Apologies. Dear Readers, I would like to profoundly apologize for not having come back and produce another story or the continuation. But I am back with the hunt for the woman of my dreams. Disclaimer: The stories that I write here and which I might continue to write are mostly first-hand experiences of real-life stories of my close circle. Some learned ones may speculate that these may not really happen in India. Well, it does and mostly in urban areas. Now to the story. The next day onwards, I picked the same bus in the morning to my office. I was hoping that I would meet this beautiful lady and then I had plans to get to know her as soon as possible. Therefore, I decided that from now on, I shall be presentable to my best for the next few days. I woke up early in the morning, bathed myself, and stood in front of my mirror. I looked at myself and admired myself for a moment. In the mirror, I looked at a tall, suave, wheatish woman with quite a beautiful face. I have decently long slender neck, proud well-rounded breasts with nice brown areolas with taut nipples. Further down, I have a smooth-skinned belly – not so flat with a nice deep navel. I don’t have a single strand of hair apart from head and eyebrows anywhere on the body. The love hole just peeking between strong thighs shaped very well with extremely well-shaped calf. I slightly turned around, and I was really proud of this feature of mine. My bum is extremely well rounded, not a single stretch mark, a perfect crack. It is almost proportionate to my breasts but slightly bigger. I said to myself – “Swe, you are a beautiful woman.” I was getting late, I thought. I lit a cigarette. Walked towards my Wardrobe and chose my beautiful pair of sky blue lingerie. The bra was professional wear, but I had chosen this one for special occasions. The cup was of 34B pushup. It yielded a very nice cleavage. The panties were of lace smugly fit onto my cunt and my beautiful bum. I looked at the mirror again in my lingerie. I was blushing. I don’t remember me being like this for quite a while. I pulled a light blue formal shirt of satin mixed silk with dark grey, perfectly fitting trouser. The shirt rode a little higher than my waist. If I pulled my trousers down a little, I am sure one could get a peek at my blue panties and if it rode down, then at my ask crack. I wore 2 inches heeled formal sandals as I wanted to look tall. I brushed my hair. I had put on light make up earlier with a layer or light mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow shades (crimson) lightly, and painted my lips crimson. I was set. I told myself, “Swe, you are a bomb.” I walked to the bus stop, and the bus was quite on time. I got on to the bus and took my seat. Usually, these AC buses aren’t that crowded. You would normally find a decent crowd who are pretty much the IT industry women/ men. More women, though. There were quite a few men on the bus, and I was very sure I had like 15 pairs of eyes ogling at me. I am sure a few women as well. However, I was searching for only one face. I couldn’t find the lady. I was thoroughly disappointed. I reached my office. I couldn’t concentrate on work the whole day. I was waiting for the day to get over so that I could meet this lady. Finally, the day was over, and I was anxious. There were butterflies in my stomach. I felt like a teenager again. I got on to the bus. Alas! It was a disappointment again. The lady was not there on the bus. I had the top button my shirt open, and I could see many eyes ogling at my thick cleavage. I wasn’t really amused this time as I was already disappointed. I got down and hoped for a better day the next day. The next day – I won’t bore you all with details, but I was impeccably dressed. Today in Indian attire, a short purple kurti with white leggings all decked up, of course. To my utter dismay, I had to face the disappointment again. This went on for a week. I never saw that lady again. But I could never get her off from my memory. She was so beautiful. So beautiful. The weekend arrived. I caught up with a few friends, partied a little, and got back home on Saturday night. I made myself the last drink, and I was in my balcony smoking a cigarette. All I could think of was who this enigmatic lady was? Where was she? Was she real, or was she just a mirage? I slept and, on Sunday, I was at my parents’ place. I decided I won’t take the bus anymore as it is not very convenient for the next week. I still wondered what on earth could I do to get hold of the mystery woman. I was randomly searching online – Facebook, Tinder, Linkedin, and all the other hosts of social media websites. I couldn’t just find her anywhere. How would I? I did not know her name, neither did I know the name of the company she worked for. Nor I had any picture of her to see if Google could help me in any way. It was frustrating. As I prepared that Sunday night to hit the sacks, I changed into my boxers and a loose tee. I was romancing the reminiscence of what a beautiful woman she was. How I could never forget her face or the aesthetics of that lady. I could feel moist between my legs. I blushed, and I was feeling crazy at this weird feeling. I took my iPad and started watching some soft porn. I could feel my breasts swell up slowly, and my nipples getting taut. I slowly pushed my palm into my boxers. I lazily started playing and teasing my clitoris. I had this ability to go on and on for a long time as I play with myself. I wouldn’t just immediately masturbate by furiously finger-fucking myself or using a vibrator at high speed or masturbating crazily with some kind of a dildo. I really enjoyed always playing solo. I wouldn’t ever be bored. I finally had my orgasm. I put my iPad to rest and started remembering the mystery lady again. I don’t remember when I fell asleep. The next day, I was woken up by my alarm. It was a new morning, it was a new day. It was a new week with a nagging remembrance at the back of the mind like an old itch.
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