01-09-2025, 01:23 PM
Saga 4 - Scene 1 - Arun ka bulge
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A clattering sound from the kitchen startled Dipa awake. It was early, barely 6 AM. The sky outside was still a deep, pre-dawn indigo. Sameer was fast asleep beside her. Tukun was quiet in his cradle. Confused and a little annoyed, Dipa slid out of bed, pulling on a silk robe over her naked body, and went to investigate.
Standing at her kitchen counter was a young man she’d never seen before. He was tall and leanly muscled, his back to her as he expertly chopped vegetables. He was wearing a simple pair of trousers and a vest that showed off his strong, well-defined arms.
Dipa: Excuse me? Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?
The young man turned, his eyes widening in surprise. He was handsome, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, with a sharp jaw and an earnest expression.
Young Man: Madam! Good morning. I am so sorry, I did not mean to wake you. I am Arun.
Dipa: Arun? I don't…
Then she remembered. The chaos of the charity drive yesterday. The sea of faces. And one young man, helping to organize the queue, his movements efficient, his body radiating a quiet strength. She had pulled him aside. The memory was hazy, a decision made in the powerful afterglow of her experience with Harish and Rupa.
Dipa: Ah, yes. Arun. I remember now. You’re starting today.
Arun: Yes, Madam. You told me to be here by six. I wanted to have breakfast ready for Sahab before he left for the office. I hope that is alright.
Dipa: It is. Thank you, Arun. That’s very thoughtful.
Just then, Sameer appeared in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped dead, his gaze fixing on the strange man standing in his kitchen.
Sameer: Dipa? Who the hell is this?
Dipa: Sameer, darling, good morning. This is Arun. He’s our new helper.
Sameer: Our new what? Helper? What are you talking about? Since when do we have a helper? And why is he a man?
Arun: (bowing his head slightly) Good morning, Sahab. I am sorry for the intrusion.
Dipa: Sameer, can we please speak in the living room? Arun, please continue with the breakfast.
She led a stunned Sameer to the sofa.
Sameer: Dipa, explain. Now. Who is that boy?
Dipa: He is our new helper, Sameer. For cooking and cleaning. He’ll be living with us, in the small room off the back porch.
Sameer: Living with us? You hired a live-in male helper and you didn’t think to mention it to me? To even ask me?
Dipa: It was a sudden opportunity. I saw him yesterday when I was distributing the food. He used to work in that little restaurant near the main road. They had to let him go. He is a very good boy, very strong and hardworking. I thought he would be perfect.
Sameer: Perfect for what? Dipa, I don’t understand this! You just… hired him? How much are you paying him?
Dipa: Ten thousand a month.
Sameer: Ten thousand! Dipa, that’s… we didn’t discuss this!
Dipa sighed, her expression shifting from calm authority to one of gentle, loving patience, the tone she knew he couldn't resist.
Dipa: Darling, please try to understand. My work… my noble work… it takes so much of my time and energy. Going to the slum, helping those poor people, giving them… nourishment. It drains me. I cannot do that holy work and also manage the entire house by myself. I was getting exhausted.
She saw the flicker in his eyes at the mention of her "work." His anger was already beginning to be replaced by the familiar stirrings of his fetish.
Dipa: I need help, Sameer. So I can continue to help them. So I can have more stories to tell you. I hired Arun to make things easier for us… for me. So I can continue to bring you happiness.
Sameer: But… a man, Dipa? Alone in the house with you all day? What will people say?
Dipa: What people? Ramla Masi is here most of the day. And what does it matter what they say? Arun is a helper. That’s all. Unless… are you worried about me, darling? Do you not trust me?
Sameer: Of course I trust you! It’s just… it’s… unusual.
Dipa: He is a good boy. And very respectful. And think of it, Sameer. We are doing another good deed. We are giving a job and a home to a poor boy who had nothing. Isn’t that a wonderful thing?
Her logic was flawless, perfectly tailored to his weaknesses. It was a noble act. It would facilitate more of the slum encounters that aroused him. And the thought of a young, strong man in his house, subservient to his wife, serving her all day… it was a new, thrillingly dangerous spice to add to his fantasy. He looked at his wife, at her calm, confident face. She had done this without him. She was in control. The thought was both infuriating and incredibly arousing.
Sameer: Okay, Dipa. Okay. For now. But we will talk about this more later.
Dipa: Of course, darling.
Just then, Arun came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray.
Arun: Madam, Sahab. Breakfast is ready. I have made aloo paratha and fresh coffee.
He placed the tray on the coffee table, his movements deferential and precise. Dipa looked at him, then at her husband. She remembered spotting Arun yesterday. She’d noticed the way his muscles moved under his thin shirt as he lifted heavy boxes. She’d noticed the quiet intensity in his eyes. And in a moment of divine, absolute clarity, she had decided she wanted him. She had offered him the job, the money, a room in her house, and he had accepted with tears of gratitude in his eyes. She had chosen him for his strength, for his diligence, and for the powerful, potent energy she sensed in him—an energy that promised a magnificent, fully erect nine-inch penis, a fact she had somehow known with absolute certainty the moment she laid eyes on him.
Dipa: Thank you, Arun. This looks wonderful. Please, serve your Sahab.
Arun placed a plate in front of Sameer. Sameer looked at the young, handsome man serving him breakfast in his own home, then looked at his beautiful, powerful wife who had orchestrated it all. He didn't know whether to be angry or thrilled. He took a bite of the paratha. It was delicious.
To be Continued..
=======================
A clattering sound from the kitchen startled Dipa awake. It was early, barely 6 AM. The sky outside was still a deep, pre-dawn indigo. Sameer was fast asleep beside her. Tukun was quiet in his cradle. Confused and a little annoyed, Dipa slid out of bed, pulling on a silk robe over her naked body, and went to investigate.
Standing at her kitchen counter was a young man she’d never seen before. He was tall and leanly muscled, his back to her as he expertly chopped vegetables. He was wearing a simple pair of trousers and a vest that showed off his strong, well-defined arms.
Dipa: Excuse me? Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?
The young man turned, his eyes widening in surprise. He was handsome, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, with a sharp jaw and an earnest expression.
Young Man: Madam! Good morning. I am so sorry, I did not mean to wake you. I am Arun.
Dipa: Arun? I don't…
Then she remembered. The chaos of the charity drive yesterday. The sea of faces. And one young man, helping to organize the queue, his movements efficient, his body radiating a quiet strength. She had pulled him aside. The memory was hazy, a decision made in the powerful afterglow of her experience with Harish and Rupa.
Dipa: Ah, yes. Arun. I remember now. You’re starting today.
Arun: Yes, Madam. You told me to be here by six. I wanted to have breakfast ready for Sahab before he left for the office. I hope that is alright.
Dipa: It is. Thank you, Arun. That’s very thoughtful.
Just then, Sameer appeared in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped dead, his gaze fixing on the strange man standing in his kitchen.
Sameer: Dipa? Who the hell is this?
Dipa: Sameer, darling, good morning. This is Arun. He’s our new helper.
Sameer: Our new what? Helper? What are you talking about? Since when do we have a helper? And why is he a man?
Arun: (bowing his head slightly) Good morning, Sahab. I am sorry for the intrusion.
Dipa: Sameer, can we please speak in the living room? Arun, please continue with the breakfast.
She led a stunned Sameer to the sofa.
Sameer: Dipa, explain. Now. Who is that boy?
Dipa: He is our new helper, Sameer. For cooking and cleaning. He’ll be living with us, in the small room off the back porch.
Sameer: Living with us? You hired a live-in male helper and you didn’t think to mention it to me? To even ask me?
Dipa: It was a sudden opportunity. I saw him yesterday when I was distributing the food. He used to work in that little restaurant near the main road. They had to let him go. He is a very good boy, very strong and hardworking. I thought he would be perfect.
Sameer: Perfect for what? Dipa, I don’t understand this! You just… hired him? How much are you paying him?
Dipa: Ten thousand a month.
Sameer: Ten thousand! Dipa, that’s… we didn’t discuss this!
Dipa sighed, her expression shifting from calm authority to one of gentle, loving patience, the tone she knew he couldn't resist.
Dipa: Darling, please try to understand. My work… my noble work… it takes so much of my time and energy. Going to the slum, helping those poor people, giving them… nourishment. It drains me. I cannot do that holy work and also manage the entire house by myself. I was getting exhausted.
She saw the flicker in his eyes at the mention of her "work." His anger was already beginning to be replaced by the familiar stirrings of his fetish.
Dipa: I need help, Sameer. So I can continue to help them. So I can have more stories to tell you. I hired Arun to make things easier for us… for me. So I can continue to bring you happiness.
Sameer: But… a man, Dipa? Alone in the house with you all day? What will people say?
Dipa: What people? Ramla Masi is here most of the day. And what does it matter what they say? Arun is a helper. That’s all. Unless… are you worried about me, darling? Do you not trust me?
Sameer: Of course I trust you! It’s just… it’s… unusual.
Dipa: He is a good boy. And very respectful. And think of it, Sameer. We are doing another good deed. We are giving a job and a home to a poor boy who had nothing. Isn’t that a wonderful thing?
Her logic was flawless, perfectly tailored to his weaknesses. It was a noble act. It would facilitate more of the slum encounters that aroused him. And the thought of a young, strong man in his house, subservient to his wife, serving her all day… it was a new, thrillingly dangerous spice to add to his fantasy. He looked at his wife, at her calm, confident face. She had done this without him. She was in control. The thought was both infuriating and incredibly arousing.
Sameer: Okay, Dipa. Okay. For now. But we will talk about this more later.
Dipa: Of course, darling.
Just then, Arun came in from the kitchen, carrying a tray.
Arun: Madam, Sahab. Breakfast is ready. I have made aloo paratha and fresh coffee.
He placed the tray on the coffee table, his movements deferential and precise. Dipa looked at him, then at her husband. She remembered spotting Arun yesterday. She’d noticed the way his muscles moved under his thin shirt as he lifted heavy boxes. She’d noticed the quiet intensity in his eyes. And in a moment of divine, absolute clarity, she had decided she wanted him. She had offered him the job, the money, a room in her house, and he had accepted with tears of gratitude in his eyes. She had chosen him for his strength, for his diligence, and for the powerful, potent energy she sensed in him—an energy that promised a magnificent, fully erect nine-inch penis, a fact she had somehow known with absolute certainty the moment she laid eyes on him.
Dipa: Thank you, Arun. This looks wonderful. Please, serve your Sahab.
Arun placed a plate in front of Sameer. Sameer looked at the young, handsome man serving him breakfast in his own home, then looked at his beautiful, powerful wife who had orchestrated it all. He didn't know whether to be angry or thrilled. He took a bite of the paratha. It was delicious.
To be Continued..
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