series: Pari's Navel Tales

His eyes widened when i was standing in front of him,

Doubtfully he asked , “Mam, I am not sure that i followed you. What do you mean you want a moment?”.

I smiled and said, “You heard that correctly, the moment you are missing, the moment you are trying to forget , try that moment with me.”

He was shocked and surprised when i said this.

He instantly said no and tried to leave. I caught his hand, made him to sit in the chair.I ensured that no one was in the cafeteria. We are in the blind spot of security camera location. i moved his chair towards the corner. He was sitting and watching like hungry sad cat.This made me feel even more pitiful for him. I m not sure whether i m doing this for him, or i wanted to have this or any other reason.

I raised my top even more higher even though it was a crop shirt. I folded to my bra, raised my jean lower. He was kind of struggling with his mind to see my navel, Looks like he wanted to enjoy my navel but kind of hesitant.

I raised my hands and stood like the historic woman statue.

I m sure , pretty damn sure that it was captivating. If it was any one of my ex-lovers they would have pounded on  me. I was damn sure that this would mesmerize him.

“I’m all yours for now, you can do whatever you want” , i said to him in strong voice.

He did a jaw-dropping expression.His eyes were like returning a lost toy to a child.

I closed my eyes so that he might feel comfortable.

He , still in confused state, asked me “Is this for real mam, you don’t have to do this…”

“Time is ticking, its up to your wish”, I replied firmly.

I felt a chill hand on one of my hip, the grip was strong. I could feel his longing feel of belly when touched me.

I was still and my eyes closed, my belly felt a finger touch. He was touching my hip with one hand and caressing the belly with another hand.

He slowly moved the hand from my bra towards the most sensitive part of my body. He started circling my navel with his finger.

I felt a lost sensation that had i been waiting for many years. My erogenous zone is being captivated by this boy’s finger. I could feel his breath over my belly. The circling speed is being reduced.The circle diameter is also being reduced. His finger is in process to reach my navel and he said, “Revolving around your navel is as beautiful as moon revolving”. I chuckled and said, “Now, You are trying poetry?”. To which he replied, “Your navel is poetry”.

My belly started to shudder when he inserted his finger in my navel. He started kissing each part of my belly, still fingering my navel.

Its like i waited for this, a holiday after very long work. I was in cloud, happily enjoying the moments.

I could feel his lips movement from left to right, top to bottom. One hand on my hip and one finger in my navel.
The missing happiness returned to me. I felt like i m not alone. My navel and belly were craving for this for long time.

It was like a feast to hungry man. He was hungry for navel, i was hungry for my navel worship.

Later i could feel soft wet and warm thing moving on my belly in almost all directions. Yes, he was licking like a child who wanted a ice cream during summer.

I could not stop to moan, i lifted my head and my eyes still closed. I was biting myself not to shout.

He suddenly withdrew his finger from my navel and he held my hip.

I was thinking that’s all for navel, but within a fraction of second, he did the circling thing with his tongue near my navel.

I knew he was aiming for navel. Felt like he had been starving for this since his break up. He started revolving around my navel clockwise and again anti clockwise.

Fireworks erupted in my body my mind when he reached my navel.
Unable to control, i had to moan heavily.

He kept on digging my navel with his tongue. Came in and went out. He started fluttering his tongue in my navel. He knew how to worship a woman navel. He continuously did that for more than 30 mins.

Since he is 19, His stamina is unmatched to all my exes combined. Did the same circling, pushing his tongue in and out, shaking the tongue for many times.

I was speechless, moaning. This missed ecstasy is unavoidable.My breathing increased rapidly, unable to control, i had to hold his head protecting my navel from his tongue.

I looked up on him holding his head. He seemed like a starving lion ready to devour a goat. Looks like i almost got wet in my private area. My breath slowly becoming normal.

Without a second thought, he pushed himself back to my stomach. Immersing his face in my belly, squeezing my hip with his hands, covering my navel with his mouth.
And yes, tongue in my navel.

He didn’t flutter, he started sucking my navel like a de-hydrated patient.
My breath that became normal suddenly went up. I was holding his head only tightly.

All of a sudden, he did a big bite on my navel. I was both in pain and horny. The best moment ever happened. I got wet both in my area and in my eye. Felt like the life is giving me a chance.

He then gradually slowed by giving kisses all over my navel and stomach.
I no longer held his head, when he removed his hand from my hips.

When i looked down my stomach, i could see his hand print on both of hips. He gave me a hickey just over my navel. The hickey he gave turned blue kind of bruise.

I was shocked and surprised.Almost 45 mins, he enjoyed my navel for 45 mins.

He asked me,”How are you feeling?”.
“I should be the one asking you.”, i replied.He started me thanking me, god.

“Let this be between us alone. I hope your mind changes here after. Don’t make this go in vain by doing stupid things”, i told to him while adjusting my shirt.

He stopped me from adjusting, held his hand on my navel and said “I promise, i will never forget this, thank you..”

I laughed thinking what a different place to make promise on.

“The girl who left you will surely miss you, at least she will miss your tongue definitely”, i said. He smiled and stared at me.

Before he says anything, i wanted to ensure that this is not a serious commitment. I do not want this.
My mind stared racing with multiple thoughts. I finally decided that this is just a fling. Just a small thing that gives me happiness like a movie or a series. I m not sure how he will take this. I don’t want him to be serious and become worse in his mindset.

I was getting ready slowly, still holding his hand, then let go—not abruptly, but deliberately.

“I’m not promising anything,” I said. “Not answers. Not direction.”

He nodded, processing.

“But,” I added, “I won’t pretend this was nothing. For either of us.”

He looked at me as if trying to understand what space he now occupied in my life.

“So… what happens next?” he asked.

I picked up my bag, the cab still waiting outside.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “And that’s new for me.”

I met his eyes one last time.

“But sometimes,” I continued, “this thing doesn’t need a name. It just needs honesty and it is always temporary”

He agreed and watched me walk away—still surprised, still thoughtful, still alive.

I felt happiness and a relief at my heart.

It was already past eleven when I logged out, the office floor unusually quiet for a weekday. My eyes went straight to the time on my phone, and my heart sank. I had missed the last cab. The next one wouldn’t arrive for another hour.

An hour inside an empty office building feels longer than it should.

I walked toward the cafeteria, hoping at least for a coffee. The shutters were down, lights off, chairs stacked—everything closed. Frustration rose quickly, the kind that comes from exhaustion more than inconvenience. I turned to leave when I noticed someone sitting near the corner, head buried in his arms.

He was crying. Not silently—his shoulders shook as if he had been holding it in for too long.

He was 19 year old boy behind the cafeteria counter—the one who worked part time during the late shift, always polite, always quiet. We’d exchanged small talk often enough: a tired smile, a “long shift today,” sometimes a joke about the coffee being stronger than necessary. Nothing personal. Just familiar.

“Hey,” I said softly. “Are you okay?”

He looked up, startled, wiping his face quickly. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t think anyone was still here.”

“It’s fine,” I said, sitting on a chair nearby. “What happened?”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, then said, “She left me.”

I nodded, letting him continue.

“She was my first love,” he said. “The first person who ever made me feel chosen. Everything I am… it started with her.”

His voice cracked. “I trusted her. Completely. i loved her truly, i loved her body and everything. i loved her navel, i was devoted to her navel.”

He talked like someone drowning in memories.

“We had so many navel licks sessions,” he said. “Late-night calls. Walking together after work. Holding her hip like the world didn’t exist,navel licks everywhere. Now every place reminds me enjoying her navel.”

He wiped his face angrily. “She cheated. And still, all I remember is her navel and belly. Good and Happy navel licking times. I can’t stop thinking about that.”

I listened.

“I tried to be strong,” he continued. “But every time I close my eyes, it’s the time i licked her navel. Every moment.It keeps coming on and on”

Then his voice dropped.

“I don’t want to feel this anymore. I keep thinking… maybe if I just end it, this memories will stop.”

My heart tightened when he was about to cut his hand with knife.

“No,” I said strongly. “It won’t stop the memories. It will only stop you.”

He looked at me, eyes empty. “You don’t understand. She was my world.Her navel is my happiness”

“I do understand,” I said quietly. “And that’s why I’m still sitting here.”

He laughed bitterly. “What’s the point? Even if I live, her navel will haunt me.”

I stood up slowly and moved closer—not invading his space, just enough to be present.

“Look at me,” I said.

He did.

“You’re nineteen,” I said gently. “Your heart just learned how deeply it can love. That’s not the end of your story. That’s the beginning.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want another one. I just want this pain to stop.”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Part of me understood that feeling too well. The exhaustion. The fear that loving again meant reopening a wound that never really healed. I watched his hands—how tightly he had clenched them, as if holding on to something invisible.

“You don’t want another person,” I said slowly. “You just don’t want another hurt.”

He looked at me, surprised. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No,” I said. “It only feels like it is.”

Inside, my own thoughts stirred. I had said similar things once—after my marriage ended, after promises collapsed under the weight of reality. I remembered telling myself that wanting nothing was safer than wanting someone. I remembered how convincing that lie had sounded.

“What if she is all I ever get?” he asked quietly. “What if every future girl just reminds me of her navel?”

“That happens,” I admitted. “At first.”

He frowned. “You’ve been through this too?”

I hesitated. I don’t usually open doors I’ve carefully locked.

“Yes,” I said finally. “I loved deeply. And I lost deeply. For a long time, every moment felt like a betrayal—to my past, to myself.”

He swallowed. “Then how are you still standing here?”

I smiled faintly. “Because one day I realized something uncomfortable.”

“What?”

“That avoiding didn’t stop the pain. It just changed its shape.”

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the floor. “I feel stupid. Crying like this. Thinking about ending everything over her navel.”

“You’re not stupid,” I said firmly. “You’re nineteen. This is the first time your heart learned how powerful it can be. Of course it feels unbearable.”

I paused, then added more quietly, “It felt unbearable to me too. And I was much older.”

He looked at me again, really looked this time. “Do you still miss him? Your person?”

“Yes,” I said honestly. “Sometimes. Not in the same way. Not with the same intensity. But moments doesn’t vanish. It softens. It finds its place.”

He nodded slowly. “I don’t know if I can survive the nights. That’s when moments comes back strongest.”

I felt something shift inside me. A familiar instinct—the one I’d sworn off. Comfort. Connection. Presence.

I reached for his hand again, this time more intentionally.

“Then don’t survive them alone,” I said.

He stiffened slightly. “I don’t want to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden,” I replied. “You’re a human being having a human moment.”

Inside, my mind argued with itself. This is risky. You promised yourself distance. You promised no attachments.
But another voice answered back, calmer: This isn’t attachment. This is compassion.

“What if I miss this again?” he asked.

“Then you’ll grieve again,” I said. “And you’ll still be alive. Still growing. Still capable of new moments.”

He exhaled shakily. “You make it sound so… survivable.”

“It is,” I said. “Just not immediately.”

Silence settled between us—not heavy this time, but thoughtful.

“I don’t want to die,” he said suddenly. “I just want the pain to pause.”

I squeezed his hand gently. “Then let this be a pause.”

He nodded, tears slipping again, but his shoulders were no longer shaking.

For a moment, I wondered what this said about me. About the woman who once chose flings over feelings. About why, despite all my rules, I was sitting here at midnight, holding the hand of someone whose pain felt achingly familiar.

Maybe I wasn’t as detached as I pretended.

The cab notification buzzed on my phone, but I didn’t move right away.

I should have stood up. I should have let go of his hand and returned to the version of myself that knew how to leave quietly.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stayed seated, staring at the space between us. At how calm he looked now. At how his breathing had finally slowed. At how something inside me had shifted without asking permission.

I realized, uncomfortably, that this moment hadn’t only been about saving him.

It had been about me too.

“You know,” I said slowly, more to myself than to him, “I keep telling myself I don’t need moments like this.”

He looked up. “You?”

“Yes,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “I’ve trained myself to believe I’m fine alone. That distance is safer.”

He hesitated. “And… are you?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Because the truth had just settled in.

“I think,” I said carefully, “I’ve been surviving instead of feeling.”

He frowned, clearly not expecting the conversation to turn this way. “But you seem… strong.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “Strength can be a very convincing disguise.”

I looked at our hands—still joined.

“I came here tonight thinking I’d just wait for a cab,” I continued. “Instead, I found myself sitting with you, talking about moments, about pain, about things I usually avoid.”

He swallowed. “I didn’t mean to pull you into this.”

“You didn’t,” I said gently. “I walked in on my own.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Then I said the thing I hadn’t planned to say. “I think I needed this moment too.”

I was standing like this, my belly and navel exposed to him, waiting for him to see.

A part of me wanted to go, a part of me wanted to stay.I m not sure this correct or wrong, i also want a moment. I feel alone, I wish there was someone who could play with me.

His eyes widened.

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A short video of the scene,

Disclaimer:
This content is a work of pure fiction written from a narrative perspective for creative and entertainment purposes only. The characters, thoughts, events, and situations described are entirely imaginary and do not represent real-life individuals, experiences, or incidents.

I do not claim any authority, authenticity, or factual accuracy over the content. No revenue, profit, or commercial benefit is intended or derived from this work. Any images used, if applicable, are random and for representational purposes only; no ownership or rights are claimed over them.I got all the images from internet some may be AI generated.This doesn’t involve any person in real.

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Delhi never really sleeps, but my life begins when most of the city is winding down. Myself Pari in her late 25s or early 30s live alone in a compact apartment tucked between traffic noise and late-night chai stalls, a space I chose because it doesn’t ask questions. I’m of medium height, fair-skinned, the kind of woman people describe as “put together” without knowing how carefully that illusion is maintained. Some days I dress safe, some days bold—modern cuts, sharp lines, dresses that remind me I still belong to my body. I like that choice. It feels earned.

My favorite pic that i usually love to post is this,

My work runs on UK time—twelve in the afternoon to ten at night—so my mornings are slow and quiet. Coffee by the window. Sunlight touching the floor instead of my face. By the time the city outside grows impatient, I’m just getting started. The shift suits me. It keeps me detached, slightly out of sync with the world, and I’ve learned that distance can be comforting.

Divorce teaches you strange lessons. Mine taught me how to live alone without feeling lonely—most days. Love, I’ve decided, works better when it doesn’t promise permanence. Flings are simpler. Honest. No future to negotiate, no hearts to handle too carefully. Just moments, Touch. The unspoken agreement to leave before feelings demand explanations. In a city like Delhi, where everyone wants to know where you’re going next, I’ve chosen to stay exactly where I am.

I have a serious sensitivity towards my navel and belly. I usually get aroused when it gets touched. I love to seduce many with attire that shows my midriff even though i m sensitive to it.