Hey guys! How are you all doing? It’s been a hectic few days full of anticipation regarding my debut in writing erotic stuff. After seeing the initial reaction I am only glad that I finally made the start and have managed to impress a large number of erotic-stuff readers.
Here goes the third part. Well, the first two stories were all about the two-hour flight. About how the girl whose name was yet unknown, and I, explored. She had touched and felt me. I had only been a witness to her dusky beauty with an appearance that was so mesmerizing.
Even though the flight was about to land soon, I was having half a mind to make a quick trip to the washroom and relax. I had had a very intense buildup. Guys, you know when the thing is not allowed to come out how tough it gets to keep the member down.
“No Sir, sorry. You cannot use the washroom anymore as there is an elderly couple who have requested to let them go once the gentleman who is in, comes out,” said an air-hostess. She was an extremely sexy girl with protruding red lips with her shirt sticking into her breasts.
Slightly off the topic. But how lucky we armpit lovers can get in flights if these women start wearing sleeves dresses as uniforms? No bad intention here for all those lovely and talented girls, just wishing for a peek. Come on world, spread some happiness? Some countries have air-hostesses in bikinis.
We know that is not possible in India, but a sleeveless dress will never do any harm! I had adjusted myself back in the seat. A quick getaway in which I was denied washroom service had my boner settle down in a sea of pre-cum floating in my undergarment.
I checked out my girl, technically not mine, but one who was about to give me a time to remember. She had gathered all her stuff. I took out the phone and began typing.
Me: I have ogled at your armpits, felt your hands, touched your arms but I do not know your name yet!
She: Mansi, yours?
Me: Tanuj.
She: Nice meeting you Tanuj! Where do you live? I assume you are a working professional.
Me: Yeah yeah! I am an underpaid content writer. People make us write any shit they want and pay absolutely nothing for it. I live in a chawl-like place in ruins so do not even dare ask. Goregaon.
Yes, we were about to land in one of India’s sultriest cities. Mumbai!
She: Oh, that’s sad. BTW, I am a digital content marketer. I live close to you, in Powai. And we also have something in common – content!
Me: Yeah, nice to know we have something common. But there are two more things.
She: Let me guess? My armpits? I have always somewhat liked men looking at them. But never met one with so much enthusiasm for just my pits. The common eye generally starts raping my boobs over the clothes. And yes, I admit – the smell of the pre-cum and the cum drives me mad.
Me: Hahaahaha. I can promise you that I will not open your bra for a good 15-20 minutes if you take out that top. If you stand against a wall and let me satisfy all my hunger with your arms.
She: Naughty you are. Let me tease you more, I will get out first from our row and will take my time to pull out my bag. Dekh lena acche se before I give you the next show.
As if the plane had landed on the Western Express highway and not the airstrip, we had a very jerky landing. I saw Mansi’s boobs jump up and down. She caught me looking, and smiled. A minute later all I heard was unbuckling of seat belts. A stream of a hundred people ready to mix into the madness called Mumbai.
Mansi got up. I let her pass while I pretended to check my phone. As she got out and turned and began raising her arms, I quickly fixated my gaze on her pits. The girl had given me a lot of fun, including a teaser hand-job. But what if I somehow end up losing her in the mighty Mumbai crowd at the airport? I wondered.
Fuck the world. I asked, “Oye, gimme your number no?”
“Are we not going to have coffee which you had promised?” she replied.
“Oh yes, so sorry. Let’s go first to collect your luggage then?” said I.
“I am traveling light. I only have this one bag,” said Mansi ending her armpit show. She was adjusting her top and her black bra strap which had emerged at her shoulder.
“Oh great, I too have one bag. But I got to have a smoke before we do anything else.”
“Fine, I will go to the washroom first and you can finish killing a few future minutes of your life.”
She had gone through her washroom drill. I had finished smoking. We decided against taking a cab while we had coffee. Mansi said she was from a small town in Rajasthan. She was living with her one roommate who had gone out of town for professional training.
“So, what next? My pathetic roommates would still be loitering around the home at this hour, what to do now?” I asked as we were taking our last sips quickly. We were trying to beat the crazy evening traffic before it started to pile up.
“If you do not mind, I do not know what you would be thinking of me, will you come to my place now? I do not know you. How can I even trust a stranger? But you seem trustworthy, and armpit-hungry. But you have to promise our phones will be switched off the moment we enter my home. I do not want any photos or videos,” Mansi said.
“I am not thinking of you as anyone but someone who is hungry for some pleasure. You tell me what and how you want, and it will be done. I will have my phone off unless you have cameras in your home recording us,” I replied, with my heartbeat rising once again while uttering nonsense.
“Let’s take an auto and not a cab. Let’s go to my place and see what we can do for each other,” said Mansi as we got up.
Finding an auto was not tough. And I had a sudden gush of the deodorant-mixed smell of her sweat as she spread her hand wide behind my back, close to my shoulder. She put her bag in her lap to not let the driver know how she was sitting.
“Do you like the smell?” she asked.
“Oh god, you will either kill me with the intoxication or I would die of a heart attack!” I replied.
“Wait, boy, don’t you dare give up on me so soon,” she laughed as we zoomed towards her flat.
Thirty-five minutes of intoxication ended when we landed in front of her new building. There were no security guards. Only a few workers engrossed in their jobs. We called the lift, obviously without a camera, and got in. I did not wait anymore. I grabbed Mansi by her waist, put her in a corner.
She was surprised, eyes wide, brows twisted, lips failing to stop a smile. We had only a few seconds to get to the 12th floor. I raised her arms and took a deep breath again near her armpits. I also buried my face into her neck, smelling her hair and her top mixed with her smell and perfume.
Leaving a wet peck was the idea, but the lift stopped with a jerk and I had to get off her. Mansi was all smiles when I left her. The lift reached her floor and the door opened.
Hope you liked the third part of the story. I have tried to stick to all important details, and as you can imagine, the next part will have more erotic and sensual stuff. But until then, do let me know how you liked the story at .
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