Young Housemaid

Young Housemaid

A young housemaid services more than the apartment.

Suresh, 50, me

Mina, 46, wife

Pooja, 18, maid

I'm proud to say I'm well off now by Indian standards after a very poor and difficult childhood, able to live in a 3 bedroom apartment at the age of 50. Working in my computing field I can work from home most days. My wife Mina goes to nearby mandir (Hindu temple) most mornings to volunteer and help with making Prasad and other God-serving tasks.

Like most relatively well-off families we have a housemaid that comes in the mornings to do household chores. My wife Mina is well capable of doing all of these things but she prefers to serve God than do menial tasks. So the maid comes around 9am to sweep and mop the floors and clean windows, wash dishes, wash clothes, clean bathrooms, and even prepare and cook lunch before leaving around 1:30pm after washing the afternoon dishes; everyday, even weekends. Because of the 1:30pm finish she's allowed to take some of the food she'd cooked for us for her own family for

their

lunch.

And this is why we now have an 18year old maid called Pooja. It became too much for her mother and she handed the job over to her daughter who started with us a few months ago when she was just 17. Their family is very poor so we held a small birthday party for Pooja on her turning 18. A cake, gifts and having her photos taken really had made her day, evidenced by her tears of joy.

However I was a bit surprised that among other gifts my wife bought the young maid a bra and panties. They weren't anything fancy, just a simple white bra and a couple of pink panties with small flowery patterns; but I thought that was a bit of an intimate present to give. My wife explained that these housemaids are too poor to buy decent underwear, wearing torn panties and mostly no bra; meaning they wear form fitting top garments so that they save on buying bras. I had never given it any thought before. But that new knowledge...and the accidental

incident

started the new chapter in my life.

My two sons had both married and left the house, so it was quite convenient for me to convert one of the two spare bedrooms into my office. I utilized office/bedroom when I'm working from home; it was a small room with overhead cupboards. Normally I would be in this office at my computer whilst my wife is away at the mandir and the maid did her household chores. I realized how convenient it was to work from home so made it a permanent switch.

One day I had pain in my knee so I couldn't retrieve a file from the overhead cupboards, so I called the maid. As she stood on a stool to search I quite innocently decided to hold her by the hips as she precariously balanced delving in the cupboards to seek out the file. It was then that my mind turned to the maid with me standing behind her so up close and personal.

She was slightly on the short side for an 18year old with a slim build -- but not skinny -- with smooth curves and slightly darker skin tone; well compared to my lighter skin she did look darker. Her curves were accentuated by her tight fitting top -- she was wearing a Panjabi-style salwar kameez - a thigh-length top with side splits and loose trousers. Her hair was black, quite thick and abundant, shoulder length, held together by a clip. She wasn't drop-dead gorgeous but she WAS pretty in a quietly understated sort of way. Her youth made her appealing to look at.

As Pooja searched, with my hands in intimate contact with the young girl, my mind wondered and roved her body from the back. My eyes casually searched her back and shoulders for the tell-tale signs of bra straps. I wondered if she was wearing a bra today; I concluded she wasn't. Then I roved lower down her body, wondering if under my hands was she wearing the very gift we had given her -- was this young girl wearing pink panties with small flowery patterns? If she wasn't wearing a bra she must at least be wearing panties.

It was my fault of course for what happened next. Whilst casually thinking these inappropriate thoughts about our housemaid I didn't hear her when she said she had found the file and was coming down. As she stepped down from the stool my hands that were holding her waist slid up along her sides and ended up in her armpits.

At first I was a bit confused, still lost in my erotic thoughts and didn't hear Pooja speaking.

"Sahib," she said. "Sahib, I got the files."

"What? Oh," I mumbled. But it was only then that I realized my fingers were touching something soft and round. The feeling was pleasant so my fingers automatically pressed against the welcoming softness before I abruptly yanked my arms away when I realized what I was doing.

"Sorry. Sorry!" I incriminatingly blurted out.

"I...I got the files, sahib," Pooja said again, sounding flustered.

"Thank you, Pooja. That is all," I said rather unnecessarily curtly, making it sound like it was her fault that I had touched her inappropriately.

The maid hurriedly rushed out of the room leaving me in a daze. For a few minutes I just stood there replaying the situation.

I was breathing hard, heart racing; and I realized I had an erection! All from just a fleeting accidental touch of the young girl's breasts?! But reflecting back to the senses that my fingers had picked up, the breasts had felt firm, they felt round, and they felt big, bigger than my wife's breasts.

It was then my thoughts shot back to my honeymoon night when I saw my wife naked for the first time. I had hoped that when I married my wife would have big breasts; not huge, just bigger than a handful, something to play with. And secondly I hoped she had a nice bush between her legs, again something to play with, a feminine mystery to delve into and discover. Alas on both counts my honeymoon was a disappointment.

Yes, my wife has small breasts and only sparse pubic hair. Don't get me wrong, my wife is a lovely person and it's not her fault that the Gods she believes so strongly in didn't give her the features that I find erotic. But I do feel a little cheated in that she wears padded bras, because when I chose her to be my bride for our arranged marriage I had no idea of her undergarment arrangement. Thus my major disappointment when I excitedly stripped her on our first night only to find small breasts enhanced by padded bra cups; and when I eagerly pulled her panties down I didn't find the hairy bush I was hoping to rummage and play in. I honestly can't understand why women shave down there; a beautiful hairy triangle between the legs adds so much to the mystery and femininity.

It's a pity one cannot ask to inspect prospective wives in the nude before making the decision as to who to marry.

So I'm now left with just fantasizing and imagining when I'm making love with my wife; and drooling over pornographic images of naked women with big breasts and hairy pussies.

So it was with this history that I was so fascinated with our housemaid's breasts.

It is an oddity that Indian women will wear tight kameez to accentuate their body, with side splits all the way up to their waist such that in many cases, if the salwar was light coloured, you could easily make out the colour of their panties underneath. All very teasing and tantalizing. But they still wear a dupatta around their necks, like a scarf, to hide the swell of their breasts. And such is the case with Pooja which is why I had never really noticed the size of her breasts. Or if she wore a sari the part draped over her shoulders also hides her breasts.

I finally shook my head to clear it and returned to my work and Pooja busied herself in her chores.

But that night it was no great surprise that it was the young maid Pooja that I thought about as I fucked my wife enthusiastically. Yes, Mina was very happy with my extra energetic thrusts into her crying "Suresh! Suresh! YES!"

-----------

Over the next few days when the maid came we didn't say much to each other other than greetings and me relaying some instructions my wife had left for me to convey to the maid. But I couldn't help surreptitiously eyeing the young girl as she went about her chores.

Then my wife hit me with a bombshell saying that Pooja was getting married.

Just when I had my interest in the girl piqued she will be leaving us! My mind went into over drive.

Slowly my resolve built, I had to have another feel of those youthful breasts once more before she leaves. So I summoned her to my office.

"Pooja, can you come over here a minute," I called out.

She came promptly, "Yes, sir?"

"Sorry to trouble you but my knee is still causing me trouble. Could you fetch me the yellow folder from those cupboards up there?"

"OK sahib," she replied, but I could sense she was apprehensive this time but carefully she climbed onto the stool.

As she stood on the stool I once again held her by the hips to steady her as she reached up to search. Today she was wearing a sari, the wonderful traditional Indian garment, with a tight fitting blouse (chori), which is basically a bra but with a bit more cloth. It is tailored to fit the curve of the breasts and leaves so much of the mid-riff exposed. Many fashionable ladies don a blouse made from so little cloth that it makes it VERY revealing, especially leaving the back almost fully exposed with the two sides held together by a cord. In such a case a bra is impossible to wear so the front of the blouse is fully tailored and sculptured to the lady's breast size, with breast support implants in each of the cups.

Staring at Pooja's back I concluded that she wasn't wearing a bra again; her modesty this time being maintained by the loose end of the sari draped over her shoulder.

"I can't see it, sahib," she said.

"It might be further back, behind things," I encouraged her.

But her ever more desperate search caused her leg to slip off the stool and she came sliding down against me. Like any one would, the suddenness naturally triggered my instincts to catch her with my arms sliding up along her sides and my hands grabbing her front.

"Are you OK?" I asked with concern.

"Y...yes. Oh!" she replied.

It was only then did it register that my hands were holding something soft. Immediately the feel of the roundness, the softness, the size made me gasp. I had never felt breasts like these before. They were more than a handful, just the way I liked them. Without thinking my fingers closed further around to fully grasp the most wonderful things my hands ever held! I couldn't help but to squeeze those gorgeous orbs.

But as I was lost in my fantasy dream Pooja obviously attempted to straighten up: and being held by her breasts, by her boss, caused the poor young girl confusion and panic.

"Sir! Sir!" she struggled to free herself. It was like my hands didn't want to let go, they were enjoying holding the girl by her breasts.

But my sense eventually prevailed and I released the girl sharpish.

"Oh! Sorry, Pooja. I...I..." I didn't know what else to say.

"Here is the file," the maid said and darted out of the room...without being given the leave!

I once again stood there stunned at the turn of events. True I had engineered the situation so I could get a sly feel of the young maid's breasts, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would be fully holding both her breasts in my very hands! I stared at my open hands, amazed to recall what they were squeezing just a moment ago.

When I sat down at my desk once again I finally noticed that I had a full on erection making a large tent in my trousers.

"WOW!" I thought. So THIS is what large breasts feel like. I was hooked. I never had a girlfriend, I would never pay to use the services of a working woman, I never fooled around with my sister when I was younger, and I certainly can't recall seeing or sucking my mother's breasts when I was a baby. So my wife's small breasts were my only experience, until now. So Pooja had large breasts, but they were not overly large, they were perfect for her stature, just enough swell to give her feminine allure and make them eye catching -- IF they weren't hidden away!

(Pooja knew sahib didn't mean to fondle her breasts, it WAS an accident. None-the-less the next few days were a bit tense again, neither knowing how to handle the situation -- better to ignore it ever happened or discuss it? Of course, if one was pedantic, one could say that sahib touched her breasts on TWO occasions now, both as a consequence of her trying to help him.

Of course as a mere maid Pooja didn't have the gumption to approach the sahib, and Suresh didn't want to discuss it with Pooja since she was simply the maid; besides he HAD apologised.

But Suresh was now rampant in bed as he fucked his wife every night for the past FIVE days, which was unheard of for the 50year old. Of course Mina got the brunt of his power drives between her legs, but she loved it. Normally she would lie back in bed with her legs apart whilst he thrust into her, but lately she couldn't help but also thrust her hips up to meet him, holding him tightly as he lunged into her, churning her insides with his extra hard cock. Her whimpers of ecstasy were music to his ears; although she did wonder what's got into Suresh. After their latest fuck she chose to question him.)

--------------

"What's got into you the last few days?" Mina asked.

"What do you mean?" I feigned ignorance.

"You know what I mean. That's the fifth night in a row you wanted to do it. That's not like you these days."

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that," Mina confessed, giggling. "And you're like an animal, doing it so HARD!"

"Just in the mood. Must be something you've been putting in the food. Some new spice?"

"Hmm. Don't be silly."

"Then stop complaining and lie back and enjoy it."

"Haré Ram, you're hard again! What's got into you?" she had been playing with my cock and balls as we talked.

In reply I mounted my wife again and gave her a second fuck of the night, something I haven't done in quite a few years. And she lay back and gladly accepted the offering.

------------------

It was a strange loop. Not only was the young maid's breasts driving me to new peaks of arousal, my frequent nightly fucks with my wife was raising my ego, making me more frisky and making my eyes seek out the young maid as she crisscrossed the house. I began to notice her more, the way her hips swayed, the way she had her hair and the way it swished around, the clothes she wore. It was worse when she was on the floor on all fours mopping the floor; she looked so alluring, as if inviting to mount her from behind. It didn't help that I was alone with the maid for so many hours.

But eventually I felt I should apologise properly and let her know it was an accident to dispel the awkwardness that was hanging in the air. It was obvious she was more quiet than usual.

So after a few days I built up enough courage to broach the subject with the maid. I called her over to my office and with us sitting on the bed I put my arm around her to comfort her.

"I'm sorry, Pooja. You know it was an accident. I didn't mean to touch...to touch your...breasts..."

"I know," she whispered in embarrassment and feeling uneasy at her boss's closeness.

"And I didn't mean to squeeze them...it's just that, you know, erm...my wife...her breasts aren't...as big as yours...in fact they're small."

Pooja stared in front of her wide eyed listening to the rambling, ironically her awkward feelings increasing.

I inexplicably continued. "I was just curious."

That made Pooja sit up and frown.

"I always...you know...I always wanted...no, hoped, that I would marry someone with bigger breasts, you know...but I was cheated."

(Pooja couldn't believe what sahib was saying. It's like he was just talking to himself as if she wasn't there. But then she got the shock of her life as she felt something. She looked down and saw a sight she couldn't comprehend.)

"She had worn padded bra," I said in a trance as my right hand, with a mind of its own, reached out and gently cupped my maid's left breast.

"S...Sir? Sahib?" she nervously enquired now turning to look at me for the first time. But she saw a far away look in my eyes.

"I couldn't tell, you see. I thought her breasts were bigger," the rambling continued, "like yours." I now squeezed and caressed the breast, exploring it purposefully through the blouse.

Pooja didn't know what to do; her breathing increased whilst she contemplated. She slouched to try to distance her breast from my fingers.

"I think you have lovely big breasts for a young girl like you."

To Pooja's shock her boss was unhooking her blouse!

I couldn't believe that I had this young girl with large breasts in my house all along.

You see, I never had a daughter that I could have sneaked a peak at as she showered or dressed. But even if I did have a daughter, she'd probably have inherited her mother's traits of small breasts and very little pubic hair.

So I didn't want to miss this chance of seeing and feeling large breasts...just once. Seemingly without conscious thought my hand hurriedly unhooked her blouse from the front and exposed those promising orbs. Feeling them in the flesh was nothing short of spectacular!

"S...Sir? Please. I..." She didn't know what to say. She tried to shrug her shoulders to make it difficult but it was no good. She couldn't believe her blouse was so easily undone. She took a sharp breath in as she felt an alien hand on her bare breast for the first time.

"Yes. Yes, Pooja. This is what my wife should have been like."

In my haze of lust I was oblivious to the young maid's discomfort and her consequential heavy breathing, or to how she was feeling trapped in my close arm embrace. My hand went on a tour of discovery, seeking out the other breast. It was just as glorious, just so warm, soft and more than a handful. And encountering and grazing the two hard nubs sent shivers through to my body. As I pinched them it made the maid squeak.

"If my wife had breasts like yours I would have played with them all the time," I said as I switched from one magnificent large breast to the other.

"Sahib..." she gasped.

It was then that the recent conversation with my wife came to the fore. Pooja was getting married next month, in just over 2 weeks. They had been waiting for her to reach 18, and now, next month, a man from her caste, currently living and working in Dubai was coming over to be her husband.

This knowledge only provided me with the impetus to go further. It served to heighten my fear that this may be my only opportunity to savour my lifelong desire for large breasts, larger breasts than my wife's. With my lust fanned I dived down and latched onto the young maid's nipple. I began to suck hungrily.

That shocked the teen. Immediately an explosion of incredibly pleasurable shockwaves rapidly spread throughout her body from her ravaged breast, the like of which she had never felt, nor even knew existed. "OOOO!!" she gasped in surprise. Being unsuspectingly stunned she froze, her mind trying to make sense. This allowed me to enjoy her breast unhindered.

With my face attacking her chest Pooja the maid fell backwards on the bed with her feet remaining on the floor; but that was even better for me with her blouse invitingly spreading open, giving me easier access to those glorious young, firm breasts.

Then her senses returned and she tried to resist with her arms and her flailing legs, making it difficult for me. So instinctively I pinned her arms above her head and I slid my leg over her to pin her down. Eventually I found that sucking on her breasts it was more natural for me to slide over on top of her, positioning myself between her legs.

As I hungrily sucked on her breasts I released her arms to squeeze and play with her breasts, unaware that subconsciously I was grinding my bulge against her.