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Shobha Fucked by the Servant Bhola

31 Min Read

Shobha – age 32, wife and mother of a 2 year old boy,
Chetan – age 35, Shobha’s husband & works at an MNC. His workaholic lifestyle has taken a toll on his physical fitness, moderately overweight.
Bhola – age 20, village born and bred. This rustic simpleton is shy but physically fit. Virgin.


Chetan stepped out from their bedroom into the balcony for a smoke. The night was quieter than usual and the city had been like that for the last few days as the country went into a lockdown. He glanced back at his wife Shobha, as he slowly shut the sliding doors of the balcony so as to not disturb her. She was naked, gorgeous and half-asleep on their bed. They had just finished a round of love making, and she hadn’t covered up after their act. He could see her nude back, and those dark thick tresses sprawled across the pillow. Her back was to him and the satin bedhseet only half covered her fleshy naked buttocks. And those long legs and the smooth thighs were shining on the glow of the bedroom yellow.lights.

She was unusually energetic today and had insisted on keeping the lights on through their sex. He wished wistfully that he could match her sex drive. She was 32, and the mother of a four year old sleeping in his own room and here he was 36, over weight and beginning to bald. Maybe he should cut down on his cigarettes he thought and that would make him more energetic in love making and match her own vigor.

He thought she was unusually active today and even by her standards it wasn’t very often that she insisted on reversing their usual missionary position and insisted on mounting him. He remembered her heavy but perfectly rounded breasts swinging as she teasingly kept her erect nipples just away from his lips while her palms locked into his and she straddled his waist with his cock snugly parked into her moist pussy. He wished his erection lasted longer. She sensed it too and dismounted and lay down next to him stroking his semi hard cock back and coaxing it to erection. Finally he mounted her and finished it off missionary style with a few thrusts. He wished it had lasted longer, but a loving Indian wife that she was, she smiled contended and kisses him longingly before stretching languorously into sleep.

Chetan lit his cigarette, inhaled deeply and looked into the sprawling city largely dark and with the night streets locked.down and now empty of any traffic. Somewhere a stray Rocky(D) howled into the night but the balcony of their 20th floor 3BHK in Koramamgala , Bangalore overlooked the silent locked down city. Chetan wasn’t complaining about the lockdown. A corporate banker, his stressful job involved travel, client meetings and frequent dinners hosting clients. All this took a tool on his expanding waistline and he fondly remembered their married life before the birth of their son Bunty and before his promotion. He remember how he and Shobha sat naked in the balcony at night, careless in the comfort that the balcony offered complete privacy from any peering eyes. It had drizzled that night and the Bangalore night air was pleasant.

That was when Chetan noticed the damp footprints on their balcony.

His heart jumped at the unexpected sight and looked again carefully. There was no doubt about it. The drizzle of the last hour had laid a damp carpet over the expanse of the balcony and closer to the French sliding doors from their bedroom into the balcony were the unmistakable footprints of someone who had been there. The footprints seemed fresh And hence the peeping Tom would have been lurking not long back. Chetan stubbed out his cigarette and looked back into their bedroom. The golden yellow light of their bedroom lamps clearly illuminated the naked back, buttocks and thighs his wife as she lay asleep blissfully unaware of the heart thumping in her husband’s chest.

Chetan looked around and it got him suddenly. Bhola, their Male servant! Of course, it had to be him. The balcony extended across from the bedroom to the living room. And beyond the living room lay the servant room now occupied by their 20-year old recently hired domestic help. Chetan had almost forgotten him, and he now cursed his carelessness. Treading silently, Chetan realized that the balcony sliding door into the living room was partly open and he quietly made his way into the living room. The large carpeted living room was empty and thinly illuminated by the moonlight since the curtains of the French windows were drawn open. Chetan tiptoed his way to the other end of the living room where the door to the servant room lay. The door was shut, and a gentle nudge showed it was locked but the light at the bottom of the door seemed to indicated that the inmate was awake.

Chetan remembered that the servant room had a small window that opened for ventilation into the far end of the balcony. He retraced his steps back into the balcony and tiptoed to the other end. He carefully peered around the corner.

Bhola, the servant boy was sprawled on his bed and masturbating. The bright light showed his shorts had been pulled down. His large cock, fully erect and swollen glistened in the bright light of the room as the young man massaged the shaft muttering, his eyes dreamily half closed. Chetan realized with a silent gasp of horror that the fellow had a still next to the bed and which was mounted a double photo frame that showed photos of Shobha. The frame was supposed to be in the living room, and the fellow had obviously stolen it for his private pleasure. The picture in the frame was from their honeymoon album shot in Goa, and showed the lovely Shobha, her thick hair partly swept across her facs , lips pouted at the camera and wearing a strapless t shirt with a bit of cleavage. Bhola was masturbating furiously and Chetan now realized that he was muttering his wife’s name. Finally, the guy ejaculated and Chetan watched in morbid fascination at the copious semen that gushed from the organ. The act over, Bhola lay back catching his breath and still stroking his cock while his master watched spellbound at what he had discovered.

It was a few minutes before Chetan slowly retraced his steps and came back to his bedroom. He just couldn’t believe what he had seen. Bhola had been watching Chetan and Shobha have sex, and just as they finished, he had crept away back to his room and masturbated himself to a climax fantasizing about his mistress. Chetan,’s heart was still pounding and his throat was dry and he realised something else that made him feel shamed and excited at the same time.

That he had a stiff hardon.

In a daze, Chetan crawled back into bed by the side of his still naked wife who slept unaware of the storm raging in her husband’s head and the erect cock despite having discharged not very long back.


By the time he awoke the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty. Shobha always woke up earlier than him and he found her in the kitchen warming milk for Bunty, their two year old son. She was wearing a thin pink translucent housecoat – the kind that would make a mother-in-law raise eyebrows. She cloth moulded across her generous breasts, accentuating their fulness and the material clung to her ass with just a gentle teasing outline of the panty underneath. The housegown ended six inches above her knee. She moved briskly at the kitchen chores and offered him his morning coffee with that bright eyed smile. He wanted to speak to her about last night, but struggled to organize his thoughts. The discovery of last night seemed like a dream. Was their servant actually watching them have sex?

Speaking of Bhola, where was he? There he was, dusting the furniture in the living room. Chetan’s eyes darted uncertainly from Bhola, busy with his domestic chores and eyes downcast as usual, and Shobha, as she moved pouring the warm milk now into Bunty’s favourite Chota Bheem designer glass. Shobha seemed to not notice that Chetan was preoccupied more than usual. As she ha see him his cup of coffee, she leaned over and have him a long way kiss. Chetan was taken by surprise, and this seemed reminiscent of how they behaved in the privacy of their flat when their marriage was new. He returned the wet kiss, their tongues passionately pushing against each other. He instinctively reached over and squeezed her ass. She moaned a bit too loudly, and with her free hand she rubbed his thighs and gently squeezed his semi-erect penis. Before he could take their foreplay anything further, she abruptly broke away, stepped back, pouted at him sexily, swirled and walked past him to wake up Bunty. As she was past, her hand reached over and have another loving squeeze to his penis.

He watched her walk out of the kitchen last him, her ass swaying sexily and the gown flattering her hips as she walked away. She had that amazing walk, and she knew it and when she wore the occasional tight black skirts to office, she knew that it may the day for the many silent admirers she had there.

That was when from the corner of his eye, he noticed Bhola, squatting on his haunches and dusting the sofa in the corner was also eyeing his mistress’s sexy swaying ass as she sauntered across to her son’s bedroom. Bastard! thought Chetan. Had Bhola seen them kiss, and had he seen Chetan squeeze Shobha’s ass during their interlude in the kitchen?

Shobha had worked as a human resources manager in an MNC before she took a career break when Bunty was born. Sometimes he felt she was a natural at handling people; she was firm, very perceptive and from what he knew very successful.

He waited for her to wake up Bunty and return, when he suddenly realized that he had his company’s morning daily meeting. Ever since the lockdown, the Singapore office had started a two hour debrief of the emerging situation across the globe and everyone in their bank’s sales and client management team had to join in.

It was late morning time and a few lockdown related crisis calls before the husband and wife could get time to catchup. The lockdown had meant that his office was now operating through long web conferences, and he spent most of the morning in his study room that had been hastily converted into office spaces when lockdown started.

His last call before lunch done, he went searching for Shobha. He found her lying on the living room couch, head rested against a pillow and reading a book. A lump came to this throat as he saw what she was wearing. She was wearing short pink shorts that snugly covered her ass and exposed her entire creamy thighs. One knee was bent up exposing the smooth roundness of her upper thigh. And Bhola was sitting not more that the feet away at the dining table, seemingly chopping some vegetables for lunch and no doubt ogling his sexy mistress in that pose.

Chetan walked across and pulled up a still to sit across the couch and deliberately placed himself between his wife and their servants line of gaze. Shobha put down her book and have him a welcoming smile. She pulled herself from her supine pose and curled both her knees. And that accentuated her long shapely legs even more and exposing more of her upper thighs. The pink shorts was barely more than a panty, thought Chetan. He wondered what Bhola thought, and quickly banished that thought from his head. What’s happening to her, he thought?

“Jaanu, you are looking hot!” , he said using his term of endearment that he used in their .private conversations. She smiled, very much like a woman who knows she is sexy, and leaned across and kissed him full and noisily on the lips. He was taken by suprise, and the smell of her perfume and freshly bathed fragrance reminded him how desirable his wife was. He then remembered that Bhola must have seen them and pulled back. “But, Jaanu, yeh thoda zyada nahin hai? (Darling, isn’t this a bit too much?).

In response, Shobha playfully stretched back resting her body on her elbows, her chest thrust upwards and forward and tossing her head gently. It was then that Chetan noticed that she was wearing a sleeveless snug T shirt with the V exposing a tantalizing part of her cleavage. Her full breasts strained against the right cotton fabric and taking the shape of the designer bra underneath flattering the rounded curves of the bosom.

” Baby, You mean, yeh thoda kam hai”. (Honey, you mean this is a bit less.) She ran a finger deliberately brushing back her thick lustrous tresses, a gesture women use when they know they are the object of attention. She then placed a long slim finger on his nose, teasingly and slowly drawing it across his lips and then gently but firmly forcing the finger into his mouth. He instinctively sucked her finger.

“But, Jaanu, we have someone else in the house too”, he whispered, his eyes darting to indicate Bhola behind him.

” Baby, mene ek baat soch liya hai”, (Honey, I have decided something). Chetan dreaded when he heard that familiar phrase. In their five year marriage, he recognized that this too often meant she had made up her mind on something and would call the shots.

“Baby, hum yeh lockdown enjoy karne waale hain”. (Honey, we are going to enjoy ourselves in this lockdown). “Yeh hamara doosra honeymoon hai!”. (This is our second honeymoon).

She then thrust her chest up and forward and him, wiggled those magnificent breasts of her gently. His eyes automatically broke eye contact with her and rested on her heaving bosom. The sexy bitch, he thought, she is not and she knows it.

” Thoda tease karne ka mann kar raha hai. Aur is lockdown mein who cares kiske ghar mein kya no raha hai”. (I feel like teasing. Anyway who cares in this lockdown what’s happening in anyone’s house).

Who was fine, Chetan thought, and he didn’t have a problem with that. Except that he didn’t know if she included Bhola in the teasing part. Now that was a problem!

She read his mind. “Chintu, baby”, now when she referred him with that double nickname, he knew that she meant she was in full control and going to tell him what exactly to do. “Usko bhi enjoy karne do. Let him also enjoy. Once this lockdown is over in another ten days he is going to go back to his village. Usko bhi kya yaad rahega ki woh bhi spans the yah sach”. ( Let him also enjoy. In another ten days the lockdown will get over and he will return to his village. He will also wonder then whether this was a dream for him)

She had that teasing look in her eye. The look of a hot sexy bitch, he thought.

“Now watch the show, she said and raised her voice, “Bhola, idhar aana. Saheb aur mere liye paani lana”. (Bhola, get some water for master and me).

“Bhabhi, abhi aaya”, Bhola acknowledged the request using the term by which he addressed his mistress. Chetan felt the quick response without missing a beat almost seemed like Bhola had been listening to their conversation.

Bhola came over obediently fetching a tray with two glasses of water. Shobha picked up one, offered it to Chetan, and picked up the other. She then raised the glass to her chin, touched the rim of the glass with her lips for a teasing couple of seconds while she looked into Chetan’s eyes with that sexy smile. She drank slowly and then raised the angle of the glass almost deliberately. Water spilled from the glass to her neck, ran down the cleavage and disappeared under the t-shirt creating a very damp spot. Not satisfied, she raised the glass a bit more, emptying the glass of water deliberately onto her t-shirt.

“Oops”, she said in an evidently fake reaction and watched for a few seconds as the wet spot spread on her t-shirt. Two pairs of boggling male eyes joined hers and focused shamelessly on her breasts watching almost in slow motion to see what t-shirts covering a shapely women’s breast do best when wet. The wet patch soaked into the cotton of her t shirt and exposed the knitting of the bra underneath. Slowly the faint outline of a thick brown nipple formed like an image emerging through a fog.

Chetan felt a sudden constriction in his throat. He gulped the water from his glass noisily his eyes wide agog at the dream-like act playing out.

” Oops”, said Shobha for the second time and unnecessarily so. She was still sitting on the couch, her long, rounded and exposed legs stretched out and her breasts thrust out obscenely with two pairs of male eyes wide unblinkingly zooming in on the wet spot on the t-shirt that now moulded itself to those magnificent breasts. The white t-shirt and the wet patch clung to her creamy breast, the rounded globes tipped with a large perfectly rounded areola glistening through the translucent wet material. Her eyes then moved boldly from her own breasts to her husband’s eyes, held his eyes for a few intensely long seconds, then slowly moved boldly across and locked into Bhola’s. The servant boy went red in the face as he realised his mistress was looking into his eyes, and reluctantly looked away from from the breasts much like a starving man forced to look away from a feast he could not have. He shuffled his feet comfortably, still holding the empty tray and now not knowing where to look.

Shobha didn’t break eye contact with Bhola’s eyes, her breasts still thrust upwards towards her husband as if on offer for inspection to both him and their servant. Her gaze fell on the dusting cloth that Bhola had perched on his left shoulder, much like obedient servants do when summoned by their masters. Without changing the seductive pose of her breasts, she raised her hand, picked up the cloth slowly from across Bhola’s shoulder and used it to carefully pat the damp spot on her breasts. Bhola’s gaze followed his dusting cloth as Shobha pressed it against her breasts – a little too much, too long and too hard than was needed before placing it back on Bhola’s shoulder. Her long fingers made contact with his shoulder, and he visibly shivered at the touch.

“Bas, wapas jao aur ash karo” (Now go and have fun). Shobha dismissed her servant casually and with a wiggle of her long index finger and a toss of her head and her thick hair. A bashful Bhola clumsily and hastily exited to the kitchen, and Chetan could have sworn the servants pyjamas had a bulge.

Chetan exhaled in disbelief. The scene before him took not more than two minutes, and was more erotic than any of the web series he found himself watching occassionally. What made his heart beat wildly was that the heroine of this erotic act was his wife of five years and mother of their two year old.

Suddenly it seemed, the lockdown had unleashed a sex-devil in her. He realized that after a long time, she had revealed a side of her he hadnt seen for a couple of years since Bunty’s birth. She had reminded him of the sexy seductress and bold exhibitionist that she was, and which he had discovered about her in the early days of their marriage.

Chetan remembered an incident from their last holiday in Goa. This was about two years into their marriage and shortly before Bunty was conceived. A carefree couple with an active sex life, they were at that stage where both were very much in love and very comfortable with each other’s sexuality. Their sex life had now settled into a pattern where Shobha took the lead, and this seemed natural to her with her confident extroverted personality.

Shobha had read a review about a secluded beach with white sand in South Goa, and a hour’s drive from their hotel. He was a bit reluctant about the long drive and left to himself would have preferred to plonk himself in the hotel pool, with a beer to sip but Shobha clearly called the shots and he couldn’t say no. She insisted that they take a bike instead of hiring a car, despite him pointing out the weather forecasts indicating showers that day. She raised a few eyebrows and quickened a few heartbeats in the hotel lobby showing up in denim shorts that clung and flattered her ass, and one of those shirts that are doesn’t have buttons and is instead has flaps that were tied tightly between her attractive breasts. That left her entire flat stomach and navel exposed along with her long slim legs. She carried a rucksack which packed some beach accessories and their change of clothes.

What Chetan remembered of the initial part of their drive was the way she clung to him through the ride, and with her long fingers she played with his dick while nibbling into his ear. He had a hard time driving the bike – literally.

And then it began drizzling.

The morning sky darkened and as their clothes became wet, they decided to stop by the roadside. They were on a lonely stretch of a village road and Chetan pulled for a stop in front of what he thought was a shanty tea shop. A truck and a an SUV were parked outside. They both rushed inside the shop for cover from the rain just as the skies were beginning to darken.

Both were drenched by then. The shop had only a few customers – a dirty looking burly fellow, along with another untidy thin guy. Probably the driver of the truck and his cleaner. Another table had four young guys who looked like college students on a trip to Goa and were noisily cracking jokes. That wss when Chetamn realized this was a liquor shop and not a tea shop. In the dim light inside, Chetan paused to take stock of their disheveled look.

Shobha looked stunning with the wet hair and wet shirt clinging to her body like a second skin, and the black bra clearly visible through the wet cream shirt. Chetan instinctively chose a table farthest from the two groups and plonked himself between Shobha and the other customers.

A surly waiter came by to take orders. Shobha’s bare legs were hidden under the table but the wet shirt clinging to the generous bosom and exposing the black bra, and the cleavage on display were an odd sight at this drinking tavern even in Goa. The waiter gawked at her, and Chetan fidgeted uncomfortably.

Shobha was unconcerned and smiled and leaned across to the waiter, the action exposing her cleavage even more. By now Chetan was embarassingly conscious of the six other pairs of male eyes also leching at Shobha. She seemed non-chalant and ordered feni (the local Goan drink) for both of them. Shobha quickly downed her drink, and ordered another. Chetan was barely half-way into his first drink.

Shobha asked the waiter if there was a place she could change out of her wet clothes.


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