Metamorphosis

Author’s Note: Hey folks! A huge thanks to all the readers for the tremendous response to my last story, ‘The King’s Last Wish’. Loved all the positive feedback and comments.

Welcome to my new story. This started out as something very smutty and raunchy. But, as the characters took shape and the story developed, it finally ended up very heartfelt, sentimental and romantic. I reworked it quite a bit. Just like the title, the story itself has gone through metamorphosis.

Hope you enjoy it. I’ll look forward to your comments. Special thanks to Literotica author PennameWombat for reviewing this chapter.

All the characters in this story are above 18 years of age.

*****

Metamorphosis. A process during which a small larva transforms into a beautiful butterfly. The larva spins a cocoon around itself and undergoes a transformation within. It finally emerges from the cocoon as an adult butterfly; fully developed; ready to spread its wings and take flight.

I gazed into Shreya’s cute, pixie face. We sat in the food court of PVR IMAX, waiting for our show to start. There was still half an hour left. Shreya sipped her coffee. I indulged in a scoop of Belgian dark-chocolate ice-cream.

I tried to focus on her words but her red glossy lips distracted me. I wanted to reach across the table and kiss those succulent lips. Her long, black hair shone under the lights. She’d had them curled recently with maroon highlights.

She looked stunning in her pink off-shoulder top. It displayed quite a bit of skin on her shoulders and chest. The top hugged her figure and accentuated her curves. White capri jeans complimented her tight butt and toned legs.

At 23 years of age, Shreya was three years younger than me. She was a banker and a big movie buff. That’s how I had met her a year before, during one of the regular movie hangouts that I have with my team. One of my teammates, Nicky, was roommates with Shreya and had invited her along. Luckily, Shreya had sat next to me during the show. We had hit it off instantly and had been dating since. We really liked each other and the sex was mind-blowing!

She stopped talking, suddenly. There was a frown on her face.

“Sam, that fellow’s done nothing but stare at us since we arrived,” she said in a hushed tone. With her eyes, she gestured towards an adjacent table.

I turned sideways and caught the guy looking at us. A sense of recognition came over both our faces, simultaneously.

“Sameer Negi?” he asked, waving at me.

Shit! Of all the people in Delhi, we had to run into this guy!

I smiled and waved back. He excused himself from his friends and walked over to us. We greeted each other.

“Sameer! It’s so good to see you, buddy!”

“Likewise!” I lied, smiling.

“This is Aryan, an old school mate,” I said to Shreya, “And… this is Shreya, she’s…”

“…his girlfriend,” said Shreya, immediately. She reached out and shook Aryan’s hand.

I was pleasantly surprised. This was the first time Shreya had introduced herself as my girlfriend. We had a discussion about these semantics when we first started dating. We had agreed to take it slow with the emotions and romance. Her previous relationship had left a sour taste. She didn’t want to commit in haste.

“Join us, please. I’ve never met any of Sam’s school friends,” she said.

Aryan pulled up an empty chair and joined us. I could immediately sense that he was smitten by Shreya.

He said to her, “I am really sorry for staring from over there. I just kept looking at Sameer, wondering if I knew this guy. He looked familiar yet different. I’d never have thought, this was the same Sameer I knew back in high school.”

He turned to me and said, “I mean, look at you, dude! Nice physique, styled hair, no spectacles, impeccable fashion sense. You look like a professional model! Wait, are you?”

I smiled and said, “Nope.”

I ran an event management company with two of my friends from MBA. I wore an olive-green t-shirt with blue jeans for the evening. I had been using contact lenses for the past two years. Regular workout and a bit of hair care completed the ensemble.

Aryan turned to Shreya again and said, “Most intriguing was that he was sitting here, with you. In a million years, I could’ve never imagined Sameer to be dating such a beauty!”

Here we go!

Shreya had her fair share of experience dealing with flirts. She knew how to handle them.

“I guess I am the fortunate one, to have hooked up with such a hunk like Sam!” she said.

She put her hand on mine and gave a gentle caress. The gesture wasn’t lost on Aryan and he backed off.

We spoke briefly, about life in general. Aryan mostly spoke about himself; how he’s taking a break after graduation before he joins his family business. He boasted of having a good time in Delhi, partying and enjoying life. I and Shreya stole several covert glances at each other, rolling our eyes each time.

About twenty minutes later, I said, “It was nice meeting you, Aryan. I am afraid, we need to get going. The movie is about to start.”

“Yeah, sure. I need to get back to my friends. It was nice seeing you. Such a transformation! You talk and carry yourself so confidently now, with such flair. We definitely need to hangout,” Aryan said.

We exchanged contact details and said goodbyes. As soon as we were out of the food court, I cursed, “Jerk!”

Shreya burst out laughing. “What an asshole! What was that all about?”

“Aryan was the heartthrob back in high school. He was the star batsman in the school cricket team. Girls loved him. Unsurprisingly, he was an arrogant jackass with an air of superiority. I was a pathetic nobody. We rarely spoke.”

“Wow! He was almost gushing over you back there.”

“Yeah! Funny, isn’t it? He was taken by surprise seeing me like this, with you.”

“His reaction towards you, really intrigued me. You never talk about your school or college days. You get all defensive.”

“I don’t get ‘defensive’. There’s nothing to talk, really. It’s all very boring.”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Please! People don’t just transform from a ‘pathetic nobody’ into a ‘professional model’ overnight. You need to tell me about it.”

“Alright, some other time. Come on, let’s enjoy the movie.”

We entered the multiplex. Shreya ran giddily towards a huge cardboard cutout. It was a character from an upcoming animated movie. She posed with a huge smile in front of it. With her big eyes, small cute nose and tapering chin, she herself looked like an animated princess. I smiled at her child like enthusiasm and general fun-loving attitude. She brightened my life.

Oh boy! I am in love with this girl!

I clicked some pictures of her on my phone. I was a hobbyist photographer and Shreya was an eager, photogenic model. She pulled me towards her and planted a peck on my cheek. I was six feet tall. At five foot three, she was much shorter than me. I clicked few selfies of us, both of us grinning ear to ear.

*****

By ten o’clock, I stood outside Shreya’s apartment. She unlocked her door and went inside. I hung back outside to say goodbye.

“Nicky is out with her friends. She won’t be back for another hour at least,” she said with a mischievous smile.

I faked a yawn. “I am so tired. I need to get going.”

“Shut up and get in,” she said, laughing.

She pulled me inside the apartment and closed the door. We pounced on each other right away and hungrily kissed each other’s lips. Shreya pulled off my T-shirt and exposed my muscular torso. She kissed my right chest over the inked skin. I had a medium sized, black tattoo of a blazing sun, on my right upper chest. It always fascinated her.

I pulled off her top and buried my face in her deep cleavage. I fondled her breasts over her pink bra. I picked her off the floor easily and put her on my waist. She locked her legs behind my back and placed her hands on my shoulders to stay in place.

That put her breasts at an even better position, right in front of my face. I supported her weight easily with my body and one hand. I reached behind her back and unhooked her bra with my other hand, with practiced precision. She took it off and her naked breasts came into view.

I’ve never failed to be amazed at the sight of Shreya’s beautiful, perky breasts. They weren’t huge, but at 32C, they complemented her short, slim figure perfectly. They proudly jutted out from her chest and always seemed to defy gravity.

I took her erect light-brown nipples into my mouth and sucked on them one after the other. That drove her crazy and moaning with pleasure.

I put her down and she pushed me on to her bed. She unbuttoned my jeans and pulled it down along with my trunks. My hairless pubic region came into view and my 6.4″ erection popped out. She knelt on the floor, between my legs, and took my hard cock into her hands.

Running light kisses on the underside of my cock, she said, “Oh, it’s so hard! God, I love your cock!”

She ran her fingers lightly on my scrotum, tickling me. She slowly pulled down my foreskin. With the purple glans exposed, she teased my frenulum with the tip of her tongue. She looked into my eyes, seductively and took my cock into her mouth.

“Oh… that feels wonderful,” I said, moaning in pleasure. The mushroom head of my cock disappeared into her warm, wet mouth.

I was fairly well endowed in my length and girth. My cock head was slightly wider than the shaft. In the last few years, I had developed the habit of keeping my pubic region shaved. It enhanced the aesthetics and made my cock look bigger. Shreya’s blowjob techniques were mind-blowing and toe-curling. She had several tricks she used to give me earth-shattering climaxes.

I felt her tongue flutter on the underside of my cock. She took half of the length inside her mouth. Her tongue ran circles around my cock as she sucked and licked it like an ice-cream cone.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her up onto the bed, “I want to eat you too.”

I loved receiving a blowjob from Shreya but I loved pleasuring her more. I had learnt a valuable lesson, few years earlier, to always put the lady’s pleasure before mine.

The more pleasure you give, so shall you receive.

She got up on the bed. I pulled off her jeans and panty. Her hairless pussy was already soaked. I ran my fingers through her labia, eliciting a moan from her. I pulled her on top of me in a 69 position and buried my face into her pussy. She settled on top of me and took my cock back into her mouth.

Her pussy smelled delicious and I sucked on her labial lips. I loved her taste and always enjoyed watching her moan and squirm under the expert ministrations of my fingers or tongue.

We pleasured each other orally for few minutes, moaning with pleasure. I put a finger inside her and massaged her slick inner walls. My tongue concentrated on her clit.

“Oh… just like that!” she said.

She took my cock out of her mouth, overwhelmed at the sensation in her nether regions. I intensified finger-fucking her. My tongue moved faster and faster over her pleasure nub. I could feel her body tighten. She clenched her butt, nearing orgasm.

“Oh… yes… oh…,” she moaned loudly as climax hit her.

Her body shuddered as she rode her orgasm. I removed my tongue from her now sensitive clit. She took my cock back into her mouth and sucked on it. I fell back on the bed and enjoyed the oral pleasure. She changed position to face me, took hold of my erection and fed it into her hot wet pussy.

“Oh God!” I groaned, sinking into her extremely slick canal.

She took my entire length inside her. She moaned, throwing her head back in pleasure and rode my cock. We got into a familiar rhythm. I thrust my hips up every time she sat back down on me, driving myself deeper into her cunt.

I was close to the edge after such a fabulous blowjob. I squeezed my PC muscle and stopped my upward thrusts to delay the onset of orgasm. Shreya sensed my struggle and slowed down as well.

Ready to go again, we switched to the missionary position. I opened up her legs wide and drove my cock deep into her. She hugged me tightly and I thrust into her with passion. Our lips met in a steamy kiss. We inched towards orgasm.

I pinned her down by intertwining my fingers with hers. I groaned and shot a huge load of cum into her pussy. That set off her as well. Her mouth opened soundlessly as she climaxed again. I felt her warm juices bathe my cock.

I looked into Shreya’s dreamy eyes and said, “I love you.”

I had no idea how she would react. Much to my relief and joy, she said, “I love you too!”

We basked in the afterglow of our lovemaking. She said, for the umpteenth time, “Oh Sam! You always give me such exquisite pleasures. You sure you never had any girlfriends before?”

“I have one now,” I said, evading her actual question. She always marveled at my sexual skills and asked me about it. And I had never revealed my secret.

*****

I got back to my apartment, freshened up and got into bed. I updated my Facebook status to ‘In a relationship’ with Shreya Bose. I also uploaded my selfie with her. Soon enough, my phone chimed with several notification alerts. My friends and family were liking and commenting on my post, congratulating us. I scrolled through them. The latest comment made my heart flutter, nervously.

It was from Nisha ma’am!

She had liked my relationship status update and commented on the picture — “Cute couple!!!”

The comment was followed by several happy and loving emojis, way more than necessary. I rolled my eyes yet was filled with warmth. I smiled. Same old Nisha ma’am. Full of life, love and enthusiasm.

She was my favorite professor back in engineering college. Ironically, she didn’t teach anything related to engineering. She taught Business Communications class in the fifth semester. After graduation, I had been in touch with her mostly through emails and social media.

My last email to her, had been a couple of months back. I guiltily opened the email app on my phone and typed away a new email.

Hello ma’am,

Just saw your comment on FB.

That was Shreya in the picture, whom I had mentioned earlier. You were right; she turned out perfect for me. We just confessed our love for each other today!

How are you doing? Did you find anyone yet?

Hope to hear from you soon!

Cheers!

Sam

Half an hour later, I received a reply from her —

Hey Sam,

It’s so good to hear from you! Yes, I did see your latest FB post. She’s a real hottie! 😉

Congratulations on the new relationship. My best wishes to the both of you! I am so happy and really proud of you. Shreya looks like a lovely girl. I would love to meet her.

I am doing well. FYI, I haven’t found anyone yet. I don’t think I will, this year.

Why don’t you guys plan a trip to Goa? How about the weekend after next? I am going to be there for the Hilltop Music Festival. I’ve got passes for the event. The three of us can go together. It’ll be fun! You guys can stay at my place.

Talk to Shreya and let me know.

Take care,

Nisha

PS: Shreya doesn’t know, does she?

I read the email twice, imagining Nisha ma’am’s voice and animated expressions. I thought about her invitation to Goa. Her husband owned a beautiful beachfront property with its own private beach. It would be nice to see her again after four years.

I read her PS again. It was short and cryptic, but I knew her actual question.

Shreya doesn’t know about us, does she?

No, she didn’t. I hadn’t told her. Should I? Dare I?

The question weighed heavily on my mind that night. I couldn’t sleep. I and Shreya knew most of the things about one another. But I had kept, an important chapter of my life, a secret from her.

*****

Shreya stayed with me in my apartment on the weekends. That Saturday night, after dinner, we lounged on my balcony, enjoying the night. I brought out my high school photo album. I had always kept it hidden from her.

“You always wanted to see these,” I said, handing it to her.

She eagerly went through the pictures. Moments later she started giggling. She looked up to see me and then back at the pictures.

“Wow! You’ve really changed.”

I nodded, “And this is how it happened…”

*****

Six years earlier —

There was a hum within the classroom. The students chatted among themselves, catching up after the semester break. Still five minutes left for the class to begin. It was the first day of the fifth semester. I was an engineering undergraduate in APJAK University, Mumbai.

I quietly slipped into the classroom, adjusted my full frame spectacles and looked around. Zoheb waved at me from the back.

“Dude, I got it!” he said, excited, as I sat down.

He opened his backpack and showed me the PS3 game disc for Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood.

“Cool! Are we playing this evening?”

“Of course! Be at my house by six o’clock.”

Zoheb was the only person in the entire University that I had managed to be friends with, in the last two years. He was also one of the very few friends I had in my 20 years of life.

Suddenly, the room quieted down considerably as a woman walked in. She had a laptop and few books clutched in her arms. She strode in confidently with her head held high. Obviously, a professor, she was also the most beautiful woman I had seen in real life. I heard a “wow” escape from Zoheb’s lips.

The professor placed her belongings on the desk and faced the class. Deep brown hair fell till the middle of her back and adorned her sharp, angular facial features. She ran her fingers through her lustrous mane to settle them in place. There was a hint of subtle make-up enhancing her beauty; eye liner defined her big, beautiful eyes and the lip gloss made her lips look fuller and luscious. The sleeveless blouse showed off her arms and she carried off the green saree very gracefully. The entire room had fallen silent by now. Everyone was captivated by this angel in front of them.

“Good morning, class!” she greeted us in a clear, sonorous and cheerful voice.

“Good morning, ma’am…,” the students replied lazily, some of them not bothering to.

The professor shook her head, half amused and half disappointed.

“Nope. That won’t do. I want everyone to greet me simultaneously and cheerfully. Can we do that? Let’s try again. Good morning, class!”

“Good morning, ma’am!” everyone replied this time, putting some effort.

“See! That’s much better!” she said, flashing a dazzling smile at us.

“I am Prof. Nisha Mehta. I’ll be your instructor for the Business Communications course this semester. We’ll go through the various rules and etiquette of formal communication, both verbal and written. We’ll also work on developing and refining your soft skills which are crucial to succeed in your careers.

“Since this is my first class with you all, why don’t we start with a small exercise? I invite each one of you to come up here and speak for a minimum of two minutes. Start with a small introduction of yourself and then speak on any topic of your choice. It could be about your hobbies, current affairs, politics or even your favorite movie. Easy, right?”

She picked up the attendance sheet and started calling out names randomly.

My heart jumped in my chest and palms became sweaty. One by one, each student made their way to the front of the classroom and spoke. Communications and public speaking were always my worst nightmare. They had terrorized me since my school days.

As a kid, I had a slight speech impediment which prevented me from speaking fluently. My pronunciations and fluency in English wasn’t all that great. On top of that, my overall shy, introverted personality had made me socially awkward. I preferred to hide at the back of the classroom. I tried my best to skip parties, social gatherings and crowded places. I had never participated in any extra-curricular activities that required any sort of performance in front of an audience.

I was so lost in my own dread that I jolted at the slight nudge from Zoheb. I saw my class mates staring at me. Apparently, the professor had called out my name.

“Sameer Negi?” she called out again.

“Yeah… yes ma’am,” I stammered, as I stood up.

She gestured me to come to the front of the class. I could feel the eyes of my fellow class mates watching my lanky frame. I made my way to the front of the classroom and stood near the professor’s desk.

My spectacles were foggy with the heat and sweat on my face. They kept sliding down my nose. I looked at the professor. She was seated gracefully in her chair and gestured me to go ahead. I turned to face the class with trepidation and pushed the spectacles up my nose. The professor’s sweet perfume was intoxicating. I started speaking.

It was a disaster. I introduced myself and spoke briefly about my hobby; photography. All throughout, I could never get the words out properly. I was flushed with shame and embarrassment. My entire face and ears felt hot. I fumbled and wanted to run away.

At the end of my turn, I saw the professor write something down. She was making notes on each student.

*****

As the weeks went by, the Business Communications class proved to be a pain in my ass. I was good with all the written stuff but struggled with anything verbal. Nisha ma’am soon had us working in small teams on short assignments in each class. I failed miserably in those as well.

Half of the semester soon passed by. I was doing well in my other courses, but continued to struggle in BC. Ma’am started giving me few tips, from time to time, to help me improve. I tried working on her advice but always came up short. By the end of the semester, I did well enough in the exams but wasn’t too confident about BC. I had never failed any course before in my life, but I had a bad feeling about this.

On the last day of the exams, Nisha ma’am asked me to meet her in her office. After finishing the test, I went to her office within the Department of Humanities. She was engrossed in a book as I approached her.

“Umm… ma’am…,” I called out politely to draw her attention.

“Ah! Sameer,” she said with a smile, “Have a seat.”

I sat on the chair in front of her desk.

“How was the exam?”

“Not bad.”

“What about the Business Communications test last week?”

“Umm… I am not sure, ma’am.”

“I’ve already started checking the answer papers. As I’ve mentioned before, I do give a lot of weightage to the assignments and tasks from the class.”

I looked at her nervously. Was she going to fail me?

“I’ve observed you closely during the semester. You are a good student. I spoke to your other professors. Received good feedback from them. They’re quite confident that you’d do well in your exams.

“As far as BC is concerned, your written work is quite good. I know you had put in your best efforts in the class. I’ll keep those in mind while handing out the final scores. But in my professional opinion, you still have a lot of improvement to do.”

“I know, ma’am,” I admitted.

“Now that your fifth semester is over, I want to ask you something. I hope you’ll answer me freely and honestly.”

I nodded, eagerly.

“What career path have you thought of, after graduation?”

“Uh… I am still unsure, ma’am. I didn’t want to pursue engineering, but my parents kind of pushed me into it. I don’t really like Mechanical Engineering. Now I am stuck with it. I just want to get through this with decent grades.”

She nodded, sympathetically.

“In that case, you’ve two popular options. One, would be to get into an IT services company. That is, if you’re interested in coding and software development. They usually hire from across all streams and impart all the training required to do the job.

“The other option would be to pursue an MBA degree and change your career path.”

I nodded, thinking.

“But, no matter which career you choose, you’ll have to improve your communications and soft skills.”

I looked down, on the verge of tears and exhaled in frustration.

“I know, ma’am. I’ve heard it all my life, that I need to talk more and be social. I’ve heard others say that my poor soft skills are holding me back from realizing my true potential. Yet, nobody tells me how to do it. I am completely lost at this point. I’ve given up trying.”

“Sameer, look at me. I’ll help you. I promise. Now cheer up!” she said with a smile.

I smiled back. It was impossible not to cheer up seeing her dazzling smile.

“Why don’t you drop by my house on Saturday morning? We’ll talk more in detail and figure out how to help you. I’ll text you my address. Is that, ok?” she asked.

I nodded and took my leave. I couldn’t believe my luck. Nisha ma’am wanted to help me!

I looked up ma’am’s FB profile that evening. Most of the details were hidden to general public. I could see that she was 36 years old and an alumnus of IIMA. I briefly considered sending her a friend request but chickened out.

*****

Saturday morning found me standing outside ma’am’s house, stunned. The house in front of me was a bungalow on the outskirts of the city.

Holy shit! She’s rich!

I parked my motorcycle and walked up to the security guard at the gate. I never really had a sense of fashion. I always wore oversized clothes to hide my lanky frame. Yet, I felt shabbily dressed that morning. I half expected the guard to turn me away but he was very polite. He got confirmation over the phone from within the house and let me in.

The broad driveway leading up to the house was flanked by beautiful gardens on either side. There was a fountain in front of the house with the driveway looping around it. I rang the bell. The door was answered by an elderly housemaid who ushered me into the living room. I looked around the big, richly decorated room and marveled at the opulence.

“Ah! There you are! Any trouble finding the location?” asked Nisha ma’am.

She walked into the room like a breath of fresh air. She wore a yellow poncho top and white trousers. It was the first time I had seen her in anything other than a saree. She looked mesmerizing as always and carried off the western outfit equally well. She sat on the sofa across from me and crossed her legs.

“No difficulties, ma’am. Your text message was quite detailed.”

I looked around again, still in awe of the room.

“Like the house?”

“It’s really beautiful, ma’am.”

She gestured towards a large portrait hanging on the wall behind me.

“My husband, Yash, is a businessman. His company’s done really well over the years.”

I looked at the portrait of ma’am with her husband. He was a smart looking, handsome man, with close cropped hair and a salt pepper beard.

“Handsome man! And a very handsome couple, I must say!”

She looked at me, surprised.

“Look at that! Improving your social skills. Complimenting the host. Not bad!”

I smiled, shyly.

“I am trying. Honestly, it’s you who’s putting me at ease. Thank you, for willing to help me out.”

For the next half hour, we spoke. She wanted me to talk about everything. I spoke about my childhood, family, growing up in Dehradun, my school, friends, photography, my speech impediment and my social awkwardness.

She listened to me with genuine interest unlike anyone else in the world. She got few calls and messages on her phone. She ignored them and put her phone on silent. Having the undivided attention and interest of such a beautiful, graceful woman spurred me to talk more. She spoke sparingly in between, asking me few pointed questions to get me to talk more.

She was casual and relaxed in her house than in the University. She felt more like a friend than a professor. That put me more at ease and got the conversation flowing smoothly.

Finally, she asked, “Do you talk much when you’re with your closest friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel any speech impediment while talking to them? Coz I haven’t notice any of that in the last half hour.”

That gave me pause. I thought back and realized that was true. Over the years, I had never felt any speech problems whenever I was with my closest friends.

“I don’t think you have the actual problem anymore. It might be more psychological now. Like a reaction to a stressful situation.”

I nodded, realizing that she may be right in her assessment.

“Would you be fine coming here, once a week? Let’s say, every Saturday? We can work on your development for an hour or two.”

“Yes ma’am. Definitely!” I said eagerly.

“And Sameer, let’s keep this arrangement between the two of us.”

*****

Throughout the sixth semester, I showed up at Nisha ma’am’s house every Saturday morning. For the first few weeks, she had me prepare a topic in advance and speak about it for fifteen minutes. She would correct my pronunciation wherever applicable. She also had me work on my gestures, non-verbal cues and eye contact as I spoke.

Few weeks later, we moved on to discussions and debates. She taught me how to put my points across, convincingly, to another person. She also coached me how to be calm and collected when my points were challenged.

We became more comfortable in each other’s presence, as the weeks went by. She sat closer to me on the sofa. Her clothes became more casual and comfortable. Although, she never spoke about her personal life, she did start giving me small snippets and glimpses of who she really was, as a person. She was joyous and cheerful on the outside. Yet I felt some sadness in her eyes and a loneliness in her soul.

On my part, I respected her immensely for the work she was doing to help me out. I was utterly grateful. She was so beautiful, elegant and charming. She was nothing short of a goddess, to me. Even though I was smitten long back, I respectfully avoided ogling her the slightest. I strictly maintained eye contact while talking to her. I kept my gaze away from her body even when she wasn’t looking. I loved her radiant smile and went out of my way to make her laugh. She was pleasantly surprised and I was amazed at discovering this funny, goofy side of my personality.

The progress I made at her house also reflected in my interactions in the class. I was more comfortable and friendly with everyone. I also spoke with some of the girls in my class for the first time, much to the amazement and envy of Zoheb.

*****

The sixth semester exams were soon upon us. That Saturday morning, I reached ma’am’s house at eight o’clock instead of the usual nine. She had asked me to come early to work on improving my posture.

I had a massive growth spurt in high school and had gained almost five inches of height in a year. I stood six feet tall. I had always been a scrawny kid and the extra height made me look lanky. I started walking with a hunched back to make myself look inconspicuous and smaller. That bad habit had stuck.

The housemaid, Tara, opened the door and ushered me in. She was a nice woman. I had learned her name during the second week of my lessons. Since then, I had made a habit of making small talk with her. Instead of taking me into the living room, where my lessons always took place, Tara took me to a different part of the house. She finally left me in the gym room. I saw Nisha ma’am working out on a lat-pull-down machine.

“Sam! Come on in. I am almost done with my workout. Then we’ll work on your posture. Give me a few minutes,” she said, huffing slightly, and resumed her workout.

Ma’am had started calling me Sam and asked me to introduce myself to people that way. The westernization of my Indian name had the intended effect of making it sound cool to my classmates.

I looked around. The gym looked nice with many expensive looking exercise machines. One entire wall was covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. Yet, my gaze kept coming back to ma’am.

She wore a figure-hugging black tank top and dark grey capri pants. It showed off her toned arms, shoulders and chest with a hint of cleavage. Her breasts were well outlined by the tank top. They heaved and fell with every rep of the exercise. Her hair was combed back and held tight in a pony tail. A light sheen of sweat covered her exposed skin, in spite of the air conditioning.

I had a hard time averting my gaze. She looked stunning. The workout made her skin flush and glow. She was focused on finishing the reps. I gave up trying to look away and admired her, surreptitiously. Soon, my cock stirred in my jeans and started to grow, much to my embarrassment.

She was done with the workout shortly and asked me to stand sideways in front of the mirror. I walked over, hoping the bulge in my jeans wasn’t too obvious.

“Take a good look at your overall body posture. See how it’s hunched up, here, and around here.”

She stood close to me and tapped my upper back and shoulders as she pointed out the areas. I could feel the warmth radiating from her body. She was still breathing heavily after her workout. Her chest heaved in and out visibly.

“Now stand straight, shoulders back and chest out.”

She pulled my shoulders back and I followed the rest of her instructions.

“Now look in the mirror. That’s what a good posture should look like. I want you to remember this. Practice it every day in front of a mirror. Consciously incorporate it in your daily life. Tell your friend, Zoheb, to remind you to straighten up every time you hunch or slump. Unlearning a bad habit is difficult, but with regular practice, this will become a new habit.”

I looked into the mirror and memorized the posture. My eyes fell on her reflection. She looked about five foot six. She too, stood sideways and I could see her figure and posture. Head held high, back straight, pert round breasts, a slim midsection, toned thighs, taut butt with shapely legs.

“Had a good look?” she asked, with the hint of sly smile.

She moved away from the mirror. I followed her to one of the exercise machines meant for upper back workout. She showed me how to operate it and made me do a few reps. Then she made me workout my shoulders on another machine. Finally, she showed me few stretching exercises for the back, shoulders and core muscles. Her lithe body moved easily and stretched far more than I was able to manage. I was anyways engrossed in watching her than trying to mimic her moves.

“Do you workout?” she asked me as we wrapped up the session. We sat facing each other on the exercise benches.

“Not really. This was my first time working out in a gym.”

“You should. Exercise releases endorphins in the body which makes us feel happy. Improving your overall personality has a lot to do with how you look and feel. Working out and staying fit will not only improve your posture, but also make you look good and feel confident.”

She pulled out the scrunchie to let her hair fall open. She gave her head a shake, airing out her damp hair. She bent forward and started untying her shoes. I had a good, clear view of her cleavage and was glued to the scene. My arousal, that had subsided, was back with a vengeance and my cock stirred again. It took some time for her to untie and untangle the laces, giving me ample time to ogle her.

My cock was hard and uncomfortable within the confines of my jeans. I usually jerked off every alternate day but hadn’t done so for the last four days. It was already due and that made matters worse.

She finally took off her shoes and stood up.

“Sam, I have to leave shortly for a meeting. You can take your time. Once you’ve cooled down, you can take a shower in the bathroom over there,” she said, pointing to a corner of the gym.

“There will be fresh towels on the rack. If you need anything else, just call Tara.

“Oh, and one more thing. Let’s cancel our sessions until after your semester exams are done. Concentrate on your revisions for now.”

The moment she left, I hurried over to the bathroom and got inside. I opened my jeans and pulled it down along with my boxers. Freed of its confines, my cock stood straight. I sighed in relief. It had been uncomfortable for the last few minutes. I took off the rest of my clothes and hung them to dry. The bathroom was small but luxurious. I got into the bathing area and took a shower, hoping to cool down from the exercise as well as calm my arousal.

I turned off the shower once I was done. My cock was still hard as rock. There was no way I could fit it back into my jeans and travel all the way back to my room. I saw a bottle of shower gel on the shelf. I squirted some of it into my hands, leaned back against the wall and applied the gel all over my cock and balls. The slippery sensation felt good. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel.

Images of Nisha ma’am floated in my mind; glowing, perspiring, breathing hard, breasts heaving in her tank top as she worked out. I fondled my balls with one hand and worked on my cock with the other. The image of her, bent forward with her cleavage on display, was seared into my brain. It didn’t take long for me to go over the edge. I came hard, ropes of creamy fluid shooting out onto the floor. The orgasm was really intense.

As I recovered, feelings of guilt and shame washed over me. I had just jerked off, fantasizing my professor; the one person I respected and adored immensely.

Shit! What have I done? This is so wrong.

*****

The next two weeks were spent in revisions. Then the sixth semester exams for two weeks after that. The last exam was on a Friday. I hadn’t seen or spoken to ma’am in almost four weeks. I missed our sessions and longed to talk to her again. I needed to discuss with her about the future of our sessions. There was still so much to learn from her. I was addicted to spending couple of hours with her every week.

With the last exam done, I decided to visit her house that Friday evening itself. I hadn’t informed her that I’d be visiting. I reached her house around eight o’clock and rang the doorbell. Tara opened the door and was surprised to see me.

“Sameer! Is ma’am expecting you?” she asked, sounding slightly uneasy.

“Nope. I just came by to talk to her. Is she home?

“Yeah… but this may not be a good time,” she said, hesitantly.

“Oh… I should’ve called before coming over. Ok… I’ll talk to her later,” I said.

I was disappointed to have come all this way and not being able to see her. I turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said.

She looked away, her face scrunched, wrestling with her thoughts, as if trying to make a decision. She exhaled visibly and asked me to come in.

She took me into the living room, sat me down and said, “I shouldn’t be telling you this, so I’ll appreciate if you can keep this a secret. I am just a housemaid but ma’am has always treated me as family. I care about her. It’s her birthday today. But she’s not in a good emotional state right now. She’s been crying and drinking this evening.”

“Oh… I didn’t know it was her birthday. Why is she upset?”

“That’s not for me to say. But it breaks my heart to see her this way. That too, today of all days.

“I’ve known her for the past eight years. She used to be so joyous, so full of life. Now, all I see is just a shadow of her former self. Except, during the times she’s with you. I’ve seen both of you together. You cheer her up and make her laugh. She’s always in a good mood after your visits.

“She needs that now. I think she’d be happy to see you. She told me not to have her disturbed, but I am acting here on my own. You should go upstairs and talk to her. She’s in the balcony.”

“Don’t worry, Tara. I’ll do my best to cheer her up.”

*****

I made my way upstairs. Sounds of an old, melancholic Hindi song wafted through the air as I reached the first floor.

Wow! She’s really depressed.

I found the door to the balcony. There was a music player just at the entrance, playing the songs. I stepped out onto a very spacious balcony with lots of potted plants, few lounge chairs and a small table. There was a small, well stocked bar at one corner.