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Dear Readers, I am submitting a real-life incident of my life. Please do not proceed beyond this warning, if you are below 18 years of age. The story is being submitted in parts. If you have any comments, please feel free to write to me at the link below.
I am an Indian housewife, aged 42 now. I wish to narrate a true incident in my life, which happened nearly four years ago.
I had all along a very active and satisfying sex life with my husband, but around five years back, a lingering back pain of mine spoilt my sex life completely. Whenever we attempted, my pain used to be unbearable and finally we had to stop that. Although my husband all along tried his best for my treatment and never expressed his sexual frustrations before me, I could guess that he used to feel miserable. So was I.
I consulted a number of doctors. Most of them said that the pain was artharitic in nature and there was no cure for this. At last, I consulted an ayurvedic doctor. He prescribed an herbal medicine and advised me to have an oil massage in my back everyday. He said that I should better get it done by someone who knows massaging fairly well. I liked his advice, but who would do that for me?
We had a boy servant, called Bachchu, who used to work full-time in our house and help me in cooking and other domestic works. He was quite young and if my guess goes right, he must be around twenty then. Bachchu was quite dutiful, efficient and honest and because of these reasons, we liked him. I asked Bachchu if he knew someone who could do the massage for me. Basically, I was looking for a woman to do this job. Bachchu thought for a while and said he didn’t know anyone. He suggested that he himself would be able to do this job as he had worked in a massage parlor for a brief duration.
When I heard his suggestion, I simply blushed!! No, it’s certainly not possible for me to agree to this. Myself getting massaged by my servant – no, such a thing I could not imagine. Still, I didn’t say no to him immediately. I said I would ask his “babu”(my husband) and then decide. When I told this to my husband, he said, “Nandita”, you should have agreed straightaway. If Bachchu himself knows massaging, I think that’s going to be the best.” I tried to tell him how I blushed at this suggestion. He was annoyed, “Nandita”, what is more important for you? Your shame or getting relief from the pain?” I agreed that certainly the second one is more important for me. My husband looked happy. He said that I should offer him Rs.50/- extra per month for this job.
Next morning, after my husband left for the office, I called Bachchu and told him about my decision. He was happy that at last I have agreed to his suggestion. I told him about the extra money. To this, he looked pretty embarrassed. He said, “Masima”, you may give me anything else, but no money please. I’ll love to do this service for you.”
After finishing his domestic duties, Bachchu came to me. He asked if I was ready for the massage. I was getting ready to apply hair oil on my hair myself, before he started the massage. Bachchu looked at me and then said “I can do that better! Give the bottle to me.” He almost snatched it from my hand and told me to sit on the floor. I was wearing a pink cotton sari with a matching blouse. I love to put on pink dresses as that suits my fair complexion very well. Bachchu sat behind me and loosened my lovely long, black hair and let it fall on the floor in a cascade. He started applying hair oil onto my hair. The whole room got filled up with the sweet fragrance of the hair oil that I use. He praised my long hair and caringly applied oil to my scalp and then put his fingers through the strands of my hair. When he was massaging my scalp, I was trying to imagine how would he massage my back? Do I have to remove my blouse? Oh, No! I just shuddered to think that. Otherwise, how, I wondered, would he massage my back? I had a strange mixture of nervousness, shyness, uneasiness and what not! My heart began to throb, as he was about to complete the massage with hair oil.
Bachchu applied the massage oil on his both palms and applied them on my forehead. I wondered why he was massaging me there, as I never had any pain in that region. Bachchu told me that massage is good for the body and it shouldn’t be restricted to the pain region alone. Actually, a good massage should always start from the top – that’s what his trainer had told him. He gently massaged my forehead and then my cheeks and chin. He softly applied oil on the bridges of my nose and even cared to apply a bit of oil to my nostril openings. I relaxed and enjoyed what he was doing. He massaged my lips as well. After that his hands came close to my ears. He removed my earrings. With a pair of Johnson buds, he carefully cleaned the interior of my ear and applied oil in every part of my external ear. My body was put to rest. It was so relaxing, so enjoyable. I wanted him to continue with my face for some more time, but Bachchu surely had more things to do.
Bachchu’s fingers slowly approached my neck. I was wearing a mangalsutra etiler eve gelen escort (a kind of gold necklace with black beads – a sign of married Indian ladies) and perhaps that was causing a bit of hindrance to his massage. He asked me if I would remove my mangalsutra. Unlike other Indian ladies, I am free from any prejudice and I willingly unhooked that from my neck. Bachchu took it from me and carefully put it on the bedside desk. He could then massage my throat and the neck region without any obstruction. After this, Bachchu took my right palm in his hand and gently rubbed it with his palm. Then he individually massaged each of my fingers.
He was doing everything with such a great care that I had a great feeling of liking from within. He repeated the same things with my left palm. He was all the time talking to that and me must have helped in making the atmosphere easy. I was having pink nail polish on my nails. Bachchu smiled and joked, “Mashima”, everything is pink for you today.” With the oil on it, those were glittering. The next item of massage was surely my hands. Bachchu removed all my bangles from my hand. Even the “sankha” and “pala” (a special kind of bangle used by married Bengali ladies) were off my hands.
He then rubbed my hands with force, sometimes pressing and kneading. I could sense that my blood flow was increasing and I was feeling hot, even though the ceiling fan was revolving right above my head. Bachchu gathered greater and greater strength and continued to massage my hands up to the elbows for some more time. My blouse was covering rest of my hands. When his fingers moved above my elbows, he softly whispered in my ears, “Mashima”, your blouse please).
I guessed because of his shyness he couldn’t complete the sentence, but I could clearly get the signal that he wanted my blouse removed. Although, I was under this tension for a long time before my massage, when the moment came, I was so much engrossed in the massage that I didn’t hesitate to remove it. I unbuttoned the blouse from the front and Bachchu helped me to take it out of my hands. I had a bra inside and I covered the exposed parts of my back with the pallu (the upper part) of my sari.
Bachchu’s fingers could now freely move above my elbows, right up to my shoulder joints and arm pits. He was saying that my hands were too soft and massaged them with greater strength and energy. I was having increased blood circulation and wanted him to continue the massage in this manly way. He then rubbed my shoulders and uncovered my pallu to the extent that he could completely massage the upper area of my back. He asked me how I was feeling.
I admitted that the massage was bringing great comforts to me and he was surely doing a great job. While he was massaging my back and especially my pain region, I suddenly felt that all my pain had suddenly gone. It was just incredible. I was deeply engrossed and I didn’t even bothered to protest, as Bachchu’s trembling fingers unhooked my brassier strap at the back. GOD!! I was never prepared for this. Bachchu slowly removed my bras, as I tried to protect my boobs with my sari.
My servant was sitting behind me and could freely massage all over my bare back. He started gently with my spinal chord and the regions around it and massaged with force when he came to the sides of my back. At one stage, I felt that his fingers were quite close to me breasts. I was wondering what would happen, if his fingers accidentally touched my breasts! The moment this fear came to my mind, my heart started throbbing.
I was torn between embarrassment and arousal. I realized I was getting horny – my face was getting red, my eyes were burning, my pulse rate was increasing and I started getting a sexy sensation between my legs. I knew that given the employer-servant relationship between us, Bachchu would never dare to touch me there. But, somehow, at that moment, all my sexual desires, which were absent for the past few months got revived. I desperately wanted a male hand to touch me there.
For the first time, I dared to have a dirty fantasy of my servant grabbing my breasts. GOD!! What am I doing? Am I forgetting all social norms and taboos? Am I still in my senses? I realized all my powers of arguments, powers of thinking were gone. At that moment I only wanted a hard male squeezing of my breasts. I was desperately waiting for an accident to happen. But no! No accident was happening! His hands were still keeping a modest distance. I was getting restless for a touch.
At one stage, I just pointed fingers to my boobs and asked with a husky, trembling voice,” Wouldn’t you massage me here? ” I turned my face to him. The twenty-year-old young man blushed and looked red. I tried to look at his pyjama. His swollen cock made it a tent and I could make out how horny he was. That made me more excited. I was trying to visualize his erect manhood inside his pyjamas and felt that my hot cunt started tingling strangely and I could sense my molten cunt cream after a prolonged period etiler grup yapan escort of absentance from sex. ” Masima, I –I thought you wouldn’t allow me to do it there –” he was clearly stammering in excitement and fear. “No, no, you are a very good boy.
Why should I mind? After all, it’s a massage isn’t it?” I tried to assure. Bachchu could not wait any longer. He oiled his palm again and pressed my breasts. GOD! Was I cheating my husband? I surely was. I was married for 15 years. It was for the first time in my married life that a person other than my husband had taken control of my breasts.
“Ohh …! Squeeze it… Squeeze it more.” that’s what I wanted to shout, but I tried to apply my control. Bachchu was faithfully oiling my breasts. My hard nipples, the black circle surrounding that and all over. He was doing with his both hands- sometimes softly, sometimes tightly, giving a different sensation at every moment. GOD! Who taught him to be a lover like this? Nature? I wondered. For the first time, I started making verbal expressions.
“Don’t feel shy – do it nicely, a—h just like this!!” Bachchu was too excited to talk to me. He faithfully obliged and drove me wild with greater and greater ecstasies.
While Bachchu was cupping my breasts, his hands were working under the pallu of my sari and I was still careful in not exposing my breasts completely. Actually, he was still sitting behind me and although my boobs were completely in his possession, those were out of his direct view. After completely satisfying me with the breast massage, Bachchu’s hands reached my belly I was enjoying the tickling sensation, especially when his index finger reached my navel. He put some extra oil inside that to make it a pool and tapped there a few times. While he was caring this region, I was trying to imagine the next part of his massage. Where would it be? Below my waist and lower belly? God! I couldn’t imagine anything more. My sex-starved cunt was creaming with a fresh supply of cunty juice. It was paining. I was dreaming if I could get a massage right till there. “Oh, Boy!! Do it!! Do it till there. It’s just for the sake of a massage – so don’t feel shy —“
No, I was certainly not bold enough to utter these things in reality. Instead, I was trying to apply my willpower to control such dirty desires within me. I was unable to explain how could a shy housewife like me, who is ever faithful to her husband, could adventure this much with her boy servant. When he completed massage of my upper part, I quickly got up without allowing any possibility for a massage anywhere in my lower part.
Just after the massage, I hurriedly went for a bath. I was getting restless to undress myself and take care of my wet cunt. I tried to imagine Raja, my husband, while masturbating, but all my imaginations got shattered when I tried to figure out what Bachchu might be doing with the massive manhood, which he had developed for the past half-an-hour. Maybe, he had rushed to our other toilet, which he uses, and now he might be vigorously beating his flesh to release his load I was finger-fucking myself and the imagination of Bachchu’s masturbation made me more and more horny. Oh boy! I was Cumming, Cumming all the way. Would Bachchu be releasing his load by now? I could visualize that jets of thick white sticky semen made up a mess on the floor and that drove my orgasms to a new peak.
Before coming under the shower, I looked at my nude figure in the mirror. My breasts were still warm and reddish with the increased blood flow resulting from the massage. I had a close look at my breasts. Every square millimeter area of my breasts was glittering with oil. Bachchu hadn’t missed a single spot. I was looking at my breasts with utter disbelief that another man today and that handled these too with my own invitation. I came under the shower and soaped my whole body. It took quite some time to wash out the stickiness of the oil. At the end, I was feeling fresh. There was a feeling of easiness in my whole body. I never knew that massage makes one feel so good, so relaxing it is!
I wiped my body with a towel, got dressed and came out. Bachchu served my meal. There was an uneasy calmness in the room. While I was still trying to recover from my arousal that resulted from the happenings of today, Bachchu too was looking unusually quiet. For him, I guess, it was the first touch of a female breast and he might have been trying to recover from the sexually explosive shock that he received.
I really didn’t have any serious intention of cheating my husband and so I didn’t want to carry any sense of guilt with me. I felt I should tell everything to Raja – only point was how and when. We have always shared each other’s fantasies and that had always ignited our passion in the past. Most of the times, we fantasize ourselves with each other’s friends and enjoy, without attaching slightest seriousness to it. We had other fantasies too. Once, Raja had described an erotic encounter with the domestic maidservant etiler masöz escort of his parental home, much before our marriage. I was so horny that I couldn’t wait for a wild sex with him in bed. Later, he had told me that it was his wild adolescence fantasy. If he hadn’t told me that it was a fantasy, I would have always believed it to be a reality.
After Raja returned home, he announced in the tea table that he would be going to Delhi by the early morning flight next day. That was a very sudden development. Actually, his boss was supposed to go for that meeting, but as his priorities got changed, Raja would be substituting him. I had to spend the rest of the evening in getting his dresses and other things organized. When we were in bed, he didn’t forget to ask me about the massage. I said it was very nice and at least, I had some relief from the pain. He asked me if I had felt shy during the process. I gave a very naughty smile and said, “I was shy to start with, but horny later on “. I could again sense that my erotic feelings were running high. Should I tell the rest of the story now itself? “Wow! That sounds great! he said after hearing my reply.
“Don’t think that only you can fantasize sex with your maid-servant. Even, I can have that with Bachchu …”, I said. I was too horny to keep my voice steady. “Darling, never mind – you do it. You may even do it in reality if that helps in regaining your passion. Get yourself cured and let us get back our sex life.” I couldn’t trust my ears. Is he still in his senses? I embraced him closely and said, Darling, don’t worry, we’ll surely get it back. We couldn’t talk for long as I wanted him to take some rest before his flight.
The office car came early in the morning to pick Raja up. He got into the car and waved at me. For the next three days, only myself and Bachchu will stay in the house. (I forgot to mention in the beginning that God hasn’t blessed me with a child). As the car rolled past Southern Avenue (a famous road in South Calcutta), I started thinking for the next massage.
It was too early in the morning for me to start the day. Bachchu had already got up and I told him not to hurry up with morning tea and breakfast preparation, as I wanted to get some more sleep, although I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t get any more sleep. All that I needed was a bit of privacy to think with a cool head what I was up to. I came back to my bedroom, closed the door and lay down on the bed.
The first question that struck me was whether Raja was serious about what he told me last night. I felt that he was kidding and in reality it’s not possible for a husband to grant blanket permission to his wife for having sex with the domestic boy servant! Our conversation took place in a light and joking mood and I could not tell Raja about how Bachchu massaged my breasts. So, there was every reason for Raja to believe that it was just a casual dirty conversation of ours and there was no seriousness hidden in it. But I knew that my body was on fire and was I mischievously thinking of misusing my husband’s absence for a misadventure with my servant? The moment I thought this, I could sense an increase in my pulse rate and throbbing of heart. I was restless to get back my sex life and all that I needed first was just a man who would be able to overpower my pain with lust. I was getting horny again. My fingers were touching my cunt and I was wet in no time. Immediately, I thought of the barriers between our ages and more so, in our social status. What would people think of me, if ever others know a misdeed of this nature? I tried to impose the social norms and taboos upon me. So I must do something to overcome these dirty thoughts.
I thought of an easy option. My parents are staying in the other end of the city and what I can easily do is to grant three days’ leave to Bachchu, so that he could visit his native place and I can stay with my parents. When I had almost decided about this, I felt sorry that I would miss my massage. Even if I keep aside the erotic components in it, surely I enjoyed the massage, which Bachchu had given to me. Then? Am I going to stay here? Am I going to have the massage sessions with Bachchu? Like yesterday? Should I put that as the limit? Or…? Again, again I was losing control. Why should I be so afraid of the society?
My daydreaming, fantasies and tensions got abruptly halted when there was a knock at my bedroom door. “Masima, won’t you have your breakfast now?”, Bachchu came and asked. I looked at the watch. Surely, it was time to take something. “Yes, just two pieces of toast with butter and tea”, I said.
After brushing my teeth, I came to the breakfast table. Bachchu had kept everything ready. I tried to concentrate on my eating. But, from my sixth sense, which is normally very strong with the ladies, I knew that he was looking at me. That look was no doubt different from how he used to look at me before yesterday’s happenings. He was looking at my shoulders and also at my breasts, where he massaged so passionately yesterday. Out of a sheer feminine instinct, I re-adjusted my sari’s protection above my blouse, but honestly speaking, wasn’t I mischievously enjoying his stare? Bachchu turned on the ceiling fan, as I was visibly sweating, apparently because of the sultry weather and the sips from steaming hot tea, but definitely, the heat of passion within my body had a lot of contributions to it.
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