Lust knows no boundaries

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting slanted shadows across the living room. Arjun sat on the couch, his laptop open but ignored, his mind elsewhere. The house was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. It was a steady reminder of how alone he felt.

His wife had left for work hours ago, and the house’s emptiness seemed to stretch out endlessly around him. He shifted uncomfortably, the growing tension in his pants impossible to ignore. It wasn’t often that he found himself so wound up.

But today was different. Today, the ache between his legs was more insistent, more demanding. He glanced at the clock. Sheela would be here soon. She always came on Wednesdays. Her slender frame will be wrapped in a faded saree, her hands rough from years of cleaning.

She wasn’t beautiful, not by conventional standards. But something about her—something raw, something primal—made his pulse quicken. The sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. He heard the soft click of her sandals on the tile floor and the rustle of her saree as she moved.

His heart raced as he stood, his body moving before his mind could catch up. Sheela was bent over the dining table, arranging the cleaning supplies, when he approached her. Her back was to him, the curve of her waist visible beneath the thin fabric of her blouse.

Without thinking, he closed the distance between them, his arms slipping around her waist. She stiffened immediately, her breath hitching in surprise.

“Saheb?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled her closer, his chest pressing against her back. She resisted, her hands gripping the table’s edge, but it was half-hearted. A token protest. His lips brushed her ear as he murmured, “Shh, just let me.”

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, with a shaky exhale, she relaxed into his embrace. Her body was warm and pliant. He noticed how perfectly she fit against him.

His hands roamed lower, sliding over the curve of her hips, fingertips brushing the edge of her saree. She trembled under his touch, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Saheb, please,” she whispered, though whether it was a plea or an invitation, he couldn’t tell.

He turned her around, his hands cupping her face. She looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes, her lips slightly parted. There was no pretence here, no games. Just the simple, undeniable truth of what they both wanted.

He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. She tasted faintly of tea and spices, a reminder of her humble origins, and it only fueled his desire further. Her hands fluttered uncertainly before settling on his shoulders, her grip tightening as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, she breathed hard, her cheeks flushed. “Saheb…” she began, but he silenced her with another kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair.

“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before sinking to the floor, her saree pooling around her like water. Her eyes met his, dark and unreadable, as she reached for his belt. The sound of the zipper echoed in the silence, followed by the rustle of fabric as she freed him from his trousers.

Arjun’s breath hitched as her small, calloused hands wrapped around his length. She stared at him momentarily, as if seeking permission, before leaning forward and taking him into her mouth. The warmth of her lips, the wet slide of her tongue—it was almost too much.

He groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair as he guided her movements. She was inexperienced, her strokes tentative and unsure, but there was something undeniably erotic about her submission. About the way she looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting, even as she took him deeper.

He thrust gently, testing her limits, and she gagged softly before adjusting, her throat relaxing around him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

Her hands rested on his thighs, her nails digging lightly into his skin as she bobbed her head. The sensation was overwhelming. Every nerve in his body alight with pleasure. He cursed under his breath, his hips moving involuntarily as he neared the edge.

But he wasn’t ready to finish—not yet. With a reluctant groan, he pulled away, guiding her to her feet. Her lips were swollen, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she caught her breath. He kissed her again, rougher this time, his hands roaming over her body impatiently.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom. She clung to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her breath hot against his skin. He laid her down on the bed, her saree splayed beneath her like a pool of silk.

His fingers fumbled with the knot at her waist, the fabric unravelling to reveal her bare skin. She was lean, her body marked by the hardships of her life, but there was a quiet beauty in her vulnerability. His hands traced the contours of her hips her waist, before slipping between her thighs.

She gasped, her back arching off the bed as he touched her, the wetness evidence of her arousal.

“Please, Saheb…” she begged, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t need further encouragement. Positioning himself between her legs, he pushed inside her in one smooth motion. She cried out, her nails scraping his back as she adjusted to his size. He stilled, allowing her to adjust before setting a slow, deliberate pace.

The friction was exquisite, her tight warmth enveloping him completely. He kissed her again, swallowing her moans as he rocked into her, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body moving in perfect sync with his.

“Yes…” she whispered, her voice a broken whimper.

The room was filled with the sounds of their passion—the creak of the bed, the slick slide of skin against skin, their ragged breaths mingling in the air. Arjun’s hands gripped her hips, holding her firmly as he increased his pace, the bed shaking beneath them.

Sheela’s nails dug into his shoulders, her cries growing louder with each thrust. He could feel her tightening around him, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge of release. With a final, punishing thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his climax crashing over him like a wave.

They lay there afterwards, tangled in each other, their breaths slowly returning to normal. Arjun ran a hand through her hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. Sheela turned her face into his palm, her expression unreadable.

After a while, he handed her 500 rupees, his voice gruff but not unkind. “Finish your chores and leave.”

She nodded silently, slipping out of bed and gathering her saree. As she walked away, he couldn’t help but watch her, a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt twisting in his gut. What had he done?

And then, just as she reached the door, she turned back, her voice soft but firm.

“Next time,” she said, her eyes meeting his, “don’t stop.”

Arjun froze, his pulse spiking.

Your Daddy wrote these events (true or fiction, up to you) for your pleasure. I want only the loyal, submissive Daddy worshipping naughty Girls to contact me. Others stay away [email protected]. Remember, it’s Daddy’s responsibility to give you pleasure.