Dear Readers, I’m so glad you’re enjoying my other works! If you haven’t had a chance yet, I’d love it if you would go through my other stories and help bring those characters to life. All characters of the story are more than 19 years old.
I live on the 13th floor of a high-rise society. Most flats on the 13th floor sit empty, giving the place a quiet, almost private feel. Recently, a new family moved into the flat next to mine—a newly married husband and wife from some small town.
The wife, Rajni, is 20 years old, a little dusky and beautiful with 34-inch boobs, with a curvy figure: 28-inch waist, 32-inch hips. Her full breasts look gorgeous in the tight blouse she wears. Her curly, long hair makes her more beautiful.
Her husband, Rahul, 32 years old, slim, 5’6” tall, heads out to his office job every morning and doesn’t get back until evening.
Me? I’m Ranjan, 6’3” tall, muscular, and a bouncer at a local pub, so I spend my days at home, lounging around.
Rajni is from a village, and her habits show it. At home, she drapes herself in a saree without a blouse or bra underneath, the thin fabric clinging to her skin. She only wears a blouse under her saree when she goes shopping. Occasionally, she switches to a salwar kameez.
I’ve caught plenty of glimpses through our shared balcony, when she forgets to adjust her pallu while sweeping or bends to pick wet clothes from the bucket to tug them on the balcony. Her left breast often peeks out partially. A few lucky times, I’ve spotted her dark brown nipple, hard and inviting in the cool air.
One afternoon, with Rahul out of town on a work trip, I heard a frantic knock at my door. When I answered the door, Rajni was standing there, tears rolling from her eyes, face self-explanatory that she was in extreme pain and clutching her left hand.
Rajni cried- Ranjan ji, help! The cooking oil splashed—it’s burning so badly!
Her saree on her chest had slipped a little from her left boob, leaving her left breast fully on display, the nipple erect from the shock. She didn’t notice, too focused on the pain. Her words didn’t reach me as my eyes were glued to her open boob at a touchable distance.
Rajni cried again loudly – Ranjan ji, please help!
I came back to my senses and asked her to come inside and rest on the sofa. I grabbed some ointment from my cabinet and gently applied it to her singed fingers, the cream soothing the red skin. As I worked, my eyes locked on that exposed breast, the weight of it rising and falling with her breath. She winced but relaxed under my touch.
As she felt a little relieved, she closed her eyes and placed her head on the backrest of the sofa. My eyes were again glued to her partially visible boob. I had to work hard to stop myself from reaching her boob.
A few minutes later, when she opened her eyes, I tried to tell myself that I was not watching her boob, so I quickly made eye contact and asked her- How are you feeling now?
She replied – Little better. But still burning.
I asked her in a steady, low voice – Should I get you to a doctor?
She thought for a while and nodded, but then frowned- How? I mean… I can’t wear my blouse—the sleeves of the blouse are too tight for my burnt fingers to pass through. And I can’t go out like this.
Her saree hung loose, barely covering her.
I replied instantly- Wear something sleeveless with a wide armhole. Do you have anything like that?
She shook her head, embarrassed- No, Ranjan ji. I don’t.
The mall was just five minutes away, so I thought for a while and offered- Let me buy a few tops for you. It’ll be quick.
She hesitated but agreed, her eyes grateful.
I dashed out and returned with a handful of sleeveless shirts that could look as blouses—cotton ones in soft colours—and a strappy camisole top, silky and low-cut. She took them with a shy thanks and disappeared into her flat.
Minutes later, she knocked again, still in her saree, face flushed, and still holding a top in her hand. I could see her skin from the side and understood that she was not wearing any top.
She told- I… I could not manage with my hand. It’s too painful to pull over. And I am afraid that the material will rub on the burnt skin to make it worse.
Her voice was barely a whisper, cheeks burning. I paused, heart racing. But I controlled my emotions.
Finally, I replied- If you want, I can help.
She looked down, and seconds later nodded slowly.
I stepped close. Her saree was draped loosely, but I didn’t yank the pallu. Instead, I guided her burnt hand first into the armhole of a sleeveless top, sliding the fabric up her arm carefully. Then I lifted it over her head, the material brushing her breasts over the saree as it settled. Her other arm went in easily, and I tugged the hem down. As I pulled the hem down, my fingers rubbed past her left boob, bumping over her hard nipple. A sense of my touch felt like a mild electric shock.
As I had not removed her pallu, her saree was tucked beneath the top. Finally, I pulled the pallu slowly to make it free. A little shy smile appeared on her face. I took a little more time to rearrange the saree to wrap it tightly. I arranged the folds of the pallu and draped it over the top, and gave a finishing touch by clipping it with a pin. I took utmost care of her modestly. Our bodies were inches apart; I could feel the heat from her skin. She smiled, a mix of relief and something warmer.
With a pleasant, warm smile, she replied – Thank you, Ranjan ji. You’re so kind. Where did you learn to wear a saree? You are an expert.
I laughed and drove her to the doctor, who bandaged her fingers and prescribed rest.
Over the next few days, I checked on her—bringing food, helping with small tasks. Then her husband also joined her. Her hand healed slowly, but our chats grew longer. She opened up about village life, her simple routines.
I also told her funny stories about the pub. I enjoyed her company while eyeing her firm, round boobs exposed partially or completely through her loose, shifted saree.
One evening, she was sitting on the balcony while I was doing some workout in the balcony, she eyed my broad shoulders and muscled arms.
She told – You have such a strong body, Ranjan ji. From your workouts?
I grinned- Yes. I exercise a lot.
Then I offered her- You should join me in the morning. It will help you maintain a curvy hourglass figure. If you don’t work out, you may gain weight very soon. I have seen girls losing their figure very soon after marriage.
She blushed but agreed after a moment’s thought- Ok.
The next morning, after Rahul left, Rajni knocked, dressed in a loose salwar kameez. We have a set-up in my living room—treadmill, mats, weights. As she jogged on the treadmill, her breasts bounced freely under the thin kameez; her soft cotton bra was not good enough to hold them.
The fabric shifted with each step, outlining her hard nipples. I couldn’t look away, my cock stirring in my shorts as I spotted her from behind, pretending to adjust equipment. She panted, sweat glistening on her cleavage.
She started joining me daily in the morning. Over time, I saw her becoming more comfortable through her body language while doing exercise at our home.
The next week, after a brief workout, when she was relaxing, I suggested- A sports bra might be better for you. It would give more support.
She glanced down, noticing how her kameez clung damply- What’s wrong with this?
I hesitated, then said- Your breasts… they bounce a lot. It could hurt without proper support.
Her face turned crimson, and she hurried back to her flat. I was a little worried. I thought I had overstepped. I should not have told her like this.
An hour later, she returned with a fresh look, a nice salwar suit and a purse in her hand and said with her eyes downcast- Ranjan ji, can you… Take me to the mall? Help me buy a few sports bras?
After a little pause, she continued – Actually, my husband always comes home late from work. I won’t be able to go shopping with him. And this weekend he will be going out on an office tour.
My pulse quickened. We rode my bike, her hand holding the rear support handle of the bike, trying to keep her body away. I drove smoothly as the mall was only 5minutes away. But when a person came in front of the bike near the mall, I had to apply a hard brake.
Because of my smooth driving, she had already loosened her grip. And the next moment, I felt her hard, round boobs bouncing on my back. It felt so nice. But soon she created a gap between us.
At the mall, she gripped my hand while stepping onto the escalator. Her small fingers were so soft and disappeared in my hand. I held her firmly, giving her confidence and helped her step on and walk out of the escalator. The smile on her face was telling that she was still learning city life.
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We headed towards the ladies’ outlet, which has a dedicated section for the lingerie segment. The lingerie segment had a young male salesman instead of the usual salesgirl who generally helped the ladies select the correct product. I asked for sports bras and matching exercise track pants.
Rajni picked a few and vanished into the trial room. I was waiting for her confirmation about the fitting. But to my shock, she emerged wearing a navy blue sports bra that cupped her heavy breasts tightly, and the pants clung to her thighs and mound, outlining a clear camel toe.
But I had not noticed it. My eyes were on her boobs and cleavage. She stood there innocently in the middle of the store, oblivious to the stares,
She spun slowly- Does it fit right?
I swallowed hard, shocked at her boldness—or foolishness—in parading out like that.
But I played it cool, smiling wide -You look amazing, Rajni. It really fits your shape perfectly.
The salesman stared. He had also never seen a girl looking so sexy. I saw a jaw-dropping face. I traced his eyes and found her eyes stuck on her pussy region. Shit…. How dumb she was. A prominent camel toe. I couldn’t believe it. Did she forget to wear a pair of pants?
She beamed, selecting three sets of different colours. She was standing so close to the salesman. He couldn’t stop staring at her visible pussy mould outline.
I thought she might feel uncomfortable wearing only a sports bra while exercising with me. So I handed her a side-slit yoga top next—wide armholes that dipped low, exposing sides of the torso.
I was waiting for her to have her gym look wearing the yoga top over her sports bra. She tried it on and stepped out again, this time without the sports bra. The top’s armholes gaped, her breasts nearly spilling out the sides, nipples brushing the fabric’s edge.
Only the thin material covered her front, her midriff bare. The salesman glanced over in the mirror, and she stood there innocently, oblivious to the exposure.
Before I could say anything, Rajni innocently held the fabric and complained- See how big these openings are? If it shifts a little…
She demonstrated, pulling the top little aside to flash one breast partially, then did the same by holding the slits with both her hands and pulling her dress from both sides together towards the centre, exposing both her breasts for a fraction of a second.
I thought she didn’t want to expose as much as it became visible. But accidentally, she pulled a little too much. The hard, round boobs with protruding nipples became visible for a split second before she adjusted them.
She replied – See, it would show too much.
The salesman understood how dumb she was. To tease her, he replied – No ma’am, don’t worry. It’s not showing too much.
She wanted to justify her point, and this time replied to me- He has not seen it properly. So he is telling it like this. You tell me. Doesn’t it show too much? I mean, it shows everything!
This time, she came near me and pulled her dress a little longer to show me how much of her skin would be visible. Her beautiful, round boobs and hard nipples were driving me crazy.
I laughed, covering my erection- That’s meant to go over a sports bra, Rajni. For hiding the extra exposed skin after wearing the sports bra or cami bra. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as she realised her mistake.
She replied shyly- Oh! I didn’t know… these city clothes are so confusing.
I assured her- Don’t need to feel ashamed. I’ll teach you everything. Let’s get a few.
She nodded, shy but trusting, still standing, wearing the yoga top. We selected two more yoga tops. Our cock started hurting us inside our pants.
Finally, I gave her a panty that could hide her pussy outline and one of the sports bras she had finalised in her hand and asked her to wear it under her dress. She ran inside the trial room, biting her lips.
3 minutes passed. But she didn’t come out. Then I heard the latch opening. The door opened a little bit. But she didn’t come out. I heard her voice calling me. My heart started pounding.
When I went near the door of the trial room, she whispered- The pants are too tight. I saw his hand coming out of the little gap. While picking the pants, I peeped through the gap and saw an amazing view in the mirror.
She was standing nude with her full glory. Her beautiful, round boobs and cute pussy looked amazing. I paused for a second to freeze the moment in my heart.
Then I came back and asked the salesman to give me the proper size. The salesman gave another with a smile. I understood that he intentionally gave the wrong size last time to have some fun. I took the new one and gave it to her.
This time, she had slipped on her sports bra and the yoga top. But I could have another look at her pussy.
After a minute, she came out looking like a decent modern city girl. No more camel toe, no more curves of her boobs visible. A bright smile on her face.
On the bike ride home, she clung tight, her sports bra-clad breasts pressing into my back, the yoga top fluttering open at the sides. I preferred to take a longer route.
Days passed with morning workouts—Rajni in her new gear, the sports bra containing her bounces but still outlining every curve as she bent and stretched. I’d watch from the mirror, catching glimpses of her ass in the track pants, the fabric wedging between her cheeks during squats.
Our touches lingered: my hands on her hips and sometimes close to her boobs to correct form, her boobs brushing my arm. She was no longer shy with my touches.
One post-workout morning, as she cooled down in her yoga top and pants, sweat making the material sheer, I pulled a small package from my bedroom and gave it to her.
I asked her- Do you want to try something new? A new lesson in modern clothes,
I said with a wink. Inside: a crotchless panty in black lace and an open-cup bra. She took the package without checking what was inside it and returned to her flat. That day, she avoided me. She didn’t come to the balcony in the evening. I thought I crossed the red line.
The next morning, she knocked late, wearing the strappy camisole top I had bought first—thin straps over her shoulders, the fabric dipping low—and tight leggings that hugged her pussy lips, creating a camel toe.
I asked her in a low voice- Did you… Try what I gave you?
She bit her lip, then slowly peeled off the top, revealing the open-cup bra. Her breasts thrust forward, brown nipples hard and exposed. Then she shimmied out of the leggings, showing the crotchless panty—the lace framing her shaved pussy, lips already glistening.
Her voice was breathy, eyes naughty- I… I put them on last night. But I don’t understand the openings.
I stepped close, my cock throbbing in my shorts- Let me show you.
I playfully touch her nipples and tease her- Should I teach you!!
She nodded her head while still biting her nipples. I guided her to the exercise mat, positioning her back on the mat. My fingers traced the open cups, pinching her nipples until she moaned, arching her breasts higher.
I moved closer and told her – These let you feel everything without barriers like this.
I pulled out her nipples.
She moaned slowly – Auch.. Ahh.
I unbuckled, and lowered my pants and underwear, freeing my thick cock, already leaking precum. It sprang and hit her pussy lips. She gasped but didn’t pull away.
I positioned over her in a push-up stance.
I grinned- Let me teach you a new exercise today.
I started doing push-ups while kissing and sucking her nipple on the downstroke, simultaneously thrusting my hips teasingly, my cock rubbing her pussy. She widened her legs voluntarily. With each time going down, I started kissing her nipples and occasionally biting her nipple and coming up. Her nipples got pulled while I came up biting her nipples. She started moaning. Then I spread her legs further, the crotchless panty exposing her wet pussy.
I rubbed my cockhead along her labia, coating it in her pussy juice- and this… for easy access.
With one thrust, I buried my cock half inside.
She moaned loudly – Ummmm. It feels so thick. And so nice.
A few more strokes and my cock went deep into her tight pussy, the lace brushing my shaft as I pounded in. She gripped my shoulders hard. I sucked her exposed nipple into my mouth, biting gently while slamming my hips against hers. Her pussy clenched around me, juices soaking the couch.
She said in a seductive voice – Oh, Ranjan ji… It’s feeling so nice.
Then I flipped us. I placed her over me and asked her- New exercise for you. —Cock squat.
I guided her, she straddled me, sinking her hot pussy onto my shaft with a shared groan. She rose and fell experimentally, smiling at the workout. I gripped her hips. lean forward a bit to correct her posture.
Then I thrust up, our bodies slapping wetly, matching her rhythm. Her tits bounced in the open bra, nipples grazing my chest. She also didn’t stop and continued while I continued thrusting her for 10 minutes.
Building pace, I sat up, hands under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around my waist.
I told her – Let’s have some weight lifting.
She smiled. As I bounced her on my cock in the air, her pussy clenching around me with each drop. While I increased my pace, she started screaming. I fucked her in the air for 10 minutes.
We shifted poses—her on all fours for doggy thrusts during planks, me behind pounding her ass cheeks rippling; reverse cowgirl squats where she ground down, exposing everything. I was about to finish. I increased the speed. She started crying.
Finally, I brought her to a missionary position and increased my speed to the maximum. I felt her tight grip and then her nails on my back.
She came hard, screaming my name, shuddering as her pussy spasmed. Then I released a huge load of my cum. I pulled out my cock and a few more jets of remaining load, spraying cum across her panties’ lace and her belly.
We both needed a breath after such an intense fucking session.
She went near my cock after a while and told me I had never enjoyed so much ever. My husband comes daily and lifts my petticoat to drill my pussy for 5 to 10 minutes. But today I enjoyed every second. It was really amazing.
She opened her mouth and brought out her lips. He licked the last drops oozing from the cock. Her tongue on my sensitive cock tip felt so nice. Then she licked my cock from the tip to the length. And soon she took it completely inside her mouth to give it a final saliva bath. I saw her pussy still leaking my cum.
While she was leaving our flat, I told her in her ear- You can come anytime if you need any more clarification.
She gave me a small kiss on my lips and said – I still have a lot to learn from you.
She turned and went to her flat with a naughty smile.
A few days later, she showed up early, already in the crotchless set under a loose robe.
She told in a low seducing tone while dropping her robe- More details, Ranjan ji….
Her nipples poked through the open cups, pussy lips puffy and ready.
I grinned, stripping naked -Always ready.
I pushed her against the glass balcony door—risky, with the city below. She spread her legs, and I plunged my cock into her dripping pussy, fucking her hard while sucking her tits. Her cries grew louder, exhibitionist thrill making her wetter.
I fingered her clit through the open crotch, then spun her to face the glass, bending her over so her breasts pressed against it, nipples visible to anyone watching.
Thrusting deep, I gripped her hips, pounding until she squirted around my cock, soaking us both. I filled her pussy with hot cum, pulling out to watch it drip down her thighs. Our friendship had evolved into something raw, endless, and utterly addictive.
It became our ritual: fucking mid-workout or right after, her body my personal gym.