My Indian Neighbor - Meena

Some men are born to make multiple women happy. While most end up making a few women unhappy. I believe I fall in the former category -- men like me who never get married. Yes, my shrink says I've a commitment phobia, but hey, his wife is happy with me. But then that's another story, altogether. Today I want to talk about Meena.

I met Meena when I was working for a tech company in Santa Clara, California. Working is really used in a loose sense here, for I used to work from home three days a week -- even in the pre-COVID times. And let's say, I wasn't one of those workaholics, or ambitious guys; plus being born relatively smart (yeah, modesty!) I could get my work done in 2-3 hours a day, leaving me with pretty much the whole day to do what I wished.

It wasn't unusual for me to go for a run at 2PM on a workday. In fact, it was on one such run, I first saw Meena. Now let me be upfront -- I love Indian women. I think many, if not most, of them are sexy - not in the traditional, "blonde Western concept of sexy" way, but in a graceful, intelligent, well-behaved, exact opposite of the "bad girl" way sexy. Demure, and somewhat shy, Meena fit the stereotype to the T. As I was stepping out for a run, I saw her trying to push a stroller -- she was a young mom, did I tell you -- with a months old baby up a ramp while on a phone, talking somewhat animatedly, but quite aware that she was in public space. She was speaking in her local language, and I could not understand a word of it. She was struggling to push the stroller up, with not much success, so I stepped up to give her a hand. But she abruptly cut the call with a "I'll call you later," in heavily accented English, and pushing the phone into her jeans pocket, took control of the stroller, politely declining my help.

While she was on the phone, and distracted, I had taken a measure of her. She was just over five feet tall, on the slim side, but with some post pregnancy weight, and what her tight sweater (she was wearing one even in the summer for some reason) indicated a 34C breasts (I pride at guessing the size of women's breasts through their clothes, and as a single man who has had my share of women, I have to say, I'm quite good at it). She was more fair than dusky, with lovely brown eyes, and thin lips.

"Thanks," she said, averting her eyes, as she hurried away from me. We bumped into each other randomly over the next few days, and I realized she lived practically next door (although there was one apartment between ours), and that she didn't really talk to strangers. But I still smiled at her every time we crossed paths, just to get an awkward acknowledgement as she quickened her pace. And with every such encounter, I was getting more interested in her. Yup, that's me.

But it wasn't easy. There was just no opening, as she swiftly closed all metaphorical doors on my face. Then again, I wasn't looking for easy and I had time on my side (by all indications, they had just moved in, and will have at least a 10 month lease). One day, though, I caught a lucky break. And it was to change our relationship -- if you could call it that.

As I headed towards my apartment, passing hers, I saw her standing outside, with a worried look on her mind. I stopped and asked her if everything was alright.

"I got locked out," she said, "I thought I had taken the keys, but I hadn't. I tried calling my husband but he is not taking calls, or responding to my texts."

"You could try the property office, they should be able to open it for you," I suggested.

"Umm. We're subletting from a friend, so I don't know ... " she said, clearly worried.

But this was progress. It was more words than we had spoken in weeks of interactions.

"You could wait at my place if you want," I offered, the gentleman that I am.

"Do you have a family?" she asked.

"No," I smiled, "but hey, we'll keep the door open."

"Oh no, I didn't mean to ..." she trailed off, as I started smiling.

"Come on, you don't want to be stranded out with that tiny fella. I'm Rick, your neighbor."

"Thanks. I'm Meena. We're new here. And I don't know too many people here yet."

"Now you know me", I said, pointing the way, "come."

She deliberated for a minute, and then probably thought I'm OK, and followed me. As we walked into my apartment, I asked her if she'd have some tea. She declined, but asked for some water instead.

"I will just get changed," I said, pointing at my drenched clothes, "please make yourself at home."

When I came back a few minutes later, changed into a T-shirt and shorts, she was frantically texting.

"It will take him at least two hours to be back home," she said, looking apologetic.

"It's fine. You can hang around as long as you need to. If you like to read, I have tons of books," I said pointing to the bookshelf in the corner.

She perked up at that, and walked towards it like a boy walking towards a candy jar.

"Wow, that's some collection!" she explained, picking up Zadie Smith's On Beauty. "I love Zadie Smith, although I've not read this one", she said. So the lady doth talk, eh!

"Oh, it's her best, in my opinion. You can borrow it if you want."

She settled down into the couch with the book, her baby in a stroller next to hers, peacefully asleep.

We talked a bit about her. She was a commerce graduate, but loved arts. She had got married two years back, after her parents back home were getting worried about her marriage prospects, and had come to the "states" with her husband who had been here for a few years.

"I used to work back home, and I was quite career minded. So they were worried I'd be past the prime age," she explained. "Quite a common sentiment where I come from."

"But you aren't old," I said. She was barely in her late twenties.

She blushed. Just then the kid woke up, and started crying.

She gave him a water bottle, but he pushed it away.

"It's his feeding time," she said, again apologetically.

"Oh, you could totally feed him here," I said with a poker face, "I've no problem".

A look of shock came on her face.

"Oh, I didn't mean here, in this room. Gosh. Please use my study," I said, pointing towards it.

She took the kid to the study, and locked the door. It was then that I realized that my laptop was open on the bed (I live alone, and I hate the auto screen-locking, so I have it disabled), with my newest erotic story open in MS Word. It was about a 20 year old girl doing a summer job at a community library getting fucked, in the library, by a mid aged man, after a discussion about the book he had come to return - Nabokov's Lolita - gets a bit, shall we say, out of control. A man who happened to have a lot of commonality with me in physical characteristics.

When she came out, one look at her face told me that she had seen it. I also noticed that after feeding her kid, she hadn't properly closed her shirt buttons, giving me a glimpse of cleavage. Surely, that wasn't intentional, I thought, my stare lingering a second longer than I intended. She noticed where I was looking and quickly closed her shirt opening, buttoning it up.

But while I was expecting her to get angry, her eyes almost had a look of longing. And I knew in that instance, that she wasn't getting much action. Trust me, when you are an unmarried man in his forties, you develop a sense for it.

*

"I should leave," she said.

"But where will you go?" I asked.

"I will take another walk with him, by that time Sameer, my husband, should be back."

"I think I know why you're leaving," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"You read what I was writing," I said.

She blushed. She wasn't expecting me to talk about it, I guess.

"You did, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry. It was open ..."

"It's okay. No need to be sorry. Did it make you feel uncomfortable?"

"A little. I mean, I've read erotic stories before, but I wasn't expecting to meet someone who writes them."

"But people who write erotic stories are just like you and I," I said.

She blushed again.

"Did you like it?"

"It was very sensual. Unlike the ones I had read, which I didn't really enjoy," she confessed. "Yes!!!" I wanted to shout.

"Well, there are many better writers of erotica. I've a simple criteria for a good erotica: would I want to be part of it?"

She nodded, almost absent-mindedly.

"So did you wish you were the girl?" I asked. I mean, what was there to lose?

This time, she blushed bright pink, her eyes lowered. She walked with her kid towards the stroller, and put him into it. As she bent down to do it, her firm ass in tight jeans pointing toward me, I had a craving to grind my cock into it, but being a gentleman, I controlled myself. Besides, I wasn't interested in anything short of the complete deal. Not love, silly! But I didn't want to take a chance if it wasn't going to go all the way.

"Looking at you, no one would guess you've delivered a kid, you know," I said, tearing my eyes off her bottoms to her face as she turned it towards me, a hint of blush still on it.

"If only ..." she said, stopping abruptly. "I gotta go"

"No, you don't have to. Listen, I'm sorry. I had totally forgotten about the laptop. I'm a writer, and not just of erotic stories. But lately, I've hit a huge writer's block, and since I love erotica, I thought I'd try my hand on it, to get the creative juices going."

As I said the last words, my mind conjured the image of her wet pussy dripping her non-creative juices on my face, but I shut it off.

"It's fine. You write well. I'm not embarrassed by it."

"So why are you suddenly leaving?"

"Can I ask you something? Is the story fictional?" she asked.

"Not entirely," I said smiling.

"Which part is not true?"

"We didn't fuck in the library. I brought her here. But why do you ask?"

"Because you asked me if I wished I were the girl"

What! And here I thought ...

"And?"

"If it wasn't just fiction, then the answer is yes," she said, her voice almost a whisper. But she held my stare for a few seconds before looking away.

"And if it was just fiction?"

"I don't want to be in fiction," she said, looking straight at me again. Was she daring me?

"Well, to be honest, she wasn't anywhere as sexy as you are," I said, cutting down the distance between us in half, with small, deliberate steps, observing her reaction. She didn't flinch, but looked away.

"But she was not married," I added.

I could see disappointment flash across her face, but she quickly changed her expression.

I was now just a couple of steps away from her. And she hadn't moved an inch.

"You don't have to answer this, but, are you happy?" I asked, looking into her deep brown eyes.

"That's my happiness, sleeping there," she said, pointing to the stroller.

I moved another step. I could hear her breathing now.

"You know what I'm asking about," I said, running my fingers along the length of her arms.

She didn't flinch, although she lowered her eyes, and I could see a tear roll down her cheek, which I wiped with my fingers. I let them linger over her soft cheeks while my thumb extended to her thin lips.

"He doesn't find me desirable anymore. Since I got pregnant," she blurted out.

"Are you kidding me?" I said, my finger tracing a line from her lips, to her chin which I raised a little, as I bent down to kiss her.

"Don't!" she said. Bringing her hand between us.

"We both know you want it as much as I do," I said, pushing her hand away, and closing my lips on her. My tongue running between her lips, trying to force them open.

"Mmmm.... But it's not right," she said, stepping back, and standing with her back resting against the wall.

"What's not right is that your husband doesn't find this arousing," I said, running my fingers down her throat, all the way down to the top button of her shirt that was open just a few minutes before, and now, again. I opened my hand and slid my four fingers under the neck of her shirt, feeling the smooth skin below, as I started kissing her neck.

I could feel her slumping down, against the wall. I caressed the bulge of her mother's breasts under her shirt, as I kissed her earlobes, breathing hot breath into her ears.

"If he can't see how sexy you are, even dressed in these everyday clothes, then he doesn't deserve this," I said, closing my other hand on her right breast, over her shirt, as she gasped.

"Please don't," she pleaded.

"So you don't wish to be that girl, after all," I said, not taking either of my hands off her.

She took her lower lip in her mouth, the sexiest sight, if you ask me.

"Oh god, you're persistent," she said.

My lips were on hers again, and this time her lips parted to give me access to her tongue. Words were superfluous now.

I ran my thumb over her shirt, making small circles around her nipple that was pressing against the layers of her clothes, stiffening up under my touch.

I unbuttoned the shirt all the way with my other hand, and started caressing her tummy, with a little excess fat, and moved it up, until I found the elastic of her bra. I pushed my fingers under, feeling the smooth skin of her under-boob -- the sexiest part of a woman's body for me. Opening up my middle and index finger, I pushed my hand further inside her bra, closing the fingers around her nipple, that had just nursed her baby.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, Meena!" I said. Truthfully.

"Oh god, please!" she said, her voice desperate, as she slumped further into the wall.

Reaching behind her, I unclasped her bra, and both my hands cupped a breast each.

Yes, I'm a boob man. Cent percent. If a girl said I could touch either her boobs or her pussy, I'd be conflicted, but I'd probably go for the boobs, especially if they are firm and handful, like Meena's, not those big DD monstrosities that sag with their own weight. Of course, with Meena, it wasn't this or that. I knew, at this point, she needed this more than I did. And that's saying something!

"Aaah," she cried as I gently squeezed her nipples between my fingers, forgetting that she was lactating. I felt a trickle of milk run down my hand, and I closed my mouth over her ripe, full breast, taking in the liquid. Her hands held me by my hair, as I continued nursing her breasts, one after the other.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I don't want the junior to go without his feed."

But in response she just pressed my head into her bosom. I moved one hand to her jeans, unbuckling it and pushing the zipper down, as I pressed my hand inside her panties, which I found were already damp. She hadn't shaved -- with her hubby clearly not paying much attention to her -- and I played with her bush, before my finger found her clitoris, which I rubbed gently, sending shivers down her body.

"Oh fuck! Riiiicck," she said, her breath labored, as if I had just switched on a mode button on her body's dashboard.

"Mmmm," I said, still suckling at her beautiful tits with big dark brown areolas and pointy nipples. My tongue darting across them, sensitive beyond any I had sucked on; the taste of her milk on my tongue.

My hand in her pants moved down, my finger parting the folds of her labia, as my thumb played with her clitoris, and I could feel her juiced already on my fingers, as she arched herself, pushing her pelvis towards me.

"Oh, fuck. That feels so good," she said in a hoarse voice, chewing on her lower lip again.

With my other hand, I pushed her pants down to her knees, along with her soiled panties, as I closed my palm over her pussy, gently massaging it. Soon it was wet with her juices as she moaned with pleasure. I pushed two fingers into her wet pussy, and they slid in with no friction, her juices flowing over my hand, and her smell filling the room. As I continued moving them in and out of her pussy, she closed her eyes, trying not to scream and wake her kid up.

The rest of my hand curled into a fist, I continued sliding the fingers in her pussy, my fist bumping into her pelvis on each deep thrust. Then, leaving her breast, my mouth traveled down her torso, and on her bushy triangle, till her smell filled up my nostrils, and I started licking her now swollen clitoris, as I was finger fucking her. At this point her moans were filling up the room, and now I was afraid they were going to wake up the kid.

"Oh fuck, Rick," she cried, as her body started to shudder. At this point, she transformed from a passive participant to an active lover. Pulling my face up, she gave me a deep kiss, her tongue darting into mine, as she started to pull my t-shirt over my head and kissing my chest, as she went down further, pulling my shorts down, with my briefs, and setting free my hard cock, the tip of which she started licking, like an ice-cream candy.

Soon her tongue was running along the length of my cock. I held her head by her long hair, as she closed her lovely lips around my cock giving me a head. She had turned into a sexual goddess in the few moments.

It was a surreal scene, as I looked down at her half naked body, as my cock bobbed in and out of her mouth -- the mouth she wouldn't even use to talk to me a few days back. Shivers of pleasure ran down my body as her soft lips rolled over my foreskin, my precum in her mouth.

After some time, when I though I was going to cum in her mouth, I let go her my grip on her hair, and she took her mouth off me, looking up she pleaded, "Fuck me Rick. I want you inside me!"

I picked her up and led her to the couch, pushing her down on the armrests with my hand on the back, and spreading her legs, I entered her from behind. My hard cock went deep into her womanhood, as I my body crashed into hers with a force that almost toppled both of us. She braced herself for the next thrust, with her hands on the couch, and her tummy resting on the armrest, as I gave another massive thrust, making her scream with pleasure. I latched onto her breast from under her as I started to rhythmically fuck her with slow, deep thrusts.

As I had feared, her moans had woken up her kid, and he was looking at the moving figures making weird sounds with interest. And as if that was not enough, her phone rang.

"Don't take it!" I said to her, clutching her breasts, and increasing the pace of my fucking.

"Oh god, what if he's back?" she said, panicking.

"Fuck him," I said, continuing to pound her. The irony was not lost on me.

"Aaaaaaaah," she cried, as I continued boring deep into her well. "I must ... take the call"

"No you don't," I said, not relenting with my pounding. "You need to enjoy this moment. You deserve to feel it"

The phone continued ringing, stopped and started to ring again. But this time, she showed no interest in picking it up. Her eyes closed, her mouth open, as I moved inside her with force and urgency.

I could feel cum building within me. And it was going to be hard to keep it in.

"I'm gonna cum," I said in hoarse voice.

"Yes, god, yes. Just cum in me," she said, with almost a sense of urgency, matching my thrust with a backward movement.

The ringing stopped again, and at that moment, I released a load of cum into her pussy. My cock still hard and inside her, I grunted and gave a few more deep thrusts, shooting my cum into her, till I grew soft.

As I withdrew from her, she was back into this world. She pulled up her panties and her jeans and walked towards her phone.

"Shit! He's standing outside the house,waiting for me!"

That was a problem, because from there, he could see her coming out of the house.

"Okay, don't panic. I will distract him. I'll tell him that I saw you in the park just a few minutes back. Call him in ten minutes from outside your house. And if he asks, tell him there was no cell signal. The park has some areas without proper reception. Now, get cleaned up and ready. And yes, feel free to come here anytime you lock yourself out. Or not," I said, smiling.