The Bungalow Pt. 01

It's November 1866 and I'm living in our hill station bungalow near Shimla, it's much cooler up here and safer too after the revolt of 1857, we still took precautions of course especially where my wife was concerned, but the troubles where mostly forgotten. I'm Sam 57 years of age and a retired civil service administrator, my wife Sarah is currently away at her sisters with her ladies maid, which just leaves me and Jonathan the house boy. All very simple and economical as well as all we have is my pension, my wife's inheritance and some investment income from our time in London. There's a live out cook and occasionally some extra servants when we entertain, a simple life but rewarding in this beautiful country.

The bungalow has one master bedroom, four guest rooms, a large lounge and a kitchen and out houses. All the windows have sturdy shutters and can be locked from within. Both doors are very well built with sliding cross bars, when all locked up we feel very safe and importantly no one can see in. We have a well and a kitchen garden and we keep chickens and goats too. I'd had two water tanks built on the flat roof and if filled early in the day they catch the sun and provide a good quantity of heated water for the evening, it has to hand pumped up there of course but that's Jonathan's duty.

My wife was at her sisters for the arrival of her third baby which was due in about a week, and we'd agreed she stay two weeks after the birth, she wrote regularly and could send a telegram if urgent enough. All quite normal, we ourselves where childless although God knows we'd tried enough, so I understood Sarah liked to be around children and babies, I did miss her and indeed our regular sexual congress.

That Saturday had been hot and we'd been out mending a fence in the bottom paddock and had returned hot and sweaty at five. Cook had left a curry on the stove and gone back to her family. We ate together in the kitchen and I left Jonathan to tidy and wash up. We had a simple shower room and I found the water agreeably hot and washed all the days grime off me. I called through to Johnathan that he could shower too and dressed in our bedroom. On those hot nights I liked to redress in just a thin silk dressing gown, much cooler and modest enough if firmly belted.

Back in the lounge I found he'd lit the oil lamps, mixed my whisky and soda and laid out my paper. Jonathan had put on simple stripped cotton pyjamas and was standing by the door.

'You can sit if you want, no need for formality when there's just the two of us, take a sherry too.'

I meant it too, I liked to be informal around him when the occasion allowed. He was taller than me, but much thinner and lighter, he thought he was 19 but wasn't really sure. We spent a companionable evening reading and he would refill my drink every now and then and I'd point at the sherry decanter so he could refill his own. Of course he was unused to drink, unlike me so by about 10 he swayed a bit on his feet.

'Come on then, to bed with you.'

So together we got up, and used the toilet and went to our bedrooms with our lighted candles. I lay there for sometime thinking about my wife, and how I missed her. I felt my member twitch and thought I might masturbate but my mind turned to a certain young man just down the hall. Sighing I arose, lit the candle again and pulled on the dressing gown. Turning his door handle I could hear him gently snoring as I put down my candle holder. Kneeling by the bed I reached under the bed covers and felt for the open fly of his pyjamas.

'Oh you sweet boy.' I said as I pulled back the bed clothes to reveal his crotch, I took his penis in my right hand while cupping his scrotum with my left. He was quite small and slender, maybe 4 inches with a nice tuft of dark pubic hair. Popping the glands out I began a slow masturbatory motion. He slowly hardened at which point he woke up.

'Sir! No sir! Please stop!'

'Shush! Don't worry, I'll just make you relax.' And with that I popped the stiff little thing into my mouth. He tasted a little of soap but I didn't mind that, as I moved up and down on his erection.

'Don't worry, relax, just imagine it's the maid doing this to you.' At which point he bucked and moaned again. I got a rhythm going and he started thrusting upwards in the bed so I reached under his buttocks and found his anus and rubbed it with my left forefinger. Wetting it with saliva I gently eased it into the orifice, and at every upward thrust it sunk just a little deeper.

Now he was moaning and thrusting powerfully as I tasted the first pre cum.

'Good lad, don't worry, you'll be fine.'

'Oh God, oh God, Oh Memsaab! Oh I'm sorry!' he shouted as his powerful ejaculation flooded my mouth, for a small pair of balls he managed five full spurts which I was obliged to swallow. I kept sucking as he flopped back in bed and finally he popped from my mouth. Panting he lay there with heaving chest and covering his eyes and then he burst into tears.

Standing I pushed off my dressing gown and took my penis into my right hand and said.

'So that's it then, you like my wife do you, well well well!' and I turned him over towards me and pressed down on his chin and pushed my stiff member into his mouth. 'Just suck boy, just suck.' As I eased the whole glands in.

He tried to stop me going deeper but I would have none of it. 'Just suck boy and I'll pretend it's her vulva!.' I thrust back and forth and must admit he made quite a good job of taking all of me in.

'Oh Sarah, my love, I wonder how tight the maids hole is!' as my orgasm bubbled up and with one long thrust I fired my jisum into his mouth. Gasping and sputtering I gave him some air but painted the last strands of semen over his face. He cried again, but less this time.

'Don't worry, I'll not tell her, your secrets safe with me. I'll get you something to wipe your face with.' and going back to my room I fished in the washing basket for something white. Bringing it back to him he took it and wiped his face and then realized it was a used pair of her drawers. Shuddering he sank back but kept the underwear firmly clamped to his nose.

'Sleep now, tomorrow is Sunday and a rest day, sleep,' and closing his door I moved silently back to my room.

'Yes a rest day, but not a Church day!' and I chuckled as I blew out the candle and got into bed, for now I felt satiated but very tired.