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Saturday, October 20, 2007

Hot Summer Made Cool

Posted on 3:30 AM by Desi World

Hot Summer Made Cool
That was one hell of a summer. Friends had gone away. All I could do was watch TV, DVDs, read, and masturbate. Masturbating was enjoyable but after a point it becomes painful, physically and mentally. And still one gets the erection and has to do it. It’s damn frustrating. I thought, “There must be a better place to release my semen than the drain.”

It’s not good to be young and alone in a lonely top room of an empty house during summer when sun is pouring fire all day long and all one can do is wait and pray for the passing away of summer. The maid, Malati, who used to come to clean my room, prepare meals etc became a victim of the summer too. She quietly announced one day that she wouldn’t be coming from the next day. At my request she promised to send another maid.

But there must have been some sweet angel or an invisible ‘jinn’ for me. I was very much doubtful about the maid’s word but when there was a knock on the door and I opened it next morning, all my doubts were removed. Not only was there a maid, but a maid as gorgeous as a maid can be. I could see that she had well-set features, full lips, tight and ripe breasts, and a great figure. She had a skin that had a glow, a fair skin, that had taken a slightly dark shade but that was due to sun and I found it sexy. She was not more than thirty. She said, “Malati has sent me.” I said, “Come upstairs.”

I kept at her toes while she was working, giving her instructions now and then. She didn’t mind and I thought she was very simple and docile, but after another of my instructions about sweeping well under the television cabinet she suddenly turned to me and looked me right in the face. There was a mocking smile on her face as if I was a fool to consider her inexperienced at housework. After that I had to think of a different strategy for observing her.

When she was cleaning the utensils I started shaving. In the mirror, I could see her sitting, her front exposed to my view. Her pallu was down and, oh, it was a confluence of two peachy breasts, the shade of the flush down them was just hypnotizing. As she turned to pick and wash the utensils I saw that she had a flat belly, not flabby. Oh, how I wished I could take her shapely waist in my hands! Her arms were even, not pudgy, slim but full. I saw more clearly now that her fingers were well shaped and her skin was spotless. Her large eyes I had already encountered.

When she finished work, she asked, “Jaun?” I said, “When will Malati come?” for the first time hoping that Malati took her time to recover. She said, “Why, don’t you like my work?” I suddenly whispered ,”I liked her work only, but with you….” She pouted and smiled, her eyes staying once more on my face. That was my signal. When I went down with her to close the door after her, she was struggling to open the door’s latch, which, for the first time I was thankful for it, was quite tight. It was the moment to strike, my hand slid on hers, feeling her silky skin, getting entangled with her fingers and the latch.

She laughed as she said, “Opening the latch or opening my fingers?” I could see this was a woman who was not conscious about her social position or mine.

The next day or the next days were even better. Watching the rise and fall of her breasts as she kneaded flour for chapattis was a treat. In fact, every move that she made held my eyes, captivated my heart. She carried herself as an equal, as a real individual and that challenged me, thrilled me. Every day she would ask after finishing work, “Jaun?” (shall I go?) with a smile and everyday I engaged her a few minutes more asking about her, or telling her one or two more tasks to do.

One remarkable thing about her was that she was neat. Her name was Vinita and she had studied up to class 12th. She was married but refused to say more about her marriage but I understood all was not well. Yet, she appeared to be happy coming to my place. She took special interest in the books that lay open, browsing through them. By now I had started calling her ‘Vinita’ and not ‘Bai’ and she didn’t mind that.

Every day there would be new touches. The day the cylinder was delivered, I asked her to help her carry it up to my room. The way up had the speed breakers of me touching her hands, holding her from behind tight, pretending to help her. A new version of the old rhyme came to me: Jack and Jill went up the stairs carrying a cylinder; Jill was smart and Jack got hard and then they had a good time. When we had to push the cylinder into its place it was so cramped that I literally hugged her from behind.

On one occasion I collided with her as she was entering the room and in the process holding her a few extra seconds. My thigh positioned against her, I could feel the soft firmness of her thighs. Holding her, I extended my hand over her back, my fingers sliding through her blouse. Her blouse was wet under the armpits with sweat and holding her so close to me, I could smell that sweet fragrance, the scent of a woman.

The next day there were no chapattis to be made as I was eating out that day but I didn’t want Vinita to leave any sooner. So I said to her, “Vinita, today climb over the loft in my room and let me sort out the things and books there.” She said, “How will I be able to climb?” I asked her to use a tall wooden stool that was in the angan downstairs. As she struggled to climb, I placed my palms on her waist and lifted her.

On the top of the stool she started looking through the things on the loft. Then she said, “I don’t know what you need, I can’t sort out these things from here. And I am afraid of the lizards there might be.” I said, “I am coming up to help you.” Now the stool top was about one square feet, hardly enough for two to stand together.

But it was quite enough to get close. She was pressed between the wall and me now, my front pressed against her buttocks. I pretended to take her help sorting out things on the loft, but every movement up on the stool made me touch her more and more. Suddenly the room seemed to be very quiet. She stopped asking questions or laughing now. It was the moment of rising heat, silent and strong passion. Passion screaming silently for union. My hands went forward towards the loft but from midair came down to her bare waist.

She suddenly half turned to me and put her arms around my neck. As she clung to me on that small stool top, I could see deep inside the cleavage of her breasts, feel her heaving breasts against my chest. Her right breast was already pressed against my chest. I was supporting her with my left hand and the right hand I now used to cup her left breast.

It was more than a handful, as soft and firm thing, and even through the blouse and the bra I could feel her nipple become tight. She had closed her eyes as I removed a strand of hair from her face and bent to kiss her. Our lips met. She drew back. But then she came again, this time in full heat, our lips locked in a feverish passion. For how many minutes we were in that ecstatic kiss,I don’t know. People boast of big bungalows but for me that one square feet of stool top space was heaven.

We came down the stool like two intoxicated persons. We were holding each other and now her eyes were fixed on my face, a trace of smile still on her lips. As I undid her clothes, baring her gradually, the saree, the orange blouse, and the black laced bra then, I was astounded to see her assets. At the centre of those well-rounded ivory domes were protruding, erect, dark brown nipples. When she saw me watch her boobs she just smiled but when I took off her panty and stood staring, she just lifted a leg and crossed it over so that area was hidden.

For more than an hour I kissed and licked her body. I had to tell my erection to hold it. All the time she was moaning softly as I explored every inch of her body. My mind was numbed; I wanted to grab and have all simultaneously. I felt what Aladdin must have felt in the treasure cave. I could see that I was giving her great pleasure. When I started to go down from her navel to her waist and down on her thighs, she put her hand there. I had to struggle to tease my way down with lips.

As I gently removed her hand which was obstructing my progress, I could hear her hiss with pleasure, and feel her throbbing body. I then pinned her hands down as if she was my prisoner. That gave me freedom to kiss her lips deeply, to bite gently on her earlobes and she was free of the obstructions she was posing.

I half entered my penis inside her, slowly and slowly. Every millimeter I progressed brought out fresh moans of joy from her lips. I started to move back and forth in this half-cocked position. It was clear that she was getting in frenzy even with this. Her legs circled my waist completely. This was the time to go for it. I pushed in and in, feeling her warmth in the depths down below. She opened her eyes and said, “Don’t, don’t stop….go on, go on, go on…” . I plunged in with a full throttle, my veins tight, and my mouth burning with passion. She was crying my name gutturally and so was I,"Vinita, Vinita, Vinita…."

We were fucking in that interlocked state. It was hot outside, we were hot inside. We were moving in unison, falling and rising together. It wasn’t like fucking blindly, but with a controlled craziness, enjoying every bit of it. The ejaculation was great. We came almost together. I lay spent upon her, panting and sweating. We lay so for a long time, kissing each other. After half an hour we made love again. It was just the start.

 
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