"Finders, keepers," he replied, "You're on my seat."
I promptly returned the pen; I had a feeling Army Man was not to be taken lightly. And then of course there were the other people in the coach who looked on, not interfering, but definitely interested. Typical desi junta, free entertainment is always welcome.
Once everyone was settled in and the train began moving, I got off my berth and came sat on Army Man's lower one. If the Indian Railways said I could sit on his berth till 9 pm, there was no way in hell that he was going to stop me. I sat on one of the window seats, while he occupied the other. I was dying to check him out more, but didn't for I was sure he was not going to let it pass. There was something about Army Man that said he was only too ready to jump into Situations… just like me. After the mishaps with Motorcycle Man and Ticket Checker, I was in no mood for hanky-panky… till such time I was not sure of the outcome.
Some hours into the journey, I dozed off; there's just something about the rocking motion of a train that gives me the best sleep possible. I woke up with a start when I felt something against my feet. It was Army Man's feet…placed in such a way that we were both sitting with our legs almost entwined. He had his head back and eyes closed and my legs were caught between his. I didn't know how to pull them out without waking him up.
"Do you have to move your legs?" Army Man asked suddenly, casually scratching his thigh and I realized that he had perhaps not been sleeping at all. My eyes followed his hand movement and I was staring at his exposed thighs – solid columns of muscle, covered with just the amount of hair– and he noticed me looking as well.
"Like what you see?" he asked and started laughing as I looked away. Just who the hell did he think he was?
"What do you mean talking to me like I am some…" was all I could say.
"Lady, you check out my butt and my crotch and flash your cleavage and then pretend to be Virgin M?" he said, lifting his brows. I checked and to my extreme mortification realized that while I was dozing, my top shirt button had come off and Army Mad had had a very relaxed and full view of my breasts in their purple, lacy bra.
To be continued…
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
The berth of an affair....
I was really angry and really frustrated. After weeks of flirting with Motorcycle Man, he turned out to be the sort who cannot keep his thing in his pants. And just when I thought that perhaps Ticket Checker would save my evening from being spoilt… he turned out to be a PE (premature ejaculator) too! If anything irritates me more than an over-eager lover, it's a lover who revs my motor and then goes and shoots… his mouth, early.
After clanging the door shut on Ticket Checker, I took a rickshaw back home. I was thinking of self-gratification when I noticed I had a letter… from Delhi. It was the interview call I had been waiting for, a call centre job in the capital of the country. I had already had a fight with my parents about going to a "big city"; they thought it would spoil me. Well! I assured them that I would never let them down and would always be there little, good girl. Three days later, I was on a train to Delhi. It was an 18-hour, overnight journey and my Daddy was sending me in AC-2. He said that the start of my new life "on my own two feet" should be comfortable. After all, according to Daddy, I was going to Delhi to make a name for myself.
I got a side-upper berth and was trying to push my two suitcases under the seat, when I found a pen rolled under the seat. As I bent to retrieve it, someone tried to push past me and I fell, face first, onto the seat. I turned around to give the rude person a piece of my mind… and found myself staring into the greatest piece of, posterior, I had seen in a while, with a great pair of legs to go with it too! Tan slip-ons, white tennis shorts – which initially I found funny, but then I realized it was an Army man – close-cropped hair, a Lacoste tee shirt and Rayban Aviators perched on his head. He was looking at me with faint amusement as I looked up at him, half lying, half sitting on the lower berth, holding the pen in my hand.
"That's mine," he said, pointing to the pen, and his voice was very deep.
"Finders, keepers," I said, wanting him to keep talking.
He just bent and suddenly caught my wrist in his hand.
"What are you doing?" I asked, surprised.
"Finders, keepers," he replied, "You're on my seat."
To be continued...
After clanging the door shut on Ticket Checker, I took a rickshaw back home. I was thinking of self-gratification when I noticed I had a letter… from Delhi. It was the interview call I had been waiting for, a call centre job in the capital of the country. I had already had a fight with my parents about going to a "big city"; they thought it would spoil me. Well! I assured them that I would never let them down and would always be there little, good girl. Three days later, I was on a train to Delhi. It was an 18-hour, overnight journey and my Daddy was sending me in AC-2. He said that the start of my new life "on my own two feet" should be comfortable. After all, according to Daddy, I was going to Delhi to make a name for myself.
I got a side-upper berth and was trying to push my two suitcases under the seat, when I found a pen rolled under the seat. As I bent to retrieve it, someone tried to push past me and I fell, face first, onto the seat. I turned around to give the rude person a piece of my mind… and found myself staring into the greatest piece of, posterior, I had seen in a while, with a great pair of legs to go with it too! Tan slip-ons, white tennis shorts – which initially I found funny, but then I realized it was an Army man – close-cropped hair, a Lacoste tee shirt and Rayban Aviators perched on his head. He was looking at me with faint amusement as I looked up at him, half lying, half sitting on the lower berth, holding the pen in my hand.
"That's mine," he said, pointing to the pen, and his voice was very deep.
"Finders, keepers," I said, wanting him to keep talking.
He just bent and suddenly caught my wrist in his hand.
"What are you doing?" I asked, surprised.
"Finders, keepers," he replied, "You're on my seat."
To be continued...
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Easy cum and easy go?
As we stood there hugging, Ticket Checker's breathing intensified and the movie reached its climax. Before it 'The End' flashed on screen, he quickly led me out of the box into the still-deserted exit stairway and led me to a small door that said 'Staff Only'. We went inside, the room smelt of old newspapers, dust and rat poo with a few round cans with film spools lying abandoned.
Ticket Checker pulled me inside the room and shut the door with a clang. It was really dark and the thought of rats over my sandaled feet were giving me the creeps. Ticket Checker tried to pull me close, I pushed him away and said I needed some sort of a light first…
I could sense Ticket Checker's haste as he began fumbling in the dark. A 'click' later, a weak bulb came on and though it was not pitch black anymore, I could barely see. Ticket Checker lunged, caught my face in his hands and started kissing it all over. Ticket Checker pushed me into the wall, crushing me with his weight as he continued kissing me and rubbing his entire body against mine.
As I kissed him back, I realized Ticket Checker had managed to hitch my skirt up to my waist and we were standing against each other, joined at the hip… He was wearing jeans and as he rubbed himself on me, I felt the denim scratch the soft skin on my inner thigh. I asked Ticket Checker to control himself, but he only intensified his rubbing… And then there was a sudden "Ah" and Ticket Checker stopped moving and fell against me; I thought he had a heart attack or something. But he was alive… with a little wet patch in the front of his trousers. He looked at me, and looked away. I pushed him away, pulled my skirt down and left, shutting the door behind me with a clang.
To be continued…
Ticket Checker pulled me inside the room and shut the door with a clang. It was really dark and the thought of rats over my sandaled feet were giving me the creeps. Ticket Checker tried to pull me close, I pushed him away and said I needed some sort of a light first…
I could sense Ticket Checker's haste as he began fumbling in the dark. A 'click' later, a weak bulb came on and though it was not pitch black anymore, I could barely see. Ticket Checker lunged, caught my face in his hands and started kissing it all over. Ticket Checker pushed me into the wall, crushing me with his weight as he continued kissing me and rubbing his entire body against mine.
As I kissed him back, I realized Ticket Checker had managed to hitch my skirt up to my waist and we were standing against each other, joined at the hip… He was wearing jeans and as he rubbed himself on me, I felt the denim scratch the soft skin on my inner thigh. I asked Ticket Checker to control himself, but he only intensified his rubbing… And then there was a sudden "Ah" and Ticket Checker stopped moving and fell against me; I thought he had a heart attack or something. But he was alive… with a little wet patch in the front of his trousers. He looked at me, and looked away. I pushed him away, pulled my skirt down and left, shutting the door behind me with a clang.
To be continued…
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Not a bad a girl…
As I pointed to Motorcycle Man, the Ticket Checker puffed his chest and seemed to stand taller. The Hurt-Girl Look always makes men think they are John Abraham and they all start standing tall and looking very important. As Ticket Checker puffed up, Motorcycle Man seemed to wake up from his libido-generated lunacy and stood up as well.
"She is my girlfriend," announced Motorcycle Man, with both men standing nose-to-nose. I instantly denied it and even managed some tears to show how absolutely horrified I was with the idea. I don't know if Ticket Checker really believed me, but with the attention he was giving to my still-heaving breasts, I was sure he would choose to believe me.
"You are disturbing the movie," Ticket Checker addressed Motorcycle Man and pointed to the exit. Motorcycle Man scowled and left without arguing… he had seen two of the theatre chowkidars standing next to the exit, looking eager for a fight. I thanked my willpower for not giving in to Motorcycle Man's advances. He just wasn't man enough.
"Popcorn? Softdrink? Enjoying the movie madame?" asked Ticket Checker, who was now alone with me, the guards having mysteriously vanished. The whistling crowd had settled they saw Motorcycle Man leaving. I made a great show of straightening my clothes and looking distressed, and sat on the chair's armrest chair with tears brimming in my eyes. That seemed to really alarm Ticket Checker, who I noticed looked very young, but not that young either. "Can I do anything for you?" he asked, his eyes darting from my eyes to my mouth to my breasts to my eyes… I put my hand on my chest, as if to calm myself – his eyes followed – and told him I felt very unclean and cheap. I asked him if he thought I was a bad girl; and held his hand, as if looking for assurance. He held on tighter and vehemently shook his head.
I then touched my mouth – his eyes followed – and asked if there were any bite marks. He said no. I pulled down the neck of the top I was wearing, with just a bit of my cleavage showing, and asked him if there were any marks. He looked. I cried louder and squeezed his hand; he pulled me and hugged me. I could feel him go hard down there… I was not a bad girl, just that he looked a good boy.
To be continued…
"She is my girlfriend," announced Motorcycle Man, with both men standing nose-to-nose. I instantly denied it and even managed some tears to show how absolutely horrified I was with the idea. I don't know if Ticket Checker really believed me, but with the attention he was giving to my still-heaving breasts, I was sure he would choose to believe me.
"You are disturbing the movie," Ticket Checker addressed Motorcycle Man and pointed to the exit. Motorcycle Man scowled and left without arguing… he had seen two of the theatre chowkidars standing next to the exit, looking eager for a fight. I thanked my willpower for not giving in to Motorcycle Man's advances. He just wasn't man enough.
"Popcorn? Softdrink? Enjoying the movie madame?" asked Ticket Checker, who was now alone with me, the guards having mysteriously vanished. The whistling crowd had settled they saw Motorcycle Man leaving. I made a great show of straightening my clothes and looking distressed, and sat on the chair's armrest chair with tears brimming in my eyes. That seemed to really alarm Ticket Checker, who I noticed looked very young, but not that young either. "Can I do anything for you?" he asked, his eyes darting from my eyes to my mouth to my breasts to my eyes… I put my hand on my chest, as if to calm myself – his eyes followed – and told him I felt very unclean and cheap. I asked him if he thought I was a bad girl; and held his hand, as if looking for assurance. He held on tighter and vehemently shook his head.
I then touched my mouth – his eyes followed – and asked if there were any bite marks. He said no. I pulled down the neck of the top I was wearing, with just a bit of my cleavage showing, and asked him if there were any marks. He looked. I cried louder and squeezed his hand; he pulled me and hugged me. I could feel him go hard down there… I was not a bad girl, just that he looked a good boy.
To be continued…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
