Indiansexstories: Sara's Note in the Sketchbook

Sara found the note folded into her sketchbook on a Tuesday morning, and the word Indiansexstories was written across the top in Dev's slanting handwriting, underlined twice.

Under it, in the same handwriting, was a single line: Meet me in the studio after six, alone, and bring this note. Sara stared at it for a full minute, her coffee going cold beside her keyboard. Dev was the studio's new photographer, thirty one, quiet in meetings, with hands that always seemed to know exactly where a camera should sit. She had been noticing those hands for three weeks.

Sara was twenty eight, a UX designer in a Bangalore startup, the kind of woman who kept her sketchbook closer than her phone. Dev had joined the studio a month earlier to shoot product photos, and their desks faced each other across a low partition. They had exchanged exactly forty two sentences in that month, Sara had counted, and none of them had been about anything that mattered.

At six fifteen the studio was empty except for the hum of the air conditioner and the orange light coming through the blinds. Dev was waiting by the backdrops, sleeves rolled up, a camera hanging from his neck. He took the note from her hand, folded it slowly, and said, I wrote that word because I knew it would make you come here. Sara laughed, a short nervous laugh, and said, it worked, so now what.

Dev stepped closer and said, now I stop pretending I only look at your sketches. Sara felt her pulse jump into her throat. She said, Dev, we work together, and he said, I know, and I have thought about that every day for a month, and I am still here. Then he kissed her, slowly at first, like he was testing whether she would pull away, and when she did not, he kissed her harder.

His hands went to her waist and pulled her against him, and Sara could feel him hard through his jeans. She slid her hands under his shirt and felt the heat of his back, the muscles moving under her palms. Dev lifted her onto the studio table, scattering lens caps and a light meter, and pushed her skirt up around her hips. Sara wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered, lock the door, and he reached behind him without breaking the kiss and turned the lock.

Dev knelt in front of her and pulled her panties aside, then down, dropping them onto the studio floor. She was already wet, and when his tongue touched her clit she gasped and grabbed the edge of the table. He licked her slowly, in long strokes, then faster, circling her clit with the tip of his tongue while his fingers slid inside her. Sara's head fell back, her sketchbook pencils rattling beside her, and she moaned his name out loud in the empty studio.

Two fingers became three, and Sara's hips started moving on their own, grinding against his mouth. She said, Dev, please, I need you inside me, and he stood up, unzipped his jeans, and freed his cock. It was long and thick and already leaking at the tip, and Sara took it in her hand and stroked it once, twice, feeling it throb against her palm.

Dev pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, and Sara cried out at the stretch. He held still until she nodded, then started thrusting, deep and steady, the table rocking under them. Sara's breasts bounced under her blouse with every thrust, and Dev reached up and unbuttoned it, freeing them into his hands. He squeezed them, rolled her nipples between his fingers, and bent down to suck one into his mouth while he kept thrusting.

Sara dug her nails into his back and said, harder, Dev, harder, I want all of it. Dev lifted her legs onto his shoulders and drove into her deeper, faster, until her moans turned into sharp cries. Her pussy clenched around him, her juices running down onto the table, and she came with a shudder that shook the whole table, crying out his name.

Dev did not stop. He flipped her over onto her stomach on the table, pulled her hips up, and entered her from behind. Sara gripped the edge of the table, her cheek pressed against a pile of printed photos, while Dev pounded into her from behind, his hands on her hips, his breath hot on her neck. She moaned with every thrust, begging him not to stop, and her second orgasm hit her even harder than the first.

When she went limp, Dev pulled out and turned her around, and Sara dropped to her knees on the studio floor and took his cock into her mouth. She sucked him hard and fast, her tongue swirling around the head, her hands stroking what her mouth could not take. Dev groaned, tangled his fingers in her hair, and said, Sara, I am going to come, and she sucked harder until he came in her mouth, thick and hot, and she swallowed every drop.

Dev pulled her up from the floor and pushed her gently back against the studio wall, lifting one of her legs around his waist. Sara gasped as he slid into her again, right there against the wall, her back pressed to the cold plaster, his hands gripping her thighs. The position let him go deeper than before, and Sara cried out with every thrust, her nails scratching down his back. A framed print rattled on the wall beside them and fell to the floor, but neither of them looked at it. Dev kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth, and kept thrusting until Sara came again, shuddering against him, her leg tightening around his waist.

They sat on the studio floor afterwards, leaning against the table leg, clothes half on, laughing quietly. Dev picked up the note from the floor and said, I should write more notes. Sara said, next time write a longer one, and he said, next time I will not need paper at all.

The next evening Sara went to Dev's flat, a small place in Indiranagar with plants on every windowsill and a mattress on the floor instead of a bed. Dev opened the door in a towel and nothing else, and Sara pushed him backwards into the room, kicking the door shut behind her. She pulled the towel off him right there in the hallway and kissed her way down his chest, his stomach, until she had him in her mouth again.

Dev lifted her up and carried her to the mattress, laying her down among the cushions. He peeled her dress off slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, her neck, her shoulders, her belly, the insides of her thighs. When his mouth reached her pussy again, Sara arched off the mattress and moaned, her fingers clutching at the bedsheets.

He licked her until she was trembling on the edge, then stopped, and Sara protested, grabbing his hair. Dev smiled and said, patience, and then he slid inside her in one smooth stroke that made them both gasp. He started slow, deep thrusts, watching her face, and Sara watched his face too, the way his eyes closed when he pushed all the way in.

Dev rolled them over so Sara was on top, and she rode him slowly at first, then faster, her hands on his chest, her hair falling around her face. Her breasts swung with her movements, and Dev reached up to hold them, squeezing and teasing her nipples. Sara leaned forward and kissed him, hard, biting his lower lip, and ground herself down onto him until she felt her orgasm building again.

She came with a cry, her body tightening around him, and Dev held her hips and thrust up into her from below, chasing his own release. He came inside her with a groan, pulling her down hard against him, and they collapsed together on the mattress, sweating, tangled, breathing hard.

Later, in the shower, Dev washed her back slowly, his hands sliding over her soapy skin, and Sara turned around and kissed him under the running water. He lifted her against the wet tiles and slid inside her once more, and Sara laughed against his shoulder as the water ran over both of them, her legs wrapped around his waist, her moans mixing with the sound of the shower. It was slower this time, softer, and when they both came, they stayed standing there under the water, holding each other, until the water ran cold.

In the morning, Sara woke up first and found Dev still asleep, one arm thrown over his eyes. She took a pen from his desk and left him a note on the pillow, a single line in her own handwriting: Tonight, my flat, and bring a camera. Then she dressed quietly, kissed his forehead, and slipped out into the Indiranagar morning, smiling at nothing, already counting the hours until evening.

Sara lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down, and said, you know, that note is still in my sketchbook. Dev said, good, because I am going to leave you another one tomorrow. Sara laughed and said, this time write it in the morning, so I do not have to wait all day.