Desi Sex Stories It was the 2nd of June, a date that will forever live in my personal hall of fame. Things started with a free health check-up in the office and ended with me questioning my every life choice.
Turns out the real diagnosis of these health checks was that: I’m an idiot with terrible decision-making skills and an extremely flexible travel schedule!
Chapter 1: Seema vs Ice Cubes: We Never Thought We’d get here!
Our company, in its bid to show us that they’re our guardian angel and that they care a lot about us, decided to sponsor a full blood-and-urine test for every single employee.
I’m now speaking as a man who has attended enough all-hands meetings to know their corporate language. They’ll find out who’s carrying enough chronic illness to become a future liability, then quietly schedule their exit interview under the polite subject line of ‘company restructuring’.
I walked into the office at 10 AM expecting the usual mind fucking trackers, dashboards, spreadsheets and slide decks. Instead I found a full-blown medical camp.
Nobody was working. People were filling forms, queuing up in the corridor. I dumped my bag on the desk. That’s when Seema appeared.
Seema: Work can wait, Pratty. The test is free! Let’s get it done before they change their minds and start charging us.
Before I could even open my laptop, she had my arm in a grip that suggested either her deep affection for me or maybe proof of her certification in office kidnapping.
Next thing I knew, I was standing in a line that moved with the speed of government paperwork. We were collecting forms, and eventually being pushed into the meeting room that had been converted into a temporary blood collection camp.
A man handed each of us three or four test tubes and a small plastic container that had turned yellow from the bottom inside. It looked suspiciously like it had previously held takeaway dal. Gross!
The guy said: After we take the blood in these test tubes, you give us the urine in these containers.
Seema looked at me with a smile that should have come with a strict parental advisory warning. Something was cooking in that tiny brain of hers, and I had this feeling it involved some bodily fluids that HR would not approve of.
A woman came around, stuck stickers on our urine containers, scribbled our names and form numbers as if she was labeling evidence at a crime scene. Then told us to go pee and return.
We walked towards the washrooms together. Halfway there, Seema leaned in and whispered the kind of idea that made me re-evaluate my friendship with her.
Seema: Pratty, I’ve been watching a lot of piss-related porn lately. I’m completely hooked on it. I need to try something like that with you. Now is the best time. Let’s sneak into the handicap washroom, piss into the container — I’ve been holding mine since last night, by the way, so there’s going to be some overflow — and then sprinkle the rest on each other’s faces and mouths!
Her horribly evil heavy laughter followed this. I would have still agreed if she instead told me that we’d set fire to the founder’s car in the basement for all the torture we have got in this company. But this? Gross!
Me: Eww! That’s gross. Look, I’m not saying I’m completely against piss sports, but can we at least keep it below the face? And preferably not here where our colleagues are currently discussing things like thyroid problems, pre-diabetes, and cholesterol levels almost two meters away?
She laughed, like a punarjanam (re-birth) of the devil but in a formal shirt.
Seema: Chill, bro. I was kidding you. Why don’t we leave early and go to my place instead? It’s empty for now until the next two weeks. We can have some good time.
She winked hard enough to dislocate something in my pants!
Me: I don’t know, Seema. Lots of work. Lots of stress. New high-visibility project I’m working on.
Seema: Let me be frank, Pratty. Lots of things going on in my life. I’m depressed and lonely. I need you. You know me. You can comfort me mentally and in other ways.
Me: I still don’t know. I’m drowning in meetings. Totally swamped with work. Even if I come, I might not be of any useful company.
Seema: That’s bad. I needed your presence. We both could relieve ourselves in a good way.
I took a deep breath and dropped the nuclear option.
Me: Things are getting better between Anjali and me. We’re seriously trying for a baby. I’ve been doing some tests myself. Following abstinence for a few days.
Seema looked pissed off.
Seema: Abstinence, Pratty? Real men don’t abstain. They drain into their favorite woman’s pussy whenever the opportunity arises. This is just not your type!
Me: Sorry, dear. I’m passing it this time.
Seema: Okay. I’m unhappy. You said no when I needed you the most. You’ll pay for it. You’ll need me someday, and we’ll settle these scores then.
She stormed into the washroom like a woman who had just been denied both emotional support and maybe golden shower rights.
I did my business in peaceful loneliness, returned, and submitted the container. Then buried myself in my laptop so deeply as if I nearly became one with its screen. The guy on my neighboring desk noticed my new phone.
He picked it up in his hands and said: Nice. But the back cover isn’t great. Looks better without it.
Seema appeared again, snatched the phone, peeled off the cover, and inspected it like it was some very rare shiny magnum opus stone.
Seema: Some things actually look good and feel better without a cover. But some guys won’t understand.
That taunt was so subtle, like a brick thrown at me out of nowhere. This other guy walked away as someone called him for his blood samples.
Seema: (almost crying) You don’t know how depressed I am. Ashwin was supposed to come this week, and he bloody canceled. In-laws left me behind. Lots of things going on in my life. I beg you — come with me. Even if we don’t have sex, it’s fine. I need you!
I knew perfectly well that if we met, sex was not optional. It would happen like a mandatory setting. I still said no. Things with Anjali were finally showing signs of life, and I wasn’t ready to waste that progress. Seema left fuming.
Then the senior manager dropped the second bomb of the day. Seema was leaving the organization for better opportunities. Friday would be her last working day.
Everyone rushed over to wish her well. I stayed glued to my chair. Later, she herself came to my desk.
Seema: Fine. Carry on with your abstinence shit. We’ll settle our scores one day!
Someone created a WhatsApp group called “Seema Farewell Discussion” that deliberately excluded her, for all the obvious reasons.
The energy to give her a farewell party didn’t exist in the team. Group creation was just a formality to show our boss that we tried. People were least bothered about her exit. I offered to buy the gift and split later.
Everyone agreed since they didn’t have to do anything at all. For me, even if they don’t pay me, it’s fine. I’m gifting it to my favorite colleague anyway!
I ordered a smart watch — metallic strap, fake diamonds studded around the dial like a middle-class attempt at luxury.
Friday, 5th June. I placed the watch on her desk before she arrived. The farewell was the usual mix of polite praise and carefully worded “growth opportunities.” When she opened the gift, she looked genuinely stunned.
Thankfully, a woman went to her and said: This was Pratty’s idea. He coordinated everything for today!
Seema: Aww, that’s so sweet of you. Thanks, Pratty!
At the end of the day, after her final log-out, people gathered for goodbyes. I went last. She hugged me tightly, pressing every available curve against me.
Seema: I’m happy for the gift, so I’ve temporarily forgiven you. But I pray we meet soon. You’ll get one punishment from me that time.
Me: Yes, I ought to be punished. Where are you headed, anyway?
Seema: Ashwin is still in the Gulf. I’m trying to gel with the in-laws, and without him it’s next to impossible. I needed a break. Moving to Gurgaon. If he’s not home, I thought I too could stay away. It’s long distance anyway.
Me: Wow. Great. I hope our paths might cross someday.
Seema: I pray they do. I’ll miss you. Keep in touch.
We hugged again. A few male colleagues looked like they wanted to file a formal complaint with HR about unequal distribution of farewell affection by Seema!
My grand abstinence plan lasted exactly as long as you’d expect when Anjali is involved, if you know what I actually mean!
Two weeks of no porn, no self-service, not imagining things about sexy women. I didn’t even get a nightfall! The universe was clearly saving my seed for later.
Then, on the 14th of June, the senior manager dragged me into a Teams meeting halfway through. People started clapping the moment I joined.
I sat there wearing the facial expression of a man who has just been told he won a free cruise to a destination he never applied for.
New project with one of the world’s top-ten pharma companies. Their leadership was requesting an in-person meeting. I had to go for a presentation. I briefly thought “onsite opportunity?” until they said the magic word: Gurgaon.
A few guys from this client company flew in from Europe and would be in India for a couple of weeks, they said.
Ah! Now I understood why everyone else had suddenly developed urgent prior commitments. They denied it since it wasn’t international travel.
This was domestic travel; so, no foreign allowance. No fancy hotel. Just Gurgaon — where Seema now lived. Of course I had to call her. The bond we had made avoiding her next to impossible.
They wanted me there Friday morning, conduct the presentation, then back home the same night. Cost-cutting on accommodation. To sweeten the deal, they threw in business class tickets.
Normally, domestic travel is economy all the way, whether flight or hotel. This felt like the corporate equivalent of – we know this is a trap, so you might as well take a nicer seat. Shut the fuck up and stay happy, maybe because we’re sending you on biz travel!
That evening I called Seema. She rejected the first two call attempts. Third time she picked up.
Seema: Pratty bastard. I knew you’d call one day. This time, I’m saying no. Bye!
She hung up. But I texted back.
Me: Seema, I’m coming to Gurgaon this Friday. It’s a new client. One small presentation and I’m back the same night. Thought I’d inform you. We could catch up if you want.
Her reply arrived so fast, as if she had been waiting for exactly this moment.
Seema: Oh! So God listened to my prayers. He sent you here. Do meet me. We’ll settle things.
Me: Sure. Wherever you are in this world, if I come there and I know you’re there, I can’t leave without meeting you!
Seema: Aww! So sweet!
Tickets were booked. I even got my bags packed. Friday arrived. The presentation went surprisingly well. The clients already trusted us from previous work and seemed more interested in their Friday night party than my presentation. We made handshakes, and I left, with hours left with me to kill!
I called Seema, told her I was in some building in Cyber City.
Seema: Perfect. My office is just across the road. Meet me on the skywalk. I’ll invent some excuse and spend the day with you. Just give me thirty minutes.
The skywalk was pure Gurgaon flex — glass buildings on either side, highway below. People actually using the skywalk for leisurely walks. It didn’t even feel like India!
I was enjoying the view when Seema came running. We collided in a bear hug. She kissed my chest because, hey, the height difference is so cruel! Then she slapped both my arms repeatedly.
Seema: What you did last time still makes me angry. Do something for me. Please me.
Me: Sorry. How about I give you a treat? You show me some nearby attractions, and I catch the evening flight? We have the whole day.
Seema: Just until the evening? That’s nothing. Your punishment is canceling the return ticket right now, in front of me.
Me: But the company already paid for it!
Seema: Exactly! The company paid, you didn’t. You lose nothing. Book another one later. Your entire weekend belongs to me. Don’t say no this time. There’s a way we can be good again!
I canceled. What other choice did I have? Texted Anjali the classic “visit got extended, might be back Sunday” message. She offered to make my stay arrangements at her aunt’s home in Chandni Chowk.
Everyone has that one relative living in Delhi. If you’re in Delhi, your family members definitely tell you to visit them.
I politely declined, saying that I’m claiming company accommodation. Guilt sat in my stomach like a stale samosa, but the decision was already made.
We went to Seema’s dorm. She shared it with a female pilot who wouldn’t return for five days. Perfect!
We changed into comfortable clothes, and during that time she tickled me near my nipples. I tickled her back. Within seconds it escalated into a full-blown tickle war.
We ran around the place laughing like crazy. Then we reached a corner where she stacked newspapers. I picked one of them, rolled it into a stick, and started hitting her (of course, playfully). She too got one ready, and it was now a full-blown sword fight.
Then Seema ran into the kitchen and returned with something hidden in her hand. She chased me. I ran. Then she showed that the ice cube she hid in her hand was kept at her back.
The ice cube found its way inside my T-shirt, and I screamed like a man who sat on a live wire.
I caught the cube, then turned the tables, and shoved it into her T-shirt. She danced as the ice moved on her body. We laughed until we couldn’t breathe. Then the laughter stopped. We were too close. Eyes locked. She kissed me like she had been saving it for months.
Clothes vanished. She went sloppy all over me, then stopped with that wicked smile.
Seema: Pratty, are you thinking what I’m thinking?
Me: I never know what you’re thinking. That’s the problem!
She ordered me to get another ice cube. Asked for mouth-to-mouth delivery. She pushed me down, climbed on top of me, and slowly dragged the melting cube with her mouth, touching it across my body with her lips until it disappeared near the danger zone, i.e., my dick!
Then her signature humming blowjob started. It was the one with slurp, pop, and sucking sounds until I groaned and finished in her mouth.
Round two. She ordered me to get a fresh cube. She put it in my mouth, lay down, and I returned the favor. Moved it across her face, neck, armpits, breasts, all over.
She laughed, moaned, demanded more. I got more ice cubes, worked them down her stomach, navel, thighs, and finally on her pussy until it melted completely.
Then my tongue took over. She had a bush that was slightly more ambitious than a cactus. I spat out a couple of hairs. She apologized. I told her it didn’t matter. We were past the point of caring about the landscape of our bodies turning rough with age.
I licked and sucked until she came hard into my mouth; her fingers held my hair tightly. Then she pulled me up, kissed me deeply (tasting herself), and told me to get inside. I rubbed the tip of my penis on her pussy entrance a few times, then sank in.
Seema: (moaned) You don’t know how much I’ve missed you. How much my pussy missed your dick!
The ice play had built everything to a painful peak. The pounding was severe. We moaned like we were auditioning for an adult film until I came inside her. Her body kept dripping. The insanely severe orgasm left both of us shaking and breathless for longer than usual! I collapsed next to her.
Seema: That was the best one I ever had!
Me: Best one so far. We’ll have more, won’t we?
She just giggled, cuddled, and within seconds was drooling and snoring on my chest. Her sweat smelled like cherries. I missed that earthy scent. My body had officially become her favorite mattress.
I watched the sunset through the open window and eventually dozed off from pure exhaustion.
Hours later I woke to pitch darkness. She was still drooling. I ran my fingers through her hair. She woke, opened her eyes, saw nothing, and panicked.
Seema: Pratty, am I blind?
Me: No, dear. Look outside — distant building lights are visible. Chill!
We got up laughing at that, kissed, closed the windows, drew the curtains, and switched on the lights. The room looked like a hurricane had come. Clothes everywhere. Pillows scattered. A rolled-up newspaper was lying around that had been used as a sword during the earlier chase.
We stood there naked, arms around each other, messy hair, queasy mouths, laughing at the wreckage of our intense afternoon. Then we cleaned up while talking about everything the way we always do.
Next chapter soon. Assuming I survive the guilt and the return flight!
If you’ve liked this, hit me up at [email protected]. Until then, stay horny, readers!
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