Swapped Mischief Ch. 01

Prameela was buying vegetables at the farmer's market when she felt someone staring at her intently. She glanced around, trying to figure out who it was.

Her suspicion was right--a boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was gazing at her like he wanted to devour her.

His stare made her uncomfortable. After all, her own son was around the same age. That thought sparked a flicker of doubt in her mind. "If this boy was staring at me like this, could my son be doing the same to some other woman?"

And then, another thought crept in. At home, she was often careless with her saree pallu. Her breasts were full and heavy--try as she might to conceal them, they always seemed ready to spill out of her blouse. What if, God forbid, her own son looked at her the way this boy did...?

She was lost in these spiraling thoughts when--"What's wrong? You're lost in some deep thinking!" came the voice of her friend Kavitha, who had joined her at the market.

Prameela subtly pointed at the boy with her eyes and whispered, "That kid's staring at me like he's going to eat me alive." Kavitha chuckled.

"Isn't it normal for someone or the other to stare?" she said casually.

"No, it's not that," Prameela replied. "I'm old enough to be his mother. If he's looking at me like this, does he stare at his own mom the same way?" Kavitha shrugged as she started walking forward.

"He might. That age is like that," she said lightly.

Prameela followed beside her, unease still tugging at her. "That's not it. My son, Ravi is the same age. What if he's looking at me..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Kavitha laughed again. "What, you think he's special? I don't know about you, but I've caught him staring at me like that plenty of times."

Prameela's eyes widened in shock. "Really? And you didn't say anything?" she asked.

"What's there to say?" Kavitha replied with a playful grin. "It's natural at that age. Besides, it feels kind of nice when boys that young look at you like that."

Prameela stared at her friend in disbelief. "You actually enjoy it... Think about it for a second," she said, shaking her head.

As she mulled over Kavitha's words, she glanced back. The boy was following her, just a couple of steps behind. Seeing him so close made her heart skip a beat. She quickly turned her head away, grabbed her vegetables, and hurried out of the market with Kavitha.

Since Kavitha's house was nearby, she walked off, leaving Prameela to head to the bus stop alone.

At the stop, she checked behind her to see if the boy was still there. He wasn't. "Thank goodness," she muttered to herself, relieved.

A few minutes later, the bus arrived. It was crowded, and she struggled to climb aboard, squeezing her way inside.

After a moment, she felt someone press a hand against her backside. Her mind raced--"Him again!?"

She peeked out of the corner of her eye. It was him. A shiver shot through her entire body. "Oh God, what's with this kid sticking to me like this?" she thought, her pulse quickening. Then, ever so slightly, he squeezed her hip.

Before this, plenty of people had brushed against her in passing, but this was the first time a boy of his age had pressed her so deliberately. She could feel his hand trembling--whether from fear or nervousness, she couldn't tell.

A laugh bubbled up inside her, and she thought, "Poor thing, let it be." Since she didn't protest, his confidence seemed to grow, and he kept pressing her for a while.

At first, his touch didn't stir much in her, but as he continued, a heat began to rise within her too. Whether he sensed her reaction or not, it didn't matter--his boldness had clearly surged. He moved his hand off her hips, shifted closer, and pressed himself against her.

Through his pants, she could feel him nudging into the cleft between her hips. Noticing how firm he was, she thought, "Oh God! Even with all these layers, it's poking like this--what would it be like without anything in the way?" The mere thought made a slow warmth spread below, and she felt herself getting wet.

Just then, seizing the moment, he slid his hand forward and gently placed it on her lower belly, slipping it under the edge of her saree. This time, a shiver ran through her.

She glanced around, worried someone might notice. But everyone seemed lost in their own world. She thought about snapping at him to take his hand away, but once again, pity softened her resolve.

Meanwhile, he began to softly rub her belly. Her body warmed further, tingling under his touch. She stole another quick look around. The bus was so packed that no one's eyes seemed to be on them.

As she scanned the crowd, he took the chance to tease her navel with his fingers. The sensation was electric, thrilling her in a way she hadn't expected. "It's just for a little while--let's enjoy it," she told herself, and swiftly covered his hand with her saree so no one would spot it.

Emboldened, he slid his hand upward, inching toward her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. His hand was shaking wildly now. With that trembling touch, he pressed her breast lightly over her blouse. Each small squeeze sent tremors through her body.

"Oh... if only this bus were empty, how nice it would be," she mused, lost in the moment. But then, the bus jolted to a sudden stop. A checking squad climbed aboard.

The moment he saw them, the boy seized his chance, leapt toward the window, and bolted out. Her heated body let out a frustrated sigh, cooling off in an instant.

Later, she got off at her bus stop and started walking home. On the way, she noticed a movie theater. She checked the time--it was 6:30 PM. She knew no one would be home if she went back. Her husband wouldn't return until after midnight, and her son wouldn't be back before ten.

So, she figured going to a movie would be better than sitting alone. She stepped inside. The film might have already started--there was no one outside. She bought a ticket, entered the dark theater, fumbled her way through the shadows, and settled into a seat.

There weren't many people inside--maybe twenty at most. Just then, a boy walked in. Perhaps to avoid the dust, he had a handkerchief tied over his nose. He sat two seats away from her. It was hard to see clearly in the dim light, but his silhouette instantly reminded her of the boy from the bus who had teased her.

Her body heated up again. She glanced at him, thinking, "It'd be nice if he tried something," when he suddenly turned his head toward her. Startled, Prameela quickly looked away.

In the darkness, nothing was clear except the vague movement of shapes. She stole another glance at him. He was still staring at her.

After a couple of seconds, she turned her head again. Then, slowly, he got up from his seat and came to sit right beside her. A jolt shot through her body. She wanted to look at him, but something held her back. She kept her head lowered and sat still.

A few moments later, he gently placed his hand on her knee. The instant he touched her, her legs began to tremble faintly. Without thinking, she brushed his hand off.

He stayed still for a few seconds before cautiously placing his hand back on her knee. This time, Prameela didn't move. He didn't either--just kept his hand there, resting quietly.

After a while, she turned to look at him. He'd removed the handkerchief from his face. Even in the faint light, she recognized him--it was the same boy who'd followed her earlier.

Since she hadn't said anything on the bus, he must've trailed her here. "Ugh, not scolding him on the bus was a mistake," she thought.

While she was lost in her thoughts, he began to softly rub her knee. She flinched, glared at him angrily, and abruptly stood up, moving two seats away. She shot him a stern look for show before shifting, but deep down, she started hoping he'd follow.

The memory of his touch on the bus flooded back, igniting a spark in her. But he just sat there, unmoving.

"Looks like the idiot's scared," she thought, glancing at him. He was still staring at her.

The heat inside Prameela grew stronger. She scanned the theater--no one nearby seemed to notice them. Gathering some courage, she looked at him and gave a small smile. He smiled back faintly, and after a few moments, he got up slowly and sat beside her again.

Prameela subtly shifted her elbow to brush against his. She felt a slight tremor in him. Still trembling, he slid his hand down and rested it on her thigh. She moved closer, placed her hand over his, and whispered, "What's your name?"

"Srinu," he replied softly.

"What do you do?" she asked.

"First year in High school," he said.

Rubbing his hand gently, she said, "I'm older than you. Isn't it wrong to do this?"

His nerves seemed to twist under her touch as he stammered, "Aunty..." still trembling.

"I wanted to yell at you on the bus," she continued, "but I felt bad, thinking everyone might gang up and beat you, so I let it go." Hearing this, he slowly lifted his hand off her thigh.

Her mind sighed, "Thank goodness," but her body let out a frustrated murmur. She knew giving him more leeway could be dangerous.

"With just the little freedom I gave him on the bus, he's come this far. If I give him more now, who knows what'll happen? Especially with no one around and all this darkness."

As she mulled this over, he placed his hand back on her thigh, slid it upward, and pressed his elbow against her breast. A fire flared up in her again, but she stayed silent. Her silence emboldened him, and he nudged her breast with his elbow again.

Snapping alert, she hissed, "Shh... don't do anything stupid," and pushed his hand off, placing it firmly on the armrest and holding it there. "Talk about something instead--I don't like this," she said sternly.

He swallowed hard and sat there quietly. Prameela chuckled to herself and let go of his hand. He stayed put, staring at the screen. Seeing him go all dull like that, she felt a pang of pity, rested her hand on his, and asked, "Didn't you go to college today?"

"I did, Aunty. After college got over..." he trailed off.

He stopped mid-sentence. Prameela laughed and teased, "So, after college, do you chase after someone like this every day?"

He blushed faintly in response, a shy little gesture that she found oddly charming. "Have you ever done this with anyone before?" she asked softly.

"No, Aunty. You're the first," he replied. She glanced at him. Catching her look, he mustered some courage and asked, "What's your name, Aunty?"

"Why do you want to know?" she countered. He didn't reply. "Prameela," she said finally.

"Your name's nice, Aunty," he said.

"Is it?" she replied with a small laugh.

"Not just your name, Aunty--you're nice too," he added, growing bolder.

Prameela smiled faintly and let it pass. "What do you do, Aunty?" he asked.

"Housewife," she answered. A brief silence followed. Though her body was practically screaming for her to give him an opening, she held herself back and sat still.

Just then, the interval hit. He shot up and darted outside. She thought about leaving too, but decided it'd be a shame to abandon the movie halfway, so she stayed put.

Ten minutes later, the film resumed. There was no sign of Srinu. "Maybe it would've been nice to treat the kid to some snacks," she mused, her body nagging at her with restless little twinges. This secret fling with such a young boy was driving her wild.

"Tch... I missed a golden chance," she sighed inwardly.

But ten minutes after the movie restarted, he slipped back inside. Seeing him, her heart began to race. He fumbled his way through the dark and sat beside her again.

The moment he settled in, an itch started prickling through Prameela, though she stayed stiff and composed. He didn't make a move. Her body felt like it was burning on a stove. "Idiot, what's he waiting for?" she cursed under her breath, sneaking a sideways glance at him.

Then, out of nowhere, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Seizing the moment, she leaned into him. He lowered his hand from her shoulder, slipped it under her armpit, and gently brushed the side of her breast. "Sss..." she hissed, melting further into him.

He began to softly rub the side of her breast. The sensation made her nerves feel like they were snapping. If he'd just squeeze it quick instead of teasing like this, it'd be so much better, she thought.

As she was thinking this, he pressed his fingers along the edge of her blouse. Prameela let out a soft "Mmm..." and pressed herself tighter against him.

Slowly, he slid his hand inside her blouse, pressing lightly on the surface. The tight blouse wouldn't let his whole hand in, so he worked his fingers, squeezing gently from above. With each press, her breasts grew heavier, swelling with heat.

For Prameela, already burning up, this teasing wasn't enough. So, she quietly unhooked her blouse. The moment her breasts spilled free, he lost all restraint and began kneading them eagerly.

His rough grip sent sweet shivers racing through her body. Overwhelmed with desire, she started moaning softly, "Mmm... mmm..." Just then, he grabbed her hand and guided it between his thighs.

She pressed down on his bulge through his pants. The memory of it digging into her hips on the bus flashed back. "How big is this thing?" she wondered, eagerly unzipping him and slipping her hand into his underwear.

His hot, throbbing member met her touch. Of course, a young guy's cock--pulsing like crazy, she thought. "Sss... ohh..." she gasped inwardly, pulling it out and gripping it tightly in her fist.

He, too, grew wilder, leaning forward to take her breasts in his mouth, sucking hungrily.

Prameela's arousal hit its peak. With one hand, she pressed his head hard against her chest; with the other, she worked his shaft, moaning as she went.

As she stroked him, he groaned, "Sss..." and buried his face in her breasts, pecking her nipples lightly, sucking and teasing until she felt her soul unraveling.

His sucking sent a flood of wetness pooling between her legs. She wanted to lie down right there and let him take her fully.

She pulled him harder against her, starting to slide down, when--

The movie ended, the theater lights flared on, and he released into her hand--all at once.

Startled, she let go of him, quickly straightened herself, and glanced his way as she sat up. Disappointment was written all over his face. She hurriedly wiped her hand with a handkerchief, tossed it aside, hooked her blouse back up, and adjusted her saree.

By then, the few people in the theater had already shuffled out. He just sat there, staring, not even bothering to fix his underwear.

Prameela stood up from her seat. Too flustered to meet his gaze, she rushed outside, jumped into the first auto she saw, and headed home. Her heart didn't stop pounding until she reached her doorstep.

(To be continued...)