u/stoned_erella420

The New Year’s Eve party at the resort was loud, music spilling onto the terrace. I wore a hot black dress—tight, short, deep neckline showing heavy cleavage and a high slit up my thigh. No bra, no panties. It felt dangerous and perfect.
I kept catching his stare from across the room. Mom’s best friend’s husband. Early thirties, well-built, broad shoulders filling his shirt. Married. Off-limits. My pussy throbbed every time our eyes met.
Around 11 I stepped outside for air. He was already there. He lit a joint and handed it over. “Here. This’ll loosen you up.” We smoked in silence at first. The weed hit hard on top of the champagne. My head felt heavy, groggy, body slow.
“You’ve been eye-fucking me since the bar,” he said low, smirking. His hand slid up the slit of my dress, fingers brushing my bare thigh. “No panties? Fuck, you came ready.”
I swallowed. “Maybe.”
Back inside he pulled me into a small empty lounge and locked the door. I was really groggy now, eyelids heavy. He pulled out the coke bag. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. Do a line. Wake up so we can have some real fun.” He cut a thick line on the table. I hesitated. “This is crazy. You’re married to Mom’s friend.”
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Yeah, and your pussy is already dripping for me. Feel it.” His fingers slipped under my dress and rubbed my wet slit. I moaned softly. I snorted the line. The rush hit fast—heart pounding, fog gone, sudden intense heat between my legs.
He kissed me hard, tongue deep, hands grabbing my ass. “This is so fucked up,” I breathed as he pushed me against the wall. “Then why are you so wet?” he growled, fingers sliding inside me. He fingered me fast and rough, thumb grinding my clit. “Cum on my fingers. Squirt for me right now.”
My legs shook. I squirted hard, hot liquid gushing over his hand and splashing the floor. “Fuck, look at that,” he said, still rubbing me through it. “Good girl.”
He pulled his thick cock out. “On your knees. Suck it.” I dropped down and took him in my mouth, sucking greedily, tasting pre-cum. He groaned, hand in my hair. “That’s it. Take it deeper. Get it nice and wet for your pussy.”
He pulled me up, bent me over the table and thrust in deep with one stroke. I gasped at the stretch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, pounding hard. The table creaked. He reached around and rubbed my clit while fucking me. “Gonna make you squirt on my cock this time.”
He flipped me onto my back, legs over his shoulders, and drove in even harder. I came again, squirting around him, soaking his cock and the table. “Shit, you’re squirting everywhere,” he groaned, not slowing down. He flipped me back over, bent me deep and fucked me rough from behind, one hand fisted in my hair, the other slapping my ass. “Take this cock. This slutty pussy was made for me.”
I was shaking, moaning into my arm. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick ropes of hot cum pumped into me—pulse after heavy pulse, so much semen it overflowed immediately, leaking in thick streams down my thighs. He kept thrusting through it, pushing more cum deeper. “Fuck, take every drop. I’m filling you up.”
We stayed locked, breathing ragged, his cock twitching as excess cum dripped out around it. “God, look at this mess,” he said, pulling out slowly. Thick white semen poured from my pussy. He scooped some with two fingers and pushed it back inside. “Still so much inside you.”
I pulled my dress down, feeling it leak down my legs. “We almost got caught. Footsteps were right outside.” My voice was shaky.
He smirked, wiping his fingers on my thigh. “Worth it. Next time I’m bending you over in one of the cabanas by the pool. Or making you ride me in the car after.” He leaned in and kissed me slow, tasting like coke and whiskey. “Go out first. I’ll follow in a minute.”
I slipped out, heart racing, his huge load still leaking down my thighs under the hot black dress. Back at the party I talked to Mom’s friends while feeling his cum drip. He rejoined his wife across the room. Our eyes met once. He gave a small nod, lips twitching like he was remembering exactly how much he’d just pumped inside me. I squeezed my thighs together and smiled back.

The New Year’s Eve party at the resort was loud, music spilling onto the terrace. I wore a hot black dress—tight, short, deep neckline showing heavy cleavage and a high slit up my thigh. No bra, no panties. It felt dangerous and perfect.
I kept catching his stare from across the room. Mom’s best friend’s husband. Early thirties, well-built, broad shoulders filling his shirt. Married. Off-limits. My pussy throbbed every time our eyes met.
Around 11 I stepped outside for air. He was already there. He lit a joint and handed it over. “Here. This’ll loosen you up.” We smoked in silence at first. The weed hit hard on top of the champagne. My head felt heavy, groggy, body slow.
“You’ve been eye-fucking me since the bar,” he said low, smirking. His hand slid up the slit of my dress, fingers brushing my bare thigh. “No panties? Fuck, you came ready.”
I swallowed. “Maybe.”
Back inside he pulled me into a small empty lounge and locked the door. I was really groggy now, eyelids heavy. He pulled out the coke bag. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. Do a line. Wake up so we can have some real fun.” He cut a thick line on the table. I hesitated. “This is crazy. You’re married to Mom’s friend.”
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Yeah, and your pussy is already dripping for me. Feel it.” His fingers slipped under my dress and rubbed my wet slit. I moaned softly. I snorted the line. The rush hit fast—heart pounding, fog gone, sudden intense heat between my legs.
He kissed me hard, tongue deep, hands grabbing my ass. “This is so fucked up,” I breathed as he pushed me against the wall. “Then why are you so wet?” he growled, fingers sliding inside me. He fingered me fast and rough, thumb grinding my clit. “Cum on my fingers. Squirt for me right now.”
My legs shook. I squirted hard, hot liquid gushing over his hand and splashing the floor. “Fuck, look at that,” he said, still rubbing me through it. “Good girl.”
He pulled his thick cock out. “On your knees. Suck it.” I dropped down and took him in my mouth, sucking greedily, tasting pre-cum. He groaned, hand in my hair. “That’s it. Take it deeper. Get it nice and wet for your pussy.”
He pulled me up, bent me over the table and thrust in deep with one stroke. I gasped at the stretch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, pounding hard. The table creaked. He reached around and rubbed my clit while fucking me. “Gonna make you squirt on my cock this time.”
He flipped me onto my back, legs over his shoulders, and drove in even harder. I came again, squirting around him, soaking his cock and the table. “Shit, you’re squirting everywhere,” he groaned, not slowing down. He flipped me back over, bent me deep and fucked me rough from behind, one hand fisted in my hair, the other slapping my ass. “Take this cock. This slutty pussy was made for me.”
I was shaking, moaning into my arm. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick ropes of hot cum pumped into me—pulse after heavy pulse, so much semen it overflowed immediately, leaking in thick streams down my thighs. He kept thrusting through it, pushing more cum deeper. “Fuck, take every drop. I’m filling you up.”
We stayed locked, breathing ragged, his cock twitching as excess cum dripped out around it. “God, look at this mess,” he said, pulling out slowly. Thick white semen poured from my pussy. He scooped some with two fingers and pushed it back inside. “Still so much inside you.”
I pulled my dress down, feeling it leak down my legs. “We almost got caught. Footsteps were right outside.” My voice was shaky.
He smirked, wiping his fingers on my thigh. “Worth it. Next time I’m bending you over in one of the cabanas by the pool. Or making you ride me in the car after.” He leaned in and kissed me slow, tasting like coke and whiskey. “Go out first. I’ll follow in a minute.”
I slipped out, heart racing, his huge load still leaking down my thighs under the hot black dress. Back at the party I talked to Mom’s friends while feeling his cum drip. He rejoined his wife across the room. Our eyes met once. He gave a small nod, lips twitching like he was remembering exactly how much he’d just pumped inside me. I squeezed my thighs together and smiled back.

The New Year’s Eve party at the resort was loud, music spilling onto the terrace. I wore a hot black dress—tight, short, deep neckline showing heavy cleavage and a high slit up my thigh. No bra, no panties. It felt dangerous and perfect.
I kept catching his stare from across the room. Mom’s best friend’s husband. Early thirties, well-built, broad shoulders filling his shirt. Married. Off-limits. My pussy throbbed every time our eyes met.
Around 11 I stepped outside for air. He was already there. He lit a joint and handed it over. “Here. This’ll loosen you up.” We smoked in silence at first. The weed hit hard on top of the champagne. My head felt heavy, groggy, body slow.
“You’ve been eye-fucking me since the bar,” he said low, smirking. His hand slid up the slit of my dress, fingers brushing my bare thigh. “No panties? Fuck, you came ready.”
I swallowed. “Maybe.”
Back inside he pulled me into a small empty lounge and locked the door. I was really groggy now, eyelids heavy. He pulled out the coke bag. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. Do a line. Wake up so we can have some real fun.” He cut a thick line on the table. I hesitated. “This is crazy. You’re married to Mom’s friend.”
He leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “Yeah, and your pussy is already dripping for me. Feel it.” His fingers slipped under my dress and rubbed my wet slit. I moaned softly. I snorted the line. The rush hit fast—heart pounding, fog gone, sudden intense heat between my legs.
He kissed me hard, tongue deep, hands grabbing my ass. “This is so fucked up,” I breathed as he pushed me against the wall. “Then why are you so wet?” he growled, fingers sliding inside me. He fingered me fast and rough, thumb grinding my clit. “Cum on my fingers. Squirt for me right now.”
My legs shook. I squirted hard, hot liquid gushing over his hand and splashing the floor. “Fuck, look at that,” he said, still rubbing me through it. “Good girl.”
He pulled his thick cock out. “On your knees. Suck it.” I dropped down and took him in my mouth, sucking greedily, tasting pre-cum. He groaned, hand in my hair. “That’s it. Take it deeper. Get it nice and wet for your pussy.”
He pulled me up, bent me over the table and thrust in deep with one stroke. I gasped at the stretch. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, pounding hard. The table creaked. He reached around and rubbed my clit while fucking me. “Gonna make you squirt on my cock this time.”
He flipped me onto my back, legs over his shoulders, and drove in even harder. I came again, squirting around him, soaking his cock and the table. “Shit, you’re squirting everywhere,” he groaned, not slowing down. He flipped me back over, bent me deep and fucked me rough from behind, one hand fisted in my hair, the other slapping my ass. “Take this cock. This slutty pussy was made for me.”
I was shaking, moaning into my arm. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick ropes of hot cum pumped into me—pulse after heavy pulse, so much semen it overflowed immediately, leaking in thick streams down my thighs. He kept thrusting through it, pushing more cum deeper. “Fuck, take every drop. I’m filling you up.”
We stayed locked, breathing ragged, his cock twitching as excess cum dripped out around it. “God, look at this mess,” he said, pulling out slowly. Thick white semen poured from my pussy. He scooped some with two fingers and pushed it back inside. “Still so much inside you.”
I pulled my dress down, feeling it leak down my legs. “We almost got caught. Footsteps were right outside.” My voice was shaky.
He smirked, wiping his fingers on my thigh. “Worth it. Next time I’m bending you over in one of the cabanas by the pool. Or making you ride me in the car after.” He leaned in and kissed me slow, tasting like coke and whiskey. “Go out first. I’ll follow in a minute.”
I slipped out, heart racing, his huge load still leaking down my thighs under the hot black dress. Back at the party I talked to Mom’s friends while feeling his cum drip. He rejoined his wife across the room. Our eyes met once. He gave a small nod, lips twitching like he was remembering exactly how much he’d just pumped inside me. I squeezed my thighs together and smiled back.

1 📓 Ella’s Diary – Saturday Night / Sunday Morning – 02:40 AM

The lock clicked soft tonight. Ma didn’t stir. Baba’s snores kept rhythm with the wall clock. I climbed the stairs slow — like I was crawling out of myself.

It’s warm tonight, typical weather. The kind of night where your skin feels too tight & clothes feel like betrayal. So, I wore nothing underneath. It’s not about being sexy. It’s about finally not feeling trapped.
I climbed to the terrace after pretending to go to sleep. My feet still had Haldi stains from washing utensils.  But this is my time.

The thin short maxi clung to me — no bra, no panties, nothing. Just cotton, skin, smell of my sweat, and whatever’s left of my sanity.

Tonight, I rolled the joint thinner than usual. clean lines even if the stuff inside is cheap. That’s the only elegance I can afford sometimes. A slim rebellion between fingers. Burnt lips, but proud hands. Tight like a secret. Burned slow like revenge.

First drag.

It hit like a slap. That warm, stupid burn in the chest.
And just like that — the noise of the city became muffled. Like I was underwater and everything else was dry and cracking above. I sat on the parapet again — same spot, behind the dish antenna so I am not seen directly if anyone decides to show up. My thighs overflowing on both sides, leaned back like a queen who didn’t ask for a crown.
The occasional breeze slid through my gown and grazed my sweaty skin. It made me blink.

Then I heard his voice. His stupid, deep, maddening voice of the one whom I used to call my lover.

“Phir se aa gayi na tu Ganja marne ?”
I ignored,
“La de roll karke deta hu.”

“Tu rehene de,” I whispered. “Mai kar lungi.” He laughed in his low, gravelly laugh, like the start of a storm.

And just like that, I slipped. Not down. Not up. Somewhere between.

The skyline melted. The railway track bent and twisted like a snake doing bharatnatyam. I had learnt a bit as a kid. Thanks to it I have at least some grace. The water tank whispered secrets, the moon watched me like it was my mother and my lover at the same time. The tall sky scrapers looming over my head the windows were watching me. Maybe someone was .. watching me, like they always do. The weed was hitting. Hard. My nipples tightened under the cotton. They felt like they were trying to listen too.

“Yeh sab dekhte hain mujhe,” I told him. “Auto me, metro me, office me... sab.”

“Toh kya karti hai tu?” he asked.

“Kuch nahi,” I said. “Main bas andar andar jalti hoon.”

 Crushed between wet shirts and cheap axe body spray, boobs already flattened against the some aunty’s oily braid while someone behind me breathed too deep — like he was inhaling my soul through my kurta. Blue checked shirt with his office ID. He had on those cheap, thin formal pants — the ones that crumple too easily and hide nothing.

When the train lurched, his pelvis slammed into me.
I could feel it — that “galti se, gardi me hone wala” touch.
First, it was subtle. Then, Rhythmic. Controlled. Like he meant to. Not just a press — a hump. Like I was a warm cushion his wife never became.
I froze. Sweat dripping down my back. I could feel every inch of him in my cotton Salwar, behind me — pulsing through fabric so thin, it may as well have been air.
And that’s the thing na — he stayed calm.
Headphones in. Eyes on the floor or the roof.
Humping like a ghost with a time limit, as train stopped at a station and more passengers boarded, he pressed his hard-on on my ass I felt warmth spread as he pushed.  

I didn’t say anything. I don’t know why.
Maybe I was afraid I’d cause a scene.
Maybe I was afraid no one would care.
But the moment he was about to get off — not a single sorry, not even fake shame — I leaned close to his ear and whispered, bitter like smoke:

"Mazaa aaya behenchod? Nikal gaya tera? "
He smirked — like he owned the tracks I walked.

"Haa aaya na Maza, nikala na. Chinaal aur Itna hi hai toh ladies mein chadh ja, ya ghar pe baith………“BEHEN” & he got off.

I pressed my thighs together tightly as the memory flashed back, his smirk, the soft moan he left out when he came. The cotton rubbed in all the right places. And that’s when it started — that pull in my belly. Like something inside me was remembering a dance it had forgotten.

“Tu ab bhi mujhe yaad karti hai?” he asked.

“Only when I’m stoned,” I smiled. “Only when I want to feel something.”

“Main hamesha yahin hoon,” he said.
“Jab tu roya karti thi, jab tu chhupa karti thi... jab tu apni garmi se ghabra jaati thi.”

His voice curled into my ears like fingers I missed. I felt my skin bloom with heat. Not shame — hunger. Like a monsoon hitting a dry riverbed.

I leaned back. Stared at the sky till it started shifting colors. Greens that don’t exist. Blues like broken glass. I wasn’t sure if I was wet from the air, the smoke, or my own storm.
I opened up my legs and bent my knees
I looked at my knees. Bent. Bare. My legs trembled just from sitting there. The joint was half gone. My dress rode up higher. The wind decided to be a flirt.
The ridge of the parapet dug into me just enough to remind me I’m alive. I didn’t realise when my fingers had slipped between my thighs.. uff.. i was drenched. Nostalgia hit as I felt him, it felt like his fingers, his tounge, like I had felt it the first time. But soon his face had changed into the face of that bastard from the train but the most fucked-up bit, is it didn’t surprise me.
While the ganja took hold, I had relaxed, my body acted on its own my legs spread wide and I found my hips swaying again as my fingers massaged my outer lips. something inside me wouldn’t stop replaying it and now with utmost detail. I lifted my hips up as my finger was massaging my clitoris. Had I done the same thing in the train ? Had I actually liked it ?
“ Tune Kuch kiya Kyu nai ?” I heard my lovers voice from a distance. But my heavy breaths echoed. I bit my lip.
A part of me wanted to scream at him. Tellig him ki “gaali di thi maine usse.” But did I actually said it out loud ? or was it in my head ?
Stranger’s voice rang clearly in my ears “Chinaal”.. “nikal diya mera paani?”
Another part… whispered Let him hump harder.. maybe even do more than just hump, “Fuck, Behenchod! mai kya bol rahi hu..?” FUCKKK I was rubbing my clit harder His Voice echoed “Haa Maza aaya na BEHEN.” Let it hurt. Let him finish.

And somewhere in between one breath and the next — my whole body shook.
Like a memory detonating. Like every moment I was silent — roaring all at once.

My eyes stung. My knees locked. I might’ve moaned. Or cursed him. Or both. My legs were shivering and my head was spinning, I was significantly stoned

Then silence.
Pure. Deep. Delicious silence. I laid back, dress hiked, hair wild, chest heaving — and for once, I didn’t feel like prey. I felt like the predator.

I don’t know how long I sat there. Maybe an hour. Maybe my whole life.

But when I finally came back to myself, I smiled.

Wind's colder after the storm inside me.
My body’s still buzzing, legs like noodles, breath hot like chai in a steel glass. I don't know when my hand slipped, when the waves started, when the dam broke. I only remember holding on to the wall like it was my last rescue.

My maxi — damp like first monsoon on cotton. The parapet’s edge is sticky with a truth I didn’t mean to confess. I watch a droplet shimmer and slide down the corner, like even it didn’t want to stay. Thoda sa liquid honesty.

My lungs are slow dancing with the leftover smoke.
Eyes blurry, but not from tears — maybe from having seen too much inside myself.

And I sit up.
Hair messed, thighs shaking a little, but spine straightening like I’ve just survived a war only I knew was happening.

The city still doesn’t care.
Rickshaws below still honk like nothing ever cracked in the sky. But tonight, something shifted in me. Some rage released. Some ache acknowledged.

“Ek kush, aur... aur main apne haathon mein galtiyon jaisi lagne lagi.”

1 📓 Ella’s Diary – Saturday Night / Sunday Morning – 02:40 AM

The lock clicked soft tonight. Ma didn’t stir. Baba’s snores kept rhythm with the wall clock. I climbed the stairs slow — like I was crawling out of myself.

It’s warm tonight, typical weather. The kind of night where your skin feels too tight & clothes feel like betrayal. So, I wore nothing underneath. It’s not about being sexy. It’s about finally not feeling trapped.
I climbed to the terrace after pretending to go to sleep. My feet still had Haldi stains from washing utensils.  But this is my time.

The thin short maxi clung to me — no bra, no panties, nothing. Just cotton, skin, smell of my sweat, and whatever’s left of my sanity.

Tonight, I rolled the joint thinner than usual. clean lines even if the stuff inside is cheap. That’s the only elegance I can afford sometimes. A slim rebellion between fingers. Burnt lips, but proud hands. Tight like a secret. Burned slow like revenge.

First drag.

It hit like a slap. That warm, stupid burn in the chest.
And just like that — the noise of the city became muffled. Like I was underwater and everything else was dry and cracking above. I sat on the parapet again — same spot, behind the dish antenna so I am not seen directly if anyone decides to show up. My thighs overflowing on both sides, leaned back like a queen who didn’t ask for a crown.
The occasional breeze slid through my gown and grazed my sweaty skin. It made me blink.

Then I heard his voice. His stupid, deep, maddening voice of the one whom I used to call my lover.

“Phir se aa gayi na tu Ganja marne ?”
I ignored,
“La de roll karke deta hu.”

“Tu rehene de,” I whispered. “Mai kar lungi.” He laughed in his low, gravelly laugh, like the start of a storm.

And just like that, I slipped. Not down. Not up. Somewhere between.

The skyline melted. The railway track bent and twisted like a snake doing bharatnatyam. I had learnt a bit as a kid. Thanks to it I have at least some grace. The water tank whispered secrets, the moon watched me like it was my mother and my lover at the same time. The tall sky scrapers looming over my head the windows were watching me. Maybe someone was .. watching me, like they always do. The weed was hitting. Hard. My nipples tightened under the cotton. They felt like they were trying to listen too.

“Yeh sab dekhte hain mujhe,” I told him. “Auto me, metro me, office me... sab.”

“Toh kya karti hai tu?” he asked.

“Kuch nahi,” I said. “Main bas andar andar jalti hoon.”

 Crushed between wet shirts and cheap axe body spray, boobs already flattened against the some aunty’s oily braid while someone behind me breathed too deep — like he was inhaling my soul through my kurta. Blue checked shirt with his office ID. He had on those cheap, thin formal pants — the ones that crumple too easily and hide nothing.

When the train lurched, his pelvis slammed into me.
I could feel it — that “galti se, gardi me hone wala” touch.
First, it was subtle. Then, Rhythmic. Controlled. Like he meant to. Not just a press — a hump. Like I was a warm cushion his wife never became.
I froze. Sweat dripping down my back. I could feel every inch of him in my cotton Salwar, behind me — pulsing through fabric so thin, it may as well have been air.
And that’s the thing na — he stayed calm.
Headphones in. Eyes on the floor or the roof.
Humping like a ghost with a time limit, as train stopped at a station and more passengers boarded, he pressed his hard-on on my ass I felt warmth spread as he pushed.  

I didn’t say anything. I don’t know why.
Maybe I was afraid I’d cause a scene.
Maybe I was afraid no one would care.
But the moment he was about to get off — not a single sorry, not even fake shame — I leaned close to his ear and whispered, bitter like smoke:

"Mazaa aaya behenchod? Nikal gaya tera? "
He smirked — like he owned the tracks I walked.

"Haa aaya na Maza, nikala na. Chinaal aur Itna hi hai toh ladies mein chadh ja, ya ghar pe baith………“BEHEN” & he got off.

I pressed my thighs together tightly as the memory flashed back, his smirk, the soft moan he left out when he came. The cotton rubbed in all the right places. And that’s when it started — that pull in my belly. Like something inside me was remembering a dance it had forgotten.

“Tu ab bhi mujhe yaad karti hai?” he asked.

“Only when I’m stoned,” I smiled. “Only when I want to feel something.”

“Main hamesha yahin hoon,” he said.
“Jab tu roya karti thi, jab tu chhupa karti thi... jab tu apni garmi se ghabra jaati thi.”

His voice curled into my ears like fingers I missed. I felt my skin bloom with heat. Not shame — hunger. Like a monsoon hitting a dry riverbed.

I leaned back. Stared at the sky till it started shifting colors. Greens that don’t exist. Blues like broken glass. I wasn’t sure if I was wet from the air, the smoke, or my own storm.
I opened up my legs and bent my knees
I looked at my knees. Bent. Bare. My legs trembled just from sitting there. The joint was half gone. My dress rode up higher. The wind decided to be a flirt.
The ridge of the parapet dug into me just enough to remind me I’m alive. I didn’t realise when my fingers had slipped between my thighs.. uff.. i was drenched. Nostalgia hit as I felt him, it felt like his fingers, his tounge, like I had felt it the first time. But soon his face had changed into the face of that bastard from the train but the most fucked-up bit, is it didn’t surprise me.
While the ganja took hold, I had relaxed, my body acted on its own my legs spread wide and I found my hips swaying again as my fingers massaged my outer lips. something inside me wouldn’t stop replaying it and now with utmost detail. I lifted my hips up as my finger was massaging my clitoris. Had I done the same thing in the train ? Had I actually liked it ?
“ Tune Kuch kiya Kyu nai ?” I heard my lovers voice from a distance. But my heavy breaths echoed. I bit my lip.
A part of me wanted to scream at him. Tellig him ki “gaali di thi maine usse.” But did I actually said it out loud ? or was it in my head ?
Stranger’s voice rang clearly in my ears “Chinaal”.. “nikal diya mera paani?”
Another part… whispered Let him hump harder.. maybe even do more than just hump, “Fuck, Behenchod! mai kya bol rahi hu..?” FUCKKK I was rubbing my clit harder His Voice echoed “Haa Maza aaya na BEHEN.” Let it hurt. Let him finish.

And somewhere in between one breath and the next — my whole body shook.
Like a memory detonating. Like every moment I was silent — roaring all at once.

My eyes stung. My knees locked. I might’ve moaned. Or cursed him. Or both. My legs were shivering and my head was spinning, I was significantly stoned

Then silence.
Pure. Deep. Delicious silence. I laid back, dress hiked, hair wild, chest heaving — and for once, I didn’t feel like prey. I felt like the predator.

I don’t know how long I sat there. Maybe an hour. Maybe my whole life.
But when I finally came back to myself, I smiled.
Wind's colder after the storm inside me.
My body’s still buzzing, legs like noodles, breath hot like chai in a steel glass. I don't know when my hand slipped, when the waves started, when the dam broke. I only remember holding on to the wall like it was my last rescue.
My maxi — damp like first monsoon on cotton. The parapet’s edge is sticky with a truth I didn’t mean to confess. I watch a droplet shimmer and slide down the corner, like even it didn’t want to stay. Thoda sa liquid honesty.
My lungs are slow dancing with the leftover smoke.
Eyes blurry, but not from tears — maybe from having seen too much inside myself.
And I sit up.
Hair messed, thighs shaking a little, but spine straightening like I’ve just survived a war only I knew was happening.
The city still doesn’t care.
Rickshaws below still honk like nothing ever cracked in the sky. But tonight, something shifted in me. Some rage released. Some ache acknowledged.
“Ek kush, aur... aur main apne haathon mein galtiyon jaisi lagne lagi.”