Desi Bhabi Hot Ride

The door exploded from its hinges with unnecessary force. It revealed a haggard woman, face slick with sweat and exertion, somewhere between the age of 28 to 36. Despite his best attempts at maintaining a grumpy, tired face, Kumar would always cheer up when he saw that smiling face.That cocktail smell of sweat, detergent, and shampoo sent his head into a tailspin. When she took his bag, and his hands brushed up against her rough hands, he could feel all his body shiver.“Welcome back, Kumar-ji!” she said.“Thank you, Mamta.”Yes, Kumar was in love with his maid.“Is Shruti home?” he asked absentmindedly. “No, Madam left for the evening. She said she was going to her mother’s place.” Mamta continued after that, but Kumar did not stop her.He loved hearing her talk. He would drink in all her mannerisms as she prattled on. Like how she would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear (but only the left one). Or how she would scratch the little mole in her long neck. Or how her nose would flare out. As soon as they pulled up to the house, which was something that looked like the Kennedy’s might live in, and got out of their cars, she took him by the hand as if he was already her boyfriend when he just met her today, a mere hour ago. Before leading him inside, nothing more than a peck on the lips, as if testing his reaction to her kiss or as if kissing him goodnight, she turned to kiss him on the front porch. Then, as if teasing him, as soon as she broke off her kiss, she smiled and giggled. As if telling him that she liked him, he was surprised by the forwardness of her kiss. No woman has ever kissed him first. When she giggled like that, as if she was an immature, innocent teenager, he wondered about her age again. Then, as soon as she unlocked and closed the front door behind her, she pushed him up against the hall wall and kissed him, really kissed him, French kissed him. Blanking his mind with her kiss, he forgot all about the question of her age. At that point, in the way.
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