Fucking sexy art teacher

By   May 13, 2016

Hi! This is Aniruddha (name changed), from Kolkata. I am an avid reader of IST and I like almost all the sexy stories that are published in this site. Here I want to share with you folks an experience of my life.

Other parts of the Indian sex stories-

Part 1

Part 2

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Before that, let me introduce myself. I am a Bengali. I love travelling, especially in the mountains. Painting and photography are my two other hobbies which I pursue for the food of my heart.

This particular incident which I am going to narrate here occurred more than a decade ago. That was the time this city has not changed its colonial name, and we called her Calcutta. That was the time when sky kissing high-rise apartments were not such a common sight.

Golpark, a posh location in the southern part of this city. In an apartment there, I used to take tuition for painting. I was in the XI standard that time. My painting teacher was a lady. She was at that time in late twenties or early thirties. She had a great figure, admirable. She was tall, beautiful.

I remember her fair complexion, hairs up to hip length, her specs with black rim, and a big bindi on her forehead. She was very much particular about her body and fitness, and she was one of the morning joggers in the nearby lake area.

Her husband, as far as I remember, was a professor of Economics in the nearby university. Both of them had exquisite taste towards art and culture and I remember the walls of their huge apartment were gallery of large paintings and craft works of eminent painters and tribal artisan of our country.

We were a batch of seven-eight students. But among them, I had observed that she used to give a bit of extra care towards me. Most of the days I noticed her, she maintained herself well dressed in saree, sleeveless blouse, bindi, and specs. I used to gaze at her beauty tirelessly; her bare arms, a bangle in her left hand, and a writ watch in her right one; her waist line.

She flaunted her saree bit low waste, and her navel peeped frequently. I was good in painting and I used to think that her partiality towards me was due to that very sole reason. We all batch-mates, including three girls, were obsessed with her figure, and we boys discussed about her a lot amongst us, to which the girls used to laugh a lot, but at times they also participated in it!

I remember, it was a routine class, and at the end, she asked me and Garima (batch-mate) to visit her following Saturday as we both missed the previous class where she taught about tempera painting. We nodded and the time was fixed at noon. It was August, and this time it rains a lot in Bengal.

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Gorgeous mam in Saree

It was raining for the last three-four days like cats and dogs, and the city had practically come to a hault. I thought that I could not go to the tuition because of the incessant rain. But around 10 am it stopped pouring, and after an hour I changed my mind and decided to go. It was drizzling all through. I reached around 12 noon and Mam opened the door.

She was pretty surprised to see me as Garima called her in the morning and told her that she was not going to come due to rain. Now I was in a fix, what to do. Mam asked me to seat and she went to the kitchen to fetch water. I sat on the sofa, assuming no class today and me also leaving soon. I was planning how to spend the afternoon.

Movie, or Suraj’s place (friend, who stays nearby). There was not adequate money in my pocket to settle down for a movie ticket! As I was thinking all these trivially, Mam came with the water. She was dressed as usual. And I remember, she didn’t wear her wrist watch that day. She came and sat by my side and offered me water.

But I don’t know where my mind was! I was gazing at her. Her long untied hair was telling that she bathed not long ago and I could smell a beautiful fragrance as she sat near to me. I was just been overwhelmed by her beauty, her bare arms, her neck line… I noticed for the first time a tiny black mole just beneath her ear lobe.

“Hello, where are you? What are you looking at?” she asked with a smile. I came to my sense and was shy enough to look up; somehow managed to utter “No, nothing…” There was nobody else in the apartment. I saw her maid left at the main entrance while I was coming in. And her husband went abroad last week to attend some international conference.

It was all silent, except the ceiling fan making noise, and a Bengali magazine’s pages were incessantly trying to be free from the binding with a little help from the fan! Suddenly she broke the silence and asked me whether I have any other appointment. I confessed no. She then casually asked me about my hobby.

She was also elaborately discussing regarding different fields of painting. I don’t know, but my mind was not at all in her lectures. I was feeling restless from within. She probably noticed me. She suddenly asked to look at her eyes. I made contact with her eyes, and she told me that she wants to paint on my body. I was shocked as such a thing was totally outside my domain of thinking.

“What?” It was the only reaction I could make at that time. She lowered her voice and whispered the same. She took my bag away from my lap and asked me to take a bath. She passed me the towel. I hesitated and even tried to raise objection. But my faint voice was too feeble in comparison to her confidence. I had no other choice but to step in her washroom with the towel.

I locked and undressed. I found my dick to be erect and my heart was pounding. I was under the shower and when about to finish, she knocked the door and asked me to come out covering with the towel. I saw my naked body in the mirror. I don’t know what’s in the store outside, but was fully sure that something not normal.

Well I am tall, 5’11”; slim athletic body (used to play football everyday) and thankfully, courtesy to porn movie cassettes back home, I grew up a habit of cleaning my pubic hair regularly. I remember I was clean that day, only embarrassment was my cock not coming down, it was just a hard rod.

LOL. Since I could not help myself, I desperately tried to cover the front tent like structure of the towel with my posture and the knot. I stepped outside as it was the first time I appeared before her with bare chest. She was sitting on the sofa, leaning slightly on the front, with her elbow resting on her knee and her palm on her chin. She was gazing at me, she was smiling.