24-10-2019, 01:51 PM
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 pajama. 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 pajamas and felt that my hot cunt started tingling strangely and I could sense my molten cunt cream after a prolonged period of abstinence 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 circles 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 saree 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 boyservant. 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 those 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 these were handled by another man today and that too with my own invitation.
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 circles 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 saree 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 boyservant. 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 those 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 these were handled by another man today and that too with my own invitation.
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