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Hot morning 🔥💦

The monsoon rain hammered the glass walls of the Bandra high-rise, turning the Mumbai skyline into blurred streaks of gold and red. Inside the apartment the air felt thick, charged, almost electric. Vikram stood close behind Meera as she set the whiskey glasses down. His chest brushed her back with every slow breath. When she turned, their eyes locked and held. Neither looked away. The space between them vanished until the soft curve of her breasts pressed against the hard plane of his chest. He lifted one hand and traced the side of her neck, fingertips moving with deliberate slowness. Meera’s lips parted on a shaky inhale. He leaned in and kissed her. The kiss was deep and hungry from the first second, tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting the faint burn of whiskey. She answered with equal force, fists curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him tighter until there was no space left. His hands slid down her back and gripped her ass through the thin kurta, squeezing hard enough to draw a soft sound from her throat. She pushed her hips forward and felt the thick, insistent line of his cock press against her stomach. He was already fully hard. The knowledge sent a fresh rush of heat between her thighs. Vikram’s mouth left hers and trailed hot, open kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. His hands moved up, cupping her breasts through the fabric, thumbs dragging slowly over her nipples until they tightened into stiff peaks. Meera’s head tipped back. She was already wet. She could feel the slickness gathering, the soft pulse of her cunt with every rough stroke of his thumbs. She yanked his shirt up, palms sliding over the hard ridges of his chest and stomach. Her nails scraped lightly down his sides. He groaned into her mouth and kissed her harder, almost punishing. Their bodies pressed flush. He ground the heavy length of his cock against her in slow, deliberate circles, letting her feel every thick inch through their clothes. Meera’s hand found the front of his trousers. She cupped him, squeezed, felt the heat and the strong pulse under her palm. Something in both of them snapped at the same moment. Vikram grabbed the front of her kurta and ripped it open. Buttons scattered across the marble. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, nipples dark and tight. He stared for a beat, breathing hard, then tore the rest of the cloth down her arms. Meera did the same to him, ripping his shirt apart, shoving the ruined fabric off his shoulders. Her nails dragged down his bare chest. His hands went to her jeans. He did not bother with the button. The zipper tore under his grip. He shoved the denim and her soaked panties down her hips in one rough motion. Cool air kissed her cunt. She was dripping, the soft inner lips shiny and swollen. Vikram’s fingers slid between her thighs, two of them sinking easily into the wet heat. She clenched around him with a broken moan. He lifted her onto the edge of the kitchen island, spread her thighs wide, and dropped to his knees between them. The first long, flat lick of his tongue dragged from the bottom of her soaked opening all the way up to her clit. Meera’s whole body jerked. He did it again, slower this time, tasting her thoroughly, the warm slickness coating his tongue. He groaned against her cunt like the taste alone was enough to drive him mad. Then he settled in and began to work her properly. His tongue circled her clit in tight, firm loops, never quite giving her the direct pressure she needed, building the ache until her hips started to lift. He held her thighs open with both hands, thumbs spreading her lips so he could see every wet fold. When he finally sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, Meera’s head fell back with a sharp cry. He licked her with focused hunger, alternating between broad strokes that covered everything and precise flicks against the swollen bud. Every few seconds he pushed his tongue inside her, fucking her with it, tasting how much wetter she was becoming. Her juices ran down his chin. He did not care. He only pressed closer, tongue working deeper, nose brushing her clit while he licked inside her. Meera’s fingers tangled in his hair. Her thighs trembled on either side of his head. The tension coiled tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. She came hard against his mouth, cunt pulsing, a fresh rush of slick pouring out onto his tongue. Her cry echoed through the apartment. Vikram did not stop. He kept licking through the orgasm, slower now but relentless, drawing every last flutter out of her. When her body tried to twist away from the oversensitivity he held her thighs firmer and licked harder, focusing on the still-throbbing clit, sucking it gently between his lips, then lashing it with the tip of his tongue until a second, sharper climax ripped through her. Meera sobbed his name, legs shaking violently, more wetness flooding his mouth. Still he did not stop. He licked her through the second orgasm...

Love can warn. Love can advise. Love can refuse to fund a bad decision. Love can be there when someone falls. But when love becomes choosing for someone, solving everything for them, and shielding them from every consequence, it stops preparing them for life. A person protected from every fall may never learn how to stand without the protector🌺🖤

When everything else fails, pain remains.The sole reason I'm writing this today is that through everything that has happened till now, pain has been a permanent companion. Love disappeared, comfort disappeared, hate disappeared, smiles disappeared. But the pain of the memories of all of these emotions that had forsaken me gave me the worst days of my life till today.Imagine yourself to be an outcast for the remaining length of this piece of writing. Take a deep breath, forget who you are, and imagine being that person who isn't good at anything other than feeling emotions. Now you count on others because you can't count on yourself. You don't know why, you don't know how, you end up with a glass arm extending from the bottom of your heart to the shoulder of the other person. You wish you could get their hearts too. You wish you could feel what they really feel about you. But you content yourself with your crystalline arm resting on their shoulder. And you believe that you're going to be okay. And you forget who you really are. And that's when the other person stops caring. Because you're not interesting anymore. And then you feel the glass arm shattering, slowly and painfully. Every crack sends ripples through your spine. Every ripple is followed by a storm inside your stomach, mortal and insolent, making you forget, in that moment, how it feels to feel. The paradox of this situation is greater than the significance of the pieces of glass lying all around you, crunching under the footsteps of people who you wished could see you because you're very much real and your pain is very much real. But nobody ever sees you.A sense of attachment that you feel for someone you can place your metaphorical arm on is greater than that which you have for your real, physical arms. You won't mind cutting yourself if you can have that one person back. The only thing which keeps you going is the pain you hold inside yourself. This pain makes you feel human because you have forgotten how anything else feels. This pain, single-handedly, reminds you of everything you have forgotten and everything you wish for once again. And the memory of a time when you could feel the warm kiss of love upon your wet cheeks can never be replaced by the fabric of your pillow cover sticking to your tear-ridden face.But this is not the end. It's only just the beginning. You're broken, with pieces of yourself missing, dreams and hopes lying on the floor scattered and turned to dust. You have empty spaces. You have a heart. It will seek healing. But you must silence the mind. For the mind is what stirs trouble in times of peace. It doesn't know what is to come. It only knows what has been.There are episodes of this life I have inked down today which I cannot tell you about with full disclosure. But I can tell you this - I saw it through a windscreen and I saw it through the clouds. I felt like I'm touching everything but feeling nothing. I felt like I was blind. I felt all of my love in my torturously pulsating heart. And I'm still here, writing about this in better health.I guess what I want to say is that you can escape love, even if for the blink of a heavy eye, but you cannot escape pain.🖤

Believe me when I say, scars remain. Yes, wounds heal, you stop writhing with pain, but the scars remain. They remain forever. What breaks you will make you cry, make you feel destroyed and willing to run away from the world-emotions-yourself, but sadly you cannot! You stay right there, you grow up. You heal. You nurture yourself back to health, back to where you can believe or try to believe in people, in things. Those daydreams, nightmares, tears, midnight anxiety, everything gets better. You stop crying every time you think of them, you stop imagining things to go back to the way they were, you stop hoping for them to realise the love-mistake-hurt-anything and you start to breathe again. Your chest doesn't feel that heavy anymore, with time, but you still lose a breathe when that name suddenly hits you. But that's okay. You are getting better. You get a routine, you are busy, you are talking less, you are believing less, and you are being yourself less, but that's okay. A small price to not feel choked with the pain, to not feel dismantled with every accusation you heard, to not risk your little broken heart again, to avoid another soul-wrenching-end. But suddenly one day you realise, you are fine. Just like that, in a random moment, you realise you are fine. You are going good. You are keeping the lessons, not the pain. You have unconsciously stopped searching that tshirt-specs-smile-hair in anyone and everyone. Your mind doesn't make those random meeting scenarios anymore. You have finally accepted it's over and you are in a better place. It wasn't easy. It wasn't early. But it happened finally.🖤

Why is morning sex the best? ☀️ 🟦In the morning, rhythms coincide At this time you wake up aroused, and his desire has not yet diminished. Morning sex makes relationships stronger. 🟦Sex as a morning workout This is not boring jogging or squats. The physical load is similar. 🟦Good mood Get endorphins in the morning and charge yourself with positive energy for the whole day.

When memories begin to haunt you, creeping into every night and following you into every waking hour, there comes a morning when you finally wish you could erase your mind and begin again. But even forgetting requires editing. There are parts I want to destroy completely, fragments I would not mind carrying, and a precious few I want engraved upon my heart until my final breath. I do not want to lose everything. I only want certain tiny sections of my memory obliterated so completely that even their absence can no longer hurt me. Feelings often return like faint aromas drifting through the air. Some people pause and recognise them. Others merely sense them and allow them to pass. Some dissect every trace, separating it into smaller pieces, desperately searching for the origin and meaning of the scent. Others brush it away and let it disappear untouched. Perhaps that is the curse of those who feel too deeply. They ponder things that may never have existed, search for meaning in every silence, and try to understand life with a depth it was never designed to endure. And so, time after time, they find themselves broken not only by what happened, but by everything they imagined, analysed, remembered, and could never bring themselves to forget. 🖤

When the cervical and lumbosacral spine begin tormenting the body together, you stop asking for relief and start begging death for mercy, only to discover that even death refuses to answer🌺

It's better to have a few true, countable friends who stand by you through thick and thin the kind who don’t need to be asked, who are there for you unconditionally. Quality always outweighs quantity when it comes to relationships. At the same time, it’s important to distance yourself from so-called "friends" who only show up when they need something. One-sided friendships where your support is constant, but theirs is absent when you need it drain more than they give. Such people shouldn't have a place in your life. Know when to draw the line, and don't be afraid to cut ties for your own peace. Happy Friendship Day 💝