Memories On A Monsoon Day

Hello to all the readers right here, I’m thesexweaver, but you can call me Bihu. I am new to this site and this is my first sex story right here, but I won’t make grammatical mistakes and spelling errors in my stories as I believe that language has a seductive quality if used correctly and meticulously.

This, not a real sex story, neither is this a personal experience. At best, you could call it as one of the many fantasies I have. I mean, with due respect to the various authors submitting their stories here, I feel that they are more artificial than real, following a mechanical set of sequences and monotonous montages. Trust me, the reality is more complex and weird than what we could pen down in our stories; but that is where our imaginations and fantasies reign supreme: we can twist and bend reality in our minds to satisfy our desires.

Ladies, preferably in their early 20s, you can reach me at [email protected], and tell me how good my sex story is and offer criticisms. I look forward to bettering myself as a writer as well as connecting with you in every possible way. ;)

Now, onwards to the sex story!

It had been raining for the past couple of hours that day, and the roads were awash with puddles and pools of water. Living in the city robs the seductive beauty of the monsoons, but staying an attending a university situated near a few clusters of tribal villages and about a hundred kilometers far away from home, helps to put everything in its place. You could say that I had found the beauty of the rains back.

Perhaps I was entranced by the rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops, or perhaps it was the nicotine coursing through my nasal civility to nerve receptors in my head, but it seemed like the swirling circles of cigarette smoke were synchronized with the rate at which the raindrops fell from the heavens.

Everything was quiet, save for the muted fury with which the skies emptied its wrath on the earth. A wrath equaled to the insatiable pangs of desire I had running within me and gathering up in my loins. Anyone could see the tent it made on my pants. She saw it, she noticed and she didn’t say a word. But even silences have words hidden between the lines. I knew she liked what she saw and I knew what she wanted. We both knew what we wanted, and this was made very clear as we got to know each other more and more, over the weeks. Now, she was here and smoking a cigarette with me. Life indeed has strange ways.

It has been a year since I last dated; my ex and I had a horrible break up that kept on haunting me for months. Then, I graduated and moved out to experience what living away from home and family was like. It took some time to adjust myself, but eventually, I settled in and revolved my life around the semester of the University and the friendly debates I had over tea and biscuits, as the Sun left fiery traces of its existence in the dusk sky.

And on one such evening, I met her. People have a habit of romanticizing such moments to an exaggeration, probably because the kind of mutual intellectual attraction that is involved between two people is something worthwhile and memorable, not to mention overwhelming. Tea glasses and cigarettes were consumed but our conversation was incessant. We had found a lot of common ground between each other: similar tastes in politics, literature, progressive values and of course, sexuality.

We exchanged numbers. Her name was Olivia. After our first meet, we increased the number of our conversations. Most people don’t know where to start a conversation; we didn’t know where to end one since the various topics often overlapped each other. We met after classes, and we talked more over teacups and plates of delicious momos.

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Then, that fateful day came when she confided that she wanted to fuck me, quite badly. In all honesty, I was overwhelmed and flattered, considering the fact that I did not possess any attractive attribute in the way I look. I was an average. And yet, she took hold of my hand and placed in on her crotch. Despite the fabric of her patialas and her panties, I could see that she was wet. The moment my fingers touched her crotch, she gasped and slightly jerked her head backward. Her heavy breathing was inviting.

She whispered that it had been a long time since she last got laid, and none of the men she eventually met deserved to fuck her. But on talking with me for about one and a half months, she knew that she had to give in, that she had to melt in front of me.

She did melt, as she pressed her breasts on my kurta and kissed me greedily, her lips sucking mine with a ferocious passion I had never encountered before. My fingers dug deep, through her Patiala and her panties, inside her cunt. It became damper by the second and she began to moan in my mouth.

That day was the first time it rained. And in all likelihood, I’d never forgotten that day. Even now, I get hard on remembering the touch of her lips on mine, and the weight of her body pressing on mine. After that day, all of our conversations were a mixture of the intellectual and of the sexual. And boy, was she kinkier than me! She loved to dominate and be submissive at the same time, and she loved to be abused verbally and physically.

Shit was hot, and shit became steamier when she called me on a video chat and showed me how was she masturbating vigorously and pinching her nipples as if she was in a trance from whence only my cock could make her escape.

And today was the day when both of us would consummate our desires to fruition. It was a good thing that I lived alone and the landlords did not interfere with my personal space. And the best thing, she did not want a condom to come between me and her. “It isn’t fun when there’s a barrier of rubber between us,” she once said with a mischievous wink.

As she dumped her cigarette buds into the ashtray, she got up instantly and began to undress. As the clothes fell one by one to the floor, in the order of her kurta, bra, patiala, and panties, the sensuousness of her body turned me on ever further – her honey glazed skin was beautifully wrapped around her somewhat chubby form; her hair was long enough to fall to her knees; her breasts were shapely and her dark-brown nipples were erect, craving for some dire attention from my lips and teeth; her crotch was hairy and bushy, the way I loved it the most: “It’s the fucking Amazon”, she captioned once as she sent in a nude.

She began to sway her hips, making her bobs and her butt jiggle in a way that inexplicably made me desperate to touch her. I got up and watched her intently as she kept on swaying her body from side to side. In no time, I had consigned my clothing to the floor, and my dick was erect and straight, effectively saluting her out of pure, unbridled lust.

“Look at you, you’re already up and running! I doubt you’d last any longer, perhaps two minutes at most!”

She was playfully teasing me, and even then, her teasing put my desire up to a fever pitch. She had one of the best voices when it comes to singing and her seductive way of verbally teasing hit where it should have hit: the horny animal inside me.
I said nothing but instead moved closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Closer, and closer.
Until there remained no space between our warm, young and lustful bodies. Only our breathing helped to close the tiny gaps here and there, where our bodies couldn’t have bridged it.

I know that by now, you’d want more of the action. But, me being a kinky person, I’d love to tease and to keep things in suspense. Depending on the response I get, I’d certainly post the second part to this sex story. I await your comments and criticisms at [email protected]

All you beautiful and horny ladies out there, you can connect with me on [email protected], since I’d love to hear out what you think and also to make new friends (and something more, eventually). Or you could send in a text to my Kik. My ID is thesexyguyinhere.

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