The supple skin of her thighs formed an aura of warmth around her cupped hand as she pressed into the meat of herself. A sigh escaped her throat, as if the gentle dig of the hand between her thighs was pushing the air out of her body. “I want to be drunk on the taste of your neck,” he whispered. The elevator had stopped. Three more people got on and he guided her backward into the corner, still not letting her turn and see his face. Her fingertips made a light drag over the simmering slit beneath her panties while she felt his voice as if it were still in her ear. The skin across the pulsing vein in her neck remembered the humid brush of his pineapple breath. Her mound began to throb lightly with the warm rush of blood into the puffed flesh beneath her fingers, searching into her own pleasure through the soft texture of her panties. “I want to tell you more,” he’d whispered next in the corner of the crowded elevator. She remembered nodding, letting him know she was listening to. Al though we were not children anymore, we still were able to capture a lot of the old friendship back. We started playing carrom in the afternoons when my grandmother took her long afternoon nap and Jaya did not have any chores to do at that time. I enjoyed this time with her because nobody disturbed us for that 2 hour period every day. I would not lose an opportunity to sneak a peek at her chest. She would always wear half-sarees and many times I would get a glimpse at the deep valley between her breasts when she bent down to strike a coin. Soon, we were betting on who could sink a coin into the hole, etc. The initial bets were innocent such enough. But, after a few days I got bold and this one time I dared her to drop her pallu if I won a bet. I was elated when she accepted the bet. To this day I am not sure if she accepted that first bet because she was sure she would not lose or because she had a streak of exhibitionism in her. Either way, I won the bet. She made a couple of.
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