We began to dress. Her slip back on and my boxers donned, we sipped our drinks and looked at each other. She smiled at me and finished dressing; I wa... right behind her. She stood and smiled down at me as I finished putting on my shoes. "Feel better?" she asked. Her look and her tone made me feel like she thought she'd done me a favor or something. It was disconcerting. "I feel good; it was good," I said. There was that smile again, condescending. "I'm glad," she said. "I can do you every. Because the blouse was a few sizes too large for her, her cleavage was always visible when she bent down to sweep the floor or mop it.Of late, my eyes! Were always transfixed on it when my parents were not around, drinking in the beauty of it all, and masturbating in secret after she had left. She must have been aware of my attention, because she would always look directly into my eyes, which I found so beautiful.And almost always, she would hitch up her sari up her knees while working, tucking. More

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