My Indian Slut Wife Vidya – 05

Vidya’s old lover Ramu returns, with friends — Rajesh

Author’s note: This is a story of a cheating wife, of adultery, of cuckoldry and small penis humiliation. If that is not your thing, skip this story. And remember while adultery can be a great source of enjoyment in fantasy and erotica, in real life it damages souls and destroys marriages. Please treat the following story as a fiction and fantasy piece only. It is written to deliver pleasure, and has no other purpose. Please use condoms and practice safe sex in real life. — Tarek Zia

The world can be so small. If you are not careful, who you can hurt today can easily come back to hurt you tomorrow. I was reminded of this fact personally over the last few months. I guess I better start at the beginning.

“I don’t like that man.” My wife Vidya told me as we entered our gated community.

I turned to look back at the guard she was pointing out to me.

Vidya and I had just returned from a walk. The complex where we had our house, in the outskirts of Pune, was next to a small ravine with a small river below. There was a big sandy area on the banks of that river, which was popular with many of my neighbours. It was busy on the weekends, but during the work week it was hardly occupied. I had a day off, so Vidya packed a picnic lunch and we had an enjoyable couple of hours enjoying each other’s company. We held hands, stole kisses, and had a great time. However, since the ravine was outside the gated community, we had to exit our complex whenever we visited, and then reenter on the way back. One of the gates was closer to our villa, so we always used that.

“It’s a new guard, right?” I remarked, as we walked back to our place. “What’s his name … Wasim?”

“Yes, that’s him.” Vidya made a face. “I don’t like him at all.”

Now this was surprising in itself. Vidya was always a very jolly woman, and someone who got along well with anyone. Especially guys, who were always extra nice to her. For obvious reasons.

“Oh.” I tried to think why she could have an issue with this new guard. Wasim had been polite as we had entered. He had stood up when we had touched our key card to the gate, and greeted us with a nod as we entered after the gate opened.

“There’s something about him.” Vidya was on a rant. “It’s his attitude. So disrespectful!”

“Why? What did he do?” I asked. “He seemed fine to me.”

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. You never disagree with your wife, especially when she’s bitching about someone else!

“Of course he would seem FINE TO YOU.” Vidya turned and hissed at me in anger. “Why do I even bother talking to you?”

“I am sorry, darling.” I tried to meekly apologize. “Please tell me what happened.”

However, Vidya was in a huff. And once she got into one of those moods, I knew I was in trouble. So immediately I started to apologize, grovel and plead with her to forgive me. And of course, it took a lot of apologizing, groveling and pleading before she relented.

“It’s his arrogance.” Vidya said, once we were in the house and relaxed in front of the TV. “Every other guard stands up and salutes me, or says ‘Hi, ma’am. How are you? Lovely day today’ or something like that. And what does Wasim do? He merely sits there, looking at me when I come in. Sometimes, only when I am with you, he nods an acknowledgement.”

“I see.” I replied, not really seeing it. The less these lower class people interacted with me, the better, I thought. This time though, I kept my opinion to myself.

“And then, the other day,” Vidya continued, “When you were at work, I was going shopping with Prakriti and Laila, he was leering at me. Literally LEERING! I was trying to find my key card in my purse and he was behind me, and I could sense that he was starting at my bum. Prakriti even said so to me later. And when I turned and caught him looking, he had the audacity to say, ‘you are looking lovely today, ma’am’. What cheek!”

“So he only told you, and not your girlfriends?” I asked.

I could see why. Vidya, as I have said many a times before, is not only the best looking wife in our community, but probably one of the best looking women in India. In the words of one of her previous lovers, she is an aasli desi taadka maal. Not the scrawny skin and bones type models that populate the ramp nowadays, but a proper Indian woman with curves, a lovely gaand (ass) and actual big titties to match.

She kept herself fit through exercising religiously even after our marriage, which is when most Indian women let themselves go. When Vidya would go out with her girlfriends Prakriti and Laila, no one would give those two wives a second look because everyone would be staring at Vidya, my drop dead gorgeous wife — with her raven black hair, her milky white skin, the way she wore her sari exposing her toned tummy and navel, and her voluptuous buttocks swinging to and fro as she walked. Oh, how many times I had let her walk ahead of me, just to see who else was staring at her sashaying buttocks! Sometimes, if we had to take public transit on some rare occasions, many a man had “mistakenly” placed a hand on her voluptuous derriere, only to withdraw after a scorching look from her.

“Yes, only me.” Vidya complained. “It was so humiliating. For my bum to be given the look over by a lowly guard! The guard!”

“I see.” This time I took a venture and agreed with my wife. “That is certainly reprehensible.”

“And that is not all.” Vidya was on fire. “You know I don’t have anything against the lower class folk, right? I mean, I even let Ramu — a milkman — shag me. I even let him cum inside me, without a condom! But this man … Wasim … sometimes when we ladies pass, he makes comments about me to his fellow guards, and he thinks I can’t overhear. But I do. I have very good ears. All lowly comments typical of that class.”

For a moment, I wondered why Vidya was so upset at being leered at by this guard. My buxom wife was used to being catcalled on the streets of India and hardly gave them a second thought.

It must be due to Vidya’s situation with Balachandra, I realized. She is missing him.

Balachandra.

He was our neighbour, an older man formerly from the army, now retired. For the last little while, in addition to me, he was also the only other man who was fucking my wife on a regular basis. But it has been two months since his last visit, and I knew Vidya missed that big cock of his. It must be that frustration of not having sex with him that was making her get angry at little incidents, such as the one with this poor guard Wasim.

Like many of Vidya’s dalliances ever since we had opened our marriage, her fling with Balachandra had been a torrid one. It started roughly eight months ago, when Vidya and I had celebrated the fourth anniversary of our marriage. Around the same time was when Balachandra had gotten her alone and made her his “biwi” for the night. That one night had led to months of them fucking like rabbits almost every day, until Balachandra had to move to New Delhi. He still owned his house in our neighborhood, but he had now rented it out to a young couple — some relatives of his. Balachandra did visit our city once or twice a month, during which time he stayed with them, and on those visits he would come to my house when I was at work and proceed to reacquaint himself with my lovely wife’s charms.

I would come home to find my wife passed out on the couch, bite marks all over her neck and breasts, and her pussy all sore from the pounding it had received.

Vidya would kiss me on my return from work, and mockingly say she was kissing me like the cuck I was. Her loving smooch would put me in my place as she would swirl her tongue in my mouth. I would be gently reminded of the fact that this same tongue of hers had given her lover pleasure all day. The same tongue that has licked another man’s cock to hardness was now inside my mouth. And how I loved her for all of that.

“How was your day?” I would ask her, knowing how it was. And my wife would grin. And later on, if Viyda had mercy on me and we were having sex, the stark difference between me and her lover was so obvious. I was her husband, the small dicked cuck with a shaved feminine landing strip for pubes. Balachandra, even though he was a senior citizen, was the stereotypical proper former army man, well built with broad shoulders, and had a cock that was well hung and thick. I knew that the mere sight of his girth was all my wife needed to see to start having an orgasm, whereas I would have to work with my fingers and tongue to give her one.

And now, for the last two months, that cock had been missing from her life. Vidya never said anything to me, but I realized that she was taking out her frustration on this guard Wasim.

“Well, if you want,” I ventured, “I can have a word with the committee …”

Vidya gave me an appraising look, and then shook her head.

“No, honey. It’s OK.” She said.

“Well, why not?” Foolishly I persisted. “If you are upset about this man …”

“No, honey.” Vidya shook her head. “You are not a man who likes conflict, and I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No. No.” I insisted. “I will speak with the board committee and complain about Wasim. They will have a word with him.”

“Well,” Vidya mused, “Why not just speak with Wasim directly? Tell him you don’t appreciate his behavior with your wife.”

“Oh. Well, sure, I could do that.” I said, while internally cringing. Vidya was right, I hated confrontation.

“No, leave it, darling.” Vidya leaned in and gave me a loving kiss on my lips, before continuing, “You are my husband and you are good at many things, Rajesh. But two things you can’t do really well.”

Vidya grinned, gave me another peck on my cheeks, and then continued.

“The first is sex. A good, rough, taking-your-woman-like-a-proper-man sex, darling.” She said. “And the second is confronting another man. It just isn’t your style, honeybuns. I will ask Balachandraji to have a word with that guard Wasim next time he is in town.”

“Oh.”

And now not only did Vidya unknowingly puncture my ego by telling me I wasn’t capable of dealing with Wasim, the lower class guard who was leering and passing comments at my wife, but she also told me she was going to get another man — Balachandra — the man who cuckolded me — to deal with the matter, since he was better not only at sex with my wife, but also in confronting another man.

“No.” I told her. “You don’t need to involve Balachandra. I will speak with Wasim myself.”

“I see.” Vidya then had a note of concern in her voice.

“Um … baby, you are not jealous of me and Balachandraji, are you, babydoll? You don’t have to prove anything to me. It’s just sex, and remember, it’s been two months since his last visit! Wasn’t it your idea by the way, for me to see other men-“

“Darling, darling!” I tried to muster a grin. “I am not jealous. You know that I just want you to be happy, my dear.”

It was true. It was me that had made us embrace this cuckold life style. Vidya used to tell me size doesn’t matter. But after sex with Gaurav, Ramu and then now Balachandra, she doesn’t say that to me much anymore.

“When is Balachandra due to visit next?” I asked her, to change the topic.

Vidya smiled her beautiful smile.

“I love how nervous you get just before he comes over.” She taunted mischievously.

“I am NOT nervous.” I replied indignantly. “I just need to know … when … to schedule some overtime at the office.”

“Ah, of course. Well, I don’t know, jaanu. I don’t think for another couple of months, maybe.”

Vidya then kissed me again. She continued to kiss me. Her hands softly stroked my in between my legs. Then she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye.

“Come darling. Let’s take this to the bedroom. I want to suitably reward my cuckold.”

I followed the contour of her body, and how her sari clung to her curves, her buttocks sashaying to and fro as she turned her back to me and slowly walked up the stairs, before gently turning back to look at me, chuckle, bend over slightly and beckon me to follow her with her finger.

God! I loved my wife.

* * *

Wasim came to apologize at my house three days later. It was just before breakfast, and I had just gotten ready to go to work.

You see, I had thought it over and decided to complain to the Committee, rather than confront Wasim, after all. I knew one of the board members well, playing table tennis with him often, and they also knew we were good friends with Balachandra, one of the Board members who had considerable influence. So when I made the complaint, it was taken seriously.

Saheb!” Wasim literally fell at my feet. “I have an old mother and unmarried sister to support back in my village, sir. Please don’t get me fired from this job, sir.”

I decided I could project power, for once, in front of my wife and at the same time appear to be magnanimous.

“It’s not me you should apologize to.” I told him, even as he was on the floor, groveling. “It is my wife you should ask forgiveness from.”

Wasim literally fell at her feet, touching her toes and humbling himself. Vidya at first wasn’t buying it.

“I heard your comments the other day.” She replied haughtily. “What did you describe me as to Feroz, your fellow guard? An item? A maal?”

“I am very sorry, memsaab. It was just in jest. Please, I assure you.”

“You behenchod!” My wife swore. Behenchod is a slang which meant sister fucker and is an insult. When the mood struck her, Vidya could swear like a drunken sailor. And right now she was pissed at Wasim.

“You think, behenchod,” She railed on him, “Just because we wear sleeveless blouses or call our husbands by our name, we are some type of bazaari aurat that you can pass lewd comments on?”

Wasim continued to plead for forgiveness and grovel on our floor. In the end, Vidya snootily dismissed him.

“Go.” She told him. “Jao tumko maaf kiya. You are forgiven. Just be on your best behavior around me. In fact, I want you to salute me every time I walk by.”

“Yes, memsaab.”

After Wasim left, I shut the door and turned to my wife.

“See?” I told her. “I CAN handle a man like Wasim.”

For some time Vidya looked at me. Then she broke into a smile.

Vidya has a beautiful smile that can light up a room. A woman can be pretty, but she is really drop dead sexy when she smiles and is a jolly person to be around. Seeing my wife seated on the sofa, regal, elegant and like a Queen, I leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on her rosy cheeks. I really wanted to kiss her feet, but I had just projected strength in front of her for the first time so I didn’t want to ruin it.

“I’m getting dressed and heading out.” I told her. “Already I’m late for work.”

Vidya had some other plans. She immediately grabbed my shorts, much to my surprise.

“Rajesh, I need to reward you with a blow job.”

“I … I …” I spluttered.

My wife stood up. I was now DEFINITELY getting late for work, but what the hell! I threw my arms around her and started to grope and massage her tits and ass. I loved my wife’s tits. Well, to be honest, so did other men! Vidya had nice tits, just like her mother.

My wife inserted her soft hands into my pants, and started to play with my cock and balls.

“Such a small penis you have, dear.” She told me, even as I kissed the nape of her neck. “I can hardly tell if you are hard or not!”

I grunted. Vidya was careful not to stroke me too much lest I started to cum. I was pawing her breasts now, and Vidya made some slightly encouraging sounds. I then kissed my wife on each of her luscious cheeks again. Vidya decided it was time.

Vidya knelt down like a good wife and lowered my shorts so it fell to my ankles. I, the helpless, devoted soul before this ravishing beauty, was now naked from my waist down, and undoubtedly hard. My little picker was glistening with precum. My hot wife gently kissed the tip of my manhood before placing it in her mouth. She began to lick my penis up and down its small length. I caught hold of her by my hair and tugged at it.

“You are cute,” Vidya withdrew my penis from her mouth, looked up and grinned at me. “Trying to play a little rough, my little man, eh?”

I didn’t know what to say, and merely nodded. I felt silly now, trying to act tough. I still had her hair in my hands. My wife now held my manhood in one hand and gingerly kneaded my balls.

“Baby!” I croaked. Vidya knew I wasn’t going to last long now.

She stroked me and felt my dick get a little larger as she placed it into her mouth one more time. She started to suck on my now turgid penis as hard as she could while moving her head back and forth. She also moved her other hand, wrapped it around my ass and placed a finger on my asshole.

In less than two minutes, I felt my legs start to give. My hips started to buckle as I began to shoot a big load of sperm into my wife’s inviting mouth. Even though I had a small penis and couldn’t cum often, I did have a fairly large load of cum for my wife this time. Vidya continued to suck me until the last vestiges of my seed dribbled into her mouth.

“There you go, darling.” She licked her lips seductively and stood up after swallowing my cum. “An early morning treat for you. And for me.”

“Oh babydoll!” I gushed, hugging my lovely wife. “You are the best wife any man could have!”

Vidya gently patted my naked buttock as I hugged her.

“Yes, baby. I know. I know.”

* * *

It was simply by chance that a couple of weeks later I overheard Vidya on the phone with Ramu. If you have been following our story so far you know that Ramu is a milkman and the second man after my old boss Gaurav to fuck Vidya since I married her. Her affair with this low class manual labourer had been her idea of an anniversary gift to me.

It had just been sometime after Gaurav, and at that time we still hadn’t embraced the cuckold lifestyle fully. In a moment of weakness I had blurted out my fantasy of seeing her with yet another man. That was when Vidya decided she would have a love liaison as an anniversary gift.

spankedboy

I write about Indian men who love to be put in place by a strong women. I also write about cuckolded Indian men who are in awe of their voluptuous hot wives and would happily submit to fulfill her desires. Ever have fantasies of getting spanked, sharing your wife, being cuckolded or being punished? I would love to chat, just contact me. I am also on Facebook, Google+ under the name "Tarek Zia".

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