“Who the fuck is sending you all this?”
“I know you’re cheating on me, better tell me who it is and let’s end this drama forever.”
Sam shouted over the phone. Shreya was shivering out of fear. It was last night that she shared her Gmail password with him. The cracks in a relationship that started in junior college were coming out. The long distance was tiring. She was not able to hold her horses.
She was not able to keep it inside her pants. But she never expected that he would find out about her escapades. Shreya was patching up an already broken relationship. She tried to console her already angry boyfriend and was bringing him back to her life.
For some reason, she shared her Gmail password. She doesn’t even remember why she did it. By the next morning, the photos in Google Photos started becoming accessible to Sam.
Erotic lines from M Mukundan’s novel were photographed and sent to Shreya by Bilal. He was trying to hint to her that he wanted to fuck her.
Sam has now found out, with evidence, who Shreya is speaking to whenever he tries to call her. She keeps telling it’s her mom. But for some reason, he knew that there was another man who had captured her mind.
Sam and Shreya have been dating since junior college. They were the power couple. The happy ones. The ones who didn’t care whether teachers were watching. They wore their love on their sleeves. They knew that they had nothing to lose.
Her parents were progressive enough to accept a Christian man. His family was rich enough that they didn’t care. They thought it was a relationship made forever.
But women aren’t the same when they reach college. That’s too far away from home. Especially those from small towns who shift to the big city. They see other women who have septums and piercings, who wear tank tops and shorts.
Women who have no qualms in sleeping with men as they please, making out under the stairwells, under the college water tank. She has heard them narrate stories of how their men take them to heaven while making love. Shreya also found them deeply liberated. They were living their life.
It’s like the women in the novels she reads. She was reminded of Arundati Roy’s characters in her novel God of Small Things. They could do almost everything. They were lustful, liberated, living the best of their lives. And she wanted to be one of the cool girls.
That’s how she met Bilal. The Muslim man from the nearby college. He is taller. He is political. He is a good orator. He wins almost every debate competition in town. He reads. He writes. She can speak to him about poems, beaches, stories and whatnot.
Sam is boring. He’s an engineer, for God’s sake. He can’t even sing a song. He is too Christian. He finds atheists sinful. He has not seen the world at all. He is a conservative. He doesn’t know what women think. She has started hating Sam. Yet, he’s the man she loved for the past four years.
He’s the man she told her mom she’s looking forward to marrying. She is trying her best not to dumb him down. But she wants to experiment. Sam has kissed her. But she has never got to experience a man’s touch all over her. She wants to be stripped of her clothes.
She wants to be pushed to the wall. She wants to be fucked like there is no tomorrow. She wants her calves to feel the tremor of someone’s dick going inside her pussy. She wants not to feel her legs anymore. And Sam, he can’t give any of it to her. He’s a simpleton.
Bilal, on the other hand, is the talk of the town. Shreya knows that women in her college are behind him. But she’s not going to give him up for those bitches. He might not be mine, but I want him at least for some time- she thought to herself.
She approached him as soon as the quiz competition was over. She volunteered for the event so that she could talk to him. She made sure that he noticed her. She wore a padded bra, lip gloss that stood out, heels that made her look 2 inches taller, a black blouse and a red saree. Hot festive look.
She handles Bilal’s answer scripts, his buzzer, and his water bottles. She almost stood beside him all during the event. Bilal topped the event, as expected.
“Thanks for everything,” he told her.
“There’s a lot more. You haven’t seen everything, and you can thank me once you get all that,” Shreya quipped. She touched his hands and then started walking.
Bilal got the hint. Shreya was irresistible. She actually put in the effort to make an impression, not like other women, who laughed and smiled from a distance. Bilal was quick. He said, “Hey, I’ll be here tomorrow also, and we can catch up over coffee.”
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Shreya wanted to pull him aside and kiss him at that moment. But she played it cool. She turned around, flipped the banks, and told him – ” Sure. Give me a call when you’re here. You can take my number.” She tapped her phone number on Bilal’s phone.
She knew that she was getting the man she wanted, and it was time to dump Sam. In a few hours, Bilal and Shreya were happily talking about everything under the sun. The city, the bar by the beach, a cycling track they can ride together and whatnot.
It was the best conversation she had had since she came to college. They were getting closer day by day. He kept visiting her college for events. She made up excuses at the hostel to go and meet him. The local train journeys were full of calculations in their mind on when to get inside each other’s pants.
Sam’s calls disturbed their conversations. Bilal knew that Shreya was taken. He didn’t care. He knew that Shreya wanted to get fucked. Sam is at least a thousand kilometres away. Sam was ready to be on one end of Shrey’s two-timing adventure. But he waited for the right opportunity.
While he kept getting her photos in skimpy clothes, he played hard to get. He never sent photos. He sent poetry. He reminded her through paintings, poems, and short stories about how she wanted to fuck her. Andrew Marvell’s To his coy mistress was her favourite. He played it safe for the moment.
Sam fought with Shreya big time one day when he found that her phone was busy for more than an hour. He kept calling her. Yet she didn’t cut Bilal’s call. She kept talking. She liked the conversation. After a point, she got angry at the repeated calls and picked up Sam’s call.
Sam shouted, “You can go and suck the dick of whoever you are talking to, you bitch.” Shreya tried to calm him down. “It was my mom, Sam. You’re getting angrier day by day. You know that I am yours. You’re acting too cheap.”
Without knowing anything about what’s happening in her college, Sam listened to her sweet words. After talking for a while, Sam asked for her Gmail ID. It was to access HotStar or so. She didn’t think about the Google Photos backup that occurs every day. She shared the password and went to sleep.
Meanwhile, the literati Bilal sent a few pictures from M Mukundan’s Dilli. It was about a long-haired woman who slammed a man to the floor and pushed her pussy on his face. She wanted him to suck her pussy like there’s no tomorrow. Her red saree was all over the place.
She was arching her back; her hair was all over his body. Bilal was hinting to Shreya about how he wants to fuck her. He was fantasising about her and how she looked on the day of the Quiz competition. For Bilal, Shreya in a red saree is what caught his attention.
Shreya had slept and did not see the message. By morning, the pictures had been uploaded to Google Photos and were accessible to Sam.
As soon as he saw it, he called Shreya and shouted, “Who the fuck is sending you all this? I know you’re cheating on me, better tell me who it is and let’s end this drama forever.”
Shreya was still getting out of her sleep. Yet she knew that she was caught and there was no going back. In a wink, without any moral questions disturbing her, she told Sam.
“Sam, it’s over. I have found another man. I didn’t want to do it this way. But this is what it is. We are done. I have needs, and the long distance is not helping. Both of us should find our own ways.”
She was cold-blooded. Sam felt like she threw her away like a play toy. She literally did that. Threw him away like a play toy. Bilal is the new man in town, and that’s the only dick she wants now. Shreya didn’t waste much time. She called up Bilal and told him to meet him at 11 by the beach.
She dressed up in a yellow short skirt, a white crop top and a shawl. She wanted a red hickey on her neck. That’s why she took the shawl. She wanted to flaunt it in class the next day. But till then, she didn’t want anyone to see it. She was all decked up and ready to bang Bilal.
Bilal was also excited. He made sure that his roommates left the room by afternoon. He cleaned up his place. Changed his sheets and pillow covers. Kept plush toys for her to play with. Scented candles were lit. He arranged a bike from a friend and rode quickly to the beach.
Marina was hot as always. He waited at the Gandhi statue for her to come. She took an auto from a nearby station and got dropped off at the Gandhi statue. She just wanted to rush to his arms and kiss him. She resisted the urge to see the policeman patrolling the surroundings.
She ran to him and gave him a tight hug. She pushed her breasts into him, so that he could get a feel of what she wanted. Bilal was no saint. He grabbed her ass and pulled it towards him. Their cheeks touched each other. Both of them knew what they sought.
Shreya cut the crap and came to the point. She told him that she broke up with Sam and is looking for “better options.” Bilal still played it safe. He made a cool point.
He said, “A person should have three kinds of partners: one should be the love of their life, two are friends they can sleep with, over cities, over the years, and three are one-offs who they can fuck for a week or so and move on.”
He said that he doesn’t want to be in category 1 or category 2 for the moment. He wants to find a girl who is ready to be in a category 3 kind of partnership.
Shreya told herself, “What a classic fuckboy move! And exactly what I want at this moment.”
Shreya asked him whether he is open to graduating to category 1 after some time doing category 2 with a person. Bilal understood that Shreya wanted a little more than a dick. She wants love and care, but she is ready to get her brains out fucking him.
Bilal again played his game. He asked Shreya whether she would be open to doing 3 and then graduate to 2 and maybe think about 1 in her next relationship. Shreya was done with his mind games.
She said: “You can either chew my lips out now, and later fuck my brains out, or you can just stop this at this moment”.
Bilal got what he wanted. His gambit worked. She made the first move. She asked to kiss her, to fuck her. Even if something goes wrong, it’s all upon her. Without waiting a second, she caught her by her neck, pushed her to his lips and bit her tongue softly.
He pulled her towards her and got to cross her legs across him and started fondling her breasts. Shreya was taken by surprise. She didn’t expect Bilal to set the bull in him free this fast. She backed off for a moment. She came to the realisation that what she wanted for a long time is happening to her.
She is going to get fucked like a whore, and what better than a circumcised Muslim dick to do it. She literally ate Bilal from then on. She pulled his hair. Chewed up his lips. Choked his neck. Bit his tongue. Built a necklace of red dark hickeys over his neck.
Slapped his face. Sucked his nipples. Bit all over his chest as she ground his dick over his pants. Bilal was running his fingers through her hair. Those curly curly gifts of God. She moaned to him, cried to him, “Fuck me, Bilal.” She pushed his hands in through her skirt, and his fingers touched her flower.
Her pussy was so wet. She slammed him to the ground and lost herself for a moment. She cried, “Aah!”
A huge wave just hit them. Marina is jealous of their happiness. The ocean responded quickly enough. It might have thought, ” Get a room, guys.”
Both of them stood up and walked to the parking. Shreya hugged Bilal from behind as he rushed to his place through Radhakrishnan Salai. She said: “You’d better make the most of this opportunity or your dick is not going to see another pussy ever. I’ll break it if you don’t fuck me well.”
To be continued