Sex Encounter with My Old Crush After a Long Time

Hi, I’m Sunaina, a 22-year-old single girl from Bengaluru, working as a Cloud Architect in an IT firm. I’m 5 feet 1 inch tall, dusky, with long, thick black hair till my low waist, and my body measurements are 36-34-40. I wear glasses for short-sightedness, but I forgot them that day. This is my first time sharing something like this, so please bear with me. A year ago, I went to a friend’s wedding and bumped into my old school crush, Arjun. What happened next was something I never expected.

I wasn’t keen on going to this wedding. It was my school friend’s big Gowda wedding, and I’m not into all that crowd and drama. But my bestie, Rachana, and a WhatsApp group full of school friends buzzing about gifts, clothes, and dance songs pulled me in. While checking the group DPs, I saw him—Arjun, my first crush. He still looked hot, same as in school. I had a glow-up after school, so I knew I looked good too—dusky, curvy, and confident. Some guys from the group started texting me, but I ignored them.

Rachana convinced me to go, so I dressed to kill in a black transparent saree, half-sleeved blouse, dark kajal, black bindi, and jhumka earrings. My scorpion tattoo on my waist was peeking out, adding that extra charm. I sprayed Chanel perfume, slipped into heels, and drove my Renault Kwid to the venue with Rachana. I forgot my glasses, so I drove carefully. The parking was full, so I parked outside, and Rachana went ahead while I locked up.

The wedding hall was packed, decorated like a dream. Random uncles, aunties, and guys were staring at me—typical Indian wedding vibe. I loved the attention, though it was a bit much. Rachana waved me over to where our old school gang was chilling. And there he was—Arjun, 5’10”, dusky, muscular, in a black shirt with two buttons open, grey pants, polished shoes, silver chain, black wristwatch, and a killer beard. He was the hottest guy there, no doubt. I knew he’d wear black—it’s his thing.

Everyone was shocked at my glow-up. I shook hands with all, including Arjun. His grip was firm, and our eyes locked longer than needed. I got nervous and looked away. We all chatted, laughed about old school days, and I could feel Arjun checking me out. Other guys too, but his gaze hit different. We went to the stage, congratulated the couple, took pics, and headed to the dining hall. I was on a diet, so I ate light. Everyone else went to the bar, but I stayed back since I had to drive and had no glasses. Rachana pulled me to the dance floor, but in a saree and heels, I didn’t do much. Arjun was nowhere—probably at the bar.

I decided to leave. Rachana was having fun and said she’d go home later with someone else. It was raining outside, and I got a bit wet running to my car. My saree was transparent, showing my cleavage, but I didn’t care. I turned on music and started driving, taking the long route by mistake. Stuck in traffic at 10 p.m., the rain, music, and my wet state made me wish I had a boyfriend. I don’t do relationships, just hookups, but work kept me too busy for that. I thought of going home, watching porn, and using my dildo. I live alone in a 1BHK, with my parents visiting sometimes.

Then, I saw Arjun at a bus stop, drenched, standing by his KTM bike. I got flustered, sprayed perfume, adjusted my saree to show my cleavage and navel, and called him. He didn’t hear, so I phoned him. He smiled, ran over, and got into my car. I asked, “Arjun, what happened? Didn’t see you after dinner.” He said he had to leave for a call. Thinking he needed a ride in the rain, I offered to drop him. He refused, saying it was late and my parents might be waiting. I told him I live alone and insisted. He asked for a charger, and when I opened the glove compartment, it fell. We both reached for it, bumped heads, and laughed. Our faces were so close, I could feel his hot breath. We locked eyes, and he leaned in. We kissed—his lips tasted like chocolate ice cream from the wedding. His phone rang, snapping us out of it.

He said, “I need to go. Bye, good night. Drive safe.” I gave him my visiting card from the glove compartment and he left. Driving home, I kept thinking about that kiss, regretting not making a move. Did he judge me? Did I do something wrong? I reached home at 11 p.m., parked, and entered my 1BHK. Feeling low, I didn’t change or do anything. Instead, I grabbed a hidden Smirnoff vodka bottle, mixed it with soda, and sat on the sofa, thinking about Arjun and that kiss.

Then, the doorbell rang. I was scared—who comes at this hour? I peeked through the door’s see-through part and—OH MY GOD, IT’S ARJUN! Shocked, I opened the door. He was drenched, helmet in hand, and our eyes locked with pure lust. We started kissing like the world was ending, right there at the door.

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Part 2: The Night of Passion

We kissed wildly for a minute, lips crashing, hearts racing. Arjun locked the door, still kissing me, and carried me to my room. He sat me on the dressing table, gently pulled off my saree’s pallu, and kissed my neck and cleavage. A moan slipped out as he gave me a hickey, his lips igniting fire in me. His desire only grew stronger.

I unbuttoned his shirt, and he tossed it off, showing his chiseled, gym-built body. I moaned softly, my nails grazing his back as we hugged, his kisses soft but hungry. He lifted me to the bed, kissing my navel, sending shivers everywhere. I grabbed his hair, lost in the moment. I took off my blouse, revealing my black bra and “huge melons,” as he called them. His eyes lit up, and he caressed, teased, and squeezed them, making me moan louder. Guys love that, don’t they?

While he was lost in my breasts, my hand slid to his pants. I caressed him, and his naughty smile said he knew what I wanted. He pulled a chair, sat with legs apart, and took off his belt. He beckoned me with a finger, and I obeyed, sitting on his lap, kissing him hard while grinding against him. He unhooked my bra, sucking my breasts, making me moan in delight. I kissed down his chest, his abs, and reached his grey boxers. His dick was big, and I stroked it, our eyes locked in a lustful smile. He urged me to show my skills, so I kissed the tip, teased with my tongue, and took him in my mouth, deep and slow. He moaned, grabbing my hair, guiding me faster. When he was close, I sucked his balls—bit hairy, not my fave—but went back to stroking. He came, his cum landing on my breasts, just how he liked it. I tasted a bit with my finger, not loving it, but I wanted to please him.

Now it was my turn. I took off my petticoat, lying on the bed in black panties. Arjun kissed my nipples, his hand sliding to my wet pussy. He rubbed over my panties, making me moan heavily. He teased, promising “heaven,” then slipped his hand inside, fingering my slippery pussy. I was in ecstasy—oh my god, I love that! I guided him to press my whole pussy with his palm, not just the clit. He started slow, then faster, my moans driving him wild. I climaxed on his hand, then he went down on me. I warned him it was hairy since I hadn’t shaved, but he said he loved it. He kissed my navel, thighs, and licked my pussy, teasing my clit till I was screaming inside. He devoured me, and I squirted, his fingers still working me. I love squirting—it’s the best climax.

He was hard again and asked to enter me. He put on a condom, teased my pussy with his dick, then thrust in. It hurt a bit—his girth was thick—but my moans egged him on. He came fast, but I wasn’t done. He cuddled and kissed me, saying he took Viagra to last longer for me. I was shocked but impressed. I chose cowgirl for the next round, rolling a condom on him and riding him slowly, giggling and moaning. He urged me to go faster, and we hit a rhythm—pure bliss. My hair bounced, my boobs jiggled, and he loved it. I came hard, collapsing on the bed, smiling.

But Arjun wasn’t done. He flipped me for doggy style, grabbing my hair like reins, pounding deep while watching us in the dressing table mirror. The table shook like an earthquake, and I loved it. He carried me to the table, spread my legs, and kept going, the intensity wild.

Then he asked to go without a condom and cum inside. I hesitated but agreed since it wasn’t my ovulation period and I had pills, but told him to pull out. In missionary, he kissed me romantically, moving slow. I faked soft moans to make him feel good, calling his name. He went faster, came a bit inside, then pulled out to finish on my navel. I rushed to the bathroom to clean up, came back, and found him asleep, naked. Exhausted, I took a pill, cuddled up under the blanket, and we fell asleep together.

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Part 3: The Morning After

The morning sun peeked through my curtains, waking me up. Arjun was still asleep, his arm draped over me, our bodies tangled under the blanket. My body ached from last night, but a smile crept on my face as I remembered every moment—the kisses, the touches, the wild passion. I looked at him, his face calm, beard slightly messy, and my heart raced again. Was this just a hookup, or something more? I didn’t know, and honestly, I was scared to find out.

I slipped out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake him. My saree and his clothes were scattered across the floor, a reminder of our reckless night. I grabbed a towel, headed to the bathroom, and took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away the vodka haze and my racing thoughts. Did I go too far? Would he think I’m “that kind” of girl? But then I remembered his eyes—full of want, not judgment—and I felt a strange calm.

When I came out, wrapped in my towel, Arjun was awake, sitting on the bed in his boxers, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and grinned, “Morning, sexy. Last night was… wow.” I blushed, adjusting my towel, and mumbled, “Yeah, it was… something.” He laughed, stood up, and walked over, pulling me into a soft kiss. It wasn’t wild like last night—just warm, like he meant it.

We didn’t talk much about “us.” I made coffee, and we sat on my tiny balcony, sipping in silence. The rain had stopped, and Bengaluru’s morning breeze felt fresh. He said he had to leave for work soon but asked if he could see me again. My heart skipped, but I played it cool, saying, “Maybe, if you’re lucky.” He smirked, that same naughty smirk from last night.

Before he left, he grabbed his helmet and my visiting card from the table. “I’m keeping this,” he said, winking. I walked him to the door, and we kissed one last time—short but sweet. As he rode off on his KTM, I stood there, wondering what this meant. I didn’t believe in relationships, but Arjun felt different. Was it just the thrill of reconnecting with my old crush, or was I catching feelings?

I went back inside, sat on my sofa, and stared at the Smirnoff bottle from last night. My phone buzzed—a text from Arjun: “Last night was unreal. Let’s make it real again soon? 😈” I smiled, my fingers hovering over the reply button. Maybe I’d see him again. Maybe this was the start of something. Or maybe it was just one perfect, wild night with my old crush.

For now, I’m okay not knowing. But one thing’s sure—Arjun and that night will stay in my head forever.