Banging your school friend. Introduction to maitri.

I stood in the doorway of his modest 1BHK apartment, feeling a peculiar mix of surprise and warmth as I took in the sight before me. Mayitri, my old college friend, sat comfortably on the living room floor, her back against the sofa, with her baby, Lolita, nursing at her breast. She was dressed only in a nursing bra, her nipples peeking out from the hungry child's mouth as she fed. The room was a pattern of domestic sounds – the quiet hum of the AC, the occasional giggle from Lolita, and the rustle of Mayitri's clothes as she shifted to accommodate her daughter's eager nourishment.

I swiftly closed the door behind me, ensuring no prying eyes could catch a glimpse of Mayitri in such an intimate moment. She gracefully shifted Lolita to her left breast, her right hand deftly maneuvering the nursing bra to expose her right nipple to the child's eager mouth. The suddenness of her action caused her full breasts to spill out briefly, and I couldn't help but stare. She caught my gaze, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and then she buttoned up the right side of her bra, effectively hiding her nakedness once more.

The path that had led us to this encounter was a tumultuous one, fraught with challenges and heartache. We had been inseparable since our first year of engineering, sharing everything from notes to confessions about our deepest fears and desires. Mayitri had always been the bright star in my life, a beacon of intelligence and beauty that had made the rigors of college bearable. When she had gotten married in the second year, it was like a meteor had crashed into our friendship. She had insisted on finishing her degree despite her new responsibilities, and I had admired her for that. Her dedication had never wavered, even when her husband's family pressured her to focus solely on her role as a wife.

After she graduated, she moved in with her in-laws, a decision that had filled me with a quiet dread. The stories of their traditional ways and expectations weighed on my mind. Over the years, she had shared whispers of her husband's roving eye, his flirtations and secret meetings. It was no surprise when she found out about his affair with the MLA's daughter, but the betrayal had hit her like a sledgehammer. The whispers grew louder, the fights more frequent, and the tension in her voice whenever we talked over the phone was palpable. The situation grew toxic, the air around her suffocating with the weight of their deceit and her in-laws' cold shoulders.

Their greed was unabashed, their favoritism a glaring neon sign. They doted on their son, showering him with praise and money, turning a blind eye to his indiscretions. They had hoped for a lucrative marriage, one that would elevate their social standing and line their pockets. But Mayitri, with her unassuming charm and sharp intellect, had never been the trophy wife they wanted. Her refusal to conform to their narrow-minded ideals had only fueled their contempt.

When the affair came to light, it was Mayitri who bore the brunt of their ire. They vilified her, whispering that she wasn't enough to keep him satisfied. The gold diggers they were, they blamed her for their son's infidelity. They saw her as a hindrance to his prosperous future with the MLA's daughter, a woman who could bring wealth and power to their family. Their eyes, once filled with the hope of a grand alliance, now held only disdain and accusation.

One fateful day, we met by accident at the Miyapur metro station, a place where the cacophony of the city melded with the rhythmic hum of the trains. She looked tired, her eyes shadowed with sleepless nights and her spirit bruised by the harsh realities she'd faced. We talked in hushed tones as the trains came and went, the echoes of our conversation lost in the bustle of the station. I offered her a place to stay, hoping to ease the burden that weighed so heavily upon her.

The day she arrived at my doorstep with a suitcase and a baby, I could see the desperation in her eyes. She had left everything behind for the sake of her dignity and her child's future. The moment she stepped into my apartment, I knew that our friendship was about to take a new turn. She insisted on giving me some money but I sharply denied saying she has gone mad. We settled into a routine, with Mayitri taking care of Lolita and managing her work from home, while I went to the HAL office, coming back to a home filled with the laughter and chatter of a mother and child.

It was during one of those evenings when Lolita was asleep, and Mayitri was catching up on work, that I walked into the living room to grab a book. She looked up at me, her eyes tired but determined, and for a brief moment, the weight of her situation seemed to lift. She was wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts, her legs crossed under her, her toes peeking out from the fabric. Her nipples, still hard from feeding, poked against the fabric of her shirt, reminding me of the intimate scene from earlier. She caught my gaze and blushed slightly, "These are always getting hard, and I don't want to wear bra all the time."

Her candidness was surprising yet refreshing. I felt a stirring within me, a feeling that was more than just friendship. I had always found Mayitri attractive, but the lines had blurred after her marriage. Now, with the stark reality of her newfound freedom and the tantalizing glimpses of her body, the attraction grew stronger. "You should be comfortable," I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I picked up the book and retreated to my room. "How cold your heart is," she teased, the corners of her mouth curling up into a knowing smile.

Days turned into weeks, and the apartment grew smaller with each passing moment. The chemistry between us was undeniable. I found myself lingering outside her room, listening to the soft murmurs of her lullabies to Lolita, watching her from a distance as she moved around the house, her body swaying with a newfound confidence. She had lost weight since the birth, but her curves remained, more pronounced than ever. Her skin glowed with the warmth of motherhood, and I found myself drawn to her in ways I had never been before.

"You are becoming more and more gorgious day by day," I said one evening, unable to hold back the compliment that had been simmering on my lips for days. Mayitri looked up from where she sat, cross-legged on the floor with Lolita playing beside her. She blushed, a warm pink color that spread from her cheeks down to her neck. "You think so?" she asked, a hint of doubt in her voice. "Definitely," I replied, trying to keep my gaze from drifting down to her cleavage.

"Gimme a kiss then," Mayitri said with a cheeky grin, holding her cheek out to me. I felt my heart stumble in my chest as I leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek, the softness of her skin sending a jolt through me. Our eyes met, and for a split second, something unspoken passed between us.

As the weeks rolled by, the tension grew thicker than the Hyderabadi traffic during rush hour. Mayitri's laughter grew louder, her smiles more frequent, and our conversations grew deeper into the night. We shared our hopes, fears, and dreams, and I found myself opening up to her like never before. Her resilience was inspiring, and I couldn't help but feel protective of her, a feeling that grew stronger with each passing day.

One evening, after putting Lolita to sleep, Mayitri turned to me with a serious expression, "Suraj, I know you've been giving me your bedroom. But tonight, I need you to sleep with us." I was taken aback by the suddenness of her request, but something in her eyes told me not to argue. Nodding, I made my way to the living room, where she had set up a makeshift bed on the floor.

As we lay side by side in the darkness, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension, she whispered, "Thank you for everything. I don't know where I'd be without you." I felt a warmth spread through me, and before I could respond, she leaned in closer, her breath tickling my neck. "You know, I've always liked you, Suraj," she said softly.

My heart hammered in my chest, and I swallowed hard. "Really?" I managed to croak out. She nodded, and I could feel the movement against my shoulder. "But I never thought..." she trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

The room was silent, save for the sound of Lolita's gentle snores. The weight of Mayitri's admission lay heavy on the air, and I didn't know how to respond. Her hand found its way to my chest, and she laid it flat against my heart, feeling its erratic rhythm. "Can you give me a kiss?" she whispered, her voice a soft caress in the darkness. I hesitated for a moment, the line between friendship and desire blurring before me. Then, I leaned in, our faces mere centimeters apart, and pressed my lips to hers.