Cute Indian Maid Massaged, Then Hard-Fucked by Owner

So there I was, finally home after the longest week, and honestly, all I wanted was to just melt into the couch, but my cute indian teen maid had other plans, and thank god she did because she insisted I let her work out the tension in my shoulders, and one thing led to another with her soft hands sliding down my back, pressing just hard enough to make me groan, and I could feel the heat building between us as she moved closer, her perfume mixing with the warm air, and when she leaned over to reach my lower back, her hair brushed against my skin, sending a shiver right through me, and I remember thinking this was way more than a simple massage, especially when her fingers started drifting lower, tracing circles over my hips before dipping underneath the waistband of my pants, and I couldn’t help but reach back and pull her onto the bed beside me, her surprised little gasp turning into a shy smile as I rolled over to face her, and the way she looked at me with those big dark eyes made my heart race, so I kissed her, slow at first, tasting the sweetness of the chai she’d been sipping, and then harder as she responded, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I slid my palm up her thigh, feeling the smooth warmth of her skin under that traditional dress, and she let out this soft whimper that drove me crazy, so I hiked the fabric up higher, exposing her bare legs, and the way she wiggled to help me told me she was just as into it as I was, and in that moment, everything else faded, the tiredness, the stress, all of it, replaced by the urgent need to feel her completely, so I guided her onto her back, positioning myself between her knees, and the sight of her lying there, hair fanned out, chest rising and falling, was all the encouragement I needed, and I pushed forward slowly, savoring the tight, wet heat of her as she arched into me, her nails digging into my shoulders, and we moved together in this rhythm that started gentle but quickly turned frantic, her moans filling the room as I drove deeper, feeling every inch of her clench around me, and I buried my face in her neck, tasting the salt on her skin, until we both tipped over the edge, breathless and tangled up in the sheets, and afterward she just lay there, tracing lazy patterns on my chest, and I knew that massage was the best decision I’d ever made.