"It’s Not Cheating If...." [MF]

I'm not your average girl next door. A confident and curvy desi girl. Full hips, tiny waist, and boobs that fight to escape every outfit I wear. My wardrobe's a collection of barely-there clothes: crop tops so tight they're practically painted on, shorts that hug my thighs and ride up just enough to turn heads, dresses that cling like they're obsessed with me. I know people stare, their eyes tracing the sway of my hips or the bounce of my chest when I walk. And I love it. My nights are wild, a revolving door of loud, sweaty hookups with guys (or girls ;p), my bedroom echoing with moans and creaking bedframes almost every other day. But don't get me wrong, I'm a damn good roommate. I keep the place spotless, cook enough for two when I'm making my famous spicy chicken curry, never have messy laundry lying around, and pay rent right on time, every time. A girl like me could be a lot to handle, which is why finding a roommate was a real challenge.

I wasn't about to live with another woman. Too much drama, too many fights over petty things, like stolen makeup or boyfriends. Not my fault they can't help but want me? Anywhoo, that's when I found Arjun. He's the kind of guy who's got his shit together: straight-A student turned corporate lawyer at some big-shot firm. He works from home most days, his desk a fortress of neat legal files and a multiple glowing screens. He's clean, almost annoyingly so, and stays fit, broad shoulders and a lean frame that fill out his button-downs just right. When he's not working, he's glued to his video games. Best part? He's been in a steady relationship for 3 years now, Maya was her name. They're that couple you can't help but root for, steady, solid, no nonsense. Also helped that she didn't mind how I dressed, Arjun wasn't the type to be swayed easily, and they were pretty active sexually. So it was perfect.

Well, that was until Maya got into her dream master's program at some fancy university halfway across the country. It's a once-in-a-lifetime deal, but it meant leaving Arjun behind for TWO whole years. I saw how it hit him, his dark eyes heavy, his voice breaking when he told me he'd support her no matter what. He meant it, but her absence settled into our apartment like a thick fog. For a bit, things stayed normal. I'd hear his low voice through the wall at night, talking to Maya on the phone, their video chats soft and intimate. But I could tell it wasn't enough. He'd linger in the kitchen, staring into his coffee like it held answers, or tense up when he thought I wasn't looking. He was falling apart.

One evening, I found him slumped on the couch, his game controller forgotten beside him, the TV stuck on a paused match. The room smelled like his cedarwood cologne, and the dim light cast shadows over his tired face. I was in a red tank top that barely held me in, my shorts so tiny they were more like underwear. I dropped onto the couch next to him, the cushion sinking under me, and nudged his shoulder with mine.

"You look like you're carrying the whole damn world, Arjun."

He sighed, rubbing his stubbled jaw. "It's just hard, Jahnvi. Maya's so far away. Phone calls aren't enough."

I leaned closer, feeling the warmth of his body. "You're frustrated. I get it. Long distance sucks."

His eyes flicked to me, then darted away, like he was scared to look too long. "It's not just that. I miss her. All of her."

I smirked, crossing my legs so my shorts crept higher. "You mean the sex, don't you?"

His cheeks went pink, but he didn't deny it. "It's part of it. I'm trying to control, Jahnvi. But it's driving me up the wall."

I turn to face him now, cleavage on show, "Umm, but I've heard you guys have phone sex? That doesn't work?"

His eyes go wide, "Oh fuck, you heard that." He then goes quiet, before continuing, "Well, it was good at first, but nothing like the real thing..."

I tilted my head, my long hair spilling over my shoulder, brushing my bare skin. "Look, if you're that pent up, just hire a hooker. Or hit one of those sketchy massage places. Get it out of your system."

His eyes went wide, shock all over his face. "What? No way. I'd never cheat on Maya. Never."

"Okay, chill," I said, holding up my hands, my nails glinting in the light. "Just tossing out ideas."

He shook his head, firm. "Even if I was tempted, it couldn't be some stranger. That's not who I am."

I raised an eyebrow, leaning in until my sweet perfume filled the space between us. "What if it wasn't a stranger?"

He froze, his breath catching. "Who would it even be?"

I laughed, low and teasing. "Let's think. What about Priya from your office? She's been crushing on you forever. Those big doe eyes scream it."

He groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. "Priya? No way. She's too close to work. It'd be a disaster."

"Fine. What about my friend Tara? I've seen how she looks at you when she comes over. She's hot, keeps her mouth shut, and wouldn't say no."

He shook his head again, jaw tight. "She's your friend, Jahnvi. That's still too messy. Word would spread."

We went back and forth, throwing out names, his old college friend Neha, my yoga buddy Riya, but every option was too close, too risky. The air got heavy, thick with something unspoken. I could feel his eyes on me now, lingering on my neck, the curve of my chest. My skin tingled, and I was done playing coy.

I leaned closer, my voice soft and sultry. "What if it was me?"

His breath hitched, eyes locked on mine. "Jahnvi…"

"Hear me out," I said, my lips curving into a sly smile. "It's not cheating if it's just a handjob. One time. No strings, no feelings. Just you getting some relief."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious." I shifted closer, my thigh brushing his, a spark shooting through me. "You're suffering, Arjun. Let me help."

He didn't say yes, but he didn't say no. That was enough. I stood, nodding toward my room. He followed, the air buzzing as we stepped inside, my bedroom glowing with soft lamp light and smelling faintly of my lavender lotion. I pointed to my bed, the silk sheets catching the light.

"Sit."

He hesitated, then sat, hands gripping his knees like he was holding on for dear life. I knelt in front of him, moving slow, letting him take me in, the way my cleavage showed from that angle, the curve of my hips bursting in those tiny shorts. My fingers brushed the warm skin of his stomach as I held the seam of his pants, his breath catching. I slid his pants down, revealing the hard outline of him straining against his boxers. My heart pounded, a thrill rushing through me as I eased the fabric down, freeing him, thick and pulsing, already slick at the tip. I wrapped my hand around him, firm but slow, savoring the heat of his skin. I started moving, my hand gliding up and down, twisting just a little at the tip, my nails grazing the sensitive underside. His breathing turned rough, his hands fisting the sheets.

"Fuck, Jahnvi…"

"Shh," I whispered, leaning closer, my breath warm against his thigh.

"Just feel it."

I kept my rhythm steady, watching him, his chest heaving, lips parted, hips twitching like he couldn't help it. My own body reacted, heat pooling low in my belly, my thighs pressing together as I worked him. His groans got louder, more desperate, until he shuddered, his release spilling over my hand, warm and slick. I slowed down, milking every pulse, his body trembling under my touch.

When it was over, he fell back, chest rising and falling, eyes dazed. I stood, grabbing some tissues and wiping my hand, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Feel better?"

He nodded, still catching his breath. Her cheeks so red. "Yeah. But we can't do that again."

I winked, heading for the door. "Sure thing, Arjun. One time thing." But it wasn't. Over the next week, the tension between us only got worse. Two days later, I caught him staring as I bent over to grab a soda from the fridge, my tiny tank top riding up to show the curve of my lower back. That night, he knocked on my door, voice low and shaky.

"Jahnvi… can we…?"

I didn't tease him. I led him to my bed, the room soft with fairy lights. This time, I grabbed some lotion, the slickness making my hand glide over him like silk. His moans were louder, his hands gripping my arm as I moved faster, my fingers teasing that sensitive ridge until he was panting my name. That day he really shot out. Few strings hitting me on my chest, grunting so hard while he did so. The sound sent a shiver through me, my own arousal burning, but I kept it to myself. He was very apologetic though and ran away faster than he came.

By the third time, four days later, he didn't even ask. I was sprawled on the couch in a sports bra and yoga pants, legs hanging over the armrest. He sat beside me, his eyes dark with need. I didn't say a word, just reached over, finding him already hard. I took my time, dragging out every stroke, watching his face twist with pleasure, his hips bucking into my hand. When he came, his groan was almost a growl, and I felt a rush of power, knowing I could do this to him. We didn't talk about it. We didn't need to. Each time, it was just a handjob, just relief, but every time, it felt different. He was lasting longer, his gaze filled with lust, like he wanted more. Our apartment felt different now, heavy with unspoken want, the line between us fading with every touch. I knew it couldn't last forever. Maya would be back soon. But for now, this was our secret, and there was a lot more to come...