Do you know the story of Dominique Strauss-Kahn? He was an IMF head who on a visit to New York had a go with a maid at his hotel. It was a temptation that DSK should have resisted, because the maid claimed to have been assaulted. He beat the criminal rap, but lost his job, had to pay out a cash settlement and his political aspirations were finished.
What happened? I haven't a clue. Like many no doubt, I had a sense of schadenfreude about the whole thing. Well before today's confabulation of privilege there were people like DSK. People born so rich, that they become socialists. So connected that they can't be contained by the limits of their ideology. Like their names, they need hyphens to append additional bivouacs of control to their core ideology: Socialist-plutocrat. I suppose in earlier times they were just plain aristocrats. Now that's real privilege.
I shouldn't be to0 judgie of DSK though, because I've also known the temptation of a hotel maid. There was no reason for me to have any pretentions about myself, but I certainly had advantages over my humble house keeper too.
After I finished university I spent some time teaching English in Thailand. While I was there I could never quite commit myself to staying long term. Instead of finding an apartment, I just kept renting at a Khao San Road guest house. For anyone who doesn't know, Khao San Road is the back-backer's hub of Bangkok. It's a short street messy street, festooned with guesthouses, restaurants and farangs.
As far as guest houses go, mine was kind of middle of the road quality wise. It didn't have hot water, but it was clean. To find it required navigating a series of alleys off Khao San Road. It made for a spot that was more isolated and much quieter.
Staying at a guest house for more than just few days, really gets you familiar the staff. First you get to know the reception and wait staff, then eventually you start nodding hello to the house keepers too.
There was a pair of housekeepers who usually worked together, who always seemed to giggle when they saw me. I wasn't sure if their tittering was because they liked me or that I was caught committing an unrealized cultural faux pas. They were very friendly, but unlike the front staff, they didn't speak much English. In fact, my Thai might have been better than their English. Which isn't saying much, because most of the Thai I knew came from the phrase section of my travel book.
That was all there was between us, until one day after getting back from breakfast on my day off. When I got back to my floor I could see those two women at my open door. Apparently they were just about to start cleaning. Surprised at seeing me, both girls bowed in Thai wais. They said some stuff I didn't understand, that I assumed were explanations and apologies.
"Mai pen rai," I told them, which means 'no problem'.
"Kun poot Thai?" One of them said, asking if I spoke Thai.
"No, pom poot nit noy, nit noy, nit noy," I said holding my finger only slightly apart, indicating how little Thai I spoke.
That was the strongest point of our verbal communication. I wasn't even able to get their names. I tried, but I couldn't make myself understood.
I think they were a little older than me. One was about 5' 4" and the other maybe just over 5'. The taller one was the bolder of the two and to be honest wasn't that attractive. The shorter girl was a little overweight by Thai standards and had the cutest face imaginable. She had happy looking eyes, dimpled cheeks and nice full lips.
The taller one took a peak around, making sure the coast was clear and then ushered all of us into my room. I wondered where all this could be going. While I would have wished for more, I assumed this was all as innocent as their school girl like giggles. After all this was a respectable guest house. Once they wouldn't even let my travel agent deliver a plane ticket to my room. She was Thai, so I had to meet her in the lobby. Other than staff, no Thais were allowed upstairs. The management wanted to make sure that no commercial sex occurred on the premises.
We sat on my single bed and the taller girl led us in an incomprehensible conversation. Since it was clear that I couldn't understand her, she began pointing slowly from me to her cute friend. Her cute friend would demurely shake her head and push the taller girl's hands away when they were pointed at her.
My understanding was that the taller one was trying to act as some sort of matchmaker for her adorable friend. Though I wasn't completely sure until the taller one, to both girls' amusement, took one of my hands and placed it on her friend's ample breast.
Surprised I said "Sway mac," meaning beautiful as I lightly squeezed her round breast.
"Mai chi," the short cutie countered, "Kun sway!" Her response denied her complement and redirecting it to me.
Timidly my new friend began running a hand across my chest too. Since all I had on for my breakfast in the ally was a sarong (Thailand's the only place where I wear a sarong) and a loose tank top, she was able to run her hand across my skin.
To say my morning had taken an unexpected turn, would have been putting it mildly. It seemed that out of nowhere, I was suddenly cupping the nice full breast of a real cutie. All while she appreciatively ran her hand over my midriff. The result being, I began pitching a noticeable tent under my sarong.
The two girls continued talking, while doing a good job pretending that my growing cock wasn't noticeable. Given the way the girls had instigated this get-together, I was surprised by the way they managed to turn a blind eye to the predictable effects. The girls seemed satisfied enough with what they initiated, but I wanted to see how much further things could go.
I began trying to feel up under the little cutie's t-shirt, but she stopped me every time. Unfazed she would place my roaming hands back on her covered mounds. Smiling she would hold my hands firmly against her breasts, but strictly on the outside of her shirt.
With that avenue of advancement blocked, I thought I'd try something else. Casually taking her hand I guided it down from my chest and wrapped it around my stiff cock. Suddenly with only the thinnest tropical fabric separating her hand from the touch of my shaft the little cutie's nerves began to falter.
Timidly she said, "Mai chi, no we go now." She was speaking as much to her friend as she was to me.
Without her stopping me, I kept guiding her hand up and down my cock. In my broken Thai I tried to reassure her and it seemed to me that her friend was trying to convince her to stay too.
Holding her finger to her mouth, the taller girl shushed us both. Getting up from my bed she went over the door and peaked out into the hallway. Satisfied that the coast was still clear, she closed the door again and pulled a plastic chair to the side of my bed. She said something that seemed intended to reassure her friend and gestured for the two of us continue what we were doing.
I pulled the little maid up beside me and she went back to tentatively stroking my cock through my sarong. With her right up against me I could put an arm around her and feel her tits while she held my cock. I was also better able to make stealthy efforts to get a hand under her clothes. Despite my improved proximity and her divided attention, she still always managed to stop me before I made much progress. At least she always returned my hand to her breast.
Even though the friend seemed to be encouraging the cutie to play with my cock, she also appeared to admonish me for trying to get under her friend's shirt. It wasn't that they disapproved of hand on flesh either, because when I guided the maid's hand under my sarong she didn't resist. Apparently she could touch me, but I couldn't touch her. In fact, our curious chaperone was quite titillated once her friend's hand went down my sarong.
Underneath the material it was only too easy to tell that she was playing with my cock. As she stroked my dick, my sarong began loosening until it finally fell away. Both girls started giggling at the sudden sight of my cock.
"Yai mac," the observing friend exclaimed. I can happily report yai mac means very large.
"Sway mac," the cute girl added, appraising my cock as beautiful. Her hand gently fondling me as her friend watched.
It felt nice and it was a turn on to be watched. As my little friend's hand lightly caressed my cock, I could tell she would need guidance if I was going to cum. Since she wouldn't have been able to understand my instructions, I took her hand and began guiding it up and down my shaft.
Once I felt I'd established the pace and technique, I released her hand to let her stroke my shaft on her own. Without my guidance though, the pace immediately slowed. I let her continue, hoping that it was only a momentary lapse, but it turned out she wasn't a vigorous hand job giver. Either that or stroking me to completion wasn't part of their plan. Though I suspect things had already moved beyond anything they intended.
I took her hand again and began working it at a steady pace. It was feeling really good too, but a bit like masturbating with someone else's hand. Still, her nervous passivity was unexpectedly turning me on.
