Note : The author does not endorse dubious or questionable consent. Any implications of the same are only for dramatic purposes.
The steam from the shower had fogged up the mirror. Radhika stepped out of the glass cubicle and wore her bathrobe. She realised it was unnecessary, her husband and children had left the house to herself. She wiped the steam and looked at the woman in the mirror. Lines were appearing around the corners of the woman’s eyes. She had met that woman everyday, and yet, she looked different with each coming day. Her long, black hair was parted in the middle, resting on her shoulders, with glistening droplets that made spots on her bathrobe. She could see her scalp in more places now. It worried her. As she picked her lotion and face cream, she thought about her hair thinning and if she would have to use wigs. She took off her bathrobe. When she applied the lotion, she ran a finger on her the stretch marks on her shoulders and around her belly. The souvenir from birthing two children. She cupped her breasts and held them up, the way they would be when she was younger. They felt heavier now, and she thought they sagged.
When she had wiped herself and patted the lotion into her skin, she put her hair up in a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom, stark naked. The large bedroom in their “palatial” house (as her mother described it) was cool, although the curtains were drawn. The sharp white light of the early morning sun illuminated the contrasting grey and white interiors of the plush room. If someone saw her, she didn’t care. She got dressed in the large wardrobe. As she picked out her underwear, she thought of Neha. The lacy brassiere reminded her of her friend from college. Neha had called the week before. Her divorce was now final. She was in the city. Would Radhika meet her for lunch? Radhika had offered to host her, Amit could take the kids away and the help would have the day off so they would have privacy. Neha had agreed.
Neha had introduced Radhika to lacy brassieres and racy lingerie, among other things. They were studying for different degrees, but had been assigned the same girls’ hostel. The showers and washrooms for every floor were common. Neha was in 305, Radhika in 307. They had met in the waiting room of the hostel’s infirmary, when Radhika’s cramps had gotten too severe and Neha was nursing a sprained ankle. Neha hadn’t paid too much heed to Radhika, with her worn top and pyjamas. But Radhika hadn’t been able to stop thinking about “the girl in 305” after the doctor had given her painkillers and dispatched her back to 307. She had noticed the sensual curl of Neha’s lips, the messy curly hair that were held together by a thin black rubber band, and Neha’s curves, visible even in the ill-fitting football jersey. She had tried to get Neha’s attention, in the way shy girls do, by glancing at her, or sitting next to her in the hostel mess. She had tried to stand behind her in various lines – the mess, the accounts department, the library – but Neha was always distracted, by a friend or another admirer. There was no dearth of people who were paying attention to Neha, and Radhika did little to really stand out.
That was until they were the only two people in a line once. On that day, the girls in the hostel had complained that the sambhar had too much salt. Only two of them had appreciated the sambhar and had gone back for second helpings. Neha had gone back for a third. They had bonded over their mutual love for the salty sambhar and discovered more common interests. They were both fans of Britney Spears and Madonna. They were also the last two people to have checked out the poetry collection of John Keats from the library. Radhika was in awe. Neha made heads turn every time she walked into a room. She had also never met another woman as comfortable with her body. Neha would drop into her room unnannounced, and change, unfazed with the presence of Radhika and her roommate. They began meeting and spending a lot more time together, bonding over Neha’s ever changing flames, Madonna and Keats. Once when Radhika had dropped into Neha’s room, she found Neha on her bed, topless. Her roommate had gone home for a few days.
“It’s too hot!”, she had exclaimed when Radhika entered, answering her curious expression before Radhika could ask the question.
It took all of Radhika’s strength not to stare at the tight grey brassiere with a floral pattern and a white lace border. The top half of a nipple was visible. Neha had beckoned Radhika to join her in bed, and they had spent the afternoon huddled together, reading Keats. Neha had stroked Radhika’s hair now and then making remarks about how thick and long they were.
“Yours aren’t too bad either,” Radhika told her.
“Yeah, but yours could be used for a shampoo or hair oil ad,” Neha said, running her hands through the length of Radhika’s hair.
“Well you can use my products, you know, I just use basic oils and this mask that my mum sends from home,” Radhika offered, using the opportunity to feel Neha’s neck and hair.
“Sure, we can do spa days together. We’ll do one after class this Friday,” Neha told her, pulling Radhika close to her.
They had spent the evening huddled together, Radhika acutely aware of Neha’s perfume, and the feel of her skin on her back. The hair on Radhika’s neck stood everytime they moved. Through the doors, they could hear Arctic Monkeys being played in someone’s room. They only broke when it was time to head to the mess for dinner. Radhika skipped dinner that night. She was delirious with the feel of Neha’s fingers in her hair, and the heady mix of perfume and the songs of thr Arctic Monkeys. She stayed in her room instead, making excuses to her roommate who wanted to take her to dinner. She lay in bed as her roommate left, accidentally switching off the light as she went out. Radhika lay in the darkness, the white light from the windows making stripes on her clothes. She noticed it was Hozier she heard now, and not the Arctic Monkeys as before. The smell of the incense sticks her roommate lit for her evening prayers was still in the air. Her throat was dry and she observed the blades of the fan moving slowly. It was too hot, she told herself and took off her top. Then she let her fingers explore every bit of skin that Neha had touched. As if their own accord, she found her fingers in between her legs, and she felt how sticky and wet it felt. Then she had hooked a finger and let it feel the flesh on the inside, images of the grey brassiere swimming in her mind.
That Friday after class they had met in Radhika’s room. Neha had worn a bathrobe for “spa day”, and smuggled a bottle of wine into the hostel, to be consumed when the girls did their beauty rituals. Radhika was wearing her usual worn out shirt and pyjamas. She felt awkward and underdressed. There was a lump in her throat as she had started applying the mask on Neha’s messy, greasy hair. She carefully separated the strands, running her fingers through the warm viscous mixture her mother sent and spreading it on the thick mass of hair. The cheap wine had its effect on them. Neha put on Madonna, and swayed to the music once Radhika was done with her. She then put the bottle straight to her lips, and started with Radhika’s hair. As the smell of the mask filled her nostrils, Radhika bit her lips. She hoped Neha didn’t notice. Neha worked quickly, applying the mask on the considerable length of Radhika’s hair. When they were both done, they sat side by side, drunk on the wine. While they waited for the mask to dry, Neha put an arm around her Radhika. Then she started the questions.
“Never had sex, have you?”, Neha slurred.
“No, never, I’m pure as can be,” Radhika giggled, only half joking.
Her mother had instilled in her that her virginity was a gift for her husband. She hadn’t explained what she was to receive in exchange from her husband that could be considered equal.
“What are you waiting for? There are sooo many boys. And if you’re not into the boys from college, you can always head to the IT park and score some engineer..” Neha told her earnestly, still slurring.
“You do know what happens right? In the bedroom?”Neha asked her, unsure if she was joking now.
Radhika laughed in response. She was unsure what she could say. Boyfriends had been forbidden in her household. Porn had been impossible till she got her mobile phone with internet. And even that was subject to scrutiny from her mother.
Neha whipped out her phone, showing Radhika porn. Radhika blushed. It had been a while since she had been aroused by anybody other than Neha. But the taut, muscular bodies on screen triggered something in her.
20 minutes later Neha stopped.
“Okay okay, I’ll spare you the blushes. Let’s go wash up, but you’ll need to support me till the shower, I’m very very drunk,” a beatific smile occupied her face.
They held each other by the waist as they staggered and stumbled into the shower. They had rememebered just in time to take their shampoos along. Radhika helped Neha into one of the stalls and walked out. Her head felt heavy, as she stood for second outside the stall. She could hear Neha turning the steel knob for the shower and humming the tune of Adele’s Rolling in The Deep. She waited for her head to feel lighter, so she could go to another stall and wash her own hair. The door opened then and Neha pulled her in.
Neha was in her underwear now, the bathrobe hung over a hook behind the door along with Neha’s towel.
“Help me wash!”, Neha yelled mid-song, and handed Radhika her shampoo bottle.
Radhika began to lather up Neha’s hair. Her tshirt and pyjamas were getting wet in the lukewarm water. She rubbed the shampoo into Neha’s scalp, massaging her head.
“I’ll wash yours too, take these off, you’ll catch a cold,” Neha said over the noise of the shower. Radhika’s ears were ringing when she took off her top and pyjama and stood in her conventional white brassiere and pink sports underwear. She was too drunk to not notice the droplets of water glistening on Neha’s skin. She gathered the courage to touch Neha’s waist.
“Haha, you’re so drunk!”, Neha said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
Neha washed Radhika’s hair, giving her hugs and kisses on the forehead and cheeks. The mix of the mask and the floral shampoo made for a delicious smell. When they both emerged, their hands had grooves, and their faces looked flushed. Radhika felt embarrassed. Wordlessly, she had gone back to her room, dried herself, and crawled into bed. That night, after dinner at the mess, she lay awake, imagining what it would be like to be Neha’s lover.
Over the next few months, Neha had set Radhika up with her friends, and Radhika had obliged by dressing up, putting on make up, and smiling coyly while she sipped coffee with them. She would go to their houses, letting their hands wander and letting them see her naked. She would stop just short of them entering her. Two things stopped her. She was still afraid of the consequences of losing her virginity for one. Her mother’s words and the ostracism of a cousin for a “love” marriage would prevent her from going further.
The other being Neha. None of the men had the effect Neha did on Radhika. Seldom did she find herself more aroused than the times she had seen Neha’s exposed body. Till they got their degree, Radhika’s fantasies would star Neha, and her sensual curvy body.
Then college ended, and thoughts of Neha faded away after her parents arranged a boy for her. The boy was from their caste she was told, and was earning well. They were married in a lavish ceremony, which Neha had been unable to attend. On their first night, Radhika had been aroused, but not by Neha, she had been aroused by her husband. He was nothing like the taut muscular men she had seen or even like the over eager men she had dated. She gave her husband the gift her mother spoke about. He was calm and transactional in his lovemaking. Over the years Neha faded from her memory. Other men, and women, made their way into Radhika’s mind. She would think of them when she made love to her husband.
They still made love, but she felt less connected to him each time. Her husbands touches felt transactional, all too familiar, all too predicatable. After they were done, he would roll over, or go take a shower, the moment concluded, the intimacy sacrificed. They had learnt how to maintain the facade of a successful marriage. Their social media was plastered with cute videos of them being funny, or intimate or wooing each other with grand romantic gestures. Theirs was the kind of marriage people made an example of – with their tastefully decorated house and once-a-year foreign vacations.
Then Neha had told her she was getting divorced. And Radhika realised why she had been in awe. Neha lived on her own terms after all. Radhika couldn’t even convince herself of a reason to consider a separation or even time apart. Everything was going well.
Radhika put on a flowing dress and light make up. She set up the dining table and readied the spread – appetizers, rice and a curry. Their cook had left soufflé in the fridge for dessert. She was taking a look at the sangría when Neha was at the door. The divorce had taken a toll. Neha had aged rapidly since she had told Radhika about the divorce. There were bags under her eyes, and more greys in her hair. Neha was wearing a bright sundress, her hair was tied behind. Radhika noticed all this and the fragrance of the Neha’s perfume.
Radhika poured the sangría as Neha started telling her about the divorce – the hassle of the courts, the constant badgering of the lawyers and the ugly disagreements over minor receipts from years ago. She drained the first glass quickly. Radhika poured her another one. By the time Radhika had finished her first, Neha had consumed three, and was already slurring. Radhika had to hold on to her as she led her to the dining table, where they ate in silence – Radhika had no insights of her on marriage. She didnt think she was in any place to do so.
Neha walked around their living room, finally stopping before the bookshelf. Radhika noticed she was lookimg at the Keats collection. She wasn’t sure if it was the boredom or the alcohol, but she felt her desire for Neha returning. Her mind went back to the grey brassiere and the shower. She sat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other, and invited Neha to sit next to her. Neha got the book with her, and sat close to Radhika. Radhika put an arm around her, as they read. By the end of the third page, Radhika was breathing in Neha’s perfume. Neha remained still. Radhika took in the smell of shampoo and sweat coming from Neha’s hair.
As Neha read on, Radhika squeezed Neha’s shoulders. Then she held her by the waist and grabbed her stomach. Neha let out a feeble objection.
“Stop..” Neha told Radhika, almost moaning.
Radhika put her hands under Neha’s skirt, feeling her bare thighs. She squeezed the flesh. Neha attempted to push her hand away, but Radhika did not acknowledge it. She managed to get a finger inside Neha. Then she managed two. She thrust inside Neha with equal measures of desire and rage. Neha tensed up, her spine arched.
Radhika pleasured herself while she thrust her fingers into Neha. She realised her own underwear was damp. She put two fingers in, feeling her sex. When she brought them out, they were covered in her sticky white discharge. She shoved those fingers into Neha’s mouth, who gagged and then spat out Radhika’s discharge.
She then pried Neha’s legs open, pinning down tbe knees, and tugged at the underwear till Neha did not protest. The underwear slid down Neha’s waxed legs. Then she forced her face in between Neha’s legs, sucking, biting and licking everything she tasted. She had to use all her strength to keep Neha’s legs open. Neha struggled, but finally gave in. She put her legs around Radhika’s neck, rubning her hands through Radhika’s hair. She gripped Radhika’s hair in both hands when she climaxed. Radhika let go then and sat next to Neha again. Her mouth was covered in Neha’s juices. She sat on the couch and threw her head back.
“Fuck I need a smoke!” Radhika told Neha.
Neha remained silent. There were tears in her eyes.
“This..this wasn’t right,” she said to Radhika amidst sobs.
Sobbing and wiping away tears, Neha got up in a hurry and ran out the door.
“Prude..”, thought Radhika, noticing Neha’s grey panties on the floor.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/v8y1j1/grey_indian_ff_milf_dubcon