Sharing girl-friend with best friend - Sex Stories

Sharing girl-friend with best friend

... Well, as far as my (premarital) physical intimacy with Tulika was concerned, it was limited only to casual smooches or sometimes her breast-cupping (over her upper garment) etc, --- I had not yet copulated her out of a trepidation or (inferiority) complex lest I might fail to impress or satisfy her (physical) needs, that I was prone to premature ejaculation. In fact, I had been under presupposition of her being a virtual virgin, and therefore, desired that she should loose her virginity to our best buddy Mirza before my eating her up. Anyway, for this, a pretext or opportunity before me was forthcoming. . . The Dolyatra [Holi] of that Year [2008] fell on 22nd March. A week before, while chit-chatting with Tuli, I casually touched upon a topic of the gratuitous or promiscuous part of the Holi fun, and noticed her interest in it. And finding her interest in it for the sake of a fun, I blurted out to her a proposition to play Holi with Mirza this time in a gratuitous mirth. My intelligent as well as intuitive girlfriend immediately guessed my mind, and asked me what kind of attire I wanted her to wear for that day, and burst into a giggle just after her question, and I took her giggle or laughter for an indicative affirmation on her part to try out this wet fun. I felt thrilled in anticipation. . . On that scheduled day [of Dol (22nd March 2008)], at about 10 o’clock morning, equipped with a small plastic bag containing some packets of ‘gulal’ of different hues etc, I ...

... motor-biked down to Bhawanipore to pick up Tulika who was waiting for me in her casuals. She found her in an olden piece of collarless sleeveless blue-hued jacket kind of front-buttoned shirt with a black mid-skirt. And looking at her pectoral front, I felt she was braless underneath. But I did not ask if she wore a bra inside or, if not, then why! But I smiled to myself. Well, Tulika rode astride on my bike at the rear and hugged me tight from behind as the bike resumed running for our destination, Khidirpore. Khidirpore is a congested area, mostly inhabited by Muslim denizens, mostly poor or middle-class folks. Anyway, I parked my bike on the roadside of a by-lane in front of Mirza’s house. Lots of young people, in a scattered way, were, in that narrow lane, playing wet colours with Holi-syringes in hands, spraying water-colours over one another at random in a noisy mirth. We hurriedly entered the main door of the house and straightway walked up the stairs leading to the roof-terrace or attic where Mirza lived in. Mirza was in his lungee and Banyan (which’re his usual home-attire), and we, without giving him a scope to run off, attacked or jumped over him. And unpacking a gulal-packet, I gave some dry gulal (vermilion of a type) to Tulika who zealously took to daubing the colour on Mirza’s face, and I too joined this wobbly spree. Mirza and Tulika were almost jostling together and laughing aloud in high sprits. All on a sudden, in situational spontaneity, Mirza lost his continence, ...