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Housewife Massaged By Male Servant Part 2

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 saree'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. Bachchu didn't have much of work in the morning. My husband was away and I had to use up the accumulated foodstuff in the refrigerator. Rather than cooking new items, I instructed him to clean the kitchen thoroughly.

I too joined hands with him, so that everything could be properly organized according the housewife's liking and also to hasten the process, so that could start my massage early. I felt restless. I wanted him to start the massage as early as he could, although I had to pretend that I was the lady of the house and I mean business first. We were in the middle of the cleaning process, when the doorbell rang. It was Aparna-di, one of our elderly neighbors. She is a very nice lady and I too like her. Her only problem, if any, is her talkative habit. Whenever I have anything important to do and she visits my house, I always wish that she shouldn't start some long stories and would rather leave early enough. But, if she is in the right kind of mood, you can't stop him and it would look rather discourteous and awkward to get up, mind your own business and ignore her. At least, I can never do that and I have to remain as a passive listener, whether I like it or not. "Ohhh... Raja has gone on tour and are you alone now?" I could make out from her enthusiasm that she felt I had all the time in the world to listen to her long long stories. "Okay, why don't you come over to my house and let's have our lunch there....", she invited me. " And also endless chat?", I wanted to add, but of course, I didn't. No, I was surely not prepared to spend the rest of the morning and afternoon with Aparna-di. "Not today, Aparna-di! I have just started clearing the mess from my kitchen.

It's a huge task. And Bachchu alone won't be able to do it."Okay, I understand. Maybe tomorrow or the day after", she said. I wished she forgot about it. She talks so much that she even forgets what she says. I wanted to cash on this advantage. "You know, I was eager to tell you something..."she started. "Oh, no, don't tell me" would have been my spontaneous response, but I had to keep quiet and be a passive listener, for the sake of courtesy and neighborly relations. I tried to devote attention to what she said, but all the time, erotic massage was going on in my mind. I was looking at the kitchen, where Bachchu was busy arranging things. What a strong young man he is! Effortlessly he could shift heavy things. I like strong men, I want them to be very strong, so strong that I can feel the sensation of pain when a man squeezes my breasts or enters me! Yes, again I was thinking about Bachchu and feeling the heat between my legs and in my whole body. Occasionally, I was nodding my head and uttering "Hmmm...", just to pretend that I was listening to Aparnadi's boring stuff. "Tell me, doesn't it look bad?" she asked me at one stage. Believe me, I didn't pay any attention to what she was talking about and what was it that she was trying to say "bad". It was foolish for me to express any opinion, but I had to.

All that I could make out was that she only wanted my approval. So, I said, "yes, yes, it surely looks bad" and I was amazed by my own stupidity. "I knew you will also feel that way, but just see, (----blah-----blah------)". So, at least, I could successfully hide my unmindfulness and felt a bit relieved. In the meantime, the clock advanced beyond twelve and Bachchu had finished whatever he was told to do in the kitchen. I felt that it was high time that I get my massage. "Let me see how you arranged " I told Bachchu and went with him to the kitchen, clearly signaling Aparna-di that I wanted her to leave. I don't know whether it was because of this discourteous act of mine, or because, she herself got tired of nonstop talking that she said, "Okay, Nandita, do your work. I am going now. Just drop in to my house, any time". "Sure, Aparna-di, I will. Bye", I said with full of courtesy and politeness. Bachchu was ready with the oil. Like me, he too must have wanted Aparna-di to leave. "Do we start?" he asked in short. His voice wasn't normal. He must be expecting to give me a massage like yesterday and feeling horny. He was visibly tense and I was tempted to look at his pajama. His cock had formed a tent there and I could find a spot of wetness in that region. I was losing control.

My hands were eager to touch the strong manhood of this strong young man. But, I am the lady of the house and he is my servant must not give him a feeling that I am in urgent need of a sex. At the same time, I wanted my lust to flourish under the disguise of massage. Bachchu sat behind me. Maybe, he was much closer to me than the way he did on the previous day. He againstarted with my hair, then my face, shoulders, arms and back. It was wonderful! It was the best type of feeling I ever had. I felt I belonged to a New World of pleasure. I completely surrendered myself to him as he took charge of me. He removed my earrings, my mangal sutra, my bangles, my blouse and my bras - one after the other without any uneasiness that was present on the previous day. When his hands at last rested on my eager breasts and was pressing my hard erect nipples, I moaned loudly, expressing my passion, as he built up his strengths more and more. He started squeezing my breasts, moving both his palms all over them to make them slippery with oil. Should I give him a glance of what he has done to my breasts? The moment this thought came to my mind, I felt my whole body getting baked in the heat of passion. No, not now, I thought. When he finished massaging my top half, I was so deeply engrossed in pleasure that it was difficult for me to leave it at that stage. I wanted more of it. Yes, in the lower part of my body. Yes, I wanted it, rather I was dying for it.

And, I had to say at last, "Bachchu, it's wonderful. I can't stop here. Wouldn't you do it more today?" I almost begged with lust. Now, I turned to him. My breasts were exposed. He was too excited and speechless. Maybe, he never dreamt of this situation in a lady-boyservant relationship. Nor did I, but it was. At that moment, I was ready to gift my body to him. I looked at his tent. It was steadily going up and up. The region in his pajama was getting more and more soaked with increased pumping of his juice. It's a human body. Our mind may understand taboos, morality, inhibitions and other forbidden aspects, but body doesn't. When a river is desperate to break its embankments, you can't stop it. And in moments, when the lust is too strong, your mind won't listen to you. The desperate river will wash away the dams that you may like to construct. I wanted to touch his throbbing cock. But immediately felt that at least he must complete the message before anything gets out of control. There was a small divan in our living room. Bachchu asked me to lie down on my stomach. My saree was almost unwrapped. I took out the folds of my saree underneath the petticoat and removed it completely before lying down on the divan. My petticoat was the only garment that covered the lower part of my body and I didn't wear any panties, while I am at home. After I lay down on my stomach, Bachchu had to start his next part of the job.

"Masima, eta ki thakbe?"(Madam, will it be there on your body?) He asked with a clumsy voice, pointing to my petticoat. My sexual tensions were at its peak, but still I hesitated for a moment to directly answer. Certainly, Bachchu was not courageous enough to remove my last piece of garment without my verbal consent. I was silent. My cunt was quivering and I felt that all my juices would now burst out of it. I desperately wanted my petticoat out of my body. Still I was silent. What was holding me up? Social norms, taboo, age difference? Perhaps everything and perhaps nothing. Bachchu started massaging lower part of my waist, while the petticoat was still on. "Na khul le ki kore korbi?"(How will you do it unless it is removed?)

I tried to keep my voice steady, but it obviously betrayed, as the fire within me was on. Bachchu's fingers reached the knot of the petticoat string. I helped him to unfasten it and the rest was done by him. He pulled my petticoat down and down furthers, below my buttocks, thighs, legs and toes.
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