Indian businessman enjoys Indian maid while husband watches

It took me some time to track Narges down. Finally, I got the name of a village where she is supposedly staying now. Looking it up on the map, I realized it was about half a day’s bus journey away and there was only one bus that went near that village. I would have to take the afternoon bus from Kolkata which would reach a nearby city in the evening. From the bus station there, I would have to be lucky to find a rickshaw to her village — and hopefully her house. And if I was unlucky that she wasn’t there anymore, well, then I would have to find some way back.

One day, after tying up some business in Kolkata, I took the afternoon bus. It was a long and tiring ride, but finally we reached the city that was closest to Narges’s village. All along I wondered how Narges would look like now. I was now thirty, so she would now be thirty two. Would she still be chubby and attractive and have a fantastic rack that I had loved to lick? Would she remember me, how she had caught me peeking at her in the shower one afternoon, and had proceeded to slap me, before letting me lick and kiss her feet? Would she recall how one day she made me sit on the couch, and then plonked her butt on my face, and forced me to lick her asshole? Would Narges recall how, one day, pleased at my obedience to her, she finally allowed me to suck and fondle her huge set of jugs, before giving me a blowjob that I had dreamed of ever since I started to ogle and stalk her? My cock tingled slightly at my thoughts, and I hastily decided to sleep on the ride.

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It was evening when I reached the city. I didn’t have anything on me except an overnight bag with a change of clothes and my laptop, and also a bag containing some gifts for Narges. Immediately I descended and started to look for a rickshaw. There were a couple of empty ones; one driver saw me and approached.

Sahib, where do you want to go?”

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I looked at him; he was an old man, probably fifty or fifty five. He was short, and thin, with a scraggly white beard; but he looked fit enough to pull the rickshaw. I gave him the name of Narges’s village and a smile appeared on his face.

Sahib! That’s my village! I live there. It’s only 25 minutes away. Let me take you there. My name is Fateh.”

We negotiated on a price and were off. As he cycled, my thoughts turned to one evening when I was nineteen. Narges had just baked some cookies for guests we were to have later that night, and I had come home early and tried to sneak one out. She had come into the kitchen and caught me, hand in the cookie jar.

“Now, now, darling, what do we have here?” Narges smiled as I froze. She then caught hold of me by the ear and led me away to my room, and closed the door.

Narges quickly stripped off her sari and petticoat and rolled down her panties, so she was naked waist down. She then grabbed my ears and twisted hard.

“So dear,” She said mockingly, “You want cookies, eh? Now you can kiss my big ass and beg for your cookie.”

I crawled around her back and planted several wet kisses on her butt cheeks and asking, “Oh Narges! Can I have a cookie please?”

“Not on my bum, you idiot! Kiss my asshole.” Narges yelled.

I immediately started pecking at Narges’s asshole with my lips as she fingered herself.

“Alright, enough!” Narges commanded. She then pushed me away and sat down on my bed, and parted her legs.

“Lick me, love.”

I meekly obeyed her. My cock was sticking straight out and swaying sideways. Narges knew I was so horny; I would do anything she ordered — which was the usual state of affairs anyway. My only reward was that at the end of it, Narges would allow me to suckle her boobs and give me a blowjob. Throughout my two year affair with Narges, she never allowed me to cum inside her – she had always said she was saving herself for her husband.

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Suddenly there was a bump on the road, and my thoughts of my past as the fucktoy of my beautiful maid was broken. Immediately I was brought back to the present.

“Careful!” I ordered the rickshaw driver Fateh. “Go slowly!”

After some time, I asked Fateh, “I am looking for a woman named Narges from your village, do you know where she lives?”

I could see Fateh freeze. “Sahib, what do you need with Narges?”

“Oh, he knows her, perhaps.” I thought. Aloud, I replied, “She used to be a maid in the employment of my father, a long time ago. I have come to see how she is.”

“Oh!” Fateh resumed pedaling, coughing a sick cough as the road became uphill. “Sahib, Narges is my begum (wife), I am her husband.”

A pang of regret immediately flooded me. If Narges was now married, she would hardly agree to return with me to Kolkata to be my maid, and she would surely want to forget her past. I could see my fantasies of Narges and me, alone in a mansion in Kolkata for days, go up in smoke. I didn’t say anything, as Fateh cycled on and on until we were standing in front of a hut. He was tired and wheezing when he stopped in front of his residence.

It was a small hut, poorly constructed, made of mud and had a thatched straw roof. Inside were probably just two rooms — a main room to receive guests and a bedroom for the couple. A small kitchen was adjacent to the hut. Like all village houses, the bathroom was a little bit of walk away, in a stall by itself.

“Sarun!” Suddenly a shout of delight rang through the air as Narges opened the door and spotted me. She straight away ran past her husband and enveloped me in a bear hug. My face was crushed against her boobs as she held my head in her hands and sloppily kissed my cheeks.

“Oh, Sarun, darling! Smooch! Smooch! It’s really you. Smooch! Smooch! Oh my goodness, I never thought I would see you again. Smooch! Smooch!” She covered my face with wet kisses and pressed my lips to her chest. I drunk in her smell and sweat in ecstasy as I too hugged her back, wrapping my hands around her waist and giving her butts a squeeze.

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Mmm! Her boobs smelled lovely. I drew my head back, giving her a big smile, and then kissed her a big sloppy kiss on each of her cheeks, before giving her ass a pinch. She squealed in delight. I noticed that her husband remained standing on the door steps, silently watching and saying nothing as I now openly groped his wife.

Narges was the same. Her hair had grayed just a bit, but she retained her firm fat figure, her big butts and her ample bosom. With age, her face seemed to have become even more beautiful, though Narges still retained the plump squeezable cheeks. Her breasts were still round, sharp and shapely — and of course — huge. Her buttocks seemed to have become even bigger, more fleshy, firmer and absolutely delightful.

She was dressed in a simple cotton sari, worn the way I remembered – loose, clasped to one side exposing her big belly and the navel, with her blouse one size too small, barely able to contain the big melons hiding beneath. Though the pallu of her sari covered her chest, due to their large size, I could see her jugs protruding and juggling beneath her pallu as she bounced about in greeting me.

“Come, come, Sarun, come on inside!” She gave me a little bow and invited me into her house.

Husband!” Her tone changed to a command one as she turned to her husband. “Get Sarun’s bag and bring it in. Don’t just stand there!”

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