In the serene, tree-lined suburbs of Pune, where old bungalows hid behind high compound walls and bougainvillea crept over iron gates, Mahesh Sharma lived with his 22-year-old daughter, Bhavya. He had raised her alone after her mother left when Bhavya was barely three. Now, fresh out of college and staying home while she figured out her future, the house felt smaller, warmer, and far more dangerous than it ever had. Mahesh was 45, still powerfully built from years in the construction business. Salt-and-pepper hair, strong arms, and quiet confidence. Bhavya had grown into a breathtaking young woman — long, wavy auburn hair, bright green eyes she inherited from her mother, and a body that curved generously in all the right places. She moved around the house in tiny shorts and loose tank tops, completely at ease, unaware — or perhaps fully aware — of the effect she had on him. It began innocently. Late-night movies on the large sofa in the living room. Bhavya would curl into his side li...
I’m 29 now, but my wildest chapter began when I turned 21. My name is Priya Sharma, a regular middle-class girl from Mumbai. I was in college, and money was tight at home after my father’s business suffered heavy losses. I needed a way to support myself without depending on anyone. That’s when a senior introduced me to a high-end escort agency in South Mumbai.
At first, I was nervous as hell, but after the first few bookings, I realized it gave me more than just money — it gave me confidence, luxury, and control. I continued this secret life for six years while finishing my studies and later starting a proper marketing job. By day I was the ambitious Priya, by night I was the desired companion for wealthy clients in five-star hotels and luxurious apartments across Mumbai, Bandra, and Worli.
I had several regular clients. One of them was Vikram, a successful industrialist from Pune. He was in his early 40s, dominant, and knew exactly how to please a woman. He always booked me for full nights. He loved teasing me slowly — kissing my neck, sucking on my full breasts, then moving down until his fingers were deep inside my wet pussy. “Priya, you’re so tight and hot,” he would growl while fingering me. I used to get soaking wet just from his touch.
I loved sucking his thick cock. I would take him deep in my mouth, stroking him with my hand while looking into his eyes. Then he would pin me down on the bed and fuck me hard in missionary, pounding deep with powerful strokes. My breasts would bounce wildly as I moaned loudly, “Fuck me harder, Vikram… tear my pussy apart!” He was rough yet skilled, and I often came multiple times before he finished. Over the years, he gifted me expensive jewelry, designer bags, and even helped me buy my beautiful 2BHK apartment in Andheri West — something almost impossible for a normal girl my age on a regular salary.
I finally quit escorting when I turned 27. I wanted a clean life and to focus on my career.
About a year ago, I met Arjun. He’s a sweet, funny, and incredibly caring software engineer based in Bandra. He’s honestly the best guy I’ve ever been with. Our sex life is passionate and intense. He worships my body — licking and sucking my breasts for a long time, then eating me out until I cum on his tongue. We’ve done it in every position: missionary, doggy style against the balcony, even steamy shower sex. He makes me feel truly desired.
But there’s one problem. While he has never said it directly, I can sense that he doesn’t like the idea of women who used to sell their bodies. Lately, he’s been asking more questions about how I could afford such a nice flat at my age. I always laugh it off and change the topic.
I still haven’t told him about my past.
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