The kitchen reeked of an illicit make-out session. Mallika’s sweet juices still lingered on my tongue as I leaned against the counter, catching my breath. Her sundress was slightly askew, and she was blushing with satisfaction. I grabbed my phone and made a quick call to the nearest gym, booking us a session for later that afternoon. “We’re doing this, OK?” I said, winking. “Time to start that transformation,” Mallika sai...

The next morning, I woke up late. I glanced at the clock, 11:30 AM. Shit, I'd overslept again. The house felt unusually quiet, no clatter from the kitchen or footsteps. Mallika must be out, I thought, my mind drifted back to yesterday's hand job at her bedroom door. My cock jerked at the memory, her slick hand, her whispers, fuck, that was awesome. The kitchen was empty; however, there was a note on the counter: "Out for...

The next morning, I woke with a knot in my stomach, and the memory of last night’s kiss was still fresh. My dad was gone on a business trip, and I couldn’t escape my guilt. I pictured Mallika still on the couch, her blue eyes blazing with anger, ready to tear into me for crossing a line that should never have been touched. I stayed holed up in my room, too scared to face her, too ashamed to go to college. The thought of h...

I'm Vihaan, 21 years old, living in a leafy suburban pocket of Mumbai, where the chaos of the city doesn't reach. My dad is a wealthy businessman with ventures in different Asian countries, and is rarely home. My parents divorced when I was 10, leaving behind a fractured family and a never-ending line of stepmothers. Now, at 55, my dad's chasing love again, recently marrying Mallika, a 36-year-old divorcee with an engagin...