Trapping Each Other

"Well, they don't know my sister has this dress. She wore this for a North Indian wedding once."

"Isn't this the prettiest?" she smiled and twirled. Her lehenga flared as she did this and her shawl slipped showing more of her navel than he'd seen in the saree.

She looked happy. Happy that she had someone close with whom she could share her wishes and hopes.

Was she falling for him? It was too soon. He wasn't ready to decide on their future yet. He liked the freedom their friendship had. A relationship could destroy that.

He had always wondered how much he could push the friendship into the sexual territory without it being explicit that he was attracted to her. He liked how she was getting comfortable with him seeing more and more of her body, but how far could two friends go down that route?

The first day of the college fest was a lot of fun. They spent a lot of time together watching various performances and participating in different events. They were exhausted when the got back to their hostels. But still they talked on video call.

She hadn't yet changed out of her blue jeans and white top. She was sweating. A few minutes later she excused herself for a bit. When she came back on screen, she had taken off the white top and was in her white slip. The straps of her white bra were visible. He pretended not to have noticed anything different. She took the phone and lay belly down on the bed and continued talking to him.

Her shoulders were propped up by the elbows and that meant he got his first glance at her cleavage. He was overjoyed but maintained his normal expression.

They kept talking about how fun the day was. The more she shifted, her slip would shift offering peeks at the tops of the white bra cups. Breasts are the best of all of God's inventions, he thought.

The next day, he stayed close to her as he resolved and like he imagined he did have to stave of many admirers.

In the afternoon, when they were walking through a corridor, she accidentally stepped on a bit of her saree and it came loose at the waist where she'd tucked it in. All day, she had been complaining that her roommate didn't drape the saree as well as her Mom had the other day.

Fortunately, the corridor was kinda empty. She had started to panic. He took initiative and stood in front of her to block the line of sight of some students who were walking along. Once they were gone, he held her hand and pulled her into a nearby empty classroom.

"Quick, drape it properly" he said and stepped outside. He wanted to watch her exposed navel but the situation was risky. He tried to pull the doors closed but they wouldn't budge.

"The doors aren't closing. I'll stand guard outside. Make it quick." he said.

He could hear the sound of fabric swishing from inside.

"Nooo! I made it worse," he heard her speak, "I don't know how to drape this properly."

Her voice had an anxious edge.

He waited for a few seconds deciding and then stepped in. He took out his phone and searched saree draping videos on youtube. Placing it on the table he turned to her.

She stood in front of him holding the bunched up front portion of the saree in her hand. Her pallu was aside and navel in full view. The top of her petticoat was also visible.

He took hold of the bunched up portion and with frequent glances at his phone screen, tried to replicate what the lady in the youtube video was doing. He had to bend at his knee to do it. That put his face in direct line of sight to her belly button. But he didn't let his control slip.

As quick as possible he followed the video's instruction and folded up the front properly.

"Tuck this in tightly." he said and handed it to her.

She took it pulling her abdomen in tucked it below her navel tightly into the petticoat. He thought he caught a glimpse of a red fabric other than her petticoat while she did it. Could it have been her panty? The thought gave him goosebumps.

They had fixed the saree enough for the time being but it wouldn't hold for long. They decided to go to their respective hostels. It was almost evening and the events were almost over anyway.

Her saree had started to come off again as she neared ladies' hostel. She held it tightly and made a run for it. When she reached her room, it had come undone again. She pulled it off and stepped out of it. She was wearing just her petticoat and blouse when he called to check up on her.

She accepted his video call without second thoughts. On his screen, he saw the front of her blouse without the pallu covering it.

"It came off again," she spoke, "but thankfully I reached my room before it fell off and tripped me. Stupid saree!"

He could see the top of her midriff below the blouse. It was getting harder and harder to pretend to be impervious to such sexual situations with her, but he managed.

Was she just too trusting of him? Or was she falling in love with him unbeknownst to herself? It was starting to confuse him.

More worrisome was the dim possibility that had just now occurred to him.

Had she become wiser about his secret conquest of her? Was she turning the tables? Had he become her new conquest? Was she slowly hooking him in order to reel him in once the hook had lodged in his gills?

He got flustered with the thoughts.

That day he dreamt of a rat trap with a cheese inside and a rat going round it cautiously but enamored with the smell of the cheese.

He thought and dreamt in analogies and in all of them he had been the hunter. But now with the fish and the hook, the rat and the trap, the hunter was becoming the hunted. It gave him headaches.

Earlier, he could masturbate thinking about her bra strap. Now he had way more visual memories for his masturbation movies but he was finding it difficult to climax. Maybe the progressively more exciting stimuli she's been causing had increased his base level of dopamine. His mind craved more. More of her!

Lately she'd stopped talking about crushes. Was this some sort of a sign? Was it time to cut his losses and get out?

But he felt a strange pull. A pang in his heart if she was late to call him. He found himself looking at her profile picture more and more.

One day they were studying under a tree in the campus when he heard her sigh.

"What?"

"Backpain" she said.

"Oh" he didn't know what to do.

"Can you rub my back a little? The pain is bad." She said.

He was surprised. His diabolical plan of pretending innocence and taking advantage of her trusting nature didn't include any touching. Touching was unchartered territory and he had been careful to avoid that in the 'Me Too' environment that was prevailing.

Yes, he had been manipulating her. Yes, he had been taking advantage of her. But he never intended to take it to the physical realm where there was considerable risk involved.

She turned her back to him. She was wearing a black kurti and if he looked carefully he could see the impression of her bra. His hand shivered a little.

"Please" she said.

His shivering hands found their way to her back and started rubbing gently. He had chosen her lower back. He was scared of touching her bra even over the kurti.

After a while she asked him to go higher. And he did. His member hardened as his thumbs ran over the part of her bra strap where it was hooked. His hands moved as if by a strange power massaging her back.

"Shoulders too..." she pleaded. His hands climbed on her back and reached her shoulders. His fingers rubbed the border between cloth and skin. Slowly the shoulder part of her kurti shifted a bit and red bra straps came into view. He was transfixed. When his thumbs touched it he felt a wave of energy pass through him.

"Thanks" she said.

He took his hands off. There was a tight tent in his pants.

"Why the sudden backpain?" he asked.

"I've grown a bit heavier in the front. It's 36C now" she said as if it was the most ordinary thing to be discussed between a boy and a girl. His hardness doubled in a second at her casual breast size remark.

One day in late fourth semester, she called him to the city. She picked him up in her scooter and rode along.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"It's a surprise!"

She rode her scooter into the parking of a house. The door opened and a smiling middle-aged couple greeted him with wide smiles.

"This is my home" she said.

Her Mom and Dad were gracious hosts and took care to see that he was comfortable and served him a variety of dishes at lunch. They asked of his home and parents. They asked of his future plans.

He felt like he had fallen into a river and the currents were taking him along. Not violently. Just gently.

After lunch he was sitting in the sofa chatting with her dad when he heard his phone ring. He didn't remember taking it out of his pocket, but the ring was coming from another room.

He heard her angelic voice answer it.

"Namskaram Amma" she said.

He felt like his ears were playing tricks on him. She spoke on the phone for about five minutes all in cheerful tone.

Then she came and handed him the phone.

"It's Amma" she said.

Not 'your amma'. She said 'it's amma!'

A thousand bells started ringing in his ears. He had lost all control over his carefully written script.

"She is such a nice girl" his mother said just before their phone conversation ended.

Later in the evening, he was standing in her home's terrace when she brought in the evening tea. She handed him a cup and stood beside him.

A silence ensued.

Few minutes later, she broke it "Have you ever seen me, you know, in a romantic way?"

He gulped hard. Hot tea went searing down his throat.

A few semesters back, he was clear about it.

Sexually? Yes.

Romantically? No.

But now, he searched for the word 'No' in the latticework of his mind. He couldn't find it in the present context.

"Hmmm?" she prodded.

"I'm trying..." he spoke, "to pull out the word 'No' from my throat. It won't come out."

"But the word 'Yes' is swimming at the tip of my tongue" he added.

Silence ensued again. She had won this diabolic tug of war. She had made a man too much in love with himself to think for once about togetherness. Small victories taste so sweet.

Days flew by. They graduated. Nothing much changed in their day to day lives but a lot changed in the grand scheme of things. They called each other, the saw each other on video call, she continued ceding more and more inches to him in the advance of their random yet expected sexual situations.

Her fair skin. Her supple flesh. Her pretty bra straps. Her deep cleavage. Her milky navel. Her slender legs. His eyes feasted on her during their video calls. Neither of them acknowledged what was actually happening.

His mother spoke to her frequently. They had formed their own unique bond.

An year later, on a hot April night, he walked in to his room and found her on the bed in a resplendent red saree and a mangalsutra on her neck. The one he put on her a few hours earlier.

He closed the bedroom door and went to her. He sat beside her. Unchartered territory yet again. But he wasn't afraid. He just didn't know where to begin.

Long silence. One she had to break again.

"You don't need any silly scheme to make me show myself to you now. You can look at my body. Neither do you need to pretend not to be excited seeing me that way."

He looked at her, shocked. She knew?

Yes, she knew! He could see it in her face. The smile of having conquered a conqueror.

He had a hundred questions but could only manage one, "So you just played along with my silly games?"

"Not at first. But later... Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I fell in love with you." She said, and there was unadulterated honesty in her eyes.

"How could you fall in love with a manipulative bastard like me?"

"I learned to read you... when you were being fake, and when you were being genuine... and as days went on, I realized that even when you were being fake, you never intended to break me eventually. Even if things hadn't worked out this way, I realized that the most you'd leave were a few scars... you fully intended to leave me whole, if you had decided to leave me." She said.

"I saw a tiny amount of goodness in that. And when you were genuine, my heart took flight. Then I thought to myself, if there is goodness in you even at your worst, you were better than hundreds of men out there."

"And then before I realized it, I was in love with you. Then I decided to make you mine."

She stopped speaking and stood up in front of him.

"Look at me!" she commanded. He obeyed.

"All this... is your now!" she said as she pulled off her pallu. He saw her bosom heaving ensconced in her tight red blouse.

"Tell me you want it!" she demanded.

"I want it" he heard himself saying despite the complete lack of control he had right then in the plot.

She unhooked her blouse starting at the top. One by one, they came off and the lapels separated revealing the deep chasm between her breasts... the cleavage he'd long admired. She shrugged off the blouse. Her breasts rose and fell with her breath trapped in a sheer red bra. He wished for her to set them free.

Her hands went behind her. Snap! The sheer fabric fell off her. The magnificent mountains of her breasts jiggled free. She stepped forward.

"Take me then!" she said. She brought his hands up to cup her breasts.

He felt an energy course through him emanating from her body... that of pure, animalistic lust.

She bent her body and he buried his face in her breasts... rubbing his cheeks all over them and then taking her dark areola in his mouth. She moaned. The sound originating from a deep untouched reservoir inside her.

She pulled off her saree and petticoat as he sucked her breasts. She left the red satin panty for him. What lay beneath it was for him to explore... of his own initiative.

When he saw her panty, his hands by some magnetic force went to it. He pinched the sides and pulled down, unveiling the prize she'd preserved for him if he'd stayed her course these last few years. And he had.

A thin strip of pubic hair ran down the middle, ending at her sweet, moist vagina. His thumb traced the line of hair. She shivered at his touch. Once it reached the intended destination, he rubbed the moistness around, spreading it on and around her clit. She moaned again drawing from that deep reserve.

Without missing a beat, he plunged his face in her most private place, the one that was going to be his paradise from now on.

His tongue poked at her bulbous clit and added the extra moisture of his saliva to it. She panted and squirmed. He threw her on the bed and undressed.

She waited expectantly at the grand reveal of the tool she was going to ride tonight. It sprang up hard and ready to serve her. But she had a faint idea that it would have to be prepared for the endeavor.

She sat up on her knees and brought her face close to his hard penis. He waited for her touch and she didn't make him wait. Her hands enveloped the engorged member and tugged on it.

Before the initial pleasure waves of her first touch could subside, an avalanche of feelings was triggered by something warm and moist envelope his cock. Her mouth!

"God! Oh my..." he exclaimed as her mouth sent him into overdrive.

He couldn't wait any longer. He pushed her gently to lay on her back.

He didn't need to tell her to spread her legs. She read his mind. He positioned his cock smeared with her saliva along her pubic strip. He lifted it up and let it fall with a slap on her pubis. Her body twitched in a million places.

He gently rubbed the head of his hard cock downwards from the strip. Moistness increased and resistance decreased as it travelled down. Finally, the cock and vagina that the Gods in heaven had schemed to match had aligned. He thrusted.

It slid in, stretching her hole. She bit down the initial pain and waited. He was gentle. Her virginity was not meant to be taken in a flash, it was to be received as an offering. He continued his slow thrusts getting her accustomed to the feeling. A slight red hue appeared on his thrusting cock.

The pain subsided slowly, substituted by a hitherto unknown overpowering sensation. His thrusts were pushing her up a mountain cliff slowly.

Sweat glistened on their bodies as they moved as one, giving and receiving in tandem. It was effortful work but one that gave pleasure unlike anything they'd ever experienced before.

Her movements started gathering pace. He understood that she was ready to be pushed harder to the top. He sped up his thrusts matching her pace. They were both moaning now. His were guttural and hers were sweet nasal moans. It appeared as if a machine from some old factory had been switched on in that room. Loud yet rhythmic. Stable yet urgent.

The cliff was near now. They both could feel it. The pleasure of the orgasmic high followed by the fall to earth was going to be exhilarating. Their bodies portended a pleasure of epic proportions incoming.

His thrusts were like a crazed animal now. Her hips matched that intensity. The bed shrieked as he made a final God almighty thrust into her receiving vagina.

Their collective moan reverberated in the room as she received his potent bodily fluid into her sacred receptacle. He collapsed on top of her as his body pulsed.

Spent, a few seconds later, he slid off her to lay beside her. Their union had been an explosive event for them... one that was bound to be repeated often and with increasing intensity in the days to come.

The smell of semen mixed with the smell of jasmine flowers on their marital bed made a curious odor as they slept peacefully in each other's arms.

The End.