Hans' Maids - Pt. 01: The Older One

She felt the itch in her vagina intensify as her inner lips swelled, the muscles in her body seemed to tense as her heart rate and breathing became faster. Maitri felt a desperate urge to touch herself between her legs. She freed one hand from her breasts and hastily pulled up the folds of her saree and petticoat till her thighs were exposed and parted wide. Taking her fingers to the crotch of her panties, she felt the dank wetness of the cotton as her nose caught a whiff of the fruity smell from her soaking vagina. She slipped her hand into the elastic band of her panties, felt the thick bush of her pubic hair before her fingers touched the protruding hardness of her clitoris.

She gasped and moaned loudly, falling backwards on to the bed as she raised her feet off the ground and placed them wide apart on the edge. With her knees bent and her thighs spread outwards, she shoved two fingers, the middle and ring fingers, into her dripping cunt. Her other hand still mauled her breasts, squeezing and palpating the abundance of her flesh. She thrust as deep into her slippery vagina as her fingers would go, ramming herself as her body writhed and her moans grew louder. She used her thumb to press over the unexposed portion of her clitoris, stimulating it as her hand kept jabbing into her genitalia, the panties now having been shoved down her thighs.

Suddenly, a series of contractions in her uterus, vagina and pelvic floor muscles racked through her body as she screamed, trying to muffle her voice but not succeeding. Her hips jerked and lunged upwards from the bed as she continued to stab her vulva with her fingers; heat radiated outwards from her pelvis and spread across her entire body. The sensory pathways of her nervous system frizzled with an acute charge of energy like a lightning storm before Maitri felt her body begin to relax. It took two minutes for her heart rate to return to a semblance of normalcy as her breathing slowed down and her muscles relaxed.

Her eyes were still shut as her hands moved gently, almost mindlessly; one lazily playing with her nipples while the other combed through the silken but moist and lush forest of her pussy hair. When her brain returned to a state where cogent thought was possible, she was amazed at what had just happened, and how suddenly it had happened. She hadn't had an orgasm for so many years that she'd actually forgotten the effects of such an explosive experience, the final wavelets of which were still juddering through her body. She also hadn't realised how her recent thoughts of Hans over the last few weeks had quietly raised her arousal level and sensual excitement.

As she continued her languid ruminations, a silence descended all around her. Till suddenly, she heard the approaching thrum of a motorcycle engine. She was so startled, she literally jumped off the bed, pulling her panties up and letting the petticoat and saree unfurl from their untidy folds around her waist and hips. Hastily, she pulled up her bra cups and pushed her boobs back in place before hooking the clasps of her blouse. Finally, draping the loose end of her dress, the 'pallu', across her chest and over her left shoulder, she straightened out the bed cover and went to the bathroom to splash some water on her face.

The sound of the motorcycle had died and Maitri wondered why Hans was back home so early on a Friday; it was not yet 3 o'clock in the afternoon. She didn't know how long she had been in his bedroom, but was aware that it was still too early for him to return. As she wiped her face and hands, she looked into the mirror over the wash basin and realised she was flushed with embarrassment; the reddish tinge discernible despite her dark complexion. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, she heard the key turn on the apartment entrance door.

***

As soon as Hans entered his apartment, he saw his maid walking towards the kitchen and called out to her, "Hello, Matty." He was very pleasantly surprised to see that she was still working, not really having expected her to be at home. He took off his shoes and left them next to the door, placed his helmet and a shopping bag on a low armoire beside a table lamp, and began to follow her through the dining room into the kitchen.

"Namaste, Hansa," she said, as she reached the sink, not turning around to face him. He liked the way she called him Hansa; there was an element of personalisation and intimacy to it.

"How are you, Matty?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen, removing his blazer on the way and draping it over the back of a dining chair. He shucked off his tie and flung it over the jacket, wondering why she hadn't turned around to greet him or respond.

"I ok Hansa, why you early?" she asked softly in that broken English that he found so amusing.

In truth, Hans had been thinking of Matty all week and he found himself unable to concentrate on his work that afternoon, although everyone at the office believed he was a very hard-working and intelligent lad. But that Friday, even though he knew, or thought, Matty would have finished her chores and gone by the time he reached home, he found himself unable to keep working. He stopped on the way back, picked up a bottle of rum and another of gin, thinking he'd just relax and wait for her weekend visit. As he leaned against the counter, he replied "I finished work, so I came home."

"I happy you come," Maitri responded, still keeping her face averted.

"What's the matter, Matty?" Hans asked, sensing a strange vibe in the kitchen. "Are you feeling alright?" Standing a few feet away from her, he looked at her and waited for her to reply. In the intervening silence, he once again took in the voluptuous curvature of her body. She was wearing a black saree with a thick red border that had some gold streaks running through it. Her blouse was red and the sleeves were longer than normal, coming down almost to her elbows. From the side, he saw the perfectly shaped bosom thrust out, pushing against the drape of her dress as it crossed her chest and fell over a shoulder. Once again, he took in the bare skin between blouse and saree and then the contour of her buttocks where the saree hugged her hips and arse before trailing to her feet.

Hans pondered her continued silence and pensive demeanour, but didn't press it further; instead he pushed himself away from the kitchen counter and headed to his bedroom where he began to strip off the rest of his clothes. He could tolerate the heat but not the humidity, and took a shower every time he came in from the outside. Shirt, vest, trousers and socks all came off in a minute before he remembered that Matty was in the house. He peered around the bedroom doorway and when he saw that she wasn't in view, made a quick dash to the bathroom and shut himself inside. Turning on the shower, he stood under the refreshing spray of cool water for a minute before soaping and scrubbing himself.

He thought again of Matty; he was thrilled that she was still at home but was getting concerned about her mood. Even then, his mind drifted to her body and his unquenchable desire for her; he so wanted to touch her, roam his hands over those Rubenesque curves, feel her skin. He wanted her to touch him, to feel her hands on his face, his body, anywhere. He thought of the times he had pressed against her, re-imagining those moments and wishing he could go beyond those childish overtures. Like so many times before, he found himself stroking his burgeoning penis with the shower-gel lather lubricating its massive thickness and fast-lengthening shaft.

But like always before, whenever she was at home, he pulled back remembering the HR directive to follow social mores and customs and so didn't allow his proclivities to go any further for fear that he may act improperly in Matty's presence. He finished his shower as his erection gradually lost its tumescence, dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He left the bathroom and took the few steps to his bedroom when he heard the maid ask "You eat now, Hansa?"

Heading to his wardrobe, he called out saying "No, thank you Matty. I already had lunch before coming home. Thank you!" He took a faded black t-shirt and pulled it over his head and torso before reaching for the towel. Just as he was about to unravel it so he could put on his briefs, he saw her in his peripheral vision; she had stepped into the bedroom and stood by the doorway. For a second he thought that perhaps she hadn't heard his reply to her question about lunch. He froze when he saw her move.

He was about to reiterate that he'd already had lunch when she took a couple of tentative steps into the bedroom and towards the wardrobe. Hans took his hands away from the towel, leaving it wrapped around him as Maitri walked through the short gap between the edge of the bed and the almirah. She pushed one of the open fly doors shut, stepped in front of him, and then reopened the cupboard door again. They stood facing each other in what felt like a small darkened cubicle, the tall wardrobe behind her, the two hinged doors on either side, and the side of the bed behind Hans. There was barely enough standing space for one person but she squeezed herself in and stood silently in front of him, their bodies flush against one another's.

The top of her head was a couple of inches below his chin as he tried to look down at her, but couldn't. He was so totally taken aback, Hans lost all control of his mind, unable to think a single rational thought at what seemed like completely irrational behaviour. Or any thought, for that matter. What was happening? Was Matty ok? Was this some strange local village voodoo practice? It took him at least a minute before the darkness in his brain cleared and he realised that the woman of all his carnal dreams was almost in his arms.

With her back against the edges of various shelves and the vertical divider in the wardrobe, Maitri stood firm and unyielding, her large breasts pressed hard against Hans's chest. But he had no support behind him; instead the edge of the bed was nudging the back of his legs, almost forcing him to buckle his knees and collapse on the mattress. He was compelled to raise his hands and place them firmly on her hips, holding tight so that the pressure from her body didn't force him backwards.

"Matt..," he was about to call her name when she raised one hand and placed her fingers over his lips, craning her head backwards so she could look up at his face. He looked into the dark pools of her eyes and saw an expression he had never seen before; and also didn't comprehend. Her fingertips moved tremulously over his mouth and Hans found himself parting his lips. Maitri pushed a finger in and felt the warm wetness of his tongue; the feeling seemed to completely overwhelm her as she suddenly wrapped both her hands around his neck, drew his head down, and planted her mouth on his. For a whole minute she pressed her lips warmly against his in fervent osculation, moving her head in a feverish desperation that shocked Hans.

But he was too stunned and just stood immobile, his hands still holding on to her bare waist with a relatively firm grip. As he grew conscious of her passionate kissing, he felt the first probe of her tongue into his mouth and instinctively coiled his own around hers. He felt the blood rush through his veins and the arousing growth of his phallus as it swelled behind the curtain of his bath towel. Her fingers embedded themselves into the thick curls of his hair as she pulled his head hard against her face; deep rumbling, almost feral, groans emanating from her chest and throat as she continued to kiss him fervidly.

Things moved so fast after that for him; Hans remained mentally stupefied but his youthful hormone-infused body was as alert and sensitive to every move his Matty made. He felt one of her hands leave the back of his head and descend to her waist where she gripped his wrist and dragged it up to her bosom. He clung to the other side of her body with his left hand, slipping it behind her so he could get a firmer grip and hold himself upright without falling back on to the bed. His right hand, meanwhile, broad palm and strong fingers, clamped on to her ample breasts although he tried to be gentle.

He moulded his hand over her boobs and kneaded them, feeling the glorious fullness as he shaped the pliant flesh in his palm. He felt the nipples stand out beneath her blouse and teased them with his fingers, conscious of how firm and large they were as they jutted against the fabric.

Maitri had brought both her hands to her blouse and her fingers were furiously plucking at the hooks down the front, trying to get them open. When she had the last one undone, she grabbed Hans' hand and shoved it inside her brassiere, groaning at his touch on the naked breast. While he inhaled a large gulp of air as his hand clamped over her right tit, scooping it out of the bra, her own hand went down to his groin and slipped between the fold of the towel. Her palm and fingers encircled the massive erection as the large cotton wraparound fell to the floor between their feet. His cock was stiff and upright, the fiery red glans touching the base of her prodigious boobs as her hand tugged frantically at its eight-inch length.

Animal-like growls escaped from their throats simultaneously, their mouths seeking one another's as the months-long pent up desire began to surface in their bodies. Their tongues lashed inside each other's mouth as the heat spread across their insides, fanning out from the central core of their genitals to the extremities of their limbs. Hans wanted to rip the blouse off and get his mouth to her tits but that would require him to sit down on the bed which, for some reason, neither wanted to do just yet. In a futile attempt to use his left hand, which was holding on to her waist and back, all he managed to do was drag the two yard long end of the saree drape, the pallu, off her chest and shoulder. Hanging from the tucked-in portion of the saree, it sailed down to the floor.

For almost five minutes their osculating lips, her pulling and stroking on his phallus, and his groping hands on her breasts ramped up the intensity of their passion as they breathed heavily and their hearts thumped in their chests. Their bodies moved as though they were on fire, twisting and pressing into each other in a ritualistic dance of spirited vehemence.

So frenzied was their passion that neither of them noticed the growing darkness surrounding them, or the loud thunderclap of a cloudburst as the skies opened up and torrential monsoon rain descended outside. The intense crack and rumble of thunder only camouflaged the heightened decibel level of their voices as flashes of lightning tore through the shadowy darkness.

His hand slid down the back of her waist till his fingers were clawing over her saree clad rump, pulling her violently against himself. He was about to drop down and sit on the bed, wanting to bury his face between her breasts when Maitri began to turn around. She moved slowly, not wanting to release her grip on his steely cock. Thirty seconds later, she had swivelled a half circle and faced the inside of the cupboard, her chin resting on a small pile of vests on one of the shelves. Her breasts thrust forward into the space between two racks of the shelving unit.

Hans hooked his fingers around the neckline of her blouse and inched it backwards over her shoulders; then began peeling off the long sleeves. Maitri dropped her arms to help him extricate the garment which he finally managed to pull off. For a while, he wrapped his arms around her middle and looked at the dark brown skin from her neck to her waist, the chocolate hue broken only by the starkly contrasting band of her white brassiere. He leaned his head down and breathed in the earthy smell of her pheromones from the slight sheen of perspiration, and also her axillary sweat. His lips delicately touched the space between her shoulder blades as his face skimmed the surface of her back.

For a brief moment their heated bodies simmered as the frenzy of their movements gave way to a period of relative calm, both of them absorbing the delicate nature of Hans' touch as the tip of his tongue traced invisible lines on her naked skin. His scorching phallus was upright, pressed against her lower back as she leaned into the inside of the wardrobe. His hips moved slowly, keeping pace with his lips, deftly grazing her body. Maitri swayed her buttocks in tandem, the folds of her saree chafing the base of his cock and the heavy suspension of his testicles. A slow dance began, raising their temperatures again.

Hans took his hands away from her waist and brought them to her back, his fingers slowly unhooking each of the three clasps on her brassiere. With the last one undone, he saw the band loosen and pushed the straps off each of her shoulders. Maitri brought a hand to her chest and took the undergarment, placing it on a shelf inside the almirah; she was resting on her forearms which were folded in on one of the racks. Her breasts hung pendulously as Hans brought his hands to them and cushioned them in his large palms.

He felt the weight of her boobs; they were heavy and not as firm as they looked when she had her bra and blouse on. He was now rubbing his thick upright penis against her, feeling both the saree and her bare skin against the length of the rigid shaft. He ran his fingers over the full and hefty slopes of her bosom before his fingers found the nipples. He circled his fingertips around them sensitively, lightly touching the goosebumps that had erupted over the areolas. Maitri squirmed as another deep moan escaped from her throat, her haunches pushing backwards against the solidity of Hans' cock.

As he pulled her long stony nipples downwards, pinching them between thumb and forefinger, she reached one hand behind her in an attempt to grip his penis. Hans alternated between tugging at her teats and groping the well-endowed plenitude of her weighty breasts. Both Maitri and Hans remained in the throes of their carnality, still not cognisant of rational thought as they continued their physical discovery of each other.

When she managed a tentative hold on his cock, Hans groaned so loud it even drowned the ambient sound of the thunderstorm raging outside; he thrust his hips forward, grating his rampant erection along the soft palm that encircled it. He straightened up and tore off his t-shirt, throwing it aside before gripping his maid's wide hips. She lost her grip on his phallus as he bent his knees and pushed the stiffness against her ample buttocks, impatient with the black saree that still covered the lower half of her body.

He lowered both his hands down the sides of her flanks and grabbed the folds of her dress, along with the petticoat below it, and pulled it up to her hips. He hurriedly pushed the saree up around her waist, bunching it over her lower back although the front portion of the garment still trailed down. Maitri parted her legs a little wider and reached a hand between her thighs, once again trying to find his penis but only managing to grope his testicles. She wrapped her fingers around the suspended sac and tugged at it with a small amount of force.

Maitri was in an absolute frenzy; although not thinking with her brain, long dormant instincts goaded her to a dizzyingly feverish pitch. In the early days of her marriage, her husband and she had wasted little time on foreplay so she didn't know the full extent of possible sexual pleasures. He only fucked her, never really made love. What little she did know came from the quiet intimate moments she had spent with herself, masturbating. But even that had been a long time ago. The sensations over the last few weeks, and today, were almost new to her although her body seemed to have an instinctive prurience that had surprised her when it surfaced.