Erotic Massage: 1

I am an Indian housewife, aged 42 now. I wish to narrate a true incident in my life, which happened nearly four years ago.

I had all along a very active and satisfying sex life with my husband, but around five years back, a lingering back pain of mine spoilt my sex life completely. Whenever we attempted, my pain used to be unbearable and finally we had to stop that. Although my husband all along tried his best for my treatment and never expressed his sexual frustrations before me, I could guess that he used to feel miserable. So was I.

I consulted a number of doctors. Most of them said that the pain was arthritic in nature and there was no cure for this. At last, I consulted an ayurvedic doctor. He prescribed an herbal medicine and advised me to have an oil massage in my back everyday. He said that I should better get it done by someone who knows massaging fairly well. I liked his advice, but who would do that for me? 

We had a boy servant, called Bachchu, who used to work full-time in our house and help me in cooking and other domestic works. He was quite young and if my guess goes right, he must be around twenty then. Bachchu was quite dutiful, efficient and honest and because of these reasons, we liked him. I asked Bachchu if he knew someone who could do the massage for me. Basically, I was looking for a woman to do this job. Bachchu thought for a while and said he didn't know anyone. He suggested that he himself would be able to do this job as he had worked in a massage parlor for a brief duration.

When I heard his suggestion, I simply blushed!! No, it's certainly not possible for me to agree to this. Myself getting massaged by my servant - no, such a thing I could not imagine. Still, I didn't say no to him immediately. I said I would ask his "babu"(my husband) and then decide. When I told this to my husband, he said, "Nandita", you should have agreed straightaway. If Bachchu himself knows massaging, I think that's going to be the best." I tried to tell him how I blushed at this suggestion. He was annoyed, "Nandita", what is more important for you? Your shame or getting relief from the pain?" I agreed that certainly the second one is more important for me. My husband looked happy. He said that I should offer him Rs.50/- extra per month for this job.

Next morning, after my husband left for the office, I called Bachchu and told him about my decision. He was happy that at last I have agreed to his suggestion. I told him about the extra money. To this, he looked pretty embarrassed. He said, "Masima", you may give me anything else, but no money please. I'll love to do this service for you."

After finishing his domestic duties, Bachchu came to me. He asked if I was ready for the massage. I was getting ready to apply hair oil on my hair myself, before he started the massage. Bachchu looked at me and then said "I can do that better! Give the bottle to me." He almost snatched it from my hand and told me to sit on the floor. I was wearing a pink cotton sari with a matching blouse. I love to put on pink dresses as that suits my fair complexion very well. Bachchu sat behind me and loosened my lovely long, black hair and let it fall on the floor in a cascade. He started applying hair oil onto my hair. The whole room got filled up with the sweet fragrance of the hair oil that I use. He praised my long hair and caringly applied oil to my scalp and then put his fingers through the strands of my hair. When he was massaging my scalp, I was trying to imagine how would he massage my back? Do I have to remove my blouse? Oh, No! I just shuddered to think that. Otherwise, how, I wondered, would he massage my back? I had a strange mixture of nervousness, shyness, uneasiness and what not! My heart began to throb, as he was about to complete the massage with hair oil.

Bachchu applied the massage oil on his both palms and applied them on my forehead. I wondered why he was massaging me there, as I never had any pain in that region. Bachchu told me that massage is good for the body and it shouldn't be restricted to the pain region alone. Actually, a good massage should always start from the top - that's what his trainer had told him. He gently massaged my forehead and then my cheeks and chin. He softly applied oil on the bridges of my nose and even cared to apply a bit of oil to my nostril openings. I relaxed and enjoyed what he was doing. He massaged my lips as well. After that his hands came close to my ears. He removed my earrings. With a pair of Johnson buds, he carefully cleaned the interior of my ear and applied oil in every part of my external ear. My body was put to rest. It was so relaxing, so enjoyable. I wanted him to continue with my face for some more time, but Bachchu surely had more things to do.

Bachchu's fingers slowly approached my neck. I was wearing a mangalsutra (a kind of gold necklace with black beads - a sign of married Indian ladies) and perhaps that was causing a bit of hindrance to his massage. He asked me if I would remove my mangalsutra. Unlike other Indian ladies, I am free from any prejudice and I willingly unhooked that from my neck. Bachchu took it from me and carefully put it on the bedside desk. He could then massage my throat and the neck region without any obstruction. After this, Bachchu took my right palm in his hand and gently rubbed it with his palm. Then he individually massaged each of my fingers.

He was doing everything with such a great care that I had a great feeling of liking from within. He repeated the same things with my left palm. He was all the time talking to that and me must have helped in making the atmosphere easy. I was having pink nail polish on my nails. Bachchu smiled and joked, "Mashima", everything is pink for you today." With the oil on it, those were glittering. The next item of massage was surely my hands. Bachchu removed all my bangles from my hand. Even the "sankha" and "pala" (a special kind of bangle used by married Bengali ladies) were off my hands. 

He then rubbed my hands with force, sometimes pressing and kneading. I could sense that my blood flow was increasing and I was feeling hot, even though the ceiling fan was revolving right above my head. Bachchu gathered greater and greater strength and continued to massage my hands up to the elbows for some more time. My blouse was covering rest of my hands. When his fingers moved above my elbows, he softly whispered in my ears, "Mashima", your blouse please). 

I guessed because of his shyness he couldn't complete the sentence, but I could clearly get the signal that he wanted my blouse removed. Although, I was under this tension for a long time before my massage, when the moment came, I was so much engrossed in the massage that I didn't hesitate to remove it. I unbuttoned the blouse from the front and Bachchu helped me to take it out of my hands. I had a bra inside and I covered the exposed parts of my back with the pallu (the upper part) of my sari.

Bachchu's fingers could now freely move above my elbows, right up to my shoulder joints and arm pits. He was saying that my hands were too soft and massaged them with greater strength and energy. I was having increased blood circulation and wanted him to continue the massage in this manly way. He then rubbed my shoulders and uncovered my pallu to the extent that he could completely massage the upper area of my back. He asked me how I was feeling. 

I admitted that the massage was bringing great comforts to me and he was surely doing a great job. While he was massaging my back and especially my pain region, I suddenly felt that all my pain had suddenly gone. It was just incredible. I was deeply engrossed and I didn't even bothered to protest, as Bachchu's trembling fingers unhooked my brassier strap at the back. GOD!! I was never prepared for this. Bachchu slowly removed my bras, as I tried to protect my boobs with my sari. 

My servant was sitting behind me and could freely massage all over my bare back. He started gently with my spinal chord and the regions around it and massaged with force when he came to the sides of my back. At one stage, I felt that his fingers were quite close to me breasts. I was wondering what would happen, if his fingers accidentally touched my breasts! The moment this fear came to my mind, my heart started throbbing. 

I was torn between embarrassment and arousal. I realized I was getting horny - my face was getting red, my eyes were burning, my pulse rate was increasing and I started getting a sexy sensation between my legs. I knew that given the employer-servant relationship between us, Bachchu would never dare to touch me there. But, somehow, at that moment, all my sexual desires, which were absent for the past few months got revived. I desperately wanted a male hand to touch me there. 

For the first time, I dared to have a dirty fantasy of my servant grabbing my breasts. GOD!! What am I doing? Am I forgetting all social norms and taboos? Am I still in my senses? I realized all my powers of arguments, powers of thinking were gone. At that moment I only wanted a hard male squeezing of my breasts. I was desperately waiting for an accident to happen. But no! No accident was happening! His hands were still keeping a modest distance. I was getting restless for a touch. 

At one stage, I just pointed fingers to my boobs and asked with a husky, trembling voice,” Wouldn’t you massage me here? " I turned my face to him. The twenty-year-old young man blushed and looked red. I tried to look at his pyjama. His swollen cock made it a tent and I could make out how horny he was. That made me more excited. I was trying to visualize his erect manhood inside his pyjamas and felt that my hot cunt started tingling strangely and I could sense my molten cunt cream after a prolonged period of absentance from sex. " Masima, I --I thought you wouldn't allow me to do it there --" he was clearly stammering in excitement and fear. "No, no, you are a very good boy. 

Why should I mind? After all, it's a massage isn't it?” I tried to assure. Bachchu could not wait any longer. He oiled his palm again and pressed my breasts. GOD! Was I cheating my husband? I surely was. I was married for 15 years. It was for the first time in my married life that a person other than my husband had taken control of my breasts.

"Ohh ...! Squeeze it... Squeeze it more." that's what I wanted to shout, but I tried to apply my control. Bachchu was faithfully oiling my breasts. My hard nipples, the black circle surrounding that and all over. He was doing with his both hands- sometimes softly, sometimes tightly, giving a different sensation at every moment. GOD! Who taught him to be a lover like this? Nature? I wondered. For the first time, I started making verbal expressions. 

"Don't feel shy - do it nicely, a---h just like this!!" Bachchu was too excited to talk to me. He faithfully obliged and drove me wild with greater and greater ecstasies. 

While Bachchu was cupping my breasts, his hands were working under the pallu of my sari and I was still careful in not exposing my breasts completely. Actually, he was still sitting behind me and although my boobs were completely in his possession, those were out of his direct view. After completely satisfying me with the breast massage, Bachchu's hands reached my belly I was enjoying the tickling sensation, especially when his index finger reached my navel. He put some extra oil inside that to make it a pool and tapped there a few times. While he was caring this region, I was trying to imagine the next part of his massage. Where would it be? Below my waist and lower belly? God! I couldn't imagine anything more. My sex-starved cunt was creaming with a fresh supply of cunty juice. It was paining. I was dreaming if I could get a massage right till there. "Oh, Boy!! Do it!! Do it till there. It's just for the sake of a massage - so don't feel shy ---"

No, I was certainly not bold enough to utter these things in reality. Instead, I was trying to apply my willpower to control such dirty desires within me. I was unable to explain how could a shy housewife like me, who is ever faithful to her husband, could adventure this much with her boy servant. When he completed massage of my upper part, I quickly got up without allowing any possibility for a massage anywhere in my lower part.

Just after the massage, I hurriedly went for a bath. I was getting restless to undress myself and take care of my wet cunt. I tried to imagine Raja, my husband, while masturbating, but all my imaginations got shattered when I tried to figure out what Bachchu might be doing with the massive manhood, which he had developed for the past half-an-hour. Maybe, he had rushed to our other toilet, which he uses, and now he might be vigorously beating his flesh to release his load I was finger-fucking myself and the imagination of Bachchu's masturbation made me more and more horny. Oh boy! I was Cumming, Cumming all the way. Would Bachchu be releasing his load by now? I could visualize that jets of thick white sticky semen made up a mess on the floor and that drove my orgasms to a new peak.

Before coming under the shower, I looked at my nude figure in the mirror. My breasts were still warm and reddish with the increased blood flow resulting from the massage. I had a close look at my breasts. Every square millimeter area of my breasts was glittering with oil. Bachchu hadn't missed a single spot. I was looking at my breasts with utter disbelief that another man today and that handled these too with my own invitation. I came under the shower and soaped my whole body. It took quite some time to wash out the stickiness of the oil. At the end, I was feeling fresh. There was a feeling of easiness in my whole body. I never knew that massage makes one feel so good, so relaxing it is!

I wiped my body with a towel, got dressed and came out. Bachchu served my meal. There was an uneasy calmness in the room. While I was still trying to recover from my arousal that resulted from the happenings of today, Bachchu too was looking unusually quiet. For him, I guess, it was the first touch of a female breast and he might have been trying to recover from the sexually explosive shock that he received.

I really didn't have any serious intention of cheating my husband and so I didn't want to carry any sense of guilt with me. I felt I should tell everything to Raja - only point was how and when. We have always shared each other's fantasies and that had always ignited our passion in the past. Most of the times, we fantasize ourselves with each other's friends and enjoy, without attaching slightest seriousness to it. We had other fantasies too. Once, Raja had described an erotic encounter with the domestic maidservant of his parental home, much before our marriage. I was so horny that I couldn't wait for a wild sex with him in bed. Later, he had told me that it was his wild adolescence fantasy. If he hadn't told me that it was a fantasy, I would have always believed it to be a reality.

After Raja returned home, he announced in the tea table that he would be going to Delhi by the early morning flight next day. That was a very sudden development. Actually, his boss was supposed to go for that meeting, but as his priorities got changed, Raja would be substituting him. I had to spend the rest of the evening in getting his dresses and other things organized. When we were in bed, he didn't forget to ask me about the massage. I said it was very nice and at least, I had some relief from the pain. He asked me if I had felt shy during the process. I gave a very naughty smile and said, "I was shy to start with, but horny later on ". I could again sense that my erotic feelings were running high. Should I tell the rest of the story now itself? "Wow! That sounds great! he said after hearing my reply.

"Don't think that only you can fantasize sex with your maid-servant. Even, I can have that with Bachchu ...", I said. I was too horny to keep my voice steady. "Darling, never mind - you do it. You may even do it in reality if that helps in regaining your passion. Get yourself cured and let us get back our sex life." I couldn't trust my ears. Is he still in his senses? I embraced him closely and said, Darling, don't worry, we'll surely get it back. We couldn't talk for long as I wanted him to take some rest before his flight.

The office car came early in the morning to pick Raja up. He got into the car and waved at me. For the next three days, only myself and Bachchu will stay in the house. (I forgot to mention in the beginning that God hasn't blessed me with a child). As the car rolled past Southern Avenue (a famous road in South Calcutta), I started thinking for the next massage.

It was too early in the morning for me to start the day. Bachchu had already got up and I told him not to hurry up with morning tea and breakfast preparation, as I wanted to get some more sleep, although I was pretty sure that I wouldn't get any more sleep. All that I needed was a bit of privacy to think with a cool head what I was up to. I came back to my bedroom, closed the door and lay down on the bed.

The first question that struck me was whether Raja was serious about what he told me last night. I felt that he was kidding and in reality it's not possible for a husband to grant blanket permission to his wife for having sex with the domestic boy servant! Our conversation took place in a light and joking mood and I could not tell Raja about how Bachchu massaged my breasts. So, there was every reason for Raja to believe that it was just a casual dirty conversation of ours and there was no seriousness hidden in it. But I knew that my body was on fire and was I mischievously thinking of misusing my husband's absence for a misadventure with my servant? The moment I thought this, I could sense an increase in my pulse rate and throbbing of heart. I was restless to get back my sex life and all that I needed first was just a man who would be able to overpower my pain with lust. I was getting horny again. My fingers were touching my cunt and I was wet in no time. Immediately, I thought of the barriers between our ages and more so, in our social status. What would people think of me, if ever others know a misdeed of this nature? I tried to impose the social norms and taboos upon me. So I must do something to overcome these dirty thoughts.

I thought of an easy option. My parents are staying in the other end of the city and what I can easily do is to grant three days' leave to Bachchu, so that he could visit his native place and I can stay with my parents. When I had almost decided about this, I felt sorry that I would miss my massage. Even if I keep aside the erotic components in it, surely I enjoyed the massage, which Bachchu had given to me. Then? Am I going to stay here? Am I going to have the massage sessions with Bachchu? Like yesterday? Should I put that as the limit? Or...? Again, again I was losing control. Why should I be so afraid of the society?

My daydreaming, fantasies and tensions got abruptly halted when there was a knock at my bedroom door. "Masima, won't you have your breakfast now?", Bachchu came and asked. I looked at the watch. Surely, it was time to take something. "Yes, just two pieces of toast with butter and tea", I said.

After brushing my teeth, I came to the breakfast table. Bachchu had kept everything ready. I tried to concentrate on my eating. But, from my sixth sense, which is normally very strong with the ladies, I knew that he was looking at me. That look was no doubt different from how he used to look at me before yesterday's happenings. He was looking at my shoulders and also at my breasts, where he massaged so passionately yesterday. Out of a sheer feminine instinct, I re-adjusted my sari’s protection above my blouse, but honestly speaking, wasn't I mischievously enjoying his stare? Bachchu turned on the ceiling fan, as I was visibly sweating, apparently because of the sultry weather and the sips from steaming hot tea, but definitely, the heat of passion within my body had a lot of contributions to it.

Bachchu didn't have much of work in the morning. My husband was away and I had to use up the accumulated foodstuff in the refrigerator. Rather than cooking new items, I instructed him to clean the kitchen thoroughly. I too joined hands with him, so that everything could be properly organised according the housewife's likings and also to hasten the process, so that could start my massage early. I felt restless. I wanted him to start the massage as early as he could, although I had to pretend that I was the lady of the house and I mean business first.

We were in the middle of the cleaning process, when the doorbell rang. It was Aparna-di, one of our elderly neighbors. She is a very nice lady and I too like her. Her only problem, if any, is her talkative habit. Whenever I have anything important to do and she visits my house, I always wish that she shouldn't start some long stories and would rather leave early enough. But, if she is in the right kind of mood, you can't stop him and it would look rather discourteous and awkward to get up, mind your own business and ignore her. At least, I can never do that and I have to remain as a passive listener, whether I like it or not.

"Ohhh, .... Raja has gone on tour and are you alone now?" I could make out from her enthusiasm that she felt I had all the time in the world to listen to her long stories. "Okay, why don't you come over to my house and let's have our lunch there ....", she invited me. And also endless chat?", I wanted to add, but of course, I didn't. No, I was surely not prepared to spend the rest of the morning and afternoon with Aparna-di. "Not today, Aparna-di! I have just started clearing the mess from my kitchen. It's a huge task. And Bachchu alone won't be able to do it." "Okay, I understand. Maybe tomorrow or the day after", she said. I wished she forgets about it. She talks so much that she even forgets what she says. I wanted to cash on this advantage. "You know, I was eager to tell you something ,....."she started. "Oh, no, don't tell me" would have been my spontaneous response, but I had to keep quiet and be passive listener, for the sake of courtesy and neighborly relations. I tried to devote attention to what she said, but all the time, erotic massage was going on in my mind. I was looking at the kitchen, where Bachchu was busy arranging things. What a strong young man he is! Effortlessly he could shift heavy things. I like strong men, I want them to be very strong, so strong that I can feel the sensation of pain when a man squeezes my breasts or enters me! Yes, again I was thinking about Bachchu and feeling the heat between my legs and in my whole body. Occasionally, I was nodding my head and uttering "Hmmmm .......", just to pretend that I was listening to Aparnadi's boaring stuff.

"Tell me, doesn't it look bad?" she asked me at one stage. Believe me, I didn't pay any attention to what she was talking about and what was it that she was trying to say "bad". It was foolish for me to express any opinion, but I had to. All that I could make out was that she only wanted my approval. So, I said, "Yes, yes, it surely looks bad" and I was amazed by my own stupidity. "I knew you will also feel that way, but just see, (----blah-----blah------)". So, at least, I could successfully hide my unmindful ness and felt a bit relieved.

In the meantime, the clock advanced beyond twelve and Bachchu had finished whatever he was told to do in the kitchen. I felt that it was high time that I get my massage. "Let me see how you arranged " I told Bachchu and went with him to the kitchen, clearly signaling Aparna-di that I wanted her to leave. I don't know whether it was because of this discourteous act of mine, or because, she herself got tired of nonstop talking that she said, "Okay, Nandita", do your work. I am going now. Just drop in to my house, any time". "Sure, Aparna-di, I will. Bye", I said with full of courtesy and politeness.

Bachchu was ready with the oil. Like me, he too must have wanted Aparna-di to leave. "Do we start?" he asked in short. His voice wasn't normal. He must be expecting to give me a massage like yesterday and feeling horny. He was visibly tense and I was tempted to look at his pyjama. His cock had formed a tent there and I could find a spot of wetness in that region. I was losing control. My hands were eager to touch the strong manhood of this strong young man. But, I am the lady of the house and he is my servant. I must not give him a feeling that I am in urgent need of a sex. At the same time, I wanted my lust to flourish under the disguise of massage.

Bachchu sat behind me. Maybe, he was much closer to me than the way he did on the previous day. He again started with my hair, then my face, shoulders, arms and back. It was wonderful! It was the best type of feeling I ever had. I felt I belonged to a new world of pleasure. I completely surrendered myself to him as he took charge of me. He removed my earrings, my mangle sutra, my bangles, my blouse and my bras - one after the other without any uneasiness that was present on the previous day.

When his hands at last rested on my eager breasts and were pressing my hard erect nipples, I moaned loudly, expressing my passion, as he built up his strengths more and more. He started squeezing my breasts, moving both his palms all over them to make them slippery with oil. Should I give him a glance of what he has done to my breasts. The moment this thought came to my mind, I felt my whole body getting baked in the heat of passion. No, not now, I thought.

When he finished massaging my top half, I was so deeply engrossed in pleasure that it was difficult for me to leave it at that stage. I wanted more of it. Yes, in the lower part of my body. Yes, I wanted it, rather I was dying for it. And, I had to say at last, "Bachchu, it's wonderful. I can't stop here. Wouldn't you do it more today?" I almost begged with lust. Now, I turned to him. My breasts were exposed. He was too excited and speechless. Maybe, he never dreamt of this situation in a lady-boy servant relationship. Nor did I, but it was. At that moment, I was ready to gift my body to him. I looked at his tent. It was steadily going up and up. The region in his pyjama was getting more and more soaked with increased pumping of his juice. It's a human body. Our mind may understand taboos, morality, inhibitions and other forbidden aspects, but body doesn't. When a river is desperate to break its embankments, you can't stop it. And in moments, when the lust is too strong, your mind won't listen to you. The desperate river will wash away the dams that you may like to construct.

I wanted to touch his throbbing cock. But immediately felt that at least he must complete the message before anything gets out of control.

There was a small divan in our living room. Bachchu asked me to lie down on my stomach. My sari was almost unwrapped. I took out the folds of my sari underneath the petticoat and removed it completely before lying down on the divan. My petticoat was the only garment that covered the lower part of my body and I didn't wear any panties, while I am at home. After I lay down on my stomach, Bachchu had to start his next part of the job.

"Masima, eta ki thakbe?"(Madam, will it be there on your body?) he asked with a clumsy voice, pointing to my petticoat. My sexual tensions were at its peak, but still I hesitated for a moment to directly answer. Certainly, Bachchu was not courageous enough to remove my last piece of garment without my verbal consent. I was silent. My cunt was quivering and I felt that all my juices would now burst out of it. I desperately wanted my petticoat out of my body. Still I was silent. What was holding me up? Social norms, taboo, age difference? Perhaps everything and perhaps nothing. Bachchu started massaging lower part of my waist, while the petticoat was still on.

"Na khul le ki kore korbi?"(How will you do it unless it is removed?) I tried to keep my voice steady, but it obviously betrayed, as the fire within me was on. Bachchu's fingers reached the knot of the petticoat string. I helped him to unfasten it and he did the rest. He pulled my petticoat down and down further, below my buttocks, thighs, legs and toes. He took out the ornament from my legs. I was completely naked, there wasn't even a piece of thread attached to my body, it was the body that God had gifted to me, with nothing more added to it.

While Bachchu was removing my petticoat, I wanted to make the whole atmosphere so very natural that I told him with a husky voice, "What's the point in being shy before you?" as if to suggest that Bachchu was so close to me. I tried to introduce some innocence in my words and it sounded so very exciting in my own ears.

Even two days before, could I ever believe that I would dare to lie down completely naked in front of my boy servant? What was unthinkable two days back, was a naked reality today. I was not in a state to think of the shame and embarrassment , which was so natural for a lady, with no exception of myself. My mind just drove me wildly into a new state, where I rather enjoyed and was excited by my own nudity in front of this young stud. Let him look at his lady mistress. Let him be proud of his wonderful massaging power that could transform her lady mistress into a state where she was burning with forbidden lust for him. Has any lady ever dared to lie naked in front of her boy servant and passionately wish for a penetration? Is it that I was the first woman to do this daring act? Possibly yes and I was feeling proud about it. It was this sense of pride and my ever-growing excitement that took my shame completely away. I closed my eyes and completely surrendered myself to this young masseur.

His hands reached my ass cheeks. I am quite fleshy down there and even a soft pressing of his finger could penetrate quite deep into my flesh, all the way up to my bones. He was using both his hands, in a rhythmic way.'Ahhh....Mmmmm....Ahhh.' were the utterings that I was unconsciously making out of my mouth. OH! It made me feel so.... good. As he pressed my buttocks, I could feel more and more pressures on my bare cunt, which was clearly spoiling the bed sheet underneath. Unknowingly, my fingers went there to touch my clitoris. 

"Do it nicely, everywhere" I said, without clearly explaining the word "everywhere.” I wasn't sure what message did the word carry to Bachchu.

I didn't dare to look at Bachchu's condition. I guessed that his erection would now be at its peak and he must be close to reaching his orgasm. He might be desperately trying to close his floodgates and prevent any embarrassment in front of me.

Bachchu's oily palm slowly went upslope up to the crest of my ass cheek and then traveled down slope. Just then, there was a ring in our telephone. The cordless handset was within my easy access. Hello, is it Mrs. Bhattacharya? was the question from a female voice. Yes, speaking'' I replied. Bachchu's palm was drying up as he had to oil a large lump of flesh. Just hold the line please. Mr.Rajarshi Bhattacharya is on the line''. Bachchu put some fresh oil on his palm and continued massaging my buttocks. After a momentary pause I could listen to Raja's voice. He just wanted to tell me that he had safely reached his office in Delhi. In the meantime, Bachchu was kneading my oily buttocks from both the sides. Before going off-hook, Raja asked ``had your lunch? Oh, not yet! Aparna-di came to me and I am late for everything. I replied. Raja was understandably in a hurry to finish the call. It was a long-distance call after all and he must be busy with his meeting (or, the sweet-voiced female operator???) It was not possible for him to even wildly guess that I was getting a nude massage from my boy servant and at that very moment, Bachchu's palm was deeply buried inside my ass crack and was trying to locate my ass-hole. He carefully oiled me there too. I felt a bit of pain in that soft, delicate area of my body. Along with the pain, there was so much of an illicit pleasure in it! His hand almost touched my pubic area, although he didn't exactly do it.

Thereafter, Bachchu started massaging the backside of my thighs. His fingers then rolled over to the front side of these. He was still not tired, but continued to grow in strength I felt. He went further on my knees, my legs, and my toes and even up to my toenails. I just can't describe how wonderfully he did. You have to imagine that. My entire body was shivering in pleasure - something I had never experienced before. And where was my pain, because of which I had agreed to a massage in the first place? I tried to sense my backache, but believe it or not, I couldn't even feel a trace of it.

I suppose I had already crossed the point where I could tell him to stop for the day. By then, my cunt was feeling restless to accept the strong manhood of my servant, which was harder than a steel rod and was about to explode. I had fully revived my sexual passion and I was desperately waiting for a hard rock like cock to penetrate me with a force. I felt that my heart bit was going to cross all possible limits.

After finishing my toes and the nails, Bachchu paused. Both of us were speechless. There was an uneasy calmness, exactly the way it happens before a storm. He hadn't yet massaged my dark hairy triangle and I was in no way prepared to leave that out. Perhaps he too was eagerly waiting for a signal from me. He rubbed his palm again on my nude body, this time moving up and sideways. His palm moved up to my thighbone and his fingers rested on my groin. Was he waiting for me to tell about further massage? I touched his finger and slightly raised the left side of my body, leaning right ways. Still, I was a bit shy about exposing my dark hairy pubic triangle before him. Instead, I dragged his and my hand together and rested them on my bushes. That served two purposes. My hairy triangle was still hidden from his direct view and at the same time, I was getting a manly touch close to my pleasure zone. He must have sensed my wetness there. He was looking so much excited. I sensed his body heat, which was melting more and more cum within me. I turned my body sideways and gave the first frontal view of my naked body from the front. My nipples were still very tight and erect and Bachchu was standing like a vessel containing vigorously boiling water. Being so much excited, he must have forgot that his job was to massage me and stopped moving his hand anywhere else. Also, how could he, because my left hand gripped his palm tightly. I was dying to tell him that I needed a massage in my most sensitive part, but what to tell? I couldn't find a right Bengali term for that region which wouldn't sound vulgar. I tried to use a childish word to pretend a kind of childish innocence in the whole process. Hissi-r jayga ar charpashe ektu kore dibina?(Won't you do it in and around my pee-hole?) my tongue was drying up and my throbbing heart-bit was about to cause a heart attack I felt. With renewed encouragement, Bachchu pressed his palm around my pubic triangle in a bid to massage there. His palm was getting thoroughly soaked with my cunt juice. 

Bachchu was standing quite close to me now. I could now touch his manhood. I did. Was I touching a hot iron rod? I couldn't feel the direct heat, as his pyjama's fabric was protecting his cock. I unfastened its string as I myself lay down on my back parting my thighs wide apart. The sliding of his pyjama halted, as its top front portion was unable to slide past his massive erection. I started laughing wildly out of my own excitement as well as the big dirty fun that was involved with it. I gave his pyjama a small jerk and then it fell down, exposing his massive erection. He wasn't wearing anything on the top and so, this made him completely naked. I was amazed by the magnificence of his dark, strong, rustic body of his. His cock head was pink and the overstretched skin on top of it was shining. I sensed he was about to lose his erection because of his nervousness, inexperience and unprepared ness of the situation. I touched him there, as his cock swelled up within seconds under my fist.

His fingers went into my cave. His index finger touched my clitoris and I moaned, almost reaching my orgasm. I could smell my own juice and the drops that oozed out of his cock into my palm. With the rustic smell coming out of his naked body, the smell of olive oil from my own naked body and the combined smell of our love juices made the entire environment so seductive!!!

"You have to use this tool to massage me there", I said, tapping his cock gently with my fingers. I was trying to suggest that I couldn’t wait any longer for a coital pleasure. Instead of telling that directly, I tried to behave as if everything was a part of the massage and it's a part of the job that he had willingly volunteered.

Masima......sotyi bolchhen?(Madam, is it true?) Bachchu was too excited to express his feelings beyond this.

At this point, I wish to draw an analogy with an approaching storm, as I mentioned before. During the peak summer months in Bengal and in some parts of northern India , late in the afternoon, we find an accumulation of dark rain-bearing clouds in the sky. After a lull, when a mild soothing breeze starts and the trees start dancing, you know that the storm is about to start.

The storm was approaching as Bachchu came on top of me. His cockhead was now resting on my triangle. His body was shivering as he rubbed against my nudity. I grabbed his cock again and moved his organ close to my opening.

"Lower yourself here --ahhhh--- and press ......" I felt the soothing breeze and the dancing of trees as his eager cockhead pierced my wet opening. It was thoroughly wet to guide him deeper and deeper down, up to the end of the tunnel.

"Ahhh...Hhhh.....More...deeper...deeper....ahhhh" I cried out, as my boy servant went further and further in. Where was the pain that prevented me from coital relations so long? It was incredible. I revived my passion through an extremely forbidden relationship but it was a naked truth. I was overjoyed. I wanted to cry out, "See Raja, look here, I can do it..". But, it wasn't Raja. It was my twenty-year-old boy servant, with whom I have just started an illicit relationship!

"Now you can start the massage " I said in a naughty manner. I wanted to make the boy understand that fucking is just a part of the massage. I could then feel the trees and the leaves dancing. And there was a storm in no time, as he started the rhythm.

"Ooooohhhhh.....Bachchu. Harder!!! Faster!!! Do it,....., ahhhhhhh, ..."

"Masima, ever since I started working in your house, this was always my dirty wish.ahhhh... I --I never knew --- it would be true some day.. ahhhhhh..", he said while both of us were deep inside our coital pleasure.

There was a storm all around me. A storm that was threatening to blow everything up and it did. I could hear the murmurs of the storm. Everything was deafening. The storm has to end soon. It did. It ended in rains, as both of us reached our ultimate climax and my cunt got flooded with Bachchu's love juice.

I kissed this young boy before getting out of the bed. He was looking at me with gratitude, as if to say that he had got the best possible reward for the wonderful massage that he had offered to me.

I went to the bathroom and closed the door. I turned the shower on and washed myself all over. I wanted to express my joy. I was humming some tunes that came to me instantly. I again felt horny to think that I have two and a half days more to go. So, when am I going to invite my forbidden lover again? What am I going to do at night? Invite my servant to the bed, which I share with my husband. No,....no way......!!

Then? What am I going to do? I must have him again - that's what my body tried to say with a sense of determination. When? Again in the afternoon? I just can't wait! I tried to impose a self-discipline on me. Not today anymore. Since everything started with the massage, everything should be restricted to massage as well.

So, tomorrow? Yes. surely and then I would have one full day and night to ignite my passion more and more. What happened next? Let me tell in brief.