1997 - A Long Time Ago Pt. 03: Climax

Very slowly, she moved her head up and down the length of my rod, taking a little more into her mouth with each oscillation till almost six inches were inside. I groaned every few seconds, not able to restrain myself. Between breaths I whispered her name, "Meena. Ohhh! Meena. Ta bouche est céleste, Meena." She was on her haunches, the back of her head grazing the edge of the kitchen counter, her back pushed against the lower cabinet. Outside, there was no let up in the cascading monsoon rain, a wind whipping raindrops against the large glass windowpane of my kitchen. My groans grew louder but were drowned in the ambient noise of thunder and rain.

She paused for a few seconds with my penis deep in her mouth, her lips stretched tight around the thickness that seemed to have grown into a hard and heavy rod. She then pulled her head back, gagging slightly, leaving a trail of densely lubricated saliva and mucus along the entire length of my cock. Her fisted grip immediately stroked the full eight inches in a smooth slippery motion, back and forth, back and forth as she brought her other hand to me testicles. I stood with my legs parted wide and leaned forward with one hand on the counter ledge for added stability as she increased the pace of her hand movement. She cupped my balls in the palm of one hand and gently massaged them with her soft palm and fingers like a pair of Baoding balls.

After a minute of tugging at my cock and fondling my testicles, she took my penis into her mouth once again, this time with considerable fervour. I briefly remembered her telling me two days earlier that she had had one sexual encounter with a man, and that hat been a most unpleasant experience. After hearing that, I had let her decide the pace at which she wanted to develop our physical relationship. I wasn't sure if she expected me to cum in her mouth, or whether she even knew what the experience would be like. I was becoming increasingly aware that at the aggressive tempo she was now sucking my cock, I would explode very soon unless she stopped.

Suddenly, she had her arms around my hips and her fingers were clawing at my buttocks while her head kept bobbing feverishly along four-fifths the length of my steely pole. Although neither of us had any claim to sexual expertise, she was attacking my groin with a devilish frenzy which I was trying to fend off by preventing an ejaculatory explosion. Her fingers were deeply embedded in my gluteal muscles as her mouth slid up and down the length of my shaft. I was making my pelvic floor muscles as taut as possible, the way I had practiced my Kegel exercises, but knew that it would soon be a losing battle.

So I lowered my hands and hooked them under her armpits, pulled back from her face and raised her from the ground into a standing position. She stood docilely and looked up at my eyes, then softly murmured "Baahar kyon nikaala? Why you pull out of my mouth. I want taste you," her eyelashes fluttering.

"I took it out because I also want to taste you," I said hurriedly, more because I wasn't sure how to actually respond to her question. "And I want to make love to you and your beautiful body for a long time," I continued. She had one hand on my chest while the other snaked down to my groin, her fingers ambling across the front and inside of my thighs. She seemed to understand my erogenous zones instinctively; my muscles twitched as the already rampant phallus pressed against her abdomen. Meena's bosom stood out firmly from her chest, the nipples grazing against my torso as I placed my hands on her hips and began to turn her around.

She faced the kitchen window, rain still splattering the pane noisily, as I pressed my crotch against her underskirt. With my left hand bent around her, I took one huge breast in my palm and kneaded it gently. I reached down her side with the other hand and clutched the cotton fabric, drawing the petticoat up her flanks. When I had gathered the folds near her hip, I pulled it up to her waist and held it in position as I rubbed my erection against her panties. They were red low-rise panties with the waistband sitting on her hips and had higher-cut leg holes than normal. Matching her brassiere, the upper band had a lacy scalloped edging that ran from one hip to the other, and the rear was an expanse of filigreed work across her buttocks.

While I had felt and gripped her arse the last time we lay on my bed in the dim lamplight two nights ago, looking at the perfect contours of her bum now with my large penis against it was a visual ecstasy. The high-cut legs of her panties revealed the lower quadrant of each buttock and the gluteal fold, the deep crease between her rump and thighs. I placed my hands on her arse and rubbed slowly in a circular motion, absorbing the firm smoothness through my fingertips and palms. After a while, I took my solid rod in one hand and brushed it against the naked skin of her posterior, moving it from the outside to the cleft in between her arse-cheeks.

I placed one hand at the top of her back, between her shoulder blades, and applied a gentle suggestive pressure which she seemed to understand. The maid bent forward over the counter-top, pushing her feet backwards a few small steps and spreading them apart by about twelve inches. Standing directly behind her, my cock upright against the central crevice of her buttocks, I rubbed my palms all over her backside for a minute before tentatively sliding one hand between her legs and under. I hooked a finger upwards and ran it gently along the fork of her panties, immediately feeling the crotch drenched in her juices.

"Ahhhhh!" Meena suddenly exclaimed, her right had reaching behind her to loosely grip my wrist. I continued to rub the pad of my forefinger over the sodden patch as she moaned and removed her hand, pushing her arse further back. Then, with all fingers outstretched and my hand held straight out and vertical, I kept raking the length of my finger between her panty-covered labia, feeling the thick soft cushion of the outer lips. "Uhhhh! Ah! Ah!" she heaved, her thighs twitching as I stroked harder, applying upward pressure into her vulva. As I slid it along the groove, the bulbous labia were like soft mounds on either side of my finger that channeled through the deep valley beneath her undies.

Bending low, I kissed one rounded buttock, drawing the leg cut of her panty up the firm mound towards the crevice centred on her bum. With a couple of fingers, I drew the edging as far to the other side of her rump as I could, revealing the soft mounds of her outer lips which I could see from behind. I pushed a finger between them, parting the folds of her inner labia and feeling the delicate petals unfold as the warm juices from within washed over my hand. The woman groaned as my finger slithered through the passage, grazing the channel without actually penetrating her. She swung her hips from side to side as I teased her nether region, pushing my fingertip through the sodden creases till I touched her clitoris at the other end. She bent her knees in sudden reaction and had to grab the counter ledge to retain her balance, an animal-like sound bursting from her throat.

After a couple of minutes, I lowered myself and hunkered down on my haunches as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly began to peel them down over her thighs and shanks. As I lowered the garment, I saw the dark patch of wetness on the crotch, and was suddenly overpowered by the heady sweet aroma of her sexual pheromones. When I had got them down to her ankles, I lifted one of her feet off the ground and removed her underwear; then did the same with her other foot. I put my palms on her naked buttocks just inches from my face and rubbed the spheres with an uncontrollable yearning.

As a 20-year old college student, with one broken girlfriend relationship in Paris and the last two days in Bombay being my only experience, I was driven just by instinct and testosterone. With my hands firmly planted on her arse, I moved her cheeks apart and saw the puckered entrance of her anus directly before me. Just below that, and disappearing underneath, were the folds of her inner labia and the fading moss of her pubic hair over the outer labium. As I pushed my head forward, the maid must have felt the warmness of my breath against her rump because she quickly twisted around and pushed her fingers into my hair. Pushing me back, she whispered rather urgently, "Nahin, Bhaiya. Not like that. Not now!"

I was a little taken aback as I stood up, my body barely an inch from hers; her breasts pressed against my chest and my still erect manhood throbbed against her belly. She saw the look of disappointment on my face and cupped her palms around my cheeks, drawing me down to plant her lips on my mouth. "Little slowly please," she said softly, as she wrapped her arms around my chest and leaned into me. Her petticoat was no longer bunched around her waist, having draped her limbs as it dropped to her ankles. She then disentangled herself from me and walked to the front room as I pulled up my undies and jeans. Zipping up and buttoning the Levi's, I walked out of the kitchen towards the front and saw her disappear into the bathroom with her large handbag. My mind was still adjusting to the sudden change in the ambient aura around me, fighting down the frustration and a growing irritation.

I went and stood, bare chested, at the entrance door to my room and watched the rain crash down on to the terrace. Splatters had found their way on to the foot mat just inside the door and I felt the wetness under the soles of my feet as I stood on it. There was no breeze any more so the raindrops fell heavy and straight on to the interlocked bricks that made up the floor of my deck. I heard the latch of the bathroom door and turned around to see Meena come out; she was wearing a different blouse and petticoat and her hair was loosely tied at the back of her head. Barefoot, she walked into the room and said "I cook you something to eat now Ok?" My wristwatch was lying on the study table and I noticed the time had passed 1 o'clock.

I was still a little on edge and miffed after the sudden stoppage of our sexual antics so I just nodded to her and picked up the forgotten wine bottle resting on the work desk. I poured half a glass into the tumbler and took a sip of the pinot noir, enjoying its light earthy flavours as the liquid slid down my throat. After ruminating for a while, I felt a little guilty about my reaction to her culinary offer so I picked up the bottle of wine and walked to the kitchen. She had already chopped some vegetables and was kneading some dough that would be used to make chapatis, a common unleavened flatbread that was staple across much of the country.

"Would you like to taste some red wine?" I asked, remembering that she had enjoyed a drink the night she was here at the start of the weekend.

"I like what you give me last time," she said as she turned to look at me and smiled. What she had had last time was a rum and coke. Without stopping to think about whether it was too early in the day for such libation, I found the bottle of Old Monk, an iconic vatted dark rum made in India, and poured out a healthy measure into a glass. Opening the refrigerator, I took the half-full one-litre bottle of Coca Cola and topped up the tumbler, then threw in two ice cubes as well and placed the glass next to her. She immediately ran water over her hands, rinsed them and reached for the glass. Without raising her glass in an expression of Cheers! or Santé! she took a sip of the drink and grinned in appreciation, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. "Thank you."

I leaned against the granite counter-top that ran the length of the scullery, looking at her a few feet away as she worked with the vegetables, I had a side view of her and noticed how sharp her facial features were, the clean cut of her jaw and the angular line from ear to chin. Her skin was unblemished and devoid of any cosmetic make-up, the lipstick now faded and only a faint blush of red on her succulent lips, the delicate structure of a georgian nose. Her hair was combed behind her ears, revealing their perfect paisley shape and the 'jhumkas' still dangling from her ear lobes.

She had changed out of the long-sleeved red blouse to a more functional sleeveless bodice that revealed her entire arms. The cotton fabric had a tie-dye print with midnight-blue and sunset-orange as the primary colours. It had a mid-level neckline; not excessively plunging, but not rounded at the neck either. The garment hugged her large breasts like another skin; the shape was absolutely perfect from my viewpoint - full on top and a geometrically perfect arc on the bottom half. Their tip stood out between four and five inches from her chest, and although not hard and prominent at that moment, I could easily discern where the nipples were, even though she may have been wearing a bra. The lower edge of her blouse was where I would expect the underwire of her brassiere to be; there was no space between the hem and the underside of her bosom. In fact the lowest part of her boobs over-hung the bottom of her blouse slightly; it was a most erotic and arousing sight as I watched her working on our lunch.

She talked, some in English but mostly in Hindi, with little concern for whether I understood a word or not; but her smile, the gleam of her teeth, the small dimples on her cheeks, these were heavenly to watch. In the light coming in through the window, her café crème complexion was deep and rich, the skin obviously smooth. From her blouse to the top of her petticoat, which she had changed to a dark blue one but worn equally low on her hip as the earlier one, was bare naked skin that I had to will myself away from. She turned frequently to look at me as she spoke and must have known I was ogling her in a totally shameless fashion, but didn't seem to mind.

Before I knew it, the vegetables were cooking in a wok-like dish with a lid and Meena was breaking up the large heap of dough into five or six smaller balls. After sprinkling a bit of flour over them, she started flattening one of the balls with a rolling pin till it took on a round flat pancake shape. She then placed it on a pan that was heating on one of the stoves and pressed it gently for about half a minute, then flipped it over. I watched the chapati swell as the air inside heated; she turned to me and smiled, "You like chapati?"

I nodded, quite taken up with the view. I had never seen anyone cook Indian food before; in fact I paused to wonder how these ingredients had come into my kitchen and concluded that Meena must have brought them with her this morning. She finished making half a dozen chapatis and placed them on a plate; stirred the veggies for a while and put them on another plate. Those were the only two plates in my kitchen so we stood side by side at the kitchen counter and ate wok-fried vegetables and bread. She finished her drink of rum and cola and asked me if she could have "a little more, please?"

After our meal, I poured her another glass of Old Monk and Coca Cola on ice while she soaped and rinsed the crockery and utensils; I helped her dry them and stash them away on the shelves below the counter top. I went into the bathroom after that and took a pee, washed my hands, brushed my teeth, and splashed water on my face. I came out and walked to my front room while the maid went in to the washroom. I stood at the doorway and looked up to the skies; heavy dark clouds hung low and wafted inland but the rain had stopped. Waiting for Meena, I walked out barefoot on to the drenched terrace feeling the cool wetness on my feet as I contemplated the maid. Superstitiously, I didn't want to think of what lay ahead this afternoon for fear it wouldn't happen, but there was burning desire in me for her body.

I walked across to the other end of the roof and stood at the low parapet from where I could see Pawai lake; there was a misty fog that seemed to hang over the water and I couldn't see across to the other shore. As I stood in silent contemplation, I heard slushy footsteps as Meena kicked at small puddles of water while walking across towards me. I turned just as she reached me, slipped an arm through mine and leaned into me as she gazed over the waters to the North. After a minute, I unhooked our arms and placed mine around her waist, fingers lightly teasing her bare skin. I turned towards her and kissed her on the mouth; she didn't resist but after a few seconds, said bashfully "koee hamen dekh lega; somebody see us!"

I pointed to the open space in front of us, then twirled around in a circle pointing all over and said "Look! Nobody can see us. There are no houses that are higher than our apartment so nobody can see us." I bent my head and kissed her sensuous lips as I placed both hands on her hips, plunging my tongue into her mouth as I pulled her in towards me. But she was still very self-conscious and inhibited so she took my hand in hers and started walking back to the room. We wiped our feet carelessly on the damp foot-mat and entered. She had placed her glass of rum on my study table next to where I'd left my own unfinished tumbler of wine. We both reached for our glasses and took a sip simultaneously, laughing as though to a shared secret.

She took her drink to the bed where she sat, looking up at me with a genuine smile that seemed to reflect love and something sensual. The alcohol seemed to have raised my testosterone level; in the past I'd realise that I always feel horny after a couple of drinks, wine or spirits, and I wondered if it had the same effect on the maid. Standing in the centre of the room, I thought it was darker than it had been in the kitchen; perhaps the clouds were darker, or else the kitchen window was larger and brighter. But the ambient lighting had a very cozy and comfortable feel to it.

I took a final sip from my glass, draining the dry red, and placed the glass on the table. I then walked the few steps to where she sat on the bed, standing directly in front as she spread her legs and I felt the stretched petticoat between her knees against my trousered legs. I placed my hands on her bare shoulders and ran my fingers along the top, from the rounded edges to the sides of her neck; I pushed her hair back and tucked the long tresses behind her ears. She reached up to her ear lobes and unhooked the dangling jhumkas from the piercings, then placed the delicate ornaments on the small bedside table. I continued to caress the nape of her neck and behind the lobules as she tilted her head to one side; that same feline movement I had seen before.

With the rain and thunder having stopped, and the streets three stories below bereft of any traffic, there was a strange quietness in the air, the silence broken by our somewhat intense breaths as our libido heightened. I reached for the buttons on her blouse; this time they were snap buttons, commonly called tich buttons in India. I unsnapped the stud fasteners slowly, hoping I wasn't being too abrasive for her liking. But just as I undid the front of Meena's blouse, she stretched her arms behind her so I could peel the garment off her. Underneath, she wore a brassiere that was sheer mesh and white, with a very thin under band and even thinner underwire. The dark aureolas and nipples stood in stark contrast to the muted tones of her boobs under the lingerie.

I rubbed her nipples as they thrust out against the thin gauzy see-through bra cups before pushing both hands inside the décolletage and took her breasts in my palms, moulding my fingers around the glorious fullness. I squeezed gently, kneading the heavy mounds as she bent her arms behind her back and undid the hook-eye clasps. Slipping the straps off her shoulders and down the length of her arms, she pushed the brassiere to one corner of the bed and then placed her hands on my abs. Her fingers felt cool against my body as they traced random lines across my stomach and my chest while I massaged and stroked the voluptuous ampleness of her bosom. Her hands climbed up along my sternum before she splayed her palms over my nipples and rubbed in a circular motion, coaxing them to stiffen.