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I climbed over the stool and told him to fetch the dirty cloth as I forgot to pick up before mounting on the stool. His face was actually only inches away and I could feel the hot air from his breath brush the base of my belly. I had to stretch my hand wide, away from me and part my legs wider too, when I started cleaning the first blade of the fan in order to reach till the tip.He eagerly fetched the cloth and stood by my side grinning like he is waiting for the next command. I noticed him dropping his pen (purposefully I guess) and left the hold of the stool briefly, and then bend down to pick up the pen.I shifted uncomfortably and brought my thighs together.He recovered, held the stool with his hands, and got up all the while, eyes riveted inside my saree until he was UP beyond that point and once again, stood at my waist level.
Together, the sound of the rain and the beautiful old song playing in the radio reminded me of my husband.Armed with the knowledge that I am devoid of any undergarments and my body had already given its approval via the erect nipples and glistening thatch below, he made the next move.