Splaying on the bed, Hardik twisted her curls into his fingers and rubbed her face with his hand as if applying an anointment, she guffawed, “What are you doing?” “Just loving the caress, don’t you?” he asked. She lisped, “As if you are not enjoying. How do you do that? Tickling my face and running your hand. Orgasmic climax, hai na.”
Geet inched closer to him and gently caressing his hand, taking it on her soft waist, held tightly as if it’s a teddy he doesn’t want to part with. He felt an electric rush running deep like feverish temperature and tries to control his urge. “Feeling something inside…let it be. Don’t push them away,” she teased. Geet slowly unlocked her fingers and twirled her hands on the edge of his jeans pressing on his private. “I knew that…you were getting hard inside. It’s okay. Just my waist arousing you.”
Hardik tried not to resist and pointless denying his arousal in holding her waist. It gave him the hots. He held tightly to her waist, biting into her ear, kissing her nape and a stroke of hair planted on his lip. “Ouch! This shit feels so good,” she lit the roll.
“Which one is better?” he lisped.
“I prefer the roll, not your lip,” she turned around. Lips melted and stroking each other, tongues curled into a maelstrom running like steam. A short interlude like in the movies and a wine bottle waiting, frothy sensation on mouths feeling like an aphrodisiac. “Better than kissing,” he let off. “Agree,” she quipped, “Except that I’d prefer wine over you after sex and not the cigarette.”
His fingers pressed on her neck. She jerked her neck up and down. Fingers pressed on the back shoulder, pulling her off the bra strap with his tooth and hands moving on her back. She faked the moans, “Ouch! Oh! I wanna more. Give me what I want…ooh…aah,” before bursting into a seductive laugh.
Hardik didn’t utter a word and intentionally pressed his palm on her neck, almost strangulated her. “Ouch! It hurts fucker,” she protested. “Do that again, bitch. I gonna kill you for real,” he pressed his tooth.
“Dude, you are really sounding now like Dhirubhai Ambani whom the Government screwed for real. And I ain’t some Kingfisher model mistaking you for Vijay Mallya. Is it some sexual frustration and not liking these tender, soft moments?” she placated him.
He moved his hand away from her shoulder, massaging the neck and pressed her head, twirling her curls into his hand, asking, “This is better than the neck.” She smiled seductively, “Totally dude. You still didn’t tell why you were plotting to strangle me. Is it your idea about BDSM?”
“Arre na, I don’t get ejaculation pressing your neck. Your fake orgasm, man and you think I am the unphunny fuck,” he sniggered. Geet turned around and pulled his hair, tickling him on the hairy chest. He pulled away from her, “Stay away. Don’t spoil my hair.” It gave her wings and pressed on his body with t-shirt on, “Oh! My thinny weeny teddy getting all worked out and telling not to spoil his hair and all. I own you and cannot do or say what I want. What? You need listen to the mistress, my little slave,” she pressed her knee on his chest. “Are you hurt, my chocopie, tell na? “ She pressed harder on his chest and pressing knee on his stomach. “I wanna wolf you, my kissie kissie munchie burger.” He almost choked, “No! Not hurt.” He lost his voice. She collapsed on the other side of the bed and panted.
“What do you say? We should do it more often and actually better than rainy fuck. Me on top and you gasping for breath,” she whispered.
Hardik wheezed, “Hey! Forget about all the full clad orgasm and for fuck sake, we are not some sanskari God and Goddesses. You are such a perv woman. How did you create this pagdi guy, imagining him to be your ex and new fiancée?” he cackled. She hit him lightly with her hand. The garrulous laughs didn’t stop.
“It’s just that you didn’t notice. Not pagdi but the condom you’ve put the last time with strawberry foamed flavor on top. I thought you got the scent. Just saved it, dude.” Geet made the perfect comeback.
“You know one thing?” Geet winced with a pause in her voice. “Had we not known each other before that and meeting you in college only, perhaps we would never be together, forget about saying Hi to you. I would probably wonder what kind of weirdo you are…I love my chubby cheek weirdo. So cute my Punchu?”
“Punchu, what the fuck is that,” he pretended to be offended.
“Arre, punchbag!” she smiled.
“And, me pursuing you and getting rejecting several times, giving you blank calls and messages in college,” he doled out.
“Haha! Ya go on with this zero fuck list…m already hitting a climax with our imaginary second life in campus,” Geet simpered.
“Tell me something, na,” Geet egged on him, “Is there any girl from class that you would love to date or making mad love to, apart from me.”
Hardik was taken aback by this question like many guys hating to confess in front of the one. “Remember that girl in class, always wearing hippie jeans and playing with earrings?”
She became curious and jealous at the same time. “Kaun? Divya!”
“Arre nahin re. The other one who would always come late and sit behind Divya, hiding her face away from Economics teacher…hint the nautanki wali. She is also from Mumbai…Dadar I think!!
She tossed her head, right to left, pretending to unaffected and felt heartbeats, wondering whether he had some action. Geet pretended to be brave, “I mean how would I know! You just took me to Divya and now some other chick…who is this nautanki wali and that too who stays in Dadar. I mean, Dadar is fucking huge and crowded in Mumbai, man!” It skipped her mind hovering on that female. Right now, Geet wanted to murder her.
“Who is she?” he coaxed him into spelling her name.
“Aree wohi na. Woh woman you told about just now. I mean other than me,” she pretended not to be unfazed. The trick worked big time. She was shaken and behaved abnormally as if someone sprinkled chilli sauce in her drink. Geet would soon be spitting fire on him. He was enjoying this abnormal behavior, getting hyper and bout of red on her face. An idea struck in his mind, He gotta act fast. Should he or not?
He took a risk and took the game forward, flipping a mobile showing her a hot chick she clicked picture on saree day. Both of them stood close to each other and holding a rose. “This one,” Geet almost jumped. “You had some scene with that bitchy woman,” she was aghast. Hardik simply nodded. Geet stormed out of the bed and kicked the bin. She was shaking and lit a cigarette. I really need a drink, right now. She poured herself a whisky.
Geet came back inside the room. She was composed and told, “Let’s party next Saturday. It’s alright. I am telling you.” Hardik was surprised at the split personality.