Forbidden Passion: A Tale of Intimacy and Desire in Ujjain

My heart ached for her, but my body burned with possibility. I slid closer, wrapping my arms around her. “Didi, you’re not alone,” I murmured. “I’m here.”

She sobbed into my chest, and I held her, my hands stroking her back, feeling the heat of her skin through her thin kurti. Then, in a moment of madness, I tilted her chin and kissed her—soft, tentative, my lips trembling against hers. I pulled back, expecting anger, but her eyes locked onto mine, dark with need. She grabbed my face and kissed me back, fierce and hungry, her tongue dancing with mine. Time stopped as we melted into each other, our breaths mingling, our hands exploring.

I tugged at her kurti, and she helped me lift it off, revealing her bare skin, her breasts free and glorious. She yanked my shirt away, her nails grazing my chest, sending shivers through me. I carried her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed like a treasure. My lips worshipped her—her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. I took her nipple in my mouth, sucking gently, her moans filling the air like music. “Ashu… ohh,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair.