Manasvi: First Encounter - Sex Stories

Manasvi: First Encounter

Heard an urgent knock on the door. It was nearing 10 in the night and rarely I had visitors at that hour. Not that I had many even during evenings! My visitors were discrete and invisible to my neighbours and all knew me as a lonely animal.

There was another knock, more urgent but less subdued. I hurried and found my neighbour's daughter-disturbed and sad. Manasvi just pushed past me in to the hall. Very unusual and I was now worried about her behaviour.

She sat on my age old swing with a wood panel, curled her legs, hid her head and started to sob softly. Flustered, I did not know how to respond. Yet here she was crying and I asked, What's the matter Manasvi?

More sobs and tears. She did not even lift her head.

I gently touched her head and tried to lift it but she curled tight. Sobs became louder and continuous.

I was shocked, just left her on the swing and sat on a nearby chair. Let her cry her heart out and then I can offer a cup of tea or juice and send her back is what I thought.

Very soon her sobs subsided. It was silent tears. Two small streams rolling down her cheeks. Eyes were strangely glimmering. May be slight reddishness was the reason. Slowly the streams slowed down to transparent pearls. Light was playing on her face as the swing swayed very lightly and the droplets shimmered on her milky skin.

As my eyes roamed aimlessly, it was as if I was seeing her for the first time. Tears had left a trail on her thighs and not so long but shapely ...

... legs, firm calf muscles and well manicured feet. Toes painted black with white waves here and there. How could I have missed this beautiful feast, I wondered. And then I heard a distant stir within me but chided myself to be silent.

It was a deliciously frustrating situation. Neighbour girl but delectable; crying girl but appetising. A lonely dirty gentleman was caught in a piquant condition. I was worried but enjoying with immense restraint.

Manasvi is a typical Indian girl - medium height, not plump, endowed with beautiful curves. Her red t-shirt could hardly hide the shape of her right breast. Right arm was pink with pressure of her head and clenched fingers. Her fingers were multicoloured. Manasvi was a melange of emotions, I thought.

Dark eyes, slightly flared but neat nose, full cheeks, curly hair and that hint of neat row of teeth when she smiled. She had lean waist and the light fabric of her shorts had flowed down to her full round bums. There was that hint of joy but I dared not look directly in that direction. Fidgety and embarrassed, I stood up suddenly and in one long stride was beside her.

Gently I caressed her head and lifted her wet face. She gazed intently for a couple of seconds and hid her face in my chest. Hot breaths permeated me and she clung to me as if her life depended on me.

I wiped her face and asked the reason for her tears, once more. She made me sit beside her as I wiped her wet eyes with my palm and lied down on my thighs; once again ...