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Sitting so close to her, I looked at her profile, her long hair still wet, fell like a satiny black curtain against her face as it trailed its length down over the curve of her large boobs and down between her thighs as she sat there next to me. And quite unexpectedly I noticed, through the embroidered aquamarine kurta, that she wasn't wearing a brassiere. Her long wet hair had left damp patches at various spots on her kurta because of which a section was plastered to her back and her side facing me, the bulge of her left breast clearly showing as skin. That explained why I had perceived her bust as looking fuller than usual. As I continued to ogle her, my penis once again engorging within the confines of my jeans, I saw the kurta had a three-inch slit on the side; I assumed on both sides as I saw the bulge of her waist peek through the cut in her top.
My observations were suddenly interrupted as Sunita stood up, picked up her long hair and roughly bundled it on top of her head. She then quite purposefully walked to her room and shut the door behind her. Once again I was perturbed; had I upset her with my stupidly embarrassing questions? Was she crying in her room because of my insensitivity? I wasn't sure what I should do. Should I knock on her door or just wait it out. I decided on the latter, but after waiting for more than half an hour of her absence I decided to check how Sunita was doing. I knocked on her bedroom door but got no response so I turned the knob and pushed it open a mite. She was lying on her bed, her head covered with a draw sheet, her legs half curled as she faced the wall and slept. Or at least I thought she was sleeping.
It was now late afternoon and I decided to step out of the house for a while; maybe walk to the neighbourhood park and get my thoughts straightened out. I put on a pair of sneakers, locked the apartment door behind me and stepped out into a wonderfully pleasant March afternoon. Somewhere midway on my walk, I decided to go over to the hotel where my office is and spend some time working out at the gym.
By the time I was done two hours later, I had only succeeded in pushing all thoughts of the day out of my head, not really knowing what to make of them. But the workout had been strangely exorcising and as I jogged back to the apartment, my mind was a little more at ease if not clearer.
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- COMMENTS
Anonymousalmost 5 years agoI don’t usually like stories from a man’s perspective. The way men ogle women can often be disrespectful and selfish and it’s usually a turn-off. Somehow, I got the idea that this man, while his thoughts were perverse in nature, was a sweeter sort, and that he cares for her. I like it a lot! And it’s just what I was looking for - a story with sexual tension.
