Lockdown Sex Diaries – Shobha and the Servant Part 3
Shobha woke up late on Saturday morning. Chetan was buzzing around with office calls and busy. He had received an overnight email asking for a proposal to be prepared for a client who needed extended credit to deal with the pandemic. It was a significant account, and he was asked to lead the proposal for all Asia and had to report to the Asia zonal head and close it by Saturday evening. He had retreated to his study room, seemed completely immersed in the workings. He accepted the cup of coffee Shobha brought him and did not bring up the strange events of the night before as if nothing was happening. Grateful for once with his preoccupation with work, Shobha retreated to the balcony to have her morning coffee by herself and practice yoga.
Bhola was busy with Bunty, and staying in the balcony helped Shobha keep out of his way. After her bold adventures the night before, the morning brought up memories that were embarrassing. After tending to Bunty who now settled down to watch TV cartoons, Bhola came looking for Shobha. She avoided eye contact with Bhola and assigned him household chores to keep him distracted. He seemed to want to say something to her, and Shobha avoided him. It reminded her of a certain smitten college-mate, who she was sure was mustering courage to propose to her, and when she ignored him kept looking to find excuses to hang around her like a puppy.
She got an excuse to step out of the apartment complex to restock groceries from the neighborhood shop. When she got back, Chetan was still busy with his office work preparing for the evening presentation. She fixed herself a quick lunch, fed Bunty and avoided eye contact with Bhola who seemed dying to speak to her.
Shobha and Chetan had planned the previous day to binge watch their favourite Web Series and she went to the study room to remind him. He barely heard her, distracted and preoccupied with preparing a presentation, pointed to the clock and shooed her away.
Irritated by his preoccupation with work, she retreated to the living room. She fixed herself a light snack and was sitting alone at the dining table. She had changed into denim shorts that were literally short and which flattered her smooth fair legs.
It was now early evening and she had by now run out of random chores to assign to Bhola. She realized she could no longer avoid listening to whatever it was that Bhola wanted to tell her. She was grateful Chetan was still burrowed in his study.
“Bhabhi, aap se kuch baat karni hai”, (Madam, I want to speak to you”) Bhola seemed premeditated in what he had to say and appeared distinctly contented. She didn’t have to guess why – the events of last night would have been a fantasy come true for him.
A tad nervous about what he would bring up, she crossed and uncrossed her legs. He broke his eye contact and looked at her thighs for a moment longer than he normally would and then looked down at the floor, his hands crossed in front on him in a servile pose.
“Bolo Bhola”, she replied carefully in a neutral tone. (Speak up, Bhola)
“Bhabhi, appko aur saheb ko thank you bolna hai. Aapne mujhe aapke sath dinner kara me bahut khush kar diya” (Madam, I wanted to thank you and sir. By inviting me to dinner with you, both of you have made me very happy.)
Shobha relaxed and smiled back, relieved that he brought up no reference to the events that followed dinner. She had served him a special dessert in the living room, and one that he wasn’t going to forget, she thought giggling to herself.
“Koi baat nahin, Bhola. Aap bhi to bahut acche ho. Bahut mehnat karte ho. Bunty aur hamara aur saheb ka bahut khyal rakhte ho” (Dont fret, Bhola. You are a good person too and have taken good care of myself, Bunty and saheb). She bracketed her whole family to avoid any reference to any intimacy between the two of them.
“To bolo Bhola, tumhari wapas gaon jane ki train ki ticket kab ki hai?” (So Bhola, when is your train ticket booked to get back to your village?) After her sexual adventures of the night before, the day had brough a certain sobriety and Shobha reminded herself that he fellow would soon be off and away forever from their family, and their family maid Kanta-bai would return.
“Bhabhi. lockdown khulte hi. April Paanch ko.” (Madam, as soon as the lockdown ends – April 5th)
He hesitated, wanting to say something more. “Bhabhi, jane se pehle aapkp aur saheb ko gift dena chahta hoon” (Madam, before I go, I want to give you and saheb a gift.)
Shobha thought it was sweet of him, “Iski koi zaroorat nahi, Bhola.” (No need, Bhola), and then paused, curious. “Kaisa gift, Bhola?”(What gift, Bhola?)
Bhola hesitated, and then mustering courage said, “Bhabhi, mein aapko aur saheb ko ek acha sa massage dena chahta hoon” (Madam, I want to give you and saheb a nice massage)
He then paused, visibly swallowed and delivered his pièce de résistance , “Massage, and ekdum Jharkhand ishtyle mein” (Massage, and that too in Jharkhand style!)
Caught by surprise, Shobha forced an unnatural laugh, not sure whether he was just being sweet and naive or devious and pushing his luck. She concluded it was the former, and politely thanked him.
Bhola was persistent in his offer of a massage, and Shobha became thoughtful. A massage presented options she thought, and wondered how it could play out. In any case, Bhola had included Chetan too. If anything went off the script, she could always blame it on Chetan. As she thought about it, an excited tingle went through her body. Until now, she had blocked out the sight of Bhola’s naked body and his handsome erect cock, and now the mention of a massage brought back that vision. And that cute, rounded and muscled ass, she thought, is good to bite. Again, she brushed off these lascivious thoughts. The events of last night were perhaps best forgotten.
But Bhola was persistent.
“OK, mein saheb se pooch ke batati hoon”, she said, hedging. (OK, let me check with saheb and I will let you know)
Bhola walked off satisfied with her response, and visibly thrilled.
A little later, Shobha went to the study room to check in on Chetan. Chetan was busy on an office call, wearing a headset, waving his hands and yelling at someone. A junior person in his team had messed up a slide and was getting a mouthful from him.
“Bhola wants to give us both a massage!”, Shobha blurted out wanting to catch his attention quickly. Focused on the office situation, and mid-call. Chetan thought she had come to remind him about their promise to spend the evening binge watching a webseries. He partly lifted his headset from his right ear.
“When?”, he asked.
“Janu, whenever you are ready.” Shobha could hear the plaintive explanation of Chetan’s hapless office junior come through the earpiece.
“Baby, why don’t you get started. I will join you soon”.
Shobha made a confused face. “Are you sure?” , she asked.
“Baby, yes. Get started. Don’t miss it. I will join you soon”, Chetan put back his head set, his attention shifting from Shobha to the call to the laptop screen.
“You won’t mind? Are you sure. Me alone?!”
“Baby, don’t worry. You get started. Great idea for an evening. Don’t feel guilty. I will join you. Ek ghante mein”. (In one hour). Chetan pointed vaguely at the clock before turning his attention back to the call. He wanted to send her away and get back to preparing for his meeting.
Shobha made a face, a part of her brain telling her to go for it and another part of her brain advising caution about Chetan’s obviously confused approval. The adventurous side won, and she shrugged at Chetan who had stopped noticing her and marched out of her room.
Shobha checked on Bunty in the kid’s bedroom. The kid has fallen asleep, and she tucked him in grateful that the kid was an early and sound sleeper.
Bhola was waiting for her in the living room, anticipation on his face. She tried to keep her tone neutral as she announced, “Bhola, dus minute me bedroom mein aana. Pehle saheb or liye ek peg bhej dena”. (Bhola, come to the bedroom in ten minutes. Before that, give saheb a peg).
Bhola’s face lit up with joy as he caught on that saheb wouldn’t be joining her for now.
In the privacy of her bedroom, Shobha felt a tingling sensation of anticipation. Calm down, she told herself, it’s just a massage and anyway Chetan, my husband, will be joining soon. She undressed and looked at herself nude in the bathroom mirror.
She was tall at five feet seven inches, with long smooth legs and a flat stomach. She turned and admired the profile of her breasts in the mirror. 36C, firm and fully capable of waking up the dead, she decided. A deep navel, flat stomach and a curvaceous figure accentuated by a tuft of black pubic hair. She twirled and inspected her ass. A bit plump but firm. Flat stomach but a gentle roll of fat on the sides. Not bad, she mused for a 32 year old mother.
She paused thinking what to wear. What does one wear for a massage, she pondered, especially when the possibilities ahead are erotic. She felt like a bride getting ready for a first night, she thought, giggling to herself.
She pulled out a white lingerie set and tried it on. Too virginal, she decided. Black is better, she decided and pulled over a short Silk gown with a deep V neck and a spaghetti top that ended mid thigh.
A knock sounded at the door and Bhola came in with a drink on a tray. He had served a stiff one to saheb and made an extra one for his mistress. His eyes widened as he drew in the sight of Shobha sitting at the edge of the bed, wearing a gown that barely reached her thighs, long uncovered legs, her long rich hair loose over her bare shoulders and the black silk clinging snug around her bosom, magically moulded into shape. There was an awkward silence between them.
“Kahan se shuru karein?”, asked Shobha and silently bit her tongue at how she might come across. (Where shall we start?). She found it difficult to make eye contact with Bhola.
“Bhabhi, pehle shoulder aur neck se shuru karte hein. Phir regular massage pe aate hein.” (Madam, first we will start with a shoulder and neck massage. Then we will do a regular massage.)
Shobha’s heartbeat was quickening. She hoped the “regular” massage wouldn’t be all that regular. After a short discussion, they decided that Bhola would sit on the armchair by the bedside and that Shobha would sit cross legged on the floor, just in front of Bhola and with her back to him. He explained that she would be better off sitting cross-legged on the floor so that she could have her drink while he got started with the neck massage, and she had nodded approval. It bothered Shobha a wee bit that Bhola seemed a bit more confident today, and that she was the one who seemed to be following his instructions. As she sat down on the floor, she realised that seated on the armchair, he would have his thighs astride on either side of her shoulder, his groin would just behind her head and from his elevation on the chair, he would look down into her deep cleavage.
Bastard! She thought, I didn’t know you were that devious. She was now getting that delicious tingle that forewarned of sexual tension building up in that situation.
As she sat down, she checked him out. Fit, muscular fellow, but not with a body builder’s physique, Bhola was dressed in a vest style sleeveless t shirt that exposed his broad shoulders. He was dressed in shorts that ended just below the knees. Shobha, mentally was tempted at the thought of yanking off his shorts and biting that delicious buns on his ass, and giggled as she took a sit of the strong vodka drink Bhola made made for her. The alcohol hit her head inducing a slight buzz and she began to relax.
Bhola started with a gentleness that surprised her. He began massaging her scalp with his fingers gently. This spread her luxuriant shiny shoulder length hair making it more fluffy. Bhola moved closer inhaling the smell off her shampoo. She took a sip from the drink – the vodka was strong and she wondered vaguely if Bhola had intentionally made it that way – and felt his breath tingle against her hair.
She started some small talk and asked about his family. He began talking about his youth and village life. She teasingly asked him if he had a girlfriend. He laughed at the question. She blushed asking him if he were to have a girlfriend who would it be. He mentioned the daughter of a neighbor. Apparently they studied at the same high school before she got married off. She offered him a sip from her drink and he obliged. It felt strangely intimate to share a glass with a handsome masculine servant who was also massaging her.
Done with her head massage, Bhola moved smoothly to her neck and shoulder. She had nearly finished her drink by now and leaned back against the base of the armchair to give him a better angle. Bhola continued speaking and widened the arc of his massage along her bare shoulder. His fingers were thick and coarse, but his massage was gentle. She relaxed enjoying the rhythmic squeeze. of his strong hands She knew he could look down her cleavage but didn’t care. She continued teasing Bhola about his neighbour and found that she had kept in touch with him even after her marriage and had wished him on Valentine’s Day. She bantered with Bhola and egged him to not give up despite his heartthrob getting married.
The conversation was flowing easy between the two, and an eavesdroppe would have found it difficult to believe that the two were a 20-year old servant and his 32-year old mistress. That’s when Bhola tried his luck.
“Waise bhabhi, aap bhi shadi shuda hain and hamein bahut acchi lagti hain”. (By the way madam, you are also married and I like you a lot.)
Shobha was used to men complimenting her on her looks, but never had a servant praise her. She was already one peg down, Bhola’s massage had relaxed her and he had avoided anything awkward so far.
“Achha! Toh him bhi sunein ki hamare barey mein Bhola ko kya pasand hai!” , she flirted back. (Really! In that case let me know what is it about me that Bhola likes).
Bhola shifted the direction of his massage strokes. Done with rubbing along the width of her shoulders, he began running down her neck and her throat. She ignored the increasing intimacy of the massage, engrossed in the conversation and so see how far the flirting would go.
“Bhabhi, aap bahut beautiful hain. Ek dum mast! Hamare Jharkhand mein toh aapko log Bambai ki heroine samjhenge! Woh big ek dum top ki heroine! “, Bhola was unusually talkative today. far from the tongue tied Bhola she had encountered the previous evening. (Madam, you are very beautiful! And very hot! In my state of Jharkhand, people would mistake you for a Bollywood heroine. That too a top heroine!)
His massage stroke deepened and the arc of his two hands went from either side of her neck to the base of her throat just above the border of her bra cup. He was getting a little frisky but still within the no-fly zone, she decided and ignored him preferring to focus on the banter.
“Accha! Aur batao, mere bare me in log Jharkhand mein kya kahenge? ” (Really! In that case tell me, if I came to Jharkhand, what would the people there say about me?)
The next arc off his shoulder massage paused at the top of the bra cup, a trifle longer than needed and Bhola’s finger explored the embroidered border of the cup. His thick finger paused teasingly at the top of the curve of her luscious breast before retreating back to the shoulder top at the end of the arc.
“Bhabi, aapki figure ek dum mast hai. Dus me se dus. Aapki figure dekhke to murde bhi jaag jayein. Ek dum chak-a-chak mast”. (Madam, you have a terrific figure. It’s ten on ten. After seeing your figure, even the dead will rise. Awesome).
A part of her alcohol-laden brain told her she should put him in place for using a coarse slang, but her aroused self told need to see how how far this crude flattery would go.
The next arc of his massage probed even deeper into her cleavage and dipped at least an inch below the top of her bra cup. He paused and spread out the spaghetti strap of her gown and for a moment she panicked wondering if he was going to slip the top off her shoulder. She was slightly disappointed when he left the spaghetti strap perched delicately on the edge of her shoulder.
“Bhola, waise tum bhi kafi smart ho. Bambai mein koi ladki patti nahin? “, she egged him on. (Bhola, you are a smart dude too. Haven’t you yet scored with a girl in Mumbai? “)
Though Bhola was seated behind her, she could feel his chest swell with pride. His next massage stroke went a tad deeper into her cleavage and she felt his fingernail graze the top of her areola. She reflexively tried to move back on the floor where she was seated cross-legged but found her back wedged tightly between his knees and the legs of the armchair. He had leaned forward from the armchair and his face was next to her cheeks. She could feel his stubble graze against her cheeks.
“Bhabhi, kal aap ne jo mere sath kiya, bahut accha laga” (Madam, what you did yesterday, I loved it a lot), he said a bit hoarsely and continued, “Poora seva karne ka chance jaldi di jiyiyega.” (Give me a chance to offer my full service)
And then in a single synchronized stroke that caught her by suprise, Bhola brought his two broad palms downward from her shoulder in a sudden scoop, slipped the pa!ms down through the top of her bra cup and cupped her two breasts firmly. She gasped for breath suddenly, taken aback by the brazenness of his move and realizing that her breasts were firmly cupped by Bhola.
And Bhola squeezed her breasts crudely and violently.
Shobha yelped in surprise, broke free from Bhola’s lusty grasp and jumped up from her cross-legged position and turned around to face Bhola. Bhola fol!owed a second later, jumping up from his armchair. He had perhaps not anctipated her to move to disengage and cursed himself for moving too hastily. It was progressing so smoothly and his clumsy and nasty move had broken the spell.
Shobha’s mind processed her feelings rapidly. She had not anticipated that Bhola would made a sudden move to forcibly squeeze her breasts. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the sensation; that crude grab made her wet. It’s just that she didn’t want Bhola to take control of the way situation was progressing. Until now, every single move in the flirtation or sexual exhibitionism that she thrived in, was initiated and controlled by her and by no one else.
At this stage, she could have shouted at him and thrown him out of the room.She should have, she thought.
Instead, she paused, took a deep breath, watched the fear spread across his face. She then smiled to release the tension, took a couple of steps backwards and threw herself on the bed on her back, rolled over on her stomach and pushed her upper torso up. Her legs were stretched out flat on the bed, her upper body supported by her arms and facing Bhola who was now perplexed.
“Not so fast, Bhola”, she switched to English and used a commanding tone to assert her control. She wagged her finger to admonish him and feigned anger.
“Sorry Bhabhi!” , a confused and scared Bhola murmured contritely not wanting to let his bhabhi get away, a humble look now on his face.
She smiled at Bhola, secretly enjoying his discomfiture. Having re-established the power equation over Bhola, Shobha slipped back into being the seductress. The smile broadened, she tossed her head back and toyed with her long hair, twisted it between her fingers like women do when they are teasing their lovers. She then rolled over to the centre of her bed and again lay on her stomach. Her gown was anyway only thigh high, and it now rolled up even higher and Bhola was presented by the mermerizing sight of the back of her creamy thighs and her black panty covering a gorgeous ass. Flat on her stomach on the bed, she looked back at him, unhurriedly smoothened the bottom of her black gown so that it covered her panties. Her modesty now restored, she again wagged a finger at Bhola.
#Lockdown #Sex #Diaries #Shobha #Servant #Part