A Change of Plans in Indiranagar

Kavya and I live in a cozy one-bedroom flat in Indiranagar. The place is big enough for our needs, and we're both reasonably neat people, so we don't have too many conflicts. The one area where we do have a problem at times is that Kavya sometimes brings a guy home from the pubs. That means I get to sleep on the living room sofa, which is a massive pain.

I arrived home one evening after partying at a nightclub on 100 Feet Road. The lights were on, and the bedroom door was open, with the tube light glowing brightly inside as well. I could hear someone in the bedroom and assumed that it was Kavya. Why wouldn't I? It was her bedroom, too, and the bedroom is where you could expect to find someone in the middle of the night.

With the door to the bedroom being wide open, I just barged right on in. We have a strict flatmate rule that if Kavya brings a friend home, she closes the door and hangs a red dupatta on the handle to warn me off. So I wander in, completely unsuspecting, and there's a tall guy standing right in the middle of the room.

It took me a moment to recognize him from her Instagram stories, but then I latched on. Tarun was his name. Kavya had been chasing him for a while now. Now Tarun was just standing there, fully dressed in his clubbing shirt and jeans, looking down at Kavya, who was lying flat on the mattress in a set of her skimpiest bra and panties. And with Kavya, that means damn skimpy. I guess the reason that Tarun was standing there, quietly swearing under his breath, instead of stripping off and jumping on Kavya with a lusty cry, was the fact that Kavya was dead to the world. If she was a snorer, she'd be giving out world champion snores, she was so fast asleep.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, and Tarun jumped and spun around, plainly startled.

He looked at me, snapping his fingers as if trying to jog his memory.

"Latha, Lara... no, Latha, isn't it? You're a friend of Kavya's."

"Latha, it is, and yes, I'm a friend of Kavya, and her flatmate, and you haven't answered my question."

He looked at me, and I sighed. Men can be so unbelievably dense sometimes.

"I asked what the hell is going on. Why are you in our bedroom, perving on Kavya while she's asleep in her undies?"

He blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I can see how it looks," he said defensively. "I've been at the nightclub with Kavya and brought her home in an auto. She invited me in for filter coffee. Then she told me to take a seat in the hall and wait a moment. She said she'd give me a call. She didn't give me a call, and after a few minutes, I came in here, just before you walked in. She was like this, sound asleep. I knew she'd had a few pegs of tequila, but I thought she was still reasonably sober."

"She's like that," I said with a tired smile. "She drinks a little more than you realize and seems to be holding it well. Then all of a sudden, she'll be out like a light."

I looked down at Kavya's resting form.

"An earthquake won't wake her now. She's in full Kumbhakarna mode and will sleep until the morning."

"Well, damn. I have this thing about wanting my partners to be awake and aware of what's happening. Sleeping Beauty has saved her virtue by sleeping."

(What virtue? My roommate was, to put it mildly, a bit of a party-girl tart.)

"Well, you might as well go home. I'll see you out. Next time, don't shout her so many drinks at the bar."

Tarun gave a small, dark laugh.

"That's for sure. Are you sure she won't wake up until morning?"

"No matter what happens. If the apartment catches fire, the BBMP firemen will have to carry her out. She's gone for the night."

"Fair enough. Then she won't wake up when I make love to you."

"Eh? You're dreaming, boss. It's not going to happen."

"Yes, I think it will. Let's get you undressed. I'm going to take you to paradise."

"You've got tickets on yourself. Not going to happen."

"Don't be difficult. Just get your gear off. I came here to get laid, and if Kavya can't, you can."

I started to explain why what he wanted just wasn't going to happen when he grabbed me. I mean, he just reached out and grabbed my arms, turned me around forcefully, and pushed me so I was leaning over the wooden footboard at the end of the bed.

My explanation instantly degenerated into a vigorous protest, a protest that grew somewhat more strident as Tarun pulled up my short party dress. He simply latched onto the hem of my dress and yanked it up, bunching the fabric securely around my waist.

The result was instant, burning embarrassment, with my panties on full display under the bedroom tube light. I say panties advisedly, because even if Kavya was wearing very skimpy panties tonight, mine were undeniably worse. I was wearing a black string thong, and I do mean string. There was no way the string afforded me any modesty.

What was supposed to be the normal part of a pair of panties was literally just a thin string that ran snugly between my lips. The string moving against me as I walked through the pub all night had given me a mild arousal, and kept me mildly turned on all evening. What it didn't do was cover me, in any manner whatsoever.

All in all, these panties were the sort of underwear that was supposed to stay strictly private. Definitely not the sort of panties you wanted a random man to catch you wearing. And Tarun was now looking right at them.

He gave a low, appreciative whistle that made my face burn and made me even more embarrassed. Then he slipped a calloused finger under the string and moved along it. I could feel his knuckle dragging along my wet lips as he ran his finger the length of the string, pulling it away from my skin. Then I felt his finger running back along the string, but this time his knuckles were just brushing against my lips on one side. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was shifting the string to the side so it was no longer covering my mound.

Not that it covered it much in the first place, but you know what I mean. His large hand cupped my mound, probing me quite delicately, but I already knew what he was going to find. I'd been in a state of low arousal ever since I put that damn thong on to go out, and he was going to find me completely hot and wet, getting hotter and wetter with the thrilling knowledge that he was looking at me and touching me right in my own bedroom.

I heard his jeans zip go down, but I was still entirely unprepared for what happened next. I was assuming that he'd touch me up some more, try to undress me further, get me to turn around and grab hold of his cock. Boy, talk about a wrong assumption.

I felt the blunt, hot head of his cock touch my entrance, and then I was giving a sharp, squealing protest as it slid deep into me. And it did it so effortlessly, my whole passage being wet and expectant and, unfortunately for my pride, incredibly welcoming. He started moving in me, slowly sliding his thick length back and forth. Looking back over my shoulder, I could see his hands gripping the wooden rail at the end of the bed.

I couldn't believe what was happening. We were both fully dressed, all our clothes still strictly on, and the only thing he was touching me with was his cock. It was embarrassing. It was utterly humiliating. It was undeniably exciting. Really, a man who I barely knew was having raw sex with me from behind, and only his cock was touching my skin.

But, oh boy, that cock was certainly touching me, driving deep into my core with every powerful push of his body. I have to admit, I found myself instinctively pushing my hips back against his thighs. How could I not?

There was something extremely casual, almost arrogant, about the way he was taking me. He wasn't taking me as though I was his passionate lover, with him eager to please me. Neither was he taking me in a blind rage, trying to teach me a lesson. He was just taking me, contentedly thrusting into my wet heat, enjoying the tight feel of a woman, using me as a convenient female body who would please him.

I should have been enraged and humiliated. Maybe I was. I know I felt humiliated at the absolute start.

Now I was just feeling completely exhilarated and excited. I was helpless to do anything about the relentless way Tarun was fucking me, and honestly, it felt awesome. He'd come banging hard into me, and my bottom would lift slightly as I pushed back firmly to accept him, his driving cock bringing waves of excitement and increasing my intense arousal with every single stroke.

There seemed to be a lot of strokes, too. Not that I was counting. It was just that Tarun was like an old TV ad I once saw. He was a marathon runner, going on, and on, and on without losing his breath or his rhythm.

He kept on going for way too long. I started telling him to hurry it up, moaning that I was ready, and he just kept going. I demanded that he stop stuffing around and attend to the job at hand, and he kept going, hammering steadily into me. I was almost in tears, my fingernails digging into the bedsheets, pleading with him to finally finish it, and he finally started going in much harder and faster.

Oh my god, it didn't take much to finish me off after all that edge.

I just exploded when he did a few hard, incredibly fast thrusts. I was shivering and shaking uncontrollably, a massive climax wracking my entire body. Even the roots of my hair were hurting from the intense after-effects of that climax.

I flopped over the end of the wooden bed frame, totally exhausted and gasping for air. Turning my heavy head, I could see Tarun standing there, looking immensely amused. And he was already zipped up again, while I was still bent over on display, my dress bunched at my waist. I simply didn't have the energy to cover myself up.

"I think I'm rather pleased that Kavya had too much to drink," he told me with a wicked smirk. "That was quite an experience."

With that, he blew me a casual kiss and departed the bedroom, his footsteps echoing down the hall. I wanted to think nasty thoughts at him, but, exactly like he said, it was quite an experience. I didn't have any energy left for anything but taking my clubbing clothes off and hitting my own mattress in the living room.

My last thoughts before falling asleep were to wonder if I should tell Kavya how perfidious her handsome boyfriend was. Probably not. She'd think it was a great joke on me. She's always telling me I need to get laid more often. She may have a valid point.