01-09-2025, 01:27 PM
Saga 4 - Scene 4 - Arun ka bulge
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Two minutes later.
The sound of the running shower echoed from the bathroom. Dipa's voice, sweet and commanding, cut through the sound.
Dipa: Arun!
Arun, who had been standing frozen in the kitchen, jumped. He took a deep breath, his heart hammering.
Arun: Ji, Memsahab, aya… coming!
He walked to the bathroom door, his steps hesitant. He knocked lightly.
Arun: Memsahab?
Dipa: Come in.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the steamy room.
Dipa: Arun, close the door.
He obeyed, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the small space. Dipa was sitting on a low plastic stool, her back to him, the shower casting a gentle spray over her. She was wearing nothing but a pair of thin, white panties that were already soaked and semi-transparent. From his viewpoint, he could see her entire back, from the graceful curve of her neck, down the elegant line of her spine, to the very top of her ass crack, which was clearly visible just above the waistband of her wet panties.
Dipa: Arun, take that soap. Yes, the sandalwood one. And apply it on my back. Take some water as well.
Arun: Ji, Memsahab.
His hands were trembling as he picked up the bar of soap. He wet it under the tap and worked up a lather. He approached her, his breath catching in his throat. He gently placed his soapy hands on her smooth, wet back. He began to rub, the slickness of the soap and the impossible softness of her skin making his head spin.
Dipa: Now my shoulders. Rub them.
Arun’s hands moved up, massaging the soap into her elegant shoulders. He was too nervous to think, his mind a blank slate of pure sensation and overwhelming fear.
Dipa: Now my arms.
She raised her left arm, extending it to the side. As she did, she turned her body slightly. Arun, standing up to clean her arm, was suddenly presented with a stunning side view of her left breast. He could see its perfect, heavy roundness and the top half of her nipple. It was dark and fully erect, jutting forward, looking easily more than an inch long. He took a deep, shuddering breath and quickly focused on her arm, rubbing it with lather, his eyes fixed on her elbow. After he finished both arms, he stood back, his part of the deal done. But Dipa was not finished.
Dipa: Now Arun, come forward and apply the same soap on my legs. My elbow is still paining.
She turned on the stool to face him, but she kept her right hand held loosely across her chest, her elbow moving from side to side, a lazy, teasing gesture that strategically covered and uncovered her nipples. Arun kept looking, trying to catch a glimpse of what was being shown to him and what was not. As he stepped forward, his wet sandal slipped on the tiled floor. He stumbled, catching himself on the wall.
Dipa laughed, a low, throaty sound.
Dipa: Arun, relax. Come close.
The amount of trust she was showing him was astonishing. He knelt before her, his mind racing. Yeh Memsahab gazab ki hai, he thought. Koi nahi dekha aaj tak aisa. Mujhe kahi pyar na ho jaye… ya already ho gaya hai. (This Memsahab is amazing. I’ve never seen anyone like this. I hope I don’t fall in love… or maybe I already have.)
He started with her feet, his soapy hands rubbing her delicate ankles, then moving up her strong, shapely calf muscles. Dipa’s eyes were now fixated on him, a lazy, predatory smile on her face. She was imagining what he would do if she just gave him permission. She wanted to savor the moment, the delicious tension, here in her own house.
Dipa: Thighs ho gaye? Are the thighs done?
Arun: Ji, Memsahab.
Dipa: Ab mere stomach par lagao soap. Now apply soap on my stomach.
She smiled and leaned back slightly, giving him more space to work. Arun’s soapy fingers moved over her flat, wet belly, circling her navel. He was trying so hard not to move up, but as he reached her ribs, his fingers accidentally brushed against the soft, heavy underside of her breast. Dipa wished he had aimed a little higher.
She laughed and suddenly leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. Her huge, wet, soap-slick breasts swung forward and pressed fully against his chest. Arun flinched, shrinking back as if he’d been burned.
Arun: Memsahab! I… I should not be touching…
Dipa: (whispering) Arun, daro mat. Main permission de rahi hu. Karo na. Mere breasts ko touch kar sakte ho. Don't be scared. I am giving you permission. Do it. You can touch my breasts.
Arun: (pulling away, his voice panicked) Memsahab, yeh galat hai! Sahab bahut marenge! Memsahab, this is wrong! Sahab will beat me badly!
To be continued..
=======================
Two minutes later.
The sound of the running shower echoed from the bathroom. Dipa's voice, sweet and commanding, cut through the sound.
Dipa: Arun!
Arun, who had been standing frozen in the kitchen, jumped. He took a deep breath, his heart hammering.
Arun: Ji, Memsahab, aya… coming!
He walked to the bathroom door, his steps hesitant. He knocked lightly.
Arun: Memsahab?
Dipa: Come in.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the steamy room.
Dipa: Arun, close the door.
He obeyed, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the small space. Dipa was sitting on a low plastic stool, her back to him, the shower casting a gentle spray over her. She was wearing nothing but a pair of thin, white panties that were already soaked and semi-transparent. From his viewpoint, he could see her entire back, from the graceful curve of her neck, down the elegant line of her spine, to the very top of her ass crack, which was clearly visible just above the waistband of her wet panties.
Dipa: Arun, take that soap. Yes, the sandalwood one. And apply it on my back. Take some water as well.
Arun: Ji, Memsahab.
His hands were trembling as he picked up the bar of soap. He wet it under the tap and worked up a lather. He approached her, his breath catching in his throat. He gently placed his soapy hands on her smooth, wet back. He began to rub, the slickness of the soap and the impossible softness of her skin making his head spin.
Dipa: Now my shoulders. Rub them.
Arun’s hands moved up, massaging the soap into her elegant shoulders. He was too nervous to think, his mind a blank slate of pure sensation and overwhelming fear.
Dipa: Now my arms.
She raised her left arm, extending it to the side. As she did, she turned her body slightly. Arun, standing up to clean her arm, was suddenly presented with a stunning side view of her left breast. He could see its perfect, heavy roundness and the top half of her nipple. It was dark and fully erect, jutting forward, looking easily more than an inch long. He took a deep, shuddering breath and quickly focused on her arm, rubbing it with lather, his eyes fixed on her elbow. After he finished both arms, he stood back, his part of the deal done. But Dipa was not finished.
Dipa: Now Arun, come forward and apply the same soap on my legs. My elbow is still paining.
She turned on the stool to face him, but she kept her right hand held loosely across her chest, her elbow moving from side to side, a lazy, teasing gesture that strategically covered and uncovered her nipples. Arun kept looking, trying to catch a glimpse of what was being shown to him and what was not. As he stepped forward, his wet sandal slipped on the tiled floor. He stumbled, catching himself on the wall.
Dipa laughed, a low, throaty sound.
Dipa: Arun, relax. Come close.
The amount of trust she was showing him was astonishing. He knelt before her, his mind racing. Yeh Memsahab gazab ki hai, he thought. Koi nahi dekha aaj tak aisa. Mujhe kahi pyar na ho jaye… ya already ho gaya hai. (This Memsahab is amazing. I’ve never seen anyone like this. I hope I don’t fall in love… or maybe I already have.)
He started with her feet, his soapy hands rubbing her delicate ankles, then moving up her strong, shapely calf muscles. Dipa’s eyes were now fixated on him, a lazy, predatory smile on her face. She was imagining what he would do if she just gave him permission. She wanted to savor the moment, the delicious tension, here in her own house.
Dipa: Thighs ho gaye? Are the thighs done?
Arun: Ji, Memsahab.
Dipa: Ab mere stomach par lagao soap. Now apply soap on my stomach.
She smiled and leaned back slightly, giving him more space to work. Arun’s soapy fingers moved over her flat, wet belly, circling her navel. He was trying so hard not to move up, but as he reached her ribs, his fingers accidentally brushed against the soft, heavy underside of her breast. Dipa wished he had aimed a little higher.
She laughed and suddenly leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. Her huge, wet, soap-slick breasts swung forward and pressed fully against his chest. Arun flinched, shrinking back as if he’d been burned.
Arun: Memsahab! I… I should not be touching…
Dipa: (whispering) Arun, daro mat. Main permission de rahi hu. Karo na. Mere breasts ko touch kar sakte ho. Don't be scared. I am giving you permission. Do it. You can touch my breasts.
Arun: (pulling away, his voice panicked) Memsahab, yeh galat hai! Sahab bahut marenge! Memsahab, this is wrong! Sahab will beat me badly!
To be continued..
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