Desi Porn Story: Riya and the Neighbour's Call

Riya never imagined she would step inside a real desi porn story, but there it was, pouring through the bathroom vent in full graphic detail. "Lift her leg, Vikram? I want to hear exactly how," a woman's voice purred through the vent, low and husky, "tell me where your mouth goes first."

Riya froze with her shampoo bottle mid-squeeze. It was half past midnight and she had stepped into her Delhi bathroom to rinse the dust of the day off her face before bed. Through the thin rusted vent that connected her bathroom to the neighbour's, she could hear everything. Vikram's voice came next, deep and rough, and the words he spoke made her knees forget their job for a full ten seconds.

This was no accident, no desi porn story she was reading on her phone under the blanket. This was real, live, and coming through the wall in full graphic detail.

"First I would push her back on the bed," Vikram said, his voice dropping lower. "I would kiss her neck, slowly, then drag my teeth down her stomach while she begs me to go lower."

The woman on the other end of the call moaned softly and asked him not to stop. Riya stood there with the water running, one hand braced against the cold tile, unable to move. She had never spoken more than two words to Vikram, the quiet 33-year-old who lived in the flat next door and worked in some IT company. He always looked so serious in the corridor. Hearing him describe how he would spread a woman's thighs and tease her with his tongue sent a rush of heat straight down between Riya's legs.

"She would grab my hair," Vikram went on, sounding like he was smiling. "She would pull me in and I would not let her come. Not yet. I would keep her waiting till she cries for it."

Riya's breath hitched. Without thinking, her hand drifted under her t-shirt and down inside her pyjamas, the wet sounds from the vent mixing with her own breathing.

"Now I would turn her over," Vikram said. "Her face in the pillow, her ass up. Then I would slide in, one slow inch at a time, till she is begging me to go harder."

A whimper came from the phone. Riya's fingers found her clit and pressed small circles into it, her other hand gripping the towel rail. The tile was cold against her back and her skin was flushed and hot. She imagined his mouth on her own stomach, his teeth grazing her skin, exactly the way he was describing it to that woman.

"She wants it hard now," Vikram growled. "I can hear it in her voice. So I would hold her hips and slam into her, deep, till she screams my name."

Riya came quietly against the bathroom wall, her hand clamped over her own mouth, her whole body trembling. The call went on for another few minutes, both of them finishing in panting sighs, and then there was silence. Riya stood in the running water for a long time after, her cheeks burning, her mind spinning.

She barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Vikram's voice describing exactly what he would do to her.

The next evening she saw him at the lift. He stood there in a grey t-shirt, gym bag over his shoulder, tapping his phone, completely normal. Riya's heart started thumping like a drum. She stepped in beside him and the lift doors slid shut, leaving them alone in that small steel box.

"You know, Vikram," she said, her voice light and playful, "you have a very loud phone voice."

His head snapped up. For a second his face went completely blank, then colour crept up his neck. "What?" he said.

"Last night. The bathroom vent," Riya said, tilting her head. "Our bathrooms share a vent. I heard the whole thing. Every graphic detail, word by word."

Vikram stared at her. "Riya, I am so sorry," he said quickly. "I had no idea. That was a private call, I never meant..."

"Oh, I am not complaining," Riya interrupted, a slow smile spreading across her face. "You have quite the imagination. Though I could not help wondering if you talk as dirty as you actually are."

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "You are teasing me."

"Maybe," she said, stepping closer, close enough that she could smell his aftershave mixed with sweat from the gym. "Or maybe I just wanted to tell you that the vent works both ways. Tonight I will be in my bathroom at midnight too."

"Who said I am playing?" she whispered back.

They rode down in silence, his thumb tracing slow circles on the inside of her wrist. On the ground floor he walked her to the gate, and halfway across the parking lot Riya stopped and looked up at him.

"My shower head is dripping," she said. "It has been doing that for a week. You look like someone who knows how to fix things."

Vikram's eyes darkened. "I can take a look," he said, and the way he said it made her stomach flip. "Right now, if you want."

"Right now is perfect," Riya said.

Upstairs, Vikram crouched by the shower, fiddling with the head while Riya watched from the doorway. His t-shirt rode up as he reached, showing a strip of his stomach.

"So," she said, "the woman on the phone. Was she real?"

"She was real," Vikram said, standing up and turning to face her. "But she lives in Pune. The phone is all we have. Sometimes the imagination runs ahead of the body."

"And last night your imagination was very... specific," Riya said. She took one step toward him. "The neck kiss. The teeth on the stomach. Making her wait till she cries."

Vikram set down the wrench he was holding. He took a slow breath. "Riya, I am not going to pretend I did not notice you in that lift. But I want to be sure. Are you sure about this?"

"I have been thinking about your voice for twenty-four hours straight," she said, her voice low. "I am very sure."

That was all it took. He crossed the small bathroom in one stride and his mouth crashed onto hers, hard and hungry. Riya gasped against his lips and he pushed her back against the wall, his hands already sliding under her kurti, finding the bare skin of her waist. His kiss was deep and demanding, his tongue tangling with hers, and she could feel him pressed against her, hard and urgent.

"You heard what I said last night," he growled against her mouth, his hands cupping her breasts over her bra. "The neck. The stomach. You want to know if I talk as dirty as I am?"

"Show me," Riya breathed.

He lifted her kurti over her head in one smooth motion and tossed it aside. Her bra followed seconds later, and he stared at her bare breasts for a moment, his eyes burning. Then he bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his fingers rolled the other. Riya cried out, her hands flying to his hair, gripping it the way he had described.

"Yes," she moaned. "Just like that."

He dragged his teeth down her stomach, exactly as he had said on the phone, and Riya shivered violently. He sank to his knees, pulled her leggings and panties down in one motion, and she stepped out of them, standing naked in her own bathroom while he looked up at her with pure hunger.

"Spread them for me," he said.

Riya widened her stance, her back against the cool tile. Vikram's mouth found her, his tongue sliding through her folds, and she nearly screamed. He licked her slowly at first, teasing, circling her clit without quite pressing it, and she remembered his words from the call. He would not let her come. Not yet.

"Vikram, please," she gasped, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. "Please do not stop."

He laughed softly against her skin and the vibration made her whole body jolt. "You heard the call," he murmured. "You know how this works. Beg for it."

"Please," Riya whimpered, her hips rocking against his mouth. "I need it. I need you inside me."

He stripped off his t-shirt and jeans, his cock springing free, thick and hard. Riya stared at it, her mouth dry.

"Like what you see?" he said, wrapping one hand around himself and stroking slowly.

She sank to her knees in front of him, took him into her mouth, and he groaned loudly. She worked him with her lips and tongue, taking him deeper, her hand pumping what her mouth could not reach. His fingers knotted in her hair, guiding her, and she could taste the salt of him.

"Enough," he rasped, pulling her up. "I want to be inside you."

He lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bedroom, dropping her onto the bed. He climbed over her, settling between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He rubbed his tip against her wet entrance, teasing her, and Riya arched her back.

"Vikram, now," she begged.

He pushed in, one slow inch at a time, exactly as he had described on the phone, and Riya moaned at the delicious stretch. He filled her completely, pausing deep inside her, letting her feel every inch, then pulled back and thrust in again. She clutched his shoulders, her nails digging in, as he set a rhythm that started slow and built.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, his hips driving into her. "So tight, so wet."

"Harder," Riya panted. "Do it harder, like you said you would."

He grabbed her hips and slammed into her, deep and fast, the bed shaking beneath them. Riya screamed his name, exactly like the woman on the phone had, her body bouncing with each thrust. Sweat slicked their skin and the room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

He flipped her onto her hands and knees and drove into her from behind, his hands gripping her hips hard. This was the part from the call, and living it was a thousand times better.

"Oh god, Vikram," she cried, her voice muffled by the pillow. "Yes, yes, do not stop."

He reached around and found her clit, rubbing it in fast circles while he pounded into her, and Riya felt the pleasure building like a wave. It crashed over her all at once and she came with a long, shaking cry, her whole body convulsing around him.

Vikram groaned and thrust harder, chasing his own release, then pulled out and flipped her back over. He took himself in his hand and finished across her stomach, hot and pulsing, with a deep satisfied growl. They lay there panting, tangled in the sheets, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"So," Riya said, breathless, a lazy smile on her face. "You do not just talk dirty."

Vikram laughed, a real deep laugh, and pulled her against his chest. "The vent works both ways, remember? Next time you can call me and tell me exactly what you want."

Riya traced a finger down his chest. "Oh, I already know what I want. And next time, I am not waiting till midnight."

He kissed the top of her head and held her tighter, and the dripping shower head kept its slow steady beat in the next room, completely forgotten.