Indian Sex Stories Online: Maya's Anonymous Admirer

Maya arrived at the Bangalore cafe twenty minutes early, and she spent those twenty minutes rehearsing how she would greet the man she had spent three months arguing with about Indian sex stories online. His username was Arjun, and his comments were the only ones she actually looked forward to moderating. He hated everything she loved, he loved everything she hated, and somewhere between a hundred comment threads, their arguments had become the best part of her day.

The cafe was warm and noisy, full of people who read too much and slept too little. Maya ordered a cold coffee and chose a table near the window, where she could watch the door. When a tall man in a black shirt walked in and looked around with the same searching expression she was wearing, she knew. He walked to her table and said, you must be Maya. She said, and you must be the man who thinks my taste is trash. He laughed and sat down.

His real name was Arjun Mehta, and he was thirty, a novelist with two books that Maya had actually read, though she would never admit it. They argued about an ending first, then about a heroine, then about whether a story should ever fade to black. Arjun said a fade to black was cowardice. Maya said explicit was easy and suggestion was art. The waiter came twice and both times they waved him away without looking at him.

Arjun said, I have a flat ten minutes from here, and there is a story I want you to read, one I have never shown anyone. Maya knew exactly what kind of invitation that was, and she also knew she had already decided before he finished the sentence. She said, only if you promise not to argue with me about the ending. He said, I promise to argue about everything else. They left the cafe together, and the evening air in Indiranagar smelled of rain and fried peanuts.

On the walk, a few drops of rain started falling, and Arjun pulled her under a shop awning for a moment. She asked him why his second novel had no proper love scene, and he said because he had never met a woman who argued like she did. She said, that is the worst excuse I have ever heard, and also the only one I might accept. He laughed and took her hand, and they walked the rest of the way with their fingers linked, arguing softly about a book neither of them had finished.

His flat was small and full of books, with a balcony that looked over a busy street. He poured wine into two glasses and handed her one, and his fingers brushed hers. Maya took a sip and looked at his bookshelf. She pulled out one of his novels and said, this ending was terrible. He stepped closer and said, then show me a better one. She put the glass down and kissed him, hard, the way she had wanted to kiss him since his third comment on her thread.

His hands went to her waist and pulled her against him. She could feel his cock hardening through his jeans, and she pressed herself closer on purpose. He unbuttoned her shirt slowly, one button at a time, while she unbuckled his belt. Her shirt fell to the floor, and he unhooked her bra and took her breasts in his hands. He squeezed them gently and then took one nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until Maya gasped and grabbed his hair.

She pushed his jeans down and took his cock in her hand. It was thick and hot, and she stroked it slowly while he unzipped her skirt and slid his hand into her panties. Her pussy was already wet, and his fingers slipped inside easily. He pushed one finger in, then two, and Maya moaned against his neck. She sank to her knees and took his cock into her mouth, licking the tip first, then taking him deeper until he groaned and held her head.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom, laying her on the bed. He pulled her panties off and spread her legs, looking at her pussy for a long moment before lowering his mouth to it. His tongue found her clit and circled it slowly, and Maya arched her back and cried out. He licked her until her thighs were shaking, and then he climbed over her, positioned his cock at her entrance, and pushed in with one deep thrust.

Maya wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. He started thrusting, slow at first, then faster, and every thrust sent a wave through her body. Her breasts bounced with each movement, and he bent down to kiss them while he kept moving inside her. She could feel his cock filling her completely, and her pussy was dripping wet around him. She dug her nails into his back and begged him not to stop.

He flipped her over and took her from behind, holding her hips firmly while he drove into her. Maya pressed her face into the pillow and moaned loudly with every thrust. He reached around and rubbed her clit while he fucked her, and her whole body tensed. She came hard, her pussy clenching around his cock, and her cry was muffled by the pillow. He kept thrusting through her orgasm and then pulled out, turned her around, and entered her again from the front.

Now she was on top, riding him at her own pace, slow and deep, sometimes grinding against him, sometimes lifting herself almost all the way off. He held her hips and watched her face, and she watched his. When she felt her second orgasm building, she leaned forward and kissed him, and he thrust up into her as she came, her pussy squeezing him rhythmically. He groaned and came inside her a moment later, holding her tightly against his chest.

They lay together for a long time, sticky and breathless, and the street noise came through the balcony door. Maya said, your ending was still terrible. Arjun said, and your argument is still wrong, but I like the way you make it. She laughed and rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair and said, stay tonight. She said, I was already planning to.

Later they got up and made instant noodles in his tiny kitchen, both wrapped in bedsheets like togas. She asked him where he got his ideas, and he said from people who argue with him online. She flicked water at him and said, then you owe me royalties. He said, I will pay you in wine and arguments. They ate standing up, leaning against the counter, and when the noodles were finished, he kissed the sauce off her lip and carried her back to bed.

In the middle of the night she woke up thirsty, and found him awake, watching her. He kissed her shoulder and then moved down her body, kissing her stomach, her thighs, and then her pussy again. His tongue was slow and deliberate this time, and Maya came quietly, her hands in his hair, her breath catching in her throat. Then he entered her again, gently, and they moved together slowly until they both came, soft and unhurried, like a conversation finishing itself.

In the morning, over coffee, he handed her a printed manuscript. The first page was a story about a forum moderator who argues with a stranger for three months and then meets him in a cafe. Maya read the first paragraph and burst out laughing. She said, you wrote this about us. He said, I wrote it about a woman who was right about everything except the ending. She kissed him and said, the ending needs work, and I will help you fix it tonight.

She left his flat at noon, carrying his manuscript and wearing his shirt over her dress, because hers was still on his living room floor. On the metro home, she opened her phone and saw a new comment from Arjun on the forum. It said, the moderator wins this round. She smiled at her screen, and the woman sitting next to her smiled too, without knowing why. Maya typed back, the argument continues tonight, and she put the phone away.

At home, she showered and changed, and then she sat at her desk and read his manuscript properly for the first time. The story was about a moderator and a stranger, but it was also about how two people can know each other completely through words before they ever touch. She marked three places where the ending was weak, wrote her notes in the margins, and felt a strange happiness, the kind that comes when your work and your life suddenly become the same story.

That evening, when she logged in to moderate, the first comment waiting for her was his. It was a single line, and it made her blush in front of her screen. She approved it, flagged two spam comments, and closed her laptop. Then she changed her dress, picked up his manuscript, and went back to his flat, where the door was already open and the wine was already poured.