I started to look at her with more interest. I began to search for chances where I could see her nude (although I didn’t get any). Here and there I�...�d get a glimpse of her fair skin when she used to change her dress. I never used her panties or bra while masturbating because I never had the guts. Almost a week passed by after we had returned, and it was Saturday. We sat for dinner and as usual, we weren’t talking. She was wearing a cream saree with pink and blue flowers. Before dinner, she was. We kissed playfully, neither of us feeling any urgency, content to focus on the soft warmth and wetness of lips and tongues. There was no thought, no grand plan in the movement of hands, only instinct and the desire to touch and be touched. Palms slid over curves, hands stroked shoulders, fingers teased, seemingly everywhere. It all got very confusing, and I am sure there were times when I would touch myself, reaching between my thighs to caress my soaked panties, stroking myself until my hands. More

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