My Unforgettable Night with Priya

I’m still buzzing from last weekend, the wildest of my life, and I need to spill every detail. I’m 27, a regular guy slogging at an MNC in Bengaluru. My friends and I have this Saturday ritual—hit a pub, down beers, laugh, and shake off the week. But when Priya joined us, everything flipped, and I’m still not over it.

She was a friend of a friend, new to the crew, and the second she walked into the pub, I was hooked. Messy bun, tight black top showing off her curves, and a laugh that sliced through the chaos. We were all having a blast—wings, drinks, terrible karaoke—but her eyes kept locking onto mine. A glance that lingered, a smirk that teased. When she brushed past me for a drink, her fingers grazed my arm, and it was like a jolt of electricity ⚡️.

As the night wound down, I was tipsy, bold, and not letting her slip away. Everyone was grabbing cabs, but I caught her elbow and said, “Priya, you ever been to Chai Days in Indiranagar? Their ginger elaichi tea’s killer.” She grinned, like she knew my game, and said, “Sure, let’s do it.” My heart was racing as we ditched the others, walking through the sticky, humid night, the air heavy with what was coming.

At Chai Days, we tucked into a cozy corner booth, steam rising from our clay cups. The tea was spicy, sweet, burning my tongue just right. I cracked a dumb joke about the monsoon, and she laughed, leaning in, her knee pressing against mine under the table. I slid my hand onto her thigh, testing. She didn’t pull back. Her hand covered mine, warm, nails lightly scraping my knuckles. Her perfume—floral, mixed with the faint tang of her sweat from dancing—hit me like a drug, making my pulse pound.

I don’t recall who suggested it, but we ended up at my apartment, a quick five-minute walk. We acted casual, but the tension was electric. I put on Interstellar, thinking it was a safe bet, and we settled on my couch under a blanket, her shoulder against mine. Her hair tickled my neck, her thigh brushed mine, and her breathing—soft, unsteady—gave her away. That floral-sweat scent was driving me wild.

Twenty minutes in, I couldn’t fake it anymore. I switched to 365 Days, muttering something about wanting something less heavy. The movie’s steamy scenes filled the room, and her body stiffened next to me. I turned, and she was already looking at me, lips parted, eyes dark with hunger. I leaned in slow, giving her a chance to stop me. She didn’t. Our lips crashed together, hot, needy. Her mouth tasted of ginger and chai, her tongue teasing, and when she bit my lip—sharp, stinging—I groaned, pulling her onto my lap.

Her weight on me, hips grinding, sent fire through my veins 🔥. My hands slipped under her top, tracing the soft curve of her waist, her skin warm and smooth. She clawed at my shirt, buttons popping, her nails digging into my shoulders. I yanked her top off, revealing a lacy black bra, and kissed her neck, tasting salt and sweetness. She arched, gasping, fingers tangling in my hair as I moved lower, nipping her collarbone, then the tops of her breasts.

We stumbled to my bed, clothes flying, the air thick with her perfume, our sweat, and raw desire. I pinned her down, kissing her hard, my tongue claiming hers. My hands roamed—her thighs, her hips, then between her legs. Her panties were soaked, clinging to her. I teased her through the fabric, feeling her tremble, her moans soft but desperate. When I slid her panties down, her pussy was glistening, pink, and perfect.

I spread her thighs, my fingers brushing her inner lips, slick with arousal. I teased her slowly, tracing the edges of her pussy, feeling her shiver. I parted her folds with my thumb, searching for her clit, and found it—small, swollen, begging for attention. I rubbed it gently, circling with my finger, watching her hips buck, her breath hitching. “Fuck,” she whispered, voice shaky. I slid one finger inside her, her tightness gripping me, so wet it made a soft squelching sound. She moaned, loud, her hands fisting the sheets. I added a second finger, stretching her, pumping slowly, curling to find that spot inside. Her walls pulsed, her moans turning to whimpers.

I lowered my face, spreading her cheeks gently with my hands, exposing her fully. Her pussy smelled musky, sweet, intoxicating. I flicked my tongue over her clit, tentative at first, searching for the right spot. She gasped, hips jerking, so I pressed harder, circling the tip of my tongue around her clit, feeling it throb. I licked her slit, tasting her juices, then sucked her clit, rolling it gently between my lips. Her thighs clamped around my head, her moans louder, raw. I kept fingering her, two fingers deep, while my tongue worked her clit, her wetness coating my chin. She was trembling, close, but I slowed down, teasing, drawing it out.

“Please,” she begged, voice breaking, “I need you inside me.” Her eyes were glassy, desperate, tears at the corners. I smirked, not giving in yet. I pulled back, my cock hard and throbbing, and slapped her pussy with it, the wet smack echoing, her arousal splashing slightly. She whimpered, legs spreading wider. I rubbed the tip of my dick against her clit, slow, deliberate, watching her squirm. I spat on her pussy, the slickness mixing with her juices, and rubbed it in with my cock, lubricating her even more. She was panting, begging, “Please, fuck me.”

I’m not circumcised, and this was only my fourth or fifth time ever. She admitted later it was her first, a virgin, which made me pause. “You sure? Raw?” I asked, voice rough. She nodded, tears streaming, but her eyes burned. “I’ve waited forever. I want to feel you.” I pressed the tip against her entrance, her tightness resisting. It was hard—her pussy was so tight, and my foreskin made it intense, almost painful. I pushed slowly, feeling her stretch, her gasps sharp, tears spilling. “Keep going,” she whispered, nails digging into my arms, leaving crescent marks. I thrust shallowly, easing in, her heat gripping me like a vice. Inch by inch, I sank deeper, her walls fluttering, until I was fully inside, both of us trembling.

I moved slow at first, rocking into her, her legs shaking around me. Her pussy was slicker now, but still so tight I had to grit my teeth to hold back. She clawed my back, leaving burning trails, and I bit her shoulder, just enough to make her cry out. We found a rhythm, her hips meeting mine, the bed creaking, headboard thumping. Her moans were raw, desperate, and when she came, her walls pulsed, her body convulsing, tears streaming. I pulled out, my cock slick, to stop myself from finishing.

I flipped her onto her stomach, lifting her hips. Her ass was perfect, sweaty hair sticking to her neck. I entered her from behind, deeper, her pussy squeezing as I thrust hard, hands gripping her hips, leaving red marks. She pushed back, moaning my name, and I slapped her ass lightly, the sound sharp, her skin flushing. I reached around, rubbing her clit, and she came again, screaming into the pillow. I pulled out, breathing hard, holding back.

She rolled over, pulling me down, kissing me fiercely. “More,” she demanded, voice hoarse. She climbed on top, straddling me, her breasts bouncing as she lowered onto my cock. Her pussy was wetter, sliding easier, but still tight. She rode me, hands on my chest, nails scratching, moans unrestrained. I gripped her hips, watching her face—eyes half-closed, lips swollen. I sat up, sucking her nipple, biting gently, tasting her skin. She gasped, grinding harder, and came again, her pussy clenching. I lifted her off, my balls aching from holding back.

I laid her on her back, legs over my shoulders. I thrust deep, her pussy gripping me, wet sounds filling the room. She scratched my arms, bit my neck, and I fucked her harder, feeling her shake. I pulled out before cumming, switching to spooning, sliding in from behind, one hand pinching her nipple. She pushed back, whimpering, and I fingered her clit until she came, trembling. Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I thrust deep, cumming hard, filling her as she moaned, her pussy pulsing around me.

The morning after was soft, almost surreal after the raw intensity of the night. Priya was still there, curled up in my sheets, her hair a messy halo on the pillow. The sunlight slipped through the curtains, catching the curve of her shoulder, her skin still flushed from hours of us losing ourselves in each other. I woke up first, my body sore in the best way—scratches on my back stinging, my arms heavy from holding her, my lips still tasting of her. I just watched her for a minute, her chest rising and falling, that sleepy half-smile on her face. It felt like a dream, but the ache in my muscles and the scent of her perfume lingering on my skin said it was real.

I slid out of bed, trying not to wake her, and shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee. The machine gurgled, filling the apartment with that rich, bitter aroma. I grabbed two mugs, my hands still trembling slightly from the night’s adrenaline. When I turned, she was leaning against the doorway, wearing my T-shirt, too big for her, the hem brushing her thighs. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, playful, and she smirked, saying, “You’re up early for someone who kept me up all night.” My face burned, but I laughed, handing her a mug. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much to process.”

We sat on the couch, sipping coffee, the silence comfortable but charged. Her bare leg brushed mine, and every little touch sent a spark through me, like my body was still wired from her. We didn’t talk much—just small things, like how she liked her coffee black, how she’d never stayed over at a guy’s place before. I admitted I hadn’t either, not like this, and she raised an eyebrow, teasing, “So I’m your first houseguest?” I grinned, “First one who matters.”

She set her mug down, scooting closer, her hand resting on my thigh. The air shifted, that electric tension creeping back. I could see the faint marks on her neck where I’d bitten her, the way her lips were still swollen from our kisses. My T-shirt rode up as she moved, exposing the curve of her hip, and I felt that familiar heat pooling in my gut. I put my mug down, my hand finding her waist, pulling her onto my lap. She didn’t resist, straddling me, her hands sliding up my chest, nails grazing the scratches she’d left.

“You’re trouble,” she whispered, her lips brushing mine, not quite a kiss but close enough to make my heart race. I smirked, “You started it.” She laughed, low and throaty, then kissed me—slow at first, her tongue teasing, tasting like coffee and her. My hands slid under the T-shirt, finding her bare skin, warm and soft. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and the realization hit me like a freight train. My fingers traced her hips, her ass, then up her spine, feeling her shiver.

I pulled back, looking at her, her eyes dark and needy again. “You sure you’re up for more?” I asked, half-teasing, half-serious. My body was screaming for her, but I didn’t want to push. She leaned in, biting my earlobe, whispering, “I want you again. Now.” That was all I needed. I lifted the T-shirt off her, tossing it aside, her breasts bare, nipples hard. I kissed her chest, sucking one nipple, rolling it with my tongue, while my hand kneaded the other. She moaned, soft but urgent, her hips grinding against me, my cock already straining through my boxers.

I flipped her onto her back on the couch, her legs spreading instinctively. Her pussy was still glistening from last night, pink and inviting. I kissed her inner thighs, slow, teasing, tasting the faint salt of her skin. She squirmed, her hands in my hair, pulling me closer. I spread her cheeks gently, exposing her fully, and licked her slit, slow and deliberate. She tasted sweeter this time, her arousal mixing with the lingering traces of us. I flicked my tongue over her clit, searching for that perfect spot, feeling it throb under me. Her hips bucked, a sharp gasp escaping her, so I pressed harder, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue, then sucking it gently. Her moans grew louder, her thighs trembling around my head.

I slid one finger inside her, her tightness gripping me, still so wet from last night. I pumped slowly, curling to find that spot, then added a second finger, stretching her. She was louder now, her moans filling the room, her pussy making soft, wet sounds as I fingered her. I kept licking her clit, alternating between fast flicks and slow, hard sucks, her juices coating my lips and chin. She was close, her body tensing, but I pulled back, teasing, wanting to hear her beg again.

“Fuck, please,” she gasped, her voice raw, eyes pleading. “I need you inside me.” I grinned, loving how desperate she sounded. I stood, shedding my boxers, my cock hard and ready. I slapped her pussy with it, the wet smack making her whimper, a tiny splash of her arousal catching the light. I rubbed the tip against her clit, slow, deliberate, watching her squirm, her hips lifting to meet me. I spat on her pussy, the slickness mixing with her juices, and rubbed it in with my cock, the friction making her moan louder.

I’m not circumcised, and this was still new—maybe my fifth time ever. She’d told me last night she was a virgin, which made this moment feel heavier, more intense. “Raw again?” I asked, voice thick. She nodded, eyes wet but fierce. “I want to feel you. All of you.” I pressed the tip against her entrance, her tightness resisting like last night. It was harder with my foreskin, the sensitivity almost overwhelming, but I pushed slow, feeling her stretch. She gasped, a tear slipping down her cheek, her nails digging into my arms. “Keep going,” she whispered, voice shaky but sure. I thrust shallowly, easing in, her heat gripping me so tight it hurt in the best way. Inch by inch, I sank deeper, until I was fully inside, our bodies trembling together.

I moved slow, rocking into her, her legs wrapping around me, pulling me closer. Her pussy was slicker now, but still so tight I had to grit my teeth to hold back. She clawed my back, reopening last night’s scratches, the sting making me hiss. I bit her neck, not hard, just enough to make her moan my name. We found a rhythm, her hips meeting mine, the couch creaking under us. Her moans were raw, unrestrained, and when she came, her walls pulsed around me, her body shaking, tears streaming. I pulled out, my cock slick, to stop myself from finishing too soon.

I flipped her onto her knees, her ass up, perfect and flushed. I entered her from behind, deeper, her pussy squeezing as I thrust hard, my hands gripping her hips, leaving faint marks. She pushed back, moaning, and I reached around, rubbing her clit fast. She came again, her screams muffled by the couch cushions, her body trembling. I pulled out, breathing hard, my balls aching from holding back.

She turned, pulling me down, kissing me fiercely. “More,” she panted, climbing on top, straddling me. Her breasts bounced as she lowered onto my cock, her pussy wetter, sliding easier but still tight. She rode me, hands on my chest, nails scratching, moans loud and wild. I gripped her ass, guiding her, watching her face—eyes closed, lips parted. I sat up, sucking her nipple, biting gently, tasting her skin. She gasped, grinding harder, and came again, her pussy clenching. I lifted her off, not ready to end it.

We switched to missionary, her legs over my shoulders. I thrust deep, her pussy gripping me, the wet sounds loud and filthy. She scratched my arms, bit my shoulder, and I fucked her harder, feeling her shake. I pulled out before cumming, spooning her, sliding in from behind, one hand pinching her nipple. She pushed back, whimpering, and I fingered her clit until she came, trembling. Finally, I couldn’t hold back. I thrust deep, cumming hard, filling her as she moaned, her pussy pulsing around me.

We collapsed, sweaty, tangled, her body pressed against mine. Her heartbeat thumped against my chest, her skin sticky and warm. We stayed like that, catching our breath, the coffee forgotten. Eventually, she got up, slipping back into my T-shirt, and we laughed, the tension easing into something softer. She left after a quick shower, promising to text. I don’t know where this goes, but that weekend—those hours of raw, messy, soul-shaking sex—changed everything 😊.