Get home soon”, replied Anjali.Even her husband Ajay would be coming late from work tonight. She thought of making a sandwich after her bath. She then headed towards the bedroom. With words of Geeta still revolving in her head, she removed her t-shirt, standing in front of her mirror.Normally she would remove her t-shirt and track pants and then go for a bath. But today, she stood in front of the mirror, looking at her own breasts held by her bra.“Not bad for a 42-year-old Indian housewife”, she said to herself. And it was true. No one would believe that Anjali was in her early 40’s, turning 43 after a couple of weeks and has a son who would turn 20 next month.Anjali had kept herself fit and maintained her body by doing yoga and regular walks. She then slowly walked towards the mirror taking small steps, twisting and turning, looking at every inch of her body. She removed her hair-clip and untied her hair. She slowly ran her hands through her hair with words of Geeta still in her. She had decided she would have a poolside massage the next afternoon. And now she was going to imagine what that would be like and how she would come during the session and again at the end of it. Em let her left hand lie quietly over her pussy, one finger lightly disturbing her clit. With her right hand, she played with her nipples, in some sort of sequence. In her mind she was lying on the big massage bed she’d seen on the terrace, right out by the pool. The late afternoon sun was warm on her naked body. So were the hands of the nearly naked masseur she had booked from the spa for the massage. It was a warm night but she shivered with approaching ecstasy. In her fantasy her masseur was a strongly built tall man; she imagined he was from Italy or Argentina. She was spread-eagled on the massage bed, her legs thrown wide apart. His fingers were inside her vagina. Her clit was on fire. He was wearing only board-shorts. Then he was wearing nothing. Then he bent down and gently bit.
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