Free Close Too Close by Meenu, Shruti Page A

thighs sink onto her lap, unable to hold my own weight all of a sudden. She yanked at my collar and pulled my t-shirt off. Swiftly, we were a jumble of hands, legs, tongues and undress. I could feel her nipples harden against my tongue, and harden, and harden. My body seemed to know how to talk to hers. The sofa creak, the slow whir of the fan and her deep sighs frequently punctuated our humid sex. She caught my wrist and guided my hand down to her cunt.
    The nape of my neck felt the finely-wrought pressure of her tongue sucking my skin against her teeth. It was exquisite, the way she squeezed her handful of my ass. My handful of her breast – grabbed, pulled, squashed, slurped. Squelch was what her wetness felt like as my finger penetrated her. She swallowed up one finger, then two and then a third, voraciously. The groans were louder now and were reverberating inside my head. She tugged me deeper and deeper inside her as her finger skated over the folds of my clit.
    PERSON 2
    The morning after, the heady taste of her swished around in my mouth. Nights later, images and sensations of her fucking me lashed at my bedposts and left me unmoored. The vehement thrust of her fingers made my cunt thrum. Oh what a stupendous fuck! I couldn’t wait to have a taste of the succulent mouth, the strident muskiness and that luxurious flesh again. The central-line, western-line divide of the Bombay local train was lover-girl’s reason for staying away. She took a week to visit me, with a bottle of flavoured vodka and mixer in tow.
    Lover-girl was wearing an air of diffidence. A summary hug, not even a peck on the cheek and a skittish seat on a narrow chair. I wondered whether I had grossly misread her. Maybe she got bored quick, after all last time it I had to pull out the camisole. So I upped the ante with outrageous flirting but she was distant. Only the drinks saw a response of unbridled enthusiasm from her. Together, we were flailing in platitudes, while inside my head I was left leching and craving. At least I had alcohol to fall back on – half of the bottle was over. I decided to call it a night and had started steering the conversation in that direction when she bent over and kissed me, squarely smack-dab on the lips, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
    I drank in her nakedness while I sucked on her toes. She reached out with her other foot and pinched my nipple with her toes, making my eyes tear and my cunt wet. She played rough and I liked it. A silent submission to my savage bites on her back was chased by an abrupt flip that snatched my breath away. As she drove her fingers into me, her tongue wreaked havoc on my clit. I came – screaming, legs thrashing and fistfuls of her hair crumpling in my fists.
    Sex with her left me reeling. We started having our encounters once every fortnight. A sense of deja-vu crept up on me once we started meeting regularly. Her body made me giddy. The penetration was blistering, the sex sublime but lover-girl took a while to get into the action. Was I too boring? Over-eager? The routine was religiously followed – meet at night, spend hours drinking, make platonic conversation and have sex at the end of the night. I was tiring of the routine. I wanted for her to walk in one day and push my face to the wall. I wanted to feel a warm breath on my neck, hands circle my waist and to collapse back into her with my overpowering need. One hand stimulating my nipple and the other one on my clit. The next time she came over, I would tell her my fantasy. Brandishing my boobs along with dirty talk – hopefully, that would turn her on enough to do it.
    PERSON 1
    She made me crazy with her moans, the way she bit her lip and her hunger to give me a blow-job. She made me nervous with the free rein she gave to her sexual being, the forthright manner in which she pursued me relentlessly from the moment I walked through her door. Always had to stave her off until I had my fill of alcohol. Her sexiness