Indian Sex Stories

I am Pallavi (Petals to my friends), a young woman of nineteen years, and I am already a winner in more than a way. I am pursuing my studies in Delhi but was born and brought up in Chandigarh. Ever since I can remember, I have been adored and admired as ‘cute’ and ’smart’. As I grew up and reached teenage, my body bloomed into what many people, especially boys refer to as a perfect-ten figure. As if that was not enough, my features ‘ bright, innocent eyes and bee-stung lips ‘ endowed me with a somewhat sensuous appeal. From a young age I encountered myriad lingering gazes and leering stares. It did not take me too long to realise that a woman’s beauty had its own unique powers to achieve quite a few goals.

I first understood that quality while I was preparing for selection trials for the school swimming team. Whenever I would appear in a swimsuit, our school coach would find an excuse to stick by my side, stealing glances at my boobs, crotch or ass as they pressed against the clinging wet suit. Blessed with glowing skin along with graceful willowy limbs, not to mention shapely boobs and ass, I was by far the best looking female beside the pool ‘ which alone made him follow me around like a loyal pup. At first I found his fascination rather embarrassing. But with time, I seemed to relish his admiring attention.

He was there at my beck and call always responding to my needs, and gradually I woke up to the possibility of taking advantage of his all-too-apparent weakness. If I needed to bunk classes for some reason, or freak out with my boyfriend, I would give him a ring and speak a few sweet nothings and he would take care of things. Although he had a family, a wife and a kid who hated swimming, he would coach me hours at a stretch. Often we would continue our lessons long after the other swimmers had left the pool. Feeling pity for him, I would at times let my slippery limps slide against his hard torso, which was enough to send him on a high. Once, aroused by my teasing act his manhood, ramrod erect, slid out from the confines of his trunk. ‘Jara sambhalke, Sir!’ I had said with a naughty grin, enjoying the funny situation.

The evening before the trials, I sought an appointment with him at the pool. I arranged the timing so that the pool would be available to just the two of us. Since it was dark, and there was not a single soul nearby, I was tempted to take a swim in the nude. I quickly shed my tank top and pair of jeans, and applying olive oil to my body slid into the water. It was a wondrously sensuous experience. I could feel a tingling sensation seep into my pores as the water lapped at my oiled body, and cleaved deep inside my pussy. Lost in sensual delight, I had done a few laps by the time the coach arrived. I urged him to join me in the pool so that we could work on my strokes. He obliged without wasting any time. Together we swam to the shallow end of the pool where we could stand up and carry on a conversation. It was only then, as we stood beside each other, he saw that I was stark naked. The surprise on his face turned into shock as my hands reached for his dick. In one quick movement I grabbed his cock. A few deft strokes were all that was needed to make it stand up in full attention. For the rest of the evening I acquainted him with new skills ‘ ones previously honed on my boyfriend. With easy effort I performed ’strokes’ which were rather different from those I had been practicing in the pool. As night settled and the water grew cold, I embraced him tightly, hiking my legs over him and then wrapped them around his hips. Responding with natural instinct his hands cupped my taut bottom, jamming my shaven pussy against his pulsating cock-a-doodle-doo. Waking up with sexual energy surging through my body I wiggled my bottom and pressed my boobs to his face making soft moaning sounds, until I could feel him shaking with pleasure. He held me in a vice like grip while his manhood, throbbing under my pussy lips, secreted his potion of love. Savouring the sensations I continued to straddle him for some time more.

The ecstasy that swept over him was quite apparent even after the two of us came out of the pool, dressed and engaged in a quick but passionate parley of tonsil-hockey. Then, with a wink I wished him sweet dreams and bade him goodbye. The next morning, I had to undergo the trials under the watchful eyes of the coach and the school-team captain. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts I failed to perform up to my expectation. Yet that evening brought a delightful surprise ‘ my name figured among those selected for the team. At least one individual must have been impressed by my ’strokes’. From representing the school team to gaining entry into the district and then the state squad was only a couple of teases, squeezes and blowjobs away. Along the way my father, a big shot, had to pull a few strings here and there. But it was chiefly my precocious body language that made the crucial difference; there was not a single coach or manager whom I could not influence with my womanly charms. Taking advantage of their weakness I managed to secure and promote my position in the state squad. Only a handful of influential people were privy to the ‘positions’ I placed myself in to achieve my aims. It was a high just to consider how I ‘performed’ my way to the top. If some teasing talk did not work, one or two blowjobs usually brought the rewards. On a few occasions, men would demand more, but it was easy to rein them in with promises of future pleasures (which would never come once my work got done). I can recall only one occasion, before our team was to go abroad for training, when things eally went a bit too far. With a particularly insistent senior sports official, I ended up spending a week in a Delhi hotel. To ensure my place in the team it was necessary to impress him with my charms. The guy was handsome and well bred and treated me like a lady, although he well understood my actual intent. Like a true gentleman he insisted on pleasing before satisfying his own desires. ‘Ladies first!’ he used to say with authority, before initiating each round of elaborate foreplay.

Swept away by his charming ways I ended up opening my pot of honey for his gratification. Was he gratified! Groaning wild animal sounds, he spent hours with his face glued to my silken pussy, his tongue wriggling against what he called my ‘pink petals’. From time to time his hands would travel to my smooth thighs, caress my bottom, and exclaim words of approval. With manic zeal his tongue made me come countless times. Only after his tongue lay exhausted would his perpetually stiff pecker take over. His lips would linger on my boobs kissing and sucking, while his fingers fondled and kneaded the supple flesh. Unable to restrain my inner urge I would sit astride his strong-as-a-bull body with his pecker ensconced in my honey pot, and then bump and grind against him for what seemed like eternity. ‘Honey, you have a damn fine cunny! How did you learn to act like a rundee” he once blurted out while I was using my ‘petals’ to milk and massage his manhood. As if riding the crest of a huge wave of pure pleasure, I would often find myself screaming obscenities in wild abandon.

During our stay abroad, as an official accompanying our team, he bought me a whole lot of goodies, which included some rather expensive sets of French lingerie. Appreciating his generosity I performed a striptease for him at his hotel room. With Lisa Stansfield crooning in the background, I slowly dropped my shirt and discarded the skirt only to reveal a set of lingerie he had gifted. The gesture, for him, was an exciting surprise. By the time it was over we were into another round of lovemaking. Oh my God! It was all so exciting; I get horny just thinking about it. My acts around my swimming career also came handy when it came to deal with different situations in my life. Since swimming took a lot of my time, my studies suffered and my grades were generally poor. My friends could not be of any help since they also were deficient in that department. To overcome this hurdle I started to look out for some intelligent guys. I did not have to wait for too long. A friend invited me to his place and introduced me to Ravindra, the next best thing to a walking encyclopaedia. Within a few days I introduced him to my tender petals. Ravindra’s skill as a lover was rather unique. He would recall some erotic passage from some literary work and move on to enact the scene with my willing body. Every now and then, he kept me captivated me with self-composed couplets awash with obscenities. May be he was a pervert! But who cared, so long I got his notes, and received some sensual loving as extra bonus. His help fetched me a decent score in my final year exams.

Old habits die hard. At my college in Delhi, I have become the toast of a select group of seniors. If I can sustain their interest in my physical and emotional welfare, I am sure of reaching new heights. However, right now, I have my sights set on a rich hunk who drives to college in a groovy BMW. It is only a matter of time before my skills make a kill and I win again.

Bye

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