This story is about my office colleague who is 10yrs elder to me, and I met her in the cab. Initially, it was just a normal hi-hello in the office, and then slowly we exchanged numbers and social media IDs. We talked; we flirted, but never crossed the line.
So, listen up, you degenerates. I’ve been keeping this one tucked away in my head for a while, but it’s too good not to share. If you’re looking for a fairytale about love and roses, get the fuck out of here. This is about raw, unfiltered lust. This is about the kind of hunger that makes you lose your goddamn mind.
Let me tell you about Suparva. I first saw her in the office cab. She was a 34-year-old unmarried, five-foot Bengali girl with a rich, brown skin tone that looked like it was made of honey and cinnamon. I’m six-foot, athletic, with a voice that usually makes people stop and listen, but when I first looked at her, I couldn’t even find my words. She had this quiet energy, but her eyes were sharp. We spent a few mornings in silence, just the hum of the engine and the smell of city smog. Then came the day the sky decided to break open.
It was a monsoon afternoon, the kind of rain that doesn’t just fall; it attacks. I was already in the cab, leaning back against the vinyl seat, when she stepped inside. She was drenched. Absolutely soaked. She was wearing a white salwar suit, and the thin cotton had surrendered completely to the water. The fabric clung to every curve of her small frame like a second skin.
Because the white cloth was now translucent, everything was on display. I could see the lace of her bra, the exact shade of her panties, and the dark, tantalizing silhouette of her nipples pressing against the wet fabric. My heart hammered against my ribs. Below the belt, my six-inch cock didn’t just stir; it slammed into a full, rock-hard erection, straining against my trousers. I felt the heat radiate from my groin.
I looked at her, and she saw me looking. She didn’t look away. “You’re freezing, Suparva,” I said, my voice sounding deeper, rougher than usual. She shivered, a small droplet of water sliding down her neck and disappearing into the valley of her chest. “I didn’t think it would rain this hard,” she whispered. Her voice was soft, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. “You’re practically transparent.”
I told her, my gaze lingering on the wet white fabric over her breasts. “I can see everything.” She didn’t blush. Instead, she gave me a slow, knowing smile. “Is that a problem, Roy?” “Not for me,” I replied. “But you’ll catch a cold. Let me help you.”
“And how exactly are you going to help me?” she asked, tilting her head. I didn’t answer with words. I just looked at her, the tension in the cab becoming thick enough to choke on. When we got to the office, I didn’t let her wander off. I
called up Neha, a mutual office buddy of ours. “Neha, get your ass over here,” I told her over the phone. “Suparva is soaked to the bone. She needs a change of clothes, now.” Neha arrived with a spare set of clothes, and I walked Suparva to the locker room, making sure no one else bothered her. As I left her there, I could still feel the phantom image of those wet white clothes burned into my retinas.
All I could think about was how much I wanted to rip that suit off her and feel her brown skin against mine. The shift was a blur. I couldn’t focus on a single spreadsheet. I kept imagining her in that locker room, peeling off the wet cotton. When the clock finally hit five, we found ourselves in the cab again. The rain had stopped, but the humidity remained, making the air heavy and electric.
“So, you’re my hero today,” Suparva said, shifting in her seat so her thigh brushed against mine. “I just didn’t want you shivering in a meeting,” I replied, glancing at her. “Is that the only reason? Or do you just like seeing me in wet clothes?” I chuckled, a low rumble in my chest. “Maybe a bit of both. You looked incredible. I couldn’t think about anything else for four hours.”
“Tell me,” she whispered, leaning closer. “What exactly were you thinking about?” “I was thinking about how that white fabric was clinging to your tits. I was thinking about how I wanted to slide my hand under that suit and see if you were as wet as your clothes were.” Suparva let out a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re a lot bolder than you look in the mornings, Roy.”
“I’m just honest about what I want,” I said. “And right now, I want to take you out. No office talk. Just us.” “A date?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “A date. A movie. And then whatever happens after.” She leaned in, her lips inches from mine, the scent of vanilla and rain clinging to her. “I think I’d like that.” The movie was a formality. We sat in the back row of the theater, the dim light casting shadows over her face.
We barely watched the screen. Within ten minutes, my hand was on her thigh, sliding upward. I felt her breath hitch as my fingers brushed the edge of her underwear. “Roy,” she moaned softly, her voice barely audible over the movie’s soundtrack. “You like this?” I whispered into her ear, my teeth grazing the lobe. “Yes,” she gasped. “God, yes.” I moved my hand inside, finding her already slick.
2nd part next week …
