My Maid In Mumbai
What are these strange unspoken rules that hold us back? Sometimes it is hard for our emotions to flow because we humans are flawed. Systematic progression has not been kind to our deepest desires.
Thus the timid are held back forever to live in their shells. This must be true when certain displays of affection and attraction can lead to such harm.
I was twenty-two when she first appeared before me. A maid in Mumbai, from a family that lived nearby who I was to hire to help out around the house. Maid culture, to this day, can sometimes be a despicable thing. But I knew she would never experience its unpleasant nature as long as she worked for me.
I would not have hired a maid in the first place if it had not been for my parents trying to make sure I was mollycoddled. Now that I had, it would be my self assumed duty to ensure she had an uneventful experience. But this woman, I saw something in her eyes.
I didn’t quite understand what it was when she stood there for the first time, just outside my door. Before I could decipher this, she smiled at me, forcing a smile onto my face as well. I tried hard not to stare at her lips, which, despite being thin, seemed to look so delicious.
I felt a lust like I never had before for this sweet innocent woman. How could any of the social media-obsessed girls I had known ever compete with someone I found so pure? In hindsight, I now realize I had just never come across someone who attracted me, so in the two years I had attended college.
I did not say anything for a few seconds, and she was understandably a bit confused. I shook it off and welcomed her with a little laugh. She spoke a different language, but we both shared a meager vocabulary in each other’s languages.
We walked around the apartment, and I showed her the rooms. With each room, I’d get a little peek at her. What she wore was not very revealing. But she was petite, and my imagination had no problems filling the blanks. She had long hair tied in a bun at the back. Her eyes had brown irises, and she wore a bindi.
After all, it was that face that had me rooted in place. I knew she was at least thirty-four and a mother of two, but she looked a bit under twenty-six. What couldn’t be noticed with aging was, however, compensated by her eyes. Eyes that told that she had wisdom from experience, at least more than me.
I have always been a shy empathetic person. So I decided to dampen my sexual yearning for her. I knew she would be in the apartment regularly, and it wouldn’t be healthy to have throbbing erections every time I glimpsed at her face. This was no exaggeration.
Over the next few days, whenever I’d welcome her in, I’d have to turn away and walk away while exchanging pleasantries so she wouldn’t see the strain she was causing on my shorts. Eventually, I mastered the greetings and learned how to keep my mind blank better than any master of meditation.
This, however, was overturned when she started wearing clothes that seemed tighter than usual. Some discrepancies from my imagined version of her were cleared and for the better too. Whenever she’d enter my room with a broom and bend over to start sweeping, I would lose focus and get incredibly stiff.
I would be forced to angle it stealthily between my thighs and hold as tight as I could until she left. Every now and then, we would exchange words. I would do my best to make her laugh by speaking in the language she spoke with a horrible accent.
It finally happened when one day she was cleaning the table in the living room. She bent her upper body over it to reach the middle, and I, lying on the couch, had a view of her from the side. The perfect curves that I admired all lined up to their peaks.
One of her calves was slightly bent her ass at the edge of the table. Her arched back caused each of her small breasts to push against the table. Oh, how I wanted to be behind, under and in front of her simultaneously. My suppressed urges attacked all at once, and I tried to get up to leave.
This time, however, my sudden movement caught her eye, and she looked up at me. Despite it being the worst thing I could have done, I froze in her gaze. My manhood was clearly visible as a thick soda can under my shorts. She did not seem to react at first.
With all the blood rushing to my cock, I was unable to think straight. I took a step towards her and then saw her flinch a little as if she was unsure about what I was about to do. Realizing what it looked like, I felt my face flush even more, and I scampered out of the room.
I buried my head in my hands as I tried to reverse time, simulating how terrible she must have felt at that moment. She was also married, and I was pompous enough to assume she would be inviting to someone younger than her who she had known for a month.
The next day when I heard the doorbell, I almost didn’t get up to answer it. When I gave in, it seemed I had caught her just as she was thinking of leaving. After brief eye contact, I let her in and walked away quickly without saying anything.
For about a month, this dry wordless thing continued until one day, she came and asked me about getting a new bottle of disinfectant for the house. I responded actively, and she smiled at me. This time I didn’t react with lust because that part of me was shut out.
As I smiled back at her for the first time in a while, happy that things might go back to the fun little exchanges we had, I felt something. This was worrisome. I was holding back all the sexual energy in my body, but still, something draws me to her. I was smitten with no chance to escape.
Just those small exchanges we had, the cute conversations, those lips, had me so drawn in. There was no escaping this. I had to tell her. The horrifying experience from last month rattled through my head the moment I had that thought. Over the next few months, I kept it going.
I greeted her every day, and our pleasantries slowly grew more and more in comfort and duration. I would joke with her regularly, making sure she didn’t leave without getting a good laugh. I had learned my lesson and had decided not to try anything stupid unless she indicated something to me clearly.
One weekend she was mopping the corridor, and I was walking by her. As I was passing her, the mop got tangled in my legs. I reacted quickly, bending to catch the mop as it left her grip. As I rose up to hand it back, we ended up a bit close. My nose brushed her cheek on the way up.
When I began moving my feet away to take a step back, she leaned forward and planted her lips on my cheek. It was a playful kiss, but one that seemed to reveal that the tension had been both ways. As blood rushed into my face and my cock, I pushed her against the wall and returned the gesture.
I kissed her cheek and then her jaw, her chin, and then her neck. She exhaled gently onto my hair as I lightly nibbled her neck and massaged the spot with my tongue. She lifted her hand to my chin and pushed my head up till our noses were next to each other, our breath was in sync.
She put her arms around my neck. I grabbed her by the waist as we kissed each other harder and harder, pressing against each other until I had explored her mouth with mine.
“I’ve been waiting so long to taste you. ” I whispered to her, caressing her cheek with the back of my hand. She didn’t reply to that. I was worried I had made it awkward in translation. But before I could say anything, she kept my mouth occupied again.
As I settled in again, she suddenly pulled her tongue out and pushed me away. She then ran to get her slippers and left the house, leaving me dazed and confused. I ran to the balcony and watched her walk briskly out of the apartment and down the street towards her house.
As she disappeared, I gently slid my finger across my lower lip. It was wet with her saliva, and I sucked my finger dry. She knew as well as I did that if she came back, there would be no stopping us now. In that moment of ecstasy, I had felt her too, and there was no doubt in my mind that she would be back.
The next day I watched as she walked towards the apartment. She did not notice me through the trees, and I could see she was a little nervous. I waited by the door and opened the moment she rang the bell. She jerked up a bit when I did but regained her composure and walked in.
As she walked by me, I stood right there by the door, following her with my eyes. She brushed past, trying not to look me in the eye and went down the corridor to the closet. I decided to let her go about the housework first. She would not leave without a confrontation about what had happened between us.
I went to the living room, knowing that it would be the last room she would clean. I sat at the table and waited. After fifteen minutes, she entered with the mop. She registered my presence and was avoiding looking at me. I could see the ruse, she wasn’t scared or worried that I would do something.
She was worried about what would happen if she gave in to her lust. She finished the mopping and picked up the sponge to clean the table. She approached me and stopped, expecting me to get up so she could clean the small round table.
“I wont get up,” I said to her, “Continue with your cleaning.” She pulled the other chairs and started cleaning it from the side. As she bent over, as usual, I made it clear that I was staring at her. I looked at her ass as it perked up when she bent, and I felt my cock pulsating furiously.
As she arched her back to reach the other end of the table, I raised my hand to her face. She stopped wiping but did not flinch as I gently placed my hand on her neck and began sliding it over her back. I felt the curve of her back and kept my hand going towards her ass.
She was breathing faster, and her breasts were heaving slightly. As my right hand reached her ass, I took my left and put it on the other side of her face. In one quick motion, I had gotten up and used my hands to turn her towards me. I traced my left hand from her face to her breasts.
I was gently pressing them while simultaneously squeezing her ass with my other. Her heart was beating rapidly. Her eyes darted down to my shorts, where my cock was standing hard and perpendicular. There were no boxers under my shorts to hold it down.
She raised one hand to my neck, and the other lowered to my cock, slowly wrapping her fingers around my hard member within my shorts. As I let out a satisfactory grunt, she pulled my face closer. We kissed each other without holding back.
She was rubbing the upper side of my cock, and I could not take the teasing anymore. This table where my sexual fantasy of her had almost died would now mark the culmination of a wildly sexual relationship, as long as I had any say in the matter.
She was wearing a salwaar-kameez, a traditional dress, which was infuriatingly unrevealing. As our tongues finished greeting each other more intimately than new friends should. I pulled down the clothes that covered her sleek legs to reveal a white undergarment that tightly fitted between her thighs.
There was no time for foreplay, I needed to be inside her. I pulled down my shorts, letting my cock bounce up to its perpendicular position. She stared at it and put her hand back on it as we kissed again.
“We shouldn’t, this isn’t right,” she said with the last three words intertwined between kisses.
“Do you feel this fire?” I asked her, briefly turning completely serious.
She hesitated to answer, and I continued, “Tell me right now that you don’t feel this thing I do. As if we are drawn to each other somehow.”
She answered me without speaking through her eyes and, with a smile, grabbed my cock and leaned into me again to embrace me. I wasn’t having any more of the niceties. I pushed her against the table and propped her up onto it. Her top was still on, but I didn’t care.
I grabbed her undergarment and yanked it down her legs, dropping it to the floor next to my shorts. There it was, tight pussy, and to my surprise, it was trimmed. As much as I had the urge to taste it first, I ignored that and placed my hands on her thighs.
I positioned the tip of my cock to touch her just below the wet pussy. She seemed like she was about to say something. Before she did, I plunged into her, like a daring person would jump into a dark pool of water. We moaned simultaneously at the first stroke, and I slowly began to pump out and back in.
“So thick…” she moaned as I sped up my strokes, barely able to hear her over the sloppy sounds we were making together.
That sound was so intensely erotic. I realized I was focusing so much on it that I had drooled. Luckily the drool dropped right onto her slightly reddening vagina, and I was able to play it off as a tactic. I was now looking at her. She had her eyes closed, and head tilted back.
Her mouth was agape, and the overall expression was one better than what I had imagined would be her natural one. I took my hand around her to the bottom of her back for a better grip. So I could push into her easier and deeper by pushing her into me as well.
My other hand went up to the back of her head as I leaned to kiss her. The angle was difficult, and I couldn’t reach her mouth with mine. So I stuck my tongue out and began darting it across her lips. She responded by sticking hers out so that we could improve this dynamic that seemed to be becoming a favorite.
We were rutting hard, and the sweat was beginning to build up. We both had our upper clothing still on. So it was soaked up near our backs, but I could feel my legs and hers that were wrapped around my thighs getting more slippery. I was starting to get close.
I knew I wasn’t experienced enough to hold it in for longer. Every instinct within me told me to release inside her. The thought of impregnating her entered my mind. The rational side was flooded by a primal drive and shut out of my mind. I had pulled out of women before.
But those had all been times where I was using a condom. This time due to the lack of protection, this drive I felt from the skin to skin contact was not allowing me to think properly. I slowed down my strokes but began going back in deeper and harder while feeling my cock ready to explode.
She opened her eyes and saw my face and understood what I was about to do. She shoved me off as my pulsating cock shot out burst after burst of semen that got on her belly and her left thigh. As my head cleared, I immediately became apologetic.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” I frantically said, “Please forgive me.”
Her face was not as pleasant anymore, and her expression was one of anger and disappointment.
“Think about what you were just about to do,” she said curtly before picking up her clothes, ” I have to go.”
She walked down the corridor and into my bathroom. She came out looking less sweaty and with wet spots where I had sprayed on her clothes. As she walked towards the door, I tried to say something.
But she had already slammed it and left. I did not go to the balcony this time but went back to the living room to clean her sweat off the table and my semen off the floor.
My Maid In Mumbai