Ashok rings the doorbell and waits. Before the chimes fade, the door opens, and he steps through. It clicks shut quickly behind him, and he smiles at his hostess. Her name is Seema, and she is an attractive woman in her late thirties with a ravenous sexual appetite.

Seema’s husband is a prosperous businessman. He has a factory in a small industrial zone some distance from Bombay. He travels a great deal on work.

The direct result of this is that the sex in Seema’s marriage is infrequent, though excellent when she has it. Jayesh, her husband, is a powerful and demanding lover with considerable skill and stamina. He fucks her superbly, and she loves it, for she has always loved sex since she was eighteen and first hungry for the experience. She knows, too, that Jayesh has several mistresses and is regularly unfaithful to her, though they do not speak of it. Seema sees no reason to deprive herself, given the circumstances. Fortunately, they have no children, and she has the liberty to indulge herself, which she does, taking lovers as she pleases.

She has a small, independent consultancy and meets several people during her work and has no trouble in finding lovers. Her favourites, though, are still the servants. She loves their hard bodies and demanding manner, the easy dispensation with social niceties and small chat.

She is fair-skinned and attractive with a round, smiling face. She has long, dark hair that she invariably wears in a tidy bun on the back of her head. Her eyes are deep brown and full of sparkle. She wears a red bindi in the middle of her broad forehead. Her lips are soft and full, her nose straight, if a trifle broad, but sweet on her all the same. She wears no makeup and looks clean, soft, and desirable.

Her body has grown fleshy and ripe with time. Her breasts are heavy and full. She wears saris with tight blouses, and her breasts strain at the confines of the cloth, jutting out over the lower hem that runs hard under them. Her cleavage is deep and exciting. She wears a long black bead mangalsutra around her neck, nestling between her breasts. Her belly is rounded, yet firm, and her hips flare to splendid buttocks. Her limbs are smooth and rounded, with shapely hands and feet.

Ashok notices that she is still in her formal attire, a white blouse with buttons down the front and a mandarin collar, and a light black and white printed cotton sari. Her feet are bare. He follows her as she walks through the short entrance foyer to the living room.

“Working late?” he asks.

“Mm. I had an important meeting.”

She sees no reason to mention that the meeting was with her peon and it was entirely sexual, on the floor of her small office with the door securely locked. Her practice is small, and frequently, when the evenings stretch out endlessly with little work to do, she spends time having sex with one or more of her peons, often having them fuck her together.

Ashok strips off his shirt and tosses it aside. Seema steps into her hall and turns as he comes up to her. Without another word, she lifts her face to his, her hands sliding up his deep, hard chest, caressing him sensuously. Of all her servant-lovers, Ashok is one of the best. He smiles and kisses slowly and deeply, his hands sliding up her soft, fleshy body, sliding under her pallu, cupping her breasts. The soft mounds fill his hands, and he marvels at their size, weight, and form, the hardness of her nipples. She wears no underclothes as a matter of habit. Slowly, he draws the pallu of her shoulder and unravels the sari. It slides to her feet, leaving her standing before him in her blouse and petticoat.

Seema presses to him as they kiss like lovers, her tongue flickering in his mouth. Her fingers crawl across his chest, and she scrapes her nails over his small, hard nipples. As he squeezes her breasts, her hands glide down his body, over his belly, and she unclasps and unzips his trousers smoothly, sliding her hand into his crotch.

Ashok quickens with pleasure as her fingers close delicately around his thick, long penis. His trousers puddle to his feet. The top three buttons of her blouse are open, revealing her deep cleavage, and he flicks open two more and pulls her long mangalsutra out of her blouse. Seema likes wearing it, to show that she is married. She knows that a visual reminder that she is married to another man excites many of her lovers. Ashok is no exception.

Her breasts swell and grow hot and hard in his hands. The kiss breaks, and Seema arches her head, her face suffused with lust. Ashok nuzzles the nape of her neck, and she runs her tongue through his ear. He pinches her stiff nipples through the fine cloth of her blouse. Bending his head, he drags his tongue into her cleavage and then, squeezing one breast, sucks it through the blouse. Seema whimpers softly, arching her back, feeding her breast to his mouth.

“Yes,” she groans. “God, yes!”

It feels wonderful, his warm mouth clamped on her breast-tip, his tongue flipping at her erect nipple through the blouse. His hands squeeze her buttocks now, and he pulls up her petticoat and pushes his hands under it, sliding them up over her naked thighs and buttocks, squeezing them, parting them, pressing a fingertip to her anus. Seema groans and writhes against him.

Meanwhile, her hands are busy working his cock, stroking and jerking it deftly. It swells and hardens in her fingers, and she flips the foreskin back over his bulging cock-head. With a shuddering moan, she sinks to her knees before him and quickly takes his erect cock in her mouth. Ashok gasps sharply, his belly snapping inward in shock and delight, his head arching back. Her mouth is soft and warm and wet, and he can feel her tongue swirling over his thick cock-head, her teeth scraping delicately over his cock-shaft.

“Ohhh yes ... come on ... suck it ... suck my prick!” he gasps. “Suck it hard!”

Seema loves sucking cock. The tangy, musky taste and odour of a thick, hard cock filling her mouth never fails to arouse her. She groans, her eyes hooded, her head tilted to one side, and, opening her mouth wide, jerking his shaft in her fist, winds her tongue cunningly around the cock-head, delicately probing the long slit in its tip. Ashok gasps thickly, his hips lurching and twitching back and forth, his hands on her head. He bends his head and watches her. It is an erotic sight and arouses him further. His cock grows slimy with pre-cum gunk, and she whimpers in pleasure, caressing her face with it, toying with it with her lips and tongue and teeth. Rising, she licks and tongues his belly wantonly and pushes his cock down into her cleavage through her blouse. Ashok gasps at the soft warmth of her breast-sheath. He can feel her hard nipples scraping his shaft as she squeezes her breasts over his penis; can feel, too, the rasp of the mangalsutra on his thick shaft. It is a wonderful feeling. His penis throbs and quivers in eager anticipation. Seema groans. She loves the feel of his thick, hard cock between her breasts.

Drawing his cock out, she takes it in her mouth again and begins sucking it hungrily. Ashok groans loudly and fucks her face, rocking her head back and forth in his hands, pumping his hips to and fro. His cock fills and distends her face. Her tongue and lips work his penis adroitly. The fires grow and spread in his loins. Gripping his hips, she takes him deeper in her mouth and sucks his cock rapidly, her head rocking swiftly back and forth. His cock glistens as it goes in and out of her mouth.

“Yes! Ohhhh uhhh hanh ... yes! Suck it ... c’mon bitch ... suck my dick ... suck it harder!” he gasps.

Seema’s body crackles with lust and desire. She sucks harder and faster, relishing the quick spurts of pre-cum gunk in her mouth and swallows his seed. Gasping, Ashok pushes her head away.

Seema rises and moves to a wide, deep armchair. Ashok kneels before her and pushes her petticoat up her legs and over her knees and thighs. Her legs spread open and she lifts them, hooking her knees over the arms of the chair. Ashok bends forward and kisses her, his hands on her breasts, crushing them hard. She clenches his head, caresses his shoulders. He flicks the buttons of her blouse and pulls it open. Her breasts are hot and heavy in his hands, her nipples stiff and hard. He squeezes her breasts, pinches her nipples. Her mangalsutra is crushed between the fleshy mounds. His tongue flips sexily in and out of her mouth. Seema groans deep in her throat and arches under him, her hands sliding down to his crotch, stroking and jerking his thick penis, cupping and fondling his heavy balls.

“Ashok,” she moans. “Fuck me ... come on ... fuck me!”

He smiles and bends his head to her breasts. Seema whimpers as his thick, heavy tongue flips over one nipple, whipping it rapidly. Tiny flames of excitement leap through her body. He scrapes the nipple with his teeth, twirling and twisting it, and she gasps, her face screwing up in lust, her head jerking to one side, her back arching, her breasts rising to his mouth and lips. Squeezing the mound in his hand, the servant takes her breast in his mouth and sucks it. Seema moans, one hand under her breast, lifting it to his mouth, the other hand squeezing and kneading her second breast.

“Ohhh ... yes! Ohh god yes!” she groans.

Ashok sucks her breast sharply, lets go, and sucks again. He rubs her hard nipple across the roof of his mouth, over his gums, across his teeth. Seema shudders and moans in pleasure. He moves to the other breast and works at it for some time. Then, squeezing both breasts together, he sucks them simultaneously, nibbling the twin nipples delicately. Seema gasps and writhes on the chair, clenching her head. Her tongue roves through his ear, her fingers caressing his body delicately. Ashok twines her long mangalsutra in his fingers and, lifting his head to kiss her, scrapes the hard beads across her breasts and nipples. Seema’s head jerks up, and she gasps loudly, her face suffused with pleasure, soft and radiant.

Ashok continues to torment her for several minutes, sucking her breasts, squeezing them in his hands, and rolling the hard mangalsutra across her nipples. He knows her breasts are hypersensitive and that she is having tiny multiple orgasms. At last, he releases her breasts and, smiling in pleasure, moves lower, kissing her rounded belly, and running his tongue through her navel. He sinks to his knees on the floor and slowly pushes her head between her thighs.

Seema’s cunt is streaming now. She groans and claws her cunt-lips open for her servant lover. Ashok drags his tongue up one thigh, then the other, slowly moving to her slit. Seema groans and pulls her cunt-lips wide. Ashok drinks in the beauty of her cunt, the delicate cunt-lips rimmed with soft black hair framing the tender pink flesh within which glistens with her juices. He can see the quivering stem of her swollen clitoris and the darker opening of her cunt channel. Slowly, he drags his tongue up the wet crack. Seema gasps and arches her back, her head tilting upward.

“Ahhhhhh ... yes!” she groans.

Her cunt is musky and heady, her cunt-juices tingling on his tongue. He laps at them gently, flicking his tongue delicately around her cunt-lips, darting around her gorged clitoris. Her hips writhe and buck. He moves his tongue up and down her slit, twisting it this way and that, curving it to a sharp point and jabbing it in and out of her cunt-flesh. Seema pulls her cunt-lips wider open.

“Yes ... c’mon ... do it ... lick me, Ashok ... lick my slit ... come on ... yes ... ohhhh yes ... there ... ahhh yes ... ohhh god yes yes ... there ... ahhh yes there!”

Now Ashok whips his tongue at her clitoris, flicking it rapidly back and forth, and slides his thick, long middle finger into her cunt-hole. It is hot and wet and tight and it convulses frantically on his finger. He rolls his finger around in her cunt, arching it deep inward, masturbating her slowly while he tongue-fucks her. She clenches his head and bucks her hips up and down. Her head is tilted to one side, her chin on her shoulder, her mouth open. Her chest heaves. Her body rocks and jerks gently as though she is being fucked. Her hot, heavy, swollen breasts wobble and jiggle. Ashok pushes his face deep into her cunt and sucks on her clitoris. Seema cries out, her head jerking back, her breath shooting from her throat in an ululating moan.

“OHHHHHH! Oh ma uhhhh hanh uhhhhh OHHHHHHH!”

Ashok nibbles the hard knob of her clitoris, and his finger runs rapidly in and out of her cunt, masturbating her furiously. Her body jerks and writhes frantically. She arches her back, lifting and squeezing her breasts, her hands clapped over the large, fleshy mounds, pinching and tweaking her rigid nipples. Faster and faster, he moves his hand, sucking and nibbling her clitoris simultaneously, and she hisses wantonly. Her body back bends and unbends, bowing and falling, her chest heaving, her hips writhing and bucking, her hands squeezing her breasts frantically as he brings her to the brink of a cataclysmic orgasm. He stops at the last minute and rises, sliding his finger out of her cunt.

Seema groans loudly, panting and gasping with lust. “God ... no ... don’t stop ... don’t stop now, Ashok, for heaven’s sake!” she gasps.

Ashok laughs softly. “C’mon, bitch ... into the bedroom. I want to fuck you in bed.”

He steps back and saunters into her bedroom, a large, airy room with a high, soft bed at one end. On the other side of the bed, a twin louvered door opens onto a small balcony. There are sheer curtains over the doors, and they billow in the gentle breeze. The room is softly lit by bedside lamps.