soft flesh spilling from the edges of her bra.
At the tender touch of his lips, Sneha trembled.
Sir was going completely insane. Sneha's skin felt as soft as moonlight on honey; the slightest brush of his lips made it melt like a rasgulla soaked in milk.
His face seemed to drown in that tender softness!
It was so unbelievably soft…
Sneha felt intense shame.
She kept her eyes tightly shut.
To Sir, it felt as though Sneha's entire body had been sculpted from the spongy sweetness of rasgulla. Even her hand seemed to melt beneath his palm.
Suddenly Sir released her hands. Slipping one of his own inside her bra, he felt as though he had touched paradise.
From the very first day he had seen Sneha, he had longed to touch this heaven.
Sneha was overwhelmed by a sensation she had never known before.
Her heart pounded violently—and Sir could feel it, so very close.
He also noticed that though the fruits were so full, the stems were comparatively small! In some way, she still carried a trace of childish innocence!
And that delighted him immensely. It drew him in even more.
Anurag Sir pressed and kneaded harder, sliding his other hand inside as well.
The moment he squeezed, Sneha bit down on her own lip. Sir noticed.
Her lips seemed like plump, juicy strawberries—fresh and ripe.
Anurag Sir pounced on her lips as though years of restraint had shattered in an instant. His mouth clung madly to every curve of hers. A deep, wet sucking sound rose as he drew her lips into his own.
Sneha's lips were still unfamiliar, unprepared. But the thirsty pressure of Anurag Sir's mouth forced her to respond.
A shiver of indescribable intensity coursed through her entire body—at his touch on her sensitive places and the desperate hunger of his kisses.
Her wet lips kept slipping from his mouth again and again.
Sir captured her lower lip once more, sucking it deeply—with breathless longing, the pressure steadily building. His tongue emerged—stroking, tasting, pulling.
He circled the edges of her lips, leaving faint traces.
Then he eased back just slightly, only to slip his tongue inside—wet, hot, insistent. Sneha was stunned, but Anurag didn't stop. He craved the touch of her tongue against his, craved some kind of surrender.
His tongue roamed inside, thrusting, licking, drawing hers out—again and again. Tongue met tongue in touches, pushes, tugs. Each time his tongue slipped into the folds of her lips, Sneha's trembling intensified.
Inside her mouth, Anurag seemed to be claiming her with his tongue—sometimes biting her lip gently and releasing, sometimes circling and nudging her tongue again and again—as though he wanted to devour her completely.
Sneha's breathing grew heavy; it became difficult to breathe. Her eyes stayed closed, mouth half-open, lips quivering under the depth of Anurag's kiss.
The kiss paused and resumed, long and consuming, then suddenly fierce and enveloping—each moment pulling them both deeper into the thick intimacy of each other's touch.
To be continued...