MILF Paradise System-Chapter 147: The MILF Maids
After walking for a few minutes, I reached the beach house.
Brittany and Gloria might be wondering why I hadn’t come back for so long, I thought as I hurried inside. I was only here to quickly change my clothes and rejoin my group.
I entered the main gate of the beach house and headed toward the lobby. The reception desk was empty. Shyla wasn’t there, the counter quiet with no one behind it, just the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Where could she be? I thought as I approached the stairs to my room, glancing around the open lobby but seeing no sign of her pregnant curves or that tight top straining over her full breasts.
Anyway, I was here to change my clothes. Shyla wasn’t going anywhere, it was her place.
Soon, I reached my room, opened the door, and went inside.
I wasn’t sharing my room at this beach house with anyone, as it was a big place with plenty of rooms available. I didn’t even know how Lily and the others were staying or which rooms they were in.
I went over to my bed, my trolley bag sitting beside it. I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and threw it onto the bed, then hurriedly pulled off my shorts and kicked them away, the wet fabric landing in a heap near the wall.
Damn, the monster between my legs was still pulsing. It was half hard now but still looked unsatisfied, thick and heavy, veins faintly visible, the head still slick from Olivia’s mouth and everything else, hanging there like it was ready for more despite the marathon fucking.
I stood there for a second, admiring it and feeling the lingering ache and low throb, when I heard a sound, some fidgeting, someone moving toward the bedroom from the bathroom area off to the side.
And suddenly, someone came out from the bathroom area on the side. I froze for a moment, as it was really weird for someone to be in my room when I wasn’t even sharing it with anyone.
Then I saw her clearly. It was a woman, maybe in her forties, with light brown, radiant skin and dark hair, wearing uncommon clothes. She saw me and froze in shock, though I was even more shocked than she was.
"Hey, who the hell are you?" I said, startled and confused.
She couldn’t speak when she suddenly saw me, and how could she? I was standing buck naked, my dick still half hard from everything that had happened earlier.
"Umm... sorry, sir. I thought you weren’t in here," she said apologetically, her accent lilting slightly, giving her words a gentle, unfamiliar rhythm. She held a cleaning spray bottle in one hand, her grip tight, as if she hadn’t expected to walk in on anyone at all.
"You work here?" I asked, finally realizing what was going on as my eyes flicked to the spray bottle in her hand and the half-cleaned room around us.
"Yes, sir. I’m in housekeeping," she said quickly. Her gaze dropped for a split second to my dick before she looked away again, her cheeks reddening as she realized I was standing there completely exposed. She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together, tightening her grip on the bottle, clearly trying not to look but failing, her eyes drawn back to my half-hard length like a magnet.
So she was a hotel maid, I realized fully now.
Even though my dick was only half-hard, she couldn’t help staring at it, and I didn’t blame her—my half-hard dick was bigger than the fully erect cock of most men, thick and heavy, still glistening slightly from everything with Olivia, hanging there, obvious and unhidden between my legs.
"Hey... why aren’t you in your uniform?" I asked, curious, since it would have made it easier to recognize her role right away.
"I’m sorry, sir... I don’t wear the hotel uniform," she said, her voice soft and a little nervous. "I’ve taken permission from management to wear my cultural attire." She glanced at my dick again, her cheeks flushing deeper, and her eyes flicked away quickly, though they lingered a second too long.
Then I took a proper look at her.
She was wearing an Indian dress, a salwar kameez—the long tunic reached her knees in soft pastel fabric, loose pants gathered at the ankles, and a light dupatta scarf draped over her shoulders and chest. Even though her clothes weren’t tight, I could see her figure underneath.
The upper part of the tunic was snug around her breasts, the dupatta hiding most but not all, outlining their full, heavy shape clearly. Her thighs were thick, the loose pants doing little to conceal how wide and curvy they were, the fabric shifting against her skin as she shifted her weight.
We were just having this conversation when I heard a sound again from the bathroom area, some fidgeting and footsteps, and then someone else came out.
It was another woman, wearing the same kind of clothes, with the same light brown, radiant skin, but younger, probably in her early twenties, and noticeably plump. Her fuller cheeks and softer curves, wide hips under the salwar pants, and breasts straining the tunic even more than the other woman caught my attention, while the dupatta slipped slightly, revealing a hint of deep cleavage.
Man, they both had fat, juicy asses, visible even under the loose salwar pants, the fabric shifting against their wide hips and round cheeks as they stood there. My mouth watered as I imagined bending them both over my bed and eating their asses, spreading those thick brown cheeks, tongue deep in their tight holes while they moaned and begged for more.
"Mom, this area is clean, so you..." she started to say as she came out, then froze completely when she saw me standing there naked and couldn’t finish her sentence.
She looked at my dick and kept staring, mouth slightly open, eyes wide, cheeks turning pink fast. And could you blame her? The other woman she had just called mom was staring at my dick too, both of them frozen in shock.
"Sorry, sir... she is my daughter," the older woman said, blushing deeply as she realized both mother and daughter were staring at my dick, which was slowly coming back to life, thickening and rising under their gaze, the half-hard shaft twitching faintly as blood rushed back in.
"Good afternoon, sir," the younger maid said softly, looking down at the floor, cheeks flushed pink, unable to meet my eyes for more than a second before flicking her gaze back to my cock, then away again.
She was really polite and had beautiful facial features. Her soft, light brown skin was truly glowing.
"Does your family live here?" I asked the older woman, standing casually and naked, not covering up, letting them see how my dick responded to their stares.
"No, sir... it’s just me and my daughter," she replied, her voice quiet, eyes dropping to the floor. "My husband is back in India." She looked down, a hint of sadness in her expression, the weight of being separated clear in her tone.
"Why isn’t he here with you?" I asked, my dick getting harder again as I looked at these thick maids, both in their salwar kameez, with curves visible even under the loose fabric. The older one’s heavy breasts strained the tunic, and the younger one’s plump figure filled out her clothes, thighs thick and soft.
"Sir... we are here on a work visa," she explained, still glancing at my dick and then back at me. "My husband couldn’t get it, as it is a tough process." Her voice carried quiet sadness, and her eyes looked distant for a moment.
"How long have you two been living here?" I asked, stepping a little closer, my cock now fully hard, standing thick and straight between my legs.
For a moment, she couldn’t speak as she kept looking at my dick, watching how hard it was getting just from listening to her soft voice. It thickened and rose slowly, veins becoming more pronounced, the head swelling darker, the whole shaft pulsing with every heartbeat. Her daughter was also staring at it, and both mother and daughter were lost in the sight, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, breathing quicker, cheeks flushed deep red.
"We came here one year ago, when my daughter was eighteen," she said, sadness thickening her voice. "My husband has been trying since then, but..." She trailed off, shoulders slumping slightly, the loneliness of being away from her husband for a year and supporting her young daughter in a foreign country clearly weighing on her.
