Desi Sex Stories Hey, this is Raghav with another confession.
This is one of the confessions my followers asked me to write down. If anyone has any confessions, just email me. Or let’s connect on Google Chat.
And if anyone is looking to explore sissy, cross-dressing, slave, etc., email me. I will train you.
And anyone who needs incest help or cuckold help, feel free to email me.
Email: [email protected]
*****
It all started when Jaya began working at our conservative home in Chennai.
I am Rayaan, 25 years old, living with my mother and father. We follow strict rules – no mixing with outsiders much. Jaya is 47 years old, a married Tamil lady and also mother of 1 kid in school. Her husband paints houses as a laborer.
She has worked as a maid for 26 years, so her body is well built – no tummy or large belly – 5’7″, super dusky skin from Chennai’s heat. She always wears different color cotton sarees with a black blouse every day. Her yellow thaali thread (mangalsutra) has turned orange to brown from sweat, hanging around her neck.
She sweats a lot and has a strong odor, to be honest. She tucks her saree end at her hip, showing cleavage via her low blouse and exposing her navel region.
So that’s about her.
At first, I never talked to her. After 3 years of her working, I started noticing her. Her sweaty, strong smell when she passes me pushed me to start noticing her and start a conversation.
She comes by 12 p.m., sweeps and mops the house, then goes. Whenever my mother is not home, I started small talks with her. She is a very shy person.
Our conversations began with small talk for at least 2 months. I won her trust that way. Then I shared my work load and said Chennai weather is too humid. She agreed and laughed. Once my mother caught us talking and warned me not to talk to the maid. The next day, I told Jaya this. We decided to talk only when alone or when Mother is not around. Whenever she cleans my room, we talk slowly. One day, I had noted her birthday.
And on her 47th birthday, I gifted her a saree.
She was shocked when I gave the gift, hiding it from Mother. She said, “Why did you take such risks? What if your mother finds out?”
I said, “No, do not worry… she will not. Happy birthday, Jaya. I always found you very pretty, and you have a beautiful smile. I am sure you will look great in this saree.” I gave it to her.
She blushed and hesitated to take it. When I said, “If Mother sees this saree in my hand, she will kill me, so take it,” she asked, “How do I take this out without your mother noticing?”
I said, “Keep it between your legs, put it under your petticoat, and hold it with your thigh when you walk out of the gate.”
She blushed and said, “Smart.”
She did exactly that. She asked me to peep out of my room and see if Mother was coming. I did what she asked. Then I put my hand forward to shake hands, saying, “Happy birthday.”
At first, she hesitated, but she shook my hand. That was the first time I touched her after 3 years of her working at my home and 3 months of us talking. The moment our hands touched, she blushed and walked out of the room.
The next day was Saturday. I was sleeping at 1 p.m. when she came to work. The moment she came to my room, she started waking me up, calling my name. I realized she was trying to wake me, but I did not react, just to see what she would do.
Finally, she touched me, tapped me, and said, “Wake up.”
I woke up and asked, “What happened?”
She said, “How does it look?”
I said, “What?”
She replied, “The saree you gifted. I am wearing your gift now,” with a blush.
Oh my God… she looked absolutely stunning and smoking hot in that purple saree with a black blouse. She also kept jasmine flowers in her hair.
I said, “You look so beautiful, Jaya… just like a young 25-year-old.”
She said, “No, I am 47… but thank you for this gift.” She went back to work.
Then around 15 minutes later, Mother called me and said she was going to see a relative who was not well. She asked me to close the door. I was already super excited. I quickly ordered condoms from the Zepto app. They arrived fast in 8 minutes. I hid them under my mattress.
Mother was gone; the house was quiet. Jaya was still mopping the hall. I went to the kitchen, where she was drinking water.
“Jaya akka (sister), you look amazing in that saree,” I said, standing close.
She smiled shyly. “Thank you, Rayaan.”
I stepped closer, smelled her sweat and jasmine mix. It made my dick hard. I said, “Jaya, I have liked you for a long time. You are special to me.”
She looked down, blushed, and said, “Rayaan, this is not right. I am married and have a kid” (in Tamil).
I held her hand gently and said, “Jaya, please listen. Your husband does not care for you, right? I see you sad sometimes. Let me make you happy.”
She pulled her hand back and said, “No, Rayaan, we cannot. What if someone finds out?”
I convinced her, saying, “No one will know. We will be careful. My mom will not be back for a few hours. Let me show you how much I care.”
She hesitated, looked at the door, then back at me, and said, “No, this is wrong, Rayaan.”
I smiled, pulled her close to me, and kissed her lips. She pushed me back and slapped me. For a few seconds, we both looked at each other. Then I went ahead, pulled her again, and kissed her again, and this time she kissed back too. I knew she was in.
I lifted her in my arms and carried her to my room. I closed the door. She stood there nervously, her hands on her saree pleats. I hugged her waist and felt her sweaty blouse. I kissed her cheek. She froze, then turned her face. I kissed her lips again. My hands roamed over her back.
I then pushed her toward the wall and started to kiss and lick her sweaty neck with my tongue, as her sweat was already dripping from behind her ear. I wish you could have smelled that scent – a mix of her smell, the sweat, and those jasmine flowers. God!
I tried to remove her pallu. It was pinned to her shoulder. I asked her to remove it. She said, “No, someone will see, da” (dear/brother).
“If you don’t remove the pin, then I’ll pull it and tear your saree.”
She obeyed, removed her safety pin, and attached it to her thaali string (malsutra). The moment I pulled her pallu down, I could see her medium-sized breasts popping out of her black blouse.
I quickly tried unhooking her blouse, but I couldn’t, so she said, “Wait,” and she herself removed it. And boy, oh boy, she wasn’t wearing any bra. Her boobs were hanging, and she left her unhooked blouse just hanging.
I grabbed both her boobs and her nipples, which were hard and erect, and started to squeeze them. I saw her head lean toward the wall and face up toward the ceiling, moaning, “Isssshhh, aahhhh,” slowly.
I then held her left boob in my right hand, kissed it first, and then sucked it for a few minutes, while her right hand was behind my head, brushing through my hair, and she was moaning slowly.
I tried to remove her hanging blouse completely, and she whispered, “No, full naked… I am scared.”
I said, “Okay… keep the saree on.”
I bit her neck lightly. She moaned softly. I sucked her boobs and bit her nipples. She gasped, “Rayaan, slow… issssh.”
Then I kneeled down, lifted her saree and petticoat up, and found no panty. Her bushy pussy was wet already. I licked her sweaty armpits. The salty taste made her writhe shyly. She
said, “I do not like that smell.”
I said, “I love your smell, Jaya. Real you.”
I said, “Come to the bed.”
She said, “No, we will lie down,” and I laid her on the floor because she said she has never had sex in a bed before and she only sleeps on the floor at her home.
I then pulled my pants down, my medium dick out hard. (Yes, guys, I do have a medium-sized dick only.) She saw it, laughed, and said, “Smaller than my husband, haha.”
That aroused me more. I said, “Good, then you will feel every inch.”
She blushed. I said, “Let me lick you first.”
I spread her legs, put my tongue on her pussy folds, licked her clit, and sucked the tangy juices from sweat. She moaned loudly and covered her mouth.
“Rayaan… feels good. Long time no one touched me,” she said in Tamil.
I fingered her slowly, 2 fingers in her tight pussy. She bucked her hips, came quickly, and her juices were on my fingers.
I stood up to get a condom from the drawer. She held my hand and said, “No, Rayaan… no condom. I want to feel you. My husband sleeps with me once every 2 weeks, or sometimes only once a month, and he does not satisfy me at all. Even when I approach, he ignores me. Fuck me raw, Rayaan.”
I agreed and dropped the condom. I had her hold my dick, and she smiled. I was already hard and did not want her to give me a blowjob, as I was scared that I might cum on her face, so I just rubbed my dick on her slit and pushed in missionary, her legs around me. Tight warmth gripped me.
She cried out, “Aah, big for a small dick,” and laughed.
I thrust slowly, then faster, her thaali (mangalsutra) swinging on her chest. I bit her boob hard and left marks.
I then asked her to turn around, but she said, “Only missionary, because I am scared. No other position.”
She said, “No change. I am scared.”
I pounded her harder, and she moaned, “Rayaan, harder… fuck me like your wife” (in Tamil). And within a few minutes of all this, I came inside her, filling her hot pussy with cum.
I fell on her, and she just hugged me and said, “This was the best sex I have had in the last 20 years,” and she kissed my hair.
My hair was near her mouth, and my face fell and lay exhausted on her boobs, while she kept patting my back and hair.
We lay panting. She said, “Rayaan, can you fuck me like this whenever Mother is not around?” (in Tamil).
I agreed. “Yes, Jaya, anytime.”
She smiled, cuddled, and said, “Thank you.”
She then cleaned the dripped sperm on the floor with her saree. She then stood up, first pushed her boobs inside her blouse, then hooked her blouse. Then she adjusted her saree and went back to work, blushing, and asked me to get back and wear my pants.
From then on, our affair started. She is shy but eager. Once a month, she takes off, saying she is not well. We roam the city on my bike. I make her wear a burkha so no one identifies a Tamil married woman with a boy.
We go to the beach, eat ice cream, hold hands, go to movies, and then I would drop her by a bus stand, and she would go to a public toilet, remove the burkha, and give it back to me.
During our fucking sessions, she insisted on removing her thaali (mangalsutra) every time, saying, “It was my husband who tied it. I do not like it, Rayaan.”
I convince her to keep it on. “I want it, because when I am fucking you, it feels like I am fucking my wife.”
She agrees shyly and lets it stay.
We tease each other when Mother is around. When she cleans my room, I pull her in for a quickie. I bend her over near the room’s door and fuck her from behind, standing, saree up, no panty, while she keeps an eye outside the room. Or when she bends to sweep, I stand behind, rub my dick on her ass, or pinch her navel and breast over her saree, and she whispers, “Later.”
Our secret grows stronger. She’s happier now, smiles more. I love her sweat, stink, and jasmine mix. Still going, our dirty affair hidden from the world.
We manage to somehow fuck 4 to 7 times a month. Yes, that’s it, because of the constraints, but a great sex partner.
*****
This is one of the confessions my followers asked me to write down. If anyone has any confessions, just email me. Or let’s connect on Google Chat.
And if anyone is looking to explore sissy, cross-dressing, slave, etc., email me. I will train you.
And anyone who needs incest help or cuckold help, feel free to email me.
Email: [email protected]
Author of this story wrote it for you for free. The least you can do is to let him know your feedback in the comments below.