This is a fantasy story surrounding real events – I did have a Bangladeshi maid and I did have sex with her.
This story dates back to when I was 25 and I was renting a flat in one of Mumbai’s many suburbs.
I have always used domestic help since I lived alone and I was never good at cooking & cleaning. Over the years some of the maids were young, some were old, some interesting and some not worth looking at. I never did or even tried to act fresh with any of them and that’s why I always had a very good impression with my maids. In fact throughout my building I was known as a very genial and helpful person. I have always maintained good relationships with everyone — from my watchman to my neighbors. When it came to maids, I always preferred locals because I had had some bad experiences with illegal Bangladeshi women.
So it was very surprising when one day my maid (who was Indian) asked me a very strange favor. She wanted to give up her job at my place and wanted me to shelter an illegal Bangladeshi woman who would also act as my new maid. The reasons being that she was thrown out of her shanty by the cops and because she was illegal there was no respite in terms of harassment. To top it all, her husband ran away leaving her with a 5 month old infant. She was in a desperate situation. She knew my maid because they worked in the same building and asked her for help. My maid is a kind hearted middle aged lady who took pity on her and decided to help her out. According to her I was the only ‘kind-hearted’ guy living in a large house without any family or other commitments. And so she asked me whether Memoona (the Bangladeshi woman) could live in my house and work full time. I was dead set against it simply because of the kid. But I was pestered persistently and I finally gave in. I asked her to bring her in.
The first time I saw Memoona she was in pitiful state. She was carrying a small battered suitcase in one hand and a small infant in the other. Her clothes were old and worn out. She felt completely out of place and kept uttering ‘Shukriya’ (Thank you) repeatedly. I showed her the house and since I had a spare bedroom I asked to take it up as her temporary residence. She was very grateful and happy and even I felt good about myself. I was still concerned about the child and wondered what kind of a nuisance that would turn out to be. We decided that I would still pay her for her maid services in addition to sheltering her. However there wasn’t enough work in my house to justify a full time maid. So we decided that she could keep some of her old clients and that would help her get some extra money. I told her not to worry about food since feeding 2 extra mouths wasn’t a big deal for me. On this she told me that it would be only one mouth since her baby was breastfeeding. I remember this was the first time I explicitly thought of her in a sexual way and my cock gave the slightest of a twitch in my pants. I was wondering what it would be to have a breastfeeding woman live in my house. But those thoughts were quickly dispelled by my worries of having a new person in my house and how it would affect my daily routine.
The first week was chaotic at the best. Even though the baby didn’t cry all that often, it bawled once in a while and that drove me nuts. Memoona immediately sensed my irritation and she would do her best to pacify her. She would lock the door of her room to reduce the noise and at the same time give herself some privacy for breastfeeding. We quickly slipped into a routine. We would both get up early and do our morning chores. After that she would prepare breakfast for me while I got ready and watched TV. I would leave by 8:30 and she would clean up after me. After I left, she finished cooking and cleaning in two other apartments. I would return home by 6:30. She would be back home and have tea ready by then. After tea I would either hit the gym or watch TV while she prepared dinner. Dinner was served by 9:00 after which I retired to my room or watched some TV. After dinner I encouraged her to join me in the main room to watch TV and I would keep the Hindi channels because she was pretty fluent in Hindi.
But of course there are so many other things that she had to learn. I had to explain the difference between a shampoo and a body wash, how to use a commode, how to operate my washing machine and microwave oven etc. She was an enthusiastic learner. These small things made us grow comfortable with each other. We would share a joke occasionally. She learned quickly and within a few weeks made herself right at home.
But within that time I also realized that neither she nor her baby had the right or adequate number of clothes. She would wear her set of 4-5 sarees over and over again. And I had no idea about the status of her underwear department. Even the kid needed new clothes. Once when her saree pallu wasn’t covering her chest completely I noticed 2 damp spots on her blouse in the general area of her nipples. I realized it was her milk and although I was a little aroused, I felt sorry for her. This was also the time when I first started noticing her body more closely.
Let casino siteleri me describe Memoona to you. She was a tall woman by Indian standards (about 5’6″) with a perfectly oval face. Her skin was dark, smooth and had a beautiful sheen to it. Her eyes were almond shaped and her lips were full like most Bengali women. She had a beautiful smile and excellent teeth (no tobacco or other bad habits). Her hair was waist long, jet black and bordering on curly. She was on the slim side and because she was tall she had a slight hunch. Her blouses didn’t go a long way down and she wore her petticoat just above her navel. Hence there was a lot of gap between the end of her blouse and the beginning of her petticoat. She generally kept her chest well covered with her pallu draping it completely. But her back was always exposed and it was long, slender and her spine was well accentuated. There was only the slightest hint of fat on her waist. I couldn’t make out the size of her tits although from their outline I felt that they were nice and full probably because she was lactating. She had wide, rounded hips. She would wear a saree day in and day out while relaxing, sleeping or working.
After about a month I finally asked her if she would like new clothes. As expected she refused flat out. I insisted and she said that she would buy new saree’s in a few days time. I gave her some money to help her out and she took it reluctantly. Apart from saree’s I knew she needed some night clothes and I asked her if she would mind if I picked up a few. I could easily estimate her size and anyways the fit didn’t have to be perfect. She stared blankly at me for a short while but she didn’t say anything. I took that as a yes. Of course I also wanted to buy her some underwear made for nursing mothers but I didn’t know how to ask her size. That evening when she was preparing dinner I went into her room and checked her small pile of clothes. There were no bras in the pile so I assumed that she wasn’t in the habit of wearing them. Her panties were all multi-colored without any markings.
So the next day I had to go through the embarrassing ordeal of buying nighties and underwear. The nighties had an enormous range from plain to fancy. Even within the maternity ones I couldn’t decide. So I picked 2 maternity and 2 regular ones for her. I chose the more fancy ones with smoother materials and a lot of lace. Shopping for panties was a little easier. I simply bought half a dozen of them in different colors. On returning home I first gave her the nighties telling her to wear them while at home. She became a bit uncomfortable but she accepted them gratefully. I showed her the zips on both sides near the chest area and told her “bacche ko doodh pilane ke liye” (for feeding the child). She was visibly embarrassed. The panties were all rolled in a brown bag. I just handed her the bag saying “maine socha iski bhi aapko zaroorat hain” (I felt you needed this too) and fled the room.
The rest of the evening passed without incident. When she came to server me dinner I asked her if everything ‘fitted’ well and she gave me a smile and said everything was just fine and thanked me again. Next morning when I woke up and walked into the kitchen I was surprised to see Memoona wearing her new nightgown. It was a regular one which turned out to be quite figure-hugging. It showed off her curves very nicely. She had just come out of the shower and her hair was undone and a little damp. She saw me checking her out and smiled at me. I grinned and blurted out “Acchi lag rahi ho” (You are looking nice). She didn’t make any comments but I could sense a smile at the edges. I felt some tension in the air. Because she just had a bath and the AC was on I could detect her nipples under the soft fabric of the gown. I convinced her to take some money and buy some saree’s and clothes for the infant.
Getting to know each other
Memoona turned out to be a very easy going person with a ready giggle and happy-go-lucky attitude. We would chat in the evenings — she would be talking and I would be listening most of the times. She asked me about my work but I found it difficult to explain what I did for a living. That didn’t discourage her from asking questions with her usual enthusiasm and inquisitiveness. She was taking good care of me and the house and I was thankful for that so I didn’t mind her talkative nature. Actually I liked hearing her voice and she had a pleasant smile. I also loved playing with the kid which she particularly liked.
As the days passed I was unmistakably getting attracted to her. Just observing her move around in her saree was a huge turn on. Her short blouse with deep back left a lot of flesh exposed. Her slender waist contrasted her large child-bearing hips which swayed beautifully as she walked. Her thin cotton sarees that clung to her bust was a source of numerous wet dreams. My apartment had a narrow corridor which connected all the rooms and I got plenty of chanced to brush past her. Soon I started fantasizing about fucking her. Every part of her body — her eyes, lips, hair and even her fingers began to turn me on.
But I also knew that canlı casino I had some amount of affection for her so I wasn’t about to try anything stupid. I knew she felt obliged by my action of sheltering her and hence she took very good care of me. And that in turn made me feel responsible for my actions. She would care about every aspect of my life — appearance, health, work timings, eating and sleeping habits. It felt nice to be cared and wanted. On occasions she would catch me staring at her but she would always give me a wonderful smile. I wouldn’t know what went on in her mind during those times but I am guessing she liked me as a man and found me attractive.
Sometimes when I would get bored I would stand at the entrance of the kitchen or the bathroom as she cooked or washed. Initially she was surprised but later on she chatted me up sensing that I was getting bored. While washing clothes on the bathroom floor she had this habit of bunching up her pallu so it would run up the middle of her blouse. I could clearly see her milk-laden breasts straining against the blouse and she rocked back and forth. Because she didn’t wear a bra I could sometimes see the outlines of her erect nipples through the blouse. After talking with her for a few minutes I would excuse myself (saying I needed to use the WC), jack off and rejoin her. This happened so frequently that it would take an idiot not to recognize the pattern. I am sure she did but did nothing to discourage me from talking to her and neither did she adjust her pallu.
Our inhibitions were melting fast. I made it a habit to come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I didn’t have a six-pack but I had a broad, hairy chest which I made sure she saw on more than one occasion. All these actions made her only more friendly and talkative towards me. I couldn’t understand whether she was flirting or just being overly friendly. So I just didn’t know how to take it to the next step because she had never behaved inappropriately with me.
My lucky break came with a disease endemic to India — Malaria. I have got it about 4-5 times in my lifetime and I know the symptoms so well that I can pretty much diagnose myself. One evening after coming back from work I was already feeling feverish and stiff. After dinner the fever increased and by midnight I got the chills. I knew it was the mosquitoes at work and I took some tablets to reduce the fever. In the morning I went to the doctor and got my blood work and got started on my treatment. I hadn’t bothered Memoona with the details till now though she knew I wasn’t feeling well.
After coming home I was feeling extremely weak. I told her about the Malaria and she immediately started fretting over me. I called work to take the week off and went to my room to lie down. She came into my room and I instructed her to keep checking on my fever and keep giving me pills at regular intervals. Over the next few days she was constantly at my side checking on me, giving me food and medicine and in general giving me company. She tucked me in as I suffered the chills and even slept on the floor in my room for a couple of nights. By the night third day I was reeking and I needed to bathe. But she stopped me as soon as she saw what I was about to do. I sensed an opportunity and asked whether she would give me a sponge bath. To my surprise she didn’t hesitate and asked to me remove my shirt and lie down while she went and prepared the warm water.
My first sponge bath at the lovely hands of Memoona was exquisite. She sat next to my waist and started to clean me with the warm and wet towel. She started at my neck and had to lean over me to do that. She was still wearing her day saree and I could see one of her breasts was outside the pallu. I could clearly see its shape and its heaviness as it strained against the fabric of her blouse. It gently swayed as she delicately cleaned my entire torso. At the moment all I could think of was to rip her blouse and suck on that tit of hers real hard. I could even smell her musky aroma after a hard day’s work. In my drugged and weak state I didn’t realize that I was staring at her chest area until she coughed and adjusted her pallu to cover her exposed breast. Our eyes met as I looked up sheepishly. I gave her a weak smile to which she responded with a faint smile of her own. She turned me over and cleaned my back. After she was done I asked her to hand me the wet towel and leave the room as I had to clean ‘down there’. As I wrapped the wet towel around my flaccid dick I realized that it had been a long time since I was inside a woman since my college girlfriend. I again debated if making a move on Memoona was the right thing and if so what would be the ideal time. As I lay down there, thinking about the 10 minutes during which she cleaned me I knew I had to have her. It was just a question of how delicately I could put forward my intentions. I called for her and when she entered my room I noticed she had showered and changed into her nightie. I told her my head was paining and whether she would apply some balm and massage it. She immediately got the balm and sat at the head of the bed on my right. In this position kaçak casino she was behind me and I couldn’t see her. But I could sense her left thigh and hip was close to my head. After a few minutes I gathered the courage, lifted my head and placed it on her left thigh. My eyes were shut tight as I hoped for the best. To my relief she adjusted my head a bit more and continued with her massage! I was really happy that she had allowed me to become a bit closer to her. After some time I asked her to stop, slid down from her thigh and feel asleep.
The next night we followed the same routine — sponge bath with head massage. On the third night when she came to give me a sponge bath I noticed that she had her pallu bunched up just the way she did when she washed clothes! I didn’t know what to make of it but I decided to stare at her chest brazenly. I felt her movements were a bit exaggerated today. Her chest was closer to my face than other nights. Or maybe I was imagining things. While massaging my head she even took it and placed it on her thigh herself. I was overjoyed with this marked changed in attitude! I decided to take this a step further. When she asked me if she could stop I pretended I was sleepy and she didn’t disturb me. I actually fell asleep in that position and didn’t realize when she left my room. In the morning everything was back to normal. I was feeling much better but was still weak.
I decided to take complete rest for 2 more days not only to recover but also to receive the special treatment I was receiving from my lovely maid. I noticed there was a definite change in her demeanor. She appeared more confident and in charge. But apart from that it was business as usual during the day. It was only during the night that I could sense some tension between us.
Breaking the ice
Obviously my sponge baths had to stop within a few days but I didn’t want to lose the intimacy that we had developed. I found a perfect excuse. I told her that my feet got tired at the end of a hard day of work and they needed massaging. I used to sit in a cube the whole day but of course she didn’t know. She immediately offered to massage them. She usually massaged my feet as I watched TV. She would sit on the ground and I would be seated in my sofa. I would wear pajama’s at home which I would hoist up to my knees. These became a nuisance and I switched to wearing a ‘lungi’ (a men’s sarong if you will!) with nothing underneath.
She massaged my legs facing the TV so she would place my foot on her knee to get access to the calf. I was shirtless most of the time. Just a lungi was my preferred attire in presence of Memoona. And she became really careless about her pallu which was mostly bunched up between her jugs or dropping all the time. She even fed the kid in the same room as me a few times, although with her back turned towards me. I bought her a few more nighties and sarees. These were mostly gowns with no sleeves and a sexy, satin material. She would wear these during our massages and I would compliment her often which flattered her to no end. Touching each other became more commonplace. I had now progressed from tapping her shoulder to touching her back if I needed to get her attention. She would massage my back, shoulders, and arms.
Finally one day I decided and told her to massage my “injured” hamstring. She asked me to lie on my back. But I told her that I wanted to watch TV. I was sitting in an armchair with my lungi lifted to my knees. This time she had no option but to turn towards me and squat between my legs. She told me to sit on the edge of the chair so she could reach it. Her face was just a couple of feet away and level with my crotch. She took some warm oil and dipped her hands into my lungi and starting massaging my thigh. It was an exquisite feeling and within minutes I was rock hard although the lungi cleverly hides erections. She was also careful not to touch my crotch. I complimented her on her technique and told her to work on the other thigh. 30 minutes of memoona’s thigh massage and I was ready to burst. I purposely let out loud contented sighs to let her know the pleasurable effect she was having on me.
The next day when she came to massage me, she was wearing a new sleeveless, satiny robe. Her dark skin was glistening with after shower sweat. Her hair was loosely tied and still slightly damp. The fell in curls on her back where it made the gown wet. Her arms were slim with just the right amount of flesh. She was looking like a sex goddess that descended on earth to serve me. I knew I had to do something that night. I asked her to work on the hamstring again. When she turned to face me I saw her mammaries straining against the satin and her nubs making unmistakable imprints on the smooth & soft fabric. She caught me staring at her but didn’t comment. My cock was pulsating visibly and I saw her sneaking glances at the rhythmic movement of the fabric. I was becoming desperate. I told her that the oil had given me a rash or something. She felt the area but said she couldn’t find anything wrong. I told her the skin was itching badly and lifted my leg to show her the spot. This caused my lungi to slide all the way back to my waist revealing my raging hard on. My balls had bunched up and were swollen to the size of eggs. My head had enlarged to an impossible size and was bright red. And my shaft was covered with bulging veins and throbbing violently.