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Shweta, a 21-year-old stunning Indian girl, lived in the bustling outskirts of New Delhi. She came from a middle-class family, staying in a simple 2BHK flat in East Delhi with her parents and her 18-year-old younger brother, Bittu. Bittu was a first-year college lad, while Shweta was pursuing her Arts degree at Delhi University. In class, she was the shy, innocent type, always quiet and submissive. The boys teased her, sometimes groping her arse or boobs, but her shyness kept her from ever snapping back.
At 5 feet 6 inches, Shweta had a slim figure, dusky skin, and long black hair that reached her waist. Her big eyes, thin eyebrows, and juicy pink lips made her a proper desi beauty. Her 32C boobs were full and perky, and her wide hips with a natural thigh gap made her look dead sexy. She always tied her hair in a long braid, adding to her innocent charm.
Shweta was a hard-working girl, handling all the household chores herself. When she mopped the floor, squatting with a cloth, it made her arse firmer and rounder, and her thighs grew strong and thick, a testament to her daily grind.
For an upcoming family function, she needed a new salwar-kameez. Borrowing some cash from her mum, she headed to Gaffar Market in Old Delhi. She wore a yellow kurta and white leggings, the fabric so thin that her bra straps and armpits were clearly visible. The summer heat left sweat patches on her back and underarms, making her look even more tempting.
She hopped into an auto-rickshaw. The streets were empty in the scorching afternoon, with everyone hiding in the shade. The driver kept sneaking glances at her boobs through the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering on her bra straps. Shweta felt uneasy but stayed quiet, her shy nature taking over.
“Bhaiya, stop here,” she said softly.
As she paid, the driver deliberately brushed her hand, flashing a sleazy grin. Shweta frowned and hurried towards the tailor’s shop.
The shop’s usual owner, whom she’d known since childhood, wasn’t there. Instead, his nephew Alam, a 30-year-old Muslim tailor, was minding the place. Tall, muscular, with a cocky smirk, he oozed confidence.
“What do you want stitched, madam?” Alam asked, his eyes roaming over her boobs and arse.
“Salwar-kameez, in green fabric,” Shweta replied in her timid voice.
“What’s your size?” he asked, staring at the outline of her bra through her kurta.
Shweta hesitated, looking down, trying to recall her measurements. Seeing her nervousness, Alam said, “No worries, come inside, I’ll take your measurements.”
She slipped off her sandals and followed him into the shop. Alam led her to a small, dimly lit room with curtains blocking the view from the front. The air was thick with heat and the smell of sweat. He grabbed a measuring tape and draped it over her shoulders, asking her to stand on a small platform.
“Raise your hands,” he ordered.
Shweta lifted her arms. Alam stood behind her, his eyes glued to her bra straps and the sweat-soaked patches under her armpits. Her thin kurta clung to her body, showing every curve of her bra. His gaze had a dirty glint, making Shweta tremble. She was alone in this cramped room with a stranger, older and stronger than her, and her nerves were on edge.
Alam measured her arms, but his tape grazed her bra clip on purpose. “Stand still!” he barked when she flinched slightly.
He ran the tape from her neck down her spine, the other end brushing her arse crack through her leggings. He pressed harder, feeling the outline of her panties. Shweta felt his touch but stayed silent, too shy and scared to protest.
Next, he wrapped the tape around her thighs, deliberately pressing against her soft, round arse. “What a tight arse you’ve got,” he thought to himself, smirking. Shweta was shaking but didn’t say a word. Her silence emboldened him. He slid his fingers between her thighs, tickling the seam of her panties where he felt a hint of dampness.
Shweta coughed and jerked slightly. Alam pulled his hand back and snapped, “Can’t you stand still for a minute, huh?”
He moved to her front, locking eyes with her, his gaze confident and predatory. Shweta looked away, embarrassed, sweat beading on her forehead. Her arms, still raised, were starting to ache.
Alam didn’t care. He stepped close to her boobs, wrapping the tape around them so tightly it squeezed her chest. His hands pressed against her bra, kneading her soft boobs. Shweta gasped and pushed him away.
Alam glared at her angrily. Shweta realized her mistake and looked away, lowering her hands to adjust her kurta. His eyes stayed on her chest, where sweat had soaked her neckline.
“Your clothes are too thick, the measurements are off,” Alam said in a commanding tone. “Take them off.”
Shweta froze, her heart pounding. The function was near, and she felt trapped, thinking there was no other way. She trembled but didn’t speak.
Alam grabbed the hem of her kurta. Shweta raised her arms, closing her eyes, her cheeks flushing with shame. For a shy girl like her, this was overwhelming. Alam slowly pulled her kurta off, tossing it on the floor. She stood there in just her red bra, trying to cover her boobs with her arms. “Hands up!” Alam snapped.
He could smell her deodorant in the air. Looking at her leggings, he said, “Take those off too.”
Shweta, scared and submissive, used one hand to shield her cleavage while bending to slide her leggings to her knees. Alam groaned in pleasure, eyeing her red panties that hugged her pussy tightly. The outline was clear, driving him wild.
He told her to stand like that, in just her bra and panties, arms spread. He started measuring again, bringing his face close to her neck, sniffing her scent. He measured her boobs less tightly this time, then knelt to measure her hips. He noticed some pubic hair peeking from the sides of her panties.
Alam smirked but didn’t touch her private parts this time. Shweta felt a bit relieved, thinking he might behave now. She even stole a few glances at him, feeling oddly comfortable. Alam sensed her ease.
“Got a boyfriend?” he asked.
Shweta shook her head, “No.”
“Anyone ever played with your pussy?” he asked, his tone dirty.
Shweta stayed quiet, staring at her feet, a mix of nervousness and excitement swirling inside her.
Alam slid his hand between her thighs from behind, touching her pussy over her panties. He rubbed gently, feeling the warmth and wetness. Shweta’s body jolted, a shiver running down her spine, and she let out a soft “aah.” Alam noticed a sweat drop slide into her left bra cup.
Quickly, he unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. He grabbed her boobs from behind, squeezing them hard. Shweta moaned, “Uhh… aahh…” closing her eyes and biting her lip in pleasure. Alam kissed her neck, his hard cock rubbing against her arse through his pajamas.
“Today, I’ll make you a real woman,” he whispered in her ear.
He yanked her panties down, revealing her wet pussy. Her pubic hair was untrimmed, and he smiled at her innocence. He circled her clit with his fingers, making Shweta feel pleasure she’d never known. Her legs shook, weak with sensation. “Aahh… bhaiya… what’s this…” she whimpered.
Alam slapped her pussy lightly, making her drip. She screamed, “Aaahh!” He sat her on the tailoring table, spreading her legs wide. He leaned down, sniffing her pussy’s musky scent, then licked her clit, slow at first, then faster. Shweta’s moans grew louder, “Uhh… aahh… bhaiya, stop…” but her body was lost in pleasure.
He slid two fingers into her tight pussy, moving them in and out. Shweta squirmed, “Aahh… slow… it hurts…” but Alam ignored her, speeding up until her pussy was soaking wet.
“Your pussy’s so fucking tight,” Alam growled. “I’m gonna rip it open today.”
Shweta was panting, completely under his control. He made her kneel before him and dropped his pajamas. His 7-inch, thick, circumcised cock sprang out. Shweta’s eyes widened; she’d never seen a man’s cock before.
“Hold it, you slut,” Alam ordered.
Shweta’s trembling hands gripped his cock. It was hot and hard, veins throbbing. She felt a shiver touching it. Alam told her to stroke it. She did, clumsily, her thin fingers moving on his thick cock. Her innocence turned him on even more.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
Shweta didn’t know about blowjobs. Alam chuckled, “It’s like sucking a lollipop.” She gathered courage and licked the pink tip, tasting its strangeness. Excited, she licked his glans, and Alam moaned, “Aahh… suck it, you bitch.”
He shoved his cock into her mouth. “Keep it there,” he said. Her mouth stretched, and she gagged. Alam grabbed her head, moving it back and forth. “Uhh… ggg…” Shweta’s throat made noises, but she let him use her, eyes closed.
Alam’s face glowed with pleasure, fucking the mouth of an innocent, virgin girl. After a while, he laid her on the table, spreading her legs wide. Her pussy was dripping. He placed his cock at her entrance and pushed slowly.
“Aaahh!” Shweta screamed as his thick cock tore into her tight, virgin pussy. Tears of pain filled her eyes. Alam held her firmly, thrusting slowly. “Uhh… slow… bhaiya…” she whimpered.
“I’m gonna fuck your pussy wide open, you slut,” Alam said dirtily.
He picked up the pace, the “fap-fap-fap” sound of his cock pounding her wet pussy echoing in the room. Shweta’s pain turned to pleasure, her moans growing louder, “Aahh… uhh… harder…” Alam sucked her nipples, taking half her boob into his mouth. Shweta clawed his back, leaving scratch marks.
“Fuck, your pussy’s so juicy,” Alam said, rubbing her clit while thrusting. The table banged against the wall, “thak-thak,” as he fucked her harder. The room was hot, both sweating heavily. Shweta’s pussy was fully open now, taking every thrust.
“Your pussy’s gonna be my bitch,” Alam growled, fingering her clit while pounding. Shweta’s moans turned to screams, “Aaahh… fuck me harder… rip my pussy…”
Suddenly, Alam pulled out and jerked his cock. Hot, thick cum shot onto Shweta’s boobs, lips, and eyes. She kept her eyes closed, tasting the salty cum on her lips. Alam groaned loudly, his cock slightly red from breaking her virginity.
Both were panting. Alam helped her off the table. Shweta felt weak but satisfied. He cleaned her up, splashing water on her face. She wiped off the cum and sweat, then hurriedly dressed as it was getting late.
Alam pulled up his pajamas and gulped a bottle of water. Shweta left money on his desk. “Come back in three days,” he said.
Shweta walked out silently, flagged an auto, and headed home.
Do you think Shweta will return to Alam’s shop? Share your thoughts in the comments.