Heard an urgent knock on the door. It was nearing 10 in the night and rarely I had visitors at that hour. Not that I had many even during evenings! My visitors were discrete and invisible to my neighbours and all knew me as a lonely animal.
There was another knock, more urgent but less subdued. I hurried and found my neighbour's daughter-disturbed and sad. Manasvi just pushed past me in to the hall. Very unusual and I was now worried about her behaviour.
She sat on my age old swing with a wood panel, curled her legs, hid her head and started to sob softly. Flustered, I did not know how to respond. Yet here she was crying and I asked, What's the matter Manasvi?
More sobs and tears. She did not even lift her head.
I gently touched her head and tried to lift it but she curled tight. Sobs became louder and continuous.
I was shocked, just left her on the swing and sat on a nearby chair. Let her cry her heart out and then I can offer a cup of tea or juice and send her back is what I thought.
Very soon her sobs subsided. It was silent tears. Two small streams rolling down her cheeks. Eyes were strangely glimmering. May be slight reddishness was the reason. Slowly the streams slowed down to transparent pearls. Light was playing on her face as the swing swayed very lightly and the droplets shimmered on her milky skin.
As my eyes roamed aimlessly, it was as if I was seeing her for the first time. Tears had left a trail on her thighs and not so long but shapely legs, firm calf muscles and well manicured feet. Toes painted black with white waves here and there. How could I have missed this beautiful feast, I wondered. And then I heard a distant stir within me but chided myself to be silent.
It was a deliciously frustrating situation. Neighbour girl but delectable; crying girl but appetising. A lonely dirty gentleman was caught in a piquant condition. I was worried but enjoying with immense restraint.
Manasvi is a typical Indian girl - medium height, not plump, endowed with beautiful curves. Her red t-shirt could hardly hide the shape of her right breast. Right arm was pink with pressure of her head and clenched fingers. Her fingers were multicoloured. Manasvi was a melange of emotions, I thought.
Dark eyes, slightly flared but neat nose, full cheeks, curly hair and that hint of neat row of teeth when she smiled. She had lean waist and the light fabric of her shorts had flowed down to her full round bums. There was that hint of joy but I dared not look directly in that direction. Fidgety and embarrassed, I stood up suddenly and in one long stride was beside her.
Gently I caressed her head and lifted her wet face. She gazed intently for a couple of seconds and hid her face in my chest. Hot breaths permeated me and she clung to me as if her life depended on me.
I wiped her face and asked the reason for her tears, once more. She made me sit beside her as I wiped her wet eyes with my palm and lied down on my thighs; once again I could not see her face. She really had a silky hair for a curly texture. I stroked her head and back slowly to soothe.
In five minutes or it may be longer, but I had lost all notion of time, she turned her face to me and told her story. In short, her manager had insulted her by telling that for a girl of Gen X, its a shame that she was still a virgin. Added to that the manager had taunted her by asking if she was a lesbian. Hurt, wounded and dishonoured - she shouted and once again hid her face in my lap.
Hesitantly I started massaging her neck softly but firmly. Muscles were tight, knotted and unyielding. Gradually I extended my massage to her shoulder blades and she gave a long warm sigh. All I wanted was her to relax and steadily moved on to knead her spine. Manasvi's shallow breath had now become constant and relaxed. My hands were moving from her neck to waist in a leisurely firmness. I was happy to see her settling down calmly and was immersed in the rhythmic movement of hands and breath. I became aware of my surroundings only when the clock struck once for half past ten.
Manasvi was now between my thighs and once again there was a distant stirring inside me. Alarmed, I noticed that my penis was totally alert and expectant. To my dismay, Manasvi stirred and moaned, tightening all my muscles.
"Fuck" she said and nestled her nose near the zip of my shorts. With her every inhalation the tank became more noticed but her hot exhalations rushed all blood to my penis. I was tight and throbbing inside and Manasvi was enjoying my squirming. Is this little witch a naughty bitch, I wondered.
Suddenly Manasvi began kissing my hardness and I closed my eyes involuntarily. She raised herself slightly and moved her fingers all over my penis, beneath it lovingly. Manasvi was measuring every centimetre of my loin and I could hardly resist her examination. She was thorough, systematic, neat but most of all lusty. It was the inquisitiveness of a newly opened eyes and was amused. Just then she looked up and was irritated by my smile.
"Why the hell are you laughing at me?"
Hey, its nothing, just that...
""Fuck you...you too want to ridicule me" and once again tears rolled down.
I was flustered and thought its better to be truthful.
Manasvi, stop crying and hear me. You are engrossed with my clothed penis. I am curious what happens if I let go the shorts.
