Indian MILF is concerned about her boss' pursuit.

[Zigspr]

Three months have past since my boss, Chetan, coerced me into having sex with him in my living room. It took me several days to wrap my head around what had happened. I did not want it to happen, but in the days leading up to it he had pursued me in subtle ways, pushing the envelope with comments and touches along the way.

The warning signs were there. I suspected his desire, but was too afraid to do or say anything about it. I suppose in some ways I was flattered. But, even so, I did not want to have sex with him.

Then he showed up at my home, completely unexpected, and little by little, he pushed himself on me, ignoring my objections and breaking down my defenses until his face was buried between my legs and he was bringing me to orgasm with his tongue.

Then, before I could respond, he was on me and inside of me.

I knew it was wrong. I wanted him to stop and pull out of me, but, for some reason that I still do not completely understand, I found myself welcoming his penis inside of me and crying out for him to make me orgasm again.

Then he spilled his seed inside of me. That was too much. I was so worried that I would become pregnant because of that one act.

I did not go into work that entire week. Chetan did not object. How could he? The man had forced himself on me. I could have brought charges against him, but I did not want anyone to know about it. Especially not my husband, Gopal. Or my son.

When I finally returned to the work place things were not the same with Chetan. He understood my desire to only work when others were in the office. And I often worked from home.

He apologized to me, but that does not matter. I often catch him looking at me. And I know that he is picturing me naked and remembering how he screwed me on my couch.

But he never said or did anything overtly again. Although once he dared to say to me, "You have nothing to worry about, I got it out of my system that day."

Like using my body for his satisfaction was just another thing to check off of his bucket list!

I have looked at other job opportunities, but have seen nothing that I wish to pursue. My job is something that I enjoy doing, and the hours and location are very good for me.

Slowly things returned to normal. Well, maybe normal isn't the right word, but something like that.

Since then, he has behaved himself for the most part. Oh, there have been the occasional hushed comment, or subtle innuendo to remind me of that day together, or to indicate his satisfaction with the memory of our encounter. But nothing overtly flirtatious or offensive. Definitely nothing that drew suspicion from my colleagues.

But those comments, and his lingering eyes, always kept me aware of his interest and desire. So I do my best to keep my distance at work. And I never stay late.

I don't think that Gopal suspected anything, though he could tell that something was bothering me. And the first few times that we made love I felt very guilty. But that has worked out for us too.

Except that there have been moments when I am lying under him when I close my eyes and I suddenly picture Chetan on top of me as my husband brings me to climax. I do not want those memories, or fantasies, whatever they are.

There have also been moments when I catch myself looking at Chetan in the office and I remember him with his pants undone, with his erect penis, which is just a little shorter than my husband's, but so much thicker; thick enough that I felt a difference in how he filled me that day.

We have been busy lately at work. Chetan surprised us by asking if we could work on Saturday. None of us particularly liked the idea at first, especially two of the men, who reminded Chetan that the All India Football Federation team would be playing in one of the two matches of the SAFF Championship tournament that day.

So Chetan suggested that we have a watch party us of the international soccer tournament going on, and said that we could make a party at the same time. He would provide the food and drinks, and he reminded them that the games would be on his big screen TV. And spouses would be welcome, but not children since there would be alcohol served. Most of the team does not drink, but Chetan, and a couple others, do.

I did not want to go. But once the others agreed I felt compelled to do so. Besides, I was able to bring Gopal with me.

Of course, the thought of seeing Gopal and Chetan talking together, knowing that both men have been inside me, is particularly awkward. So is the thought of seeing Chetan's wife and knowing that I had sex with her husband.

But things did not go as planned. At the last minute, Gopal informed me that he was unable to attend. He had a last minute work obligation. I wanted to back out, but could not do so. Besides, other people will be there.

I arrived, wearing my traditional saree, while many others are dressed much more casually. But I want to keep a modest appearance.

I speak with Chetan's wife, but find it difficult to look her in the face.

We gathered around the living room and began working. Most of this was completed quickly, so when the first match began everyone could watch the game without it being much of a distraction. With most of my part being done for the moment, I decided to help in the kitchen. It was there I learned that Chetan's wife had left to attend another event with some friends. So now, both my husband and Chetan's wife are not around.

I am standing at the counter, which has an opening looking into the living room. I see everyone from behind as they are watching the football match. I am cleaning up some things when Chetan steps up behind me.

"Hold still, Vidya," he tells me, "I need to grab a couple clean glasses."

Before I can move, he pushes up against me from behind and reaches up to the cabinet above my head. He opens it and removes two glasses, but in doing so his body presses against mine, and I feel his crotch grinding against my butt.

"Chetan." I whisper, as I observe the contact lingering longer than necessary, with an obvious rubbing, almost humping motion. It is probably my imagination, but I swear that I can feel his erect penis rubbing against me.

"So sorry, Vidya." He says, softly, as he backs away with the glasses in hand and heads back to the living room.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to recall if I did feel contact with his penis, or if I just imagined it. I feel flush as I remember how he felt inside of me. Why am I thinking about that?

Time goes by, and I am called to join the team in the living room for the next phase.

Unfortunately, the only open seat is on the couch next to Chetan. I swear that he was sitting in the recliner earlier, but now that is occupied by one of the wives.

Chetan slides to his left, up against the side rest, but I am still sitting up against his right side, pinned in between him and Monril.

Monril lays out a large folder, placing it on my lap so that I can go over the information for everyone. Some of the others have matching files that they are following my part of the presentation with.

We are discussing the details when I feel a hand resting on my left thigh. I look down and observe that Chetan's forearm is beneath the folders. Oh my god, his hand is on my leg. Perhaps it is an accident, but I seriously doubt it.

I try to look at him, but sitting beside me, actually against me, our eyes do not meet, and I do not want to turn my head sideways to look at him in front of everyone. I want to reach down and grab his hand, but that would bring attention to this. I cannot allow that.

His hand moves. I feel his fingers softly caressing my thigh. It feels good, but it is irritating me at the same time.

His arm repositions, and now I feel his upper arm pressing against my left breast. I try to move, but there is no where to go without getting up off the couch.

No one sees what is going on as I sit there, feeling Chetan's upper arm sliding slowly back and forth against my breast as his fingers caress my thigh.

"Excuse me." I whisper, as I try to move slightly, hoping to get him to stop.

Chetan doesn't reply. Instead his hand slides a little farther up my leg. It is now pushing the material of my saree down between my legs so that his fingers can rub against my inner thigh. His upper arm continues rubbing my breast.